Christmas Morning

-x-

"Mommy! Mommy! Wake up! There's presents under the tree!" Hermione groaned, feeling the weight of her daughter pressing into her stomach then climbing up to her chest. The witch opened her eyes, slowly adjusting to the dim light of the room, only lit by the beaming light from the hallway. Wrapping her arms around her daughter, she shifted the three-year-old from her form and onto the edge of the bed so she could sit up. Glancing to her left, she noted the distinctly empty side of the bed and her heart sank for a moment. "Dad's waiting for us, hurry up!" Annabelle encouraged, tugging on Hermione's wild, slept on curls.

"I'm awake, darling, I'm awake," Hermione laughed, feeling the little girl slip from the bed and the sound of her pattering feet filling the quiet. With a big stretch and an equally powerful yawn, the witch swung her legs from her mattress and stood up. She gathered her night robe from the bedpost and tied it around herself before shuffling into the hall. Annabelle was waiting outside her door and quickly took her mother's hand, pulling her down to the living room.

Severus was standing in the kitchen that overlooked their small living space, their other daughter in his arms as he fed her her morning bottle. Theresa was born a few weeks prematurely and was rather small so they had to feed her a special formula of potions and nutrients to get her growth up. Seeing her husband cradling their daughter warmed her heart every time she took in the scene, and she mindlessly walked over, leaning into his side and kissing his cheek.

"Good morning, love," he whispered. Hermione looked down at the little girl's sleeping features as she sucked at the bottle in her mouth. She then looked over to see their oldest sitting ever so patiently next to a sizeable pile of wrapped boxes and stuffed bags underneath their tree littered with candles. Having grown up in a muggle home, Hermione hadn't ever dreamed of lighting a Christmas tree with candles, which was almost guaranteed to result in a house fire. But these were magically fueled and never burnt out or burnt down.

"Can I open them, please?" Annabelle begged. Hermione grinned and puttered over, taking a seat on the couch closest to the girl.

"Go ahead," the mother of two allowed. As watched her daughter tear into one package with great speed, she held back a laugh and leaned forward. "Slowly now, if you go too fast, Christmas will be over before you know it!" She said it every year as her mother had said to her. The couch sunk beside her and she looked over to see Severus carefully positioning himself so that he could support their infant while also keeping her asleep. Hermione reached out and touched the soft fabric covering the baby's toes and smiled.

"Does Tessa get anything?" Annabelle asked, sitting back and holding the plush animal that was charmed to hug back in her grasp. Hermione looked down at the blond girl and smiled. There wasn't a moment of her daughter's life that wasn't spent worrying about the little baby that mommy and daddy brought home one day. Hermione knew it was likely a bit of jealousy more than genuine caring, but it was still sweet to know how frequently the little girl thought of her baby sister.

"Of course she does," Hermione answered. "But we already opened her presents for her because her teeny-tiny hands are too small to tear open the paper. But next year she can help you!" Annabelle determined this was enough and contently returned to her ripping through red and green paper. Each gift elicited a bout of glee and when she reached her main present, the little girl leapt from the floor and threw herself into her mother's lap.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, mummy!" She repeated, nuzzling her face into her mom's side. Annabelle was wearing the same soft pyjama's as her sister was, a footsie onesie with a colourful Christmas themed pattern that Hermione's mother had gifted them on Christmas Eve. She tucked her feet under herself once her daughter returned to her seat on the floor to play with her towering painting easel. There was a pallet that floated next to it, at her height, that had an unlimited range of colours and shades that never dried out or made a mess. That particular feature was something that had thrilled Hermione to discover after her daughter has become known for painting on the walls and the carpets. It was an easy clean, but she thought it might be better to teach her daughter to paint on a canvas instead of a wall.

"I love you," Severus whispered as a moment of the two parents watching their oldest paint wildly on the paper presented to her. The witch leaned back a bit, careful not to bump her husband's arm and looked up at him.

"I love you too," she replied. "Merry Christmas, Severus."

"Merry Christmas, Hermione."