The next morning dawned slowly, the previous day's bright sunshine nowhere to be seen. It was colder than he had ever remembered it being in Midgard—save the times he had been here as a child—and Loki's mood was as somber as the weather. The chill in the air brought with it memories of long ago, when he had called himself a son of Odin, had worn the title proudly among the Midgardians, whose few meager villages he had thought to contain the entirety of the race over whom he was destined to rule.

Shaking his head, he cast off these errant thoughts, willing himself to ignore the feelings they engendered in him. It was all gone. No amount of wishing could return him to those days of ignorance, even if he had desired it.

Sirius soon appeared to call him into the house for breakfast, to which he again acquiesced. It was becoming a habit, Loki supposed, and that thought was not quite as unwelcome as those he'd been entertaining moments ago. It was easier, certainly, to simply do as he was bid, than to continue to fortify himself against these mortal mages, whose power currently dwarfed his own. Even when he had resisted them, they had not forced him into any action or inaction, save those things that had been necessary to preserve his life when he had first come to them. Loki had not yet fallen so far as to expect such behavior from them (to be so unguarded would be folly) but he was no longer surprised by it.

In the kitchen, the table was again laden with an assortment of food, nearly as multifarious as the previous day's early meal. In addition, there were large platters of spiced buns shaped like coiled snakes, crosses and ox-heads. Only a few of the inhabitants of the house were yet present. Harry was busy in the kitchen, as usual, brewing up a fresh pot of tea. Luna and Ginny looked like they had just arrived, still somewhat sleep-mussed and drowsy, but both Ron and Neville were finishing their meals in order to make their departures ahead of the others.

"Visiting hours start early," Neville explained between a sip of tea and a bite of toast. "Besides," he said, raising a small bag with a shy slip of a smile, "I have presents."

"I'm sure they'll love them," Ginny said, her eyes sympathetic. "Are things, well, any better for them?"

"A bit, yeah," Neville answered, the smile fading somewhat. "Well, I'd best be off. Give my best to Molly," he said, giving Ginny's shoulder a light squeeze as he stood up.

Her hand came to rest on his for the briefest moment, before she too was on her feet, giving Neville a quick, tight hug. "Give them my best, too," she said, pulling back to give him a determined look. Neville nodded once to her, then bobbed his head again at the rest of them, and with a cry of "St. Mungo's!" disappeared into the Floo.

Sirius, who had been retrieving the freshly-brewed tea, sat down with a sigh. "I should go see them, too, you know," he said to Harry, who was pulling up the chair beside him. "I'm not certain I ever did...before."

"You didn't get much of a chance, did you?" Harry replied thoughtfully. "We could, perhaps, on our way home from the Burrow."

Sirius just nodded, and poured himself a cup. Loki was seated across from him this time, and he watched while the eldest of the mages present (though, assuredly, not by much) selected and buttered one of the spiced buns. The young Jotunn took one of the the same, as well as some of the smoked fish and vegetables that had been presented to him yesterday. He observed Sirius carefully for some time, taking care not to seem as if he was doing so, although it became apparent that no further explanation of his and Harry's previous conversation would be forthcoming. Everyone fell into silence as they ate, making no more than cursory nods both when Ron departed for the Burrow and when Hermione finally joined them a quarter of an hour later.

Molly Weasley sat distracted at the kitchen table, while George managed the cooking around her. Sometimes she'd come out of her reveries—not as rarely as before, but seldom nonetheless. George minded, of course, but for her sake, not for himself. Even after all these years, he still grieved at the loss of his twin, and he knew his mother mourned as much as he did. Fred had been half-her, as well.

"Mum?" Ron called as he walked through the doorway, before his eyes lit on her. He strode across from the Floo, banishing the soot from his robes, and bent over to give her a peck on the forehead. "Happy Christmas."

"What?" Molly asked, staring ahead for a moment before she registered the group before her. "Ron?" she said, startled, "You weren't coming, I thought, not until Sunday," she prattled.

"Been put on shift tomorrow," Ron said apologetically. "And I wanted to see if it was alright for me to invite a few more people today. Ginny and Luna are coming, of course, but there are a few others." This time Ron's apologetic look went to his older brother. "Are you up for more company?"

"Anyone you want to bring over, dear, is perfectly welcome, you know that," Molly scolded, shaking her head fondly and patting his arm. Ron nodded at her, but met his brother's eyes for confirmation.

