Author: Thalia Kendall
Category: General, Romance, Angst
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling. Characters and situations are used without permission, no infringement is intended.
Summary: Three separate Christmases in the space of fifteen years, delineating various points in the lives of Roger Davies and Cho Chang. Christmases come and go, some happier than others, but love remains the same.
Author's Note: Here's the final part of the Christmas Roger/Cho fic! Plotless fluff, but there you have it... hope you like!
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She was usually gaily and cheerfully perched on the roof this time of the year, hanging up pine boughs decorated with fairy lights on the doors. But this year, it had been deemed out of the question, and Roger, far more adept at Charms than she had been, was levitating the outdoor decorations to their usual places while she sat inside and wrapped the last of the presents.
The warm, royal-blue jumper she wore was his, far too long at the sleeves and coming all the way down to her knees when she stood, but even so, it was snug around the middle. Cho stood carefully, one hand resting on her rounded belly. She couldn't help smiling.
She'd been married for two years, after what some of her friends had considered a long courtship. But really, the courtship had simply been an extension of everything, for haven't they always rather loved each other?
On the back of the jumper, concealed by her long hair, was his name, knitted into the material. He had taken her maternity shopping after she'd started to show, but half of the time, she simply wore his things. He didn't mind.
Tonight, they'd be having guests. She'd made an unlikely friend of Pansy Parkinson in her last year of school, bonding, as it were, over Prefect rounds. She'd been one of the only female Prefects who'd neither felt cowed by the Slytherin girl's acid tongue or inclined to take at face value the reputation that preceded Pansy. And so it had been her that Pansy had gone to first in order to confide about a certain-to-be-doomed love affair with a young man who lived on the other side of the world.
It had also been Pansy, along with Roger, who'd been there for her when her father had been killed.
As though on cue, Roger walked in, his cheeks reddened from the cold, scuffing his shoes free of snow on the mat by the door. He went straight to her then, smiling and pulling her into his arms easily despite her bulging midsection. "How's my son today?" he asked, nuzzling her hair with his nose.
"Excited over Christmas," Cho replied as she leaned into his touch. "Think I'm going to have time to change into something more appropriate before Pansy and Miles arrive?"
"I'd say that what you are wearing is fairly damningly appropriate," an amused, patrician female voice joined them as two quiet pops sounded in the foyer. "It's got his name on it, and the fact that you are his is what got you in your condition in the first place."
Cho gave a little squeak of surprise before turning away from her husband to greet her friend, "Never one to mince words, were you?" Her tone was affectionate.
"Of course not," the blonde chuckled, stepping forward to embrace Cho, her husband helping her out of her cloak.
They adjourned to the sitting room, where Cho and Roger shared the loveseat. They passed around almond cookies and hot cocoa and work anecdotes until the timer on the oven went off.
They spread at Cho's Christmas table was a combination of Chinese and English fare, and the meal was long and merry. And at the end of it, Pansy turned to her friend and asked a question.
"Have you figured out what to name the baby yet?"
Cho smiled to herself for a moment before reaching over and taking Roger's hand. "Andrew Cedric Davies," she replied. After her father's English name and the name of her first school kindred.
Pansy's lips quirked. "Doesn't the lucky father want a boy named after himself?"
The lucky father had been the one to suggest the name, really. Pansy smirked and glanced at her own husband.
"Hopefully, by this time next year, there will be a little girl to play with Young Master Davies," she remarked casually, her eyes glinting with mischief. "If the boy turns out as handsome as his dad, she'll be doomed, though."
There was a round of surprised exclamations and congratulations and good wishes, and it was another beautiful Christmas.
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