Instead of answering, George made some excuse about needing help with something, and pulled Ron to the other side of the room. "I'm not sure how she'll be today," George said under his breath, "but so far it's not too bad. She might be able to handle it, depending on who and how many."

Ron sighed. "I wouldn't have bothered if it had just been Harry and Hermione, but they have a guest. Patient of Harry's technically: kid had his magic drained." George looked taken aback, but said nothing. "And, well…he'll be bringing a dog."

"A boy and his dog, eh?" George said, with a hint of a twinkle in his eye. "How old is this kid, then?"

"Nearly grown, actually. About sixteen or seventeen, by the look of him," Ron replied. "I've only seen him a handful of times. Not much of a conversationalist, either. But I don't think he's a danger, to himself or anyone else."

"Anymore, you mean," George said, uncannily reading between the lines. "Well, we're no stranger to hard luck cases in this house. Tell those two they can bring him along - him and his dog."

Ron clapped his brother on the shoulder in thanks, then went back over to where his mum was sitting at the table. "Mum," he said, "I'm going to go let the others know they can come, okay?

Molly nodded vaguely, but gave her son a watery smile. "I'm just so happy to see you today," she said. "Just so happy."

Ron's expression softened, and he kissed her on the forehead again. "Glad to see you too, Mum," he said, before heading over to the Floo.

A few minutes later, a puff at the fireplace came just as the family clock chimed Ginny's safe arrival. Several more puffs followed, as well as a yelp — probably from a bumped head — and soon a parade of slightly sooty young people trooped into the kitchen, led by her two youngest children.

Molly sat blinking for a moment, trying to take in the entire group. Ginny and Luna both swooped in to give her quick hugs, and Harry and Hermione soon followed suit. There was one present — no, two — whom she didn't recognize, and she looked at her youngest son, puzzled.

"Isn't this a lovely surprise, Mum?" George piped up. "And look, here's Harry and Hermione, too," he said. "Just like old times."

"Yes," the Weasley matriarch said, her eyes straying to the two unknown figures. Standing before her, waiting for introduction, were a tall, gangly young man and a large black-and-tan dog. Molly's confusion returned, and she started looking back and forth between her two sons. A look of silent understanding passed between the two Weasley men, and Ron turned to the tall newcomer beside him, who was gingerly touching the crown of his head. "Mum, this is Loki," Ron began, but Molly interrupted with a crow.

"Look at you, starveling! Ron, you should have mentioned sooner, we'll have dinner on in a tick. George doesn't mind, do you George?" The tall man behind her raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. "And is this your dog?" she asked Loki, who nodded mutely.

The dumpy, graying woman gave Loki the once-over. "You're a sullen looking thing, like Ron when I wouldn't let him ride his brother's broomstick when he was little," she said, clucking over him as he scowled. "Cheer up," she said, "we're all family here."

The young man's scowl deepened at this. Molly hesitated but recovered quickly, and patted him on the arm. "Never mind, dearie," she cooed, "family's not just those you're born to. We know that, don't we?" She looked back and forth between Harry and the newcomer, beaming at them with a broad, slightly brittle smile. "Now, George," she said, with considerably more energy than before, "you will at least let me put the kettle on for our guest, won't you?" Without waiting for confirmation, she launched herself into her chosen activity.

As she bustled away to retrieve the teapot, Ron gave them all an apologetic look, and leaned over to Loki. "Sorry," he said in a hushed whisper, "I hope she didn't bother you too much. She's been...a little out of control, since we lost Fred."

Loki shifted from foot to foot, but shook his head. "No," he choked out, "it's...fine."

Sensing his discomfort, Padfoot shuffled slightly closer him, cocking an ear up at the young man, but Loki was clearly lost in thought, or memory. He let out a small whuff of a sigh, and was astonished to feel Loki's hand rest absently on top of his head. Well , he thought, that's something.

In the interval, the rest of their party had arrived. Luna and Ginny were already surrounding Mrs. Weasley, hugging her tightly before grabbing a few boxes of decorations stashed in the corner and disappearing into the next room. Hermione joined Harry at the kitchen table, where he had sat down next to George and Ron.

Loki did not join in, but began to wander around the room, silent as always, looking about idly. Padfoot kept beside him, like a seeing-eye dog, and to all appearances, took in all the changes to the Weasley household at the same time.

Harry laid a hand on George's arm, a gesture of sustained support in a conversation long since played out.

"I know, " George replied, "I should get her to St. Mungo's. But she won't go, and I won't make her. She's happiest at home, for the most part. Family is so important to her. If losing Fred and Dad brought her to this, I couldn't possibly take her away from the rest of us." The older man smiled faintly, fatigue sharpening the creases on his face. "Truth is," he said, "I don't think I could live without her, either."

Harry nodded in sympathetic understanding. "We should get someone to come see her, though. Someone she knows, who can just pop in. If I were anywhere near done with my apprenticeship, I'd do it."

"I know they probably have you hopping, Harry, but it would be good if you could come. She won't see a Healer, she's very touchy about that sort of thing." George sighed wearily. "But you're family, Harry. Could you, I don't know, report back to someone, get some advice?"

"I'll have to clear it with Madam Pomfrey, but it's possible," he replied.

"Oh, dear Poppy, I did always like her," Molly cooed as she set the teakettle on the fire. "Always so good with you children, all the scrapes you used to get into. Invite her over for tea, would you, Harry love?"

Harry caught George's eye, and the redhead nodded his approval. "Sure," Harry said, "I'll ask her after the holidays. I'll just check with you on when's a good day, eh, George?"

"That's fine, Harry," he replied, with obvious relief. "That will be just fine."

Before too long, the collective Weasleys spun into action, pulling a number of serving dishes from various corners of the room and laying them on the table, which expanded to fit as soon as they began to run out of room. The two featured prominently foodstuffs were roast meats and delicate sweetmeats, although a dish or two of green vegetables did somehow find their way onto the table. Loki leaned against a counter in the corner of the room, observing all. To him, it looked eerily like an Asgardian feast - including the fact that at least one of the roasts was distinctly bloody, a thing he had heretofore not seen on Midgard.

Harry caught Loki's expression of mild displeasure, and gave him a wry grin. "We have a few in the family with, shall we say, special dietary needs? You needn't have any if you don't want."

Loki's frown deepened, but he said nothing. A series of thoughts flickered across his face, but any revelation he might have been considering was promptly forgotten as a series of whooshing noises heralded the arrival of more people via Floo.

"We're here — you can start Christmas now!" came a hearty bellow.

The heads of Ginny and Luna popped through the doorway leading into the living room. "Charlie?" Ginny exclaimed eagerly, before careening around the corner to barrel into a short, muscular red-haired man who was grinning broadly at her. They were much of a height, although he was decidedly bulkier than his sister.

"Alright, we know who your favorite brother is," said the much taller man behind him, whose lean face was marked with a long scar, which ran from his cheekbone down and into the collar of his shirt. He brightened in a smile as his youngest sister let go of the other man, only to punch him in the shoulder. "Oi!" he shouted, ducking behind the blonde woman at his side, whose only response was to roll her eyes at him.

"Clearly we have no importance to her," she said, and Loki caught a hint of power in the woman's voice, which seemed to charm virtually everyone in the room. He felt the tug of it himself; only Mrs. Weasley appeared completely unaffected.

"Bill, Fleur! It's so lovely to see you!" she exclaimed, rising excitedly from her chair. "Now, where are my grandchildren?"

"They're spending the afternoon with Teddy and Andromeda," Bill answered readily. "They'll be along later on tonight." He took in the group, and noticed a newcomer hovering in the corner. "Hello, we've not met," he said, striding over confidently towards Loki.

"Loki," the young man said quietly, making no move to take Bill's proffered hand. Padfoot nudged his nose under Loki's right hand. Loki's flash of annoyance at this lasted no longer than a moment.

Bill caught both the nudge and the annoyance, and gave Loki a considering look. "Glad to meet you, Loki," he said, reserving any other comment he may have had.

Harry stepped up to make introductions for everyone. "Loki, this is Ron's oldest brother Bill, his wife Fleur, and Charlie, the second-eldest Weasley. Everyone, this is Loki, he's staying with me for a while."

"And is this your dog?" Charlie interrupted, kneeling down in front of Padfoot, who immediately presented his ears for scratches, his tongue lolling out in a canine grin.

"Loki calls him Wolf," Luna piped up, "when he isn't calling him a pest."

'Wolf' gave Loki a baleful look, then resumed his canine obliviousness when Luna patted him on the head.

"He's certainly that shaggy," Charlie agreed cheerfully, giving the dog's fur another ruffle.

"Alright, wash your hands, you lot," Molly called to them, "dinner's ready."

George appeared in the doorway right behind her. "Yeah, hurry up. This roast isn't going to get any rarer," he teased, throwing a wink at Bill.

"Let's get a move on, then," Bill agreed enthusiastically, Fleur smirking at him fondly.

In relatively short order, everyone's hands were washed and dried, and the crowd of them gathered around the kitchen table, by then groaning with the weight of the feast. George removed the stasis charm with a flourish, saying, "All right, everyone, tuck in!"

Tuck in they did. It was a magnificent feast, the equal of many of them had only had at school. Loki helped himself to more of the vegetables than the roasts, still a bit put off by the reminders of hom– of Asgard. Frowning, Loki ignored the conversations going on around him, and retreated into his own mind. Reflexively, he reached for his magic, to make a duplicate of himself so he could retreat entirely, but the power was still too weak, to far distant for him to access it.

A light touch on his hand brought his awareness back to where he was. Luna, seated at his left, had laid her hand over his, gently. "It will come to you, you know," was all she said.

Loki looked up in momentary confusion, shaking his head to rid himself of it. It was eerie how this woman always seemed to be replying to the thoughts in his head.

Now she was staring at him intently, her usually vague silvery eyes again holding that piercing look. "Look for the differences," she said at last, "that's where the growth is."

He stared ahead blankly for another few seconds, but when he turned to reply to her, Luna was already talking to Ginny on her other side. Perplexed, Loki turned back towards his dinner and ate, letting the sounds of conversation wash over him while everyone around him finished their meals as well.

Loki was drawn out of his reverie by movement around the table. He was still picking at his meal, but everyone else seemed to have finished. Even Padfoot was lying contentedly at his feet, licking the few remaining traces of gravy off of a plate that someone had apparently given to him. The wizard-in-dog-form looked up at him expectantly, and nudged the china platter in front of him with a whine. Absently, Loki bent slightly to retrieve the plate, setting it on the table next to his own.

Fleur was leading Molly into the living room, while the rest of the family, adoptive and otherwise, took care of things in the kitchen. She beckoned to Loki, and another nudge from Padfoot had both of them following the women out.

The washing up was quickly accomplished, with so many hands to assist. The rest of them departed for the living room as they finished their various tasks, until only Hermione and George, in charge of putting away the clean dishes, were left in the kitchen.

All was quiet, except for the clink of the dishes as they replaced them in the cupboards. It took Hermione a moment to realize that George was also putting everything away by hand, instead of using magic.

That fact worried her. She tugged one of her twists absently in thought, watching the older man. He was definitely more grey-haired than the last time she'd seen him. "Is everything alright?" she hazarded.

George stopped, turning to regard her. "It's fine," he managed. "It's just...sometimes I need a few minutes, you know?"

Hermione nodded her understanding, placing a worried hand on George's shoulder. "What can we do, George? For you, I mean?"

The smile he gave her was like the ghost of his old self: wan but recognizable, if a bit transparent. "It's no trouble," he said automatically, and there was no rancor in it. "I'm okay, really."

"You may be okay," Hermione pressed, "but you deserve more than that. Harry and I both, well...we'd like to see you well, and happy."

The redhead just sighed and shook his head, sagging against the kitchen counter. "I'm not sure those are for me anymore, Hermione."

There wasn't anything she could say to that, so Hermione just leaned against the counter too, and wrapped her arm around George's back, giving him a comforting squeeze. A moment later, he returned the gesture, and Hermione's head came to rest on his shoulder in sisterly affection.

It wasn't to last, for Molly's voice floated in from the other room, calling for her second-youngest son. George gave Hermione an apologetic but grateful smile, before going back to his mother.

Hermione watched him go. She didn't know how he could manage, caring for his mother all alone for so much of the time. The vibrant, downright reckless Weasley twin had been subdued after Fred was killed, but the weight of carrying both his and his mother's sorrows had gone far past mere grief, even before his father had passed.

Still, there was nothing she could do to stop any of this. She'd tried already, Merlin knew, and had come to the heartbreaking realization that you couldn't just force-feed a person happiness, or even relief from their pain, no matter how much you wanted better things for them. Molly's grief was consuming her, and taking George with it, and there was nothing Hermione could do, other than be kind, and be there.

With a small sigh, she followed George out of the kitchen.

A/N: This chapter got to be SUPER-unwieldy, so I'm breaking it up into two parts. I don't know how long Part II will take me, but it should be less than the first half took. (Considering THAT WAS A YEAR, it had better!)

I had a very, very long writing dry spell last year – life took over, as it does – but I am back to Writing (TM), and this time I'm On A Schedule (TM). With any luck that should help.

Thanks for your patience, reads, kudos and comments. I'm writing for me, but it certainly makes me glad to know that you enjoy this, too.