I mean, this is probably fairly self-explanatory based on the title, but y'know, it has Romione! And baby Weasleys! And Christmas! So whatever. Obviously I don't own HP or the song on which this is very, very loosely based, but who knows, maybe Santa will oblige?

Also, this is the first of 3 Christmas Romione one-shots that I'm positing for hpshipweeks, as a little thank you to everyone who reads and reviews my stuff on here. I am very bad at responding to reviews, but I do read and very much appreciate every one. I'm so glad that my little stories make people smile :)

This particular story is dedicated to Olivia/owluvr, for September (I'm sorry!) as part of the 2013 GGE.

"I think that's all of them, isn't it?"

Hermione passed her husband a last neatly wrapped package to place under the tree and pulled a face at him. "That didn't sound very festive."

"Ho, ho, ho, I think that's all of them, isn't it?" Ron said flatly.

"I'm just so glad to see you getting into the Christmas spirit!" Hermione replied.

"I am wearing a Father Christmas outfit; you've transfigured me a beard and turned my hair white; I have eight-five pillows stacked around me for padding and I've eaten the mince pie and sherry Rosie left out for 'Santa'," Ron said. "How much more festive can it get?!"

"Scrooge," Hermione teased, and he pulled a face at her. "Besides," she added, turning sideways, "even with your pillows, I think I've got a bigger tummy than you."

"Yes dear," he said, coming to stand next to her so they could compare, "but you're seven and a half months pregnant."

"And don't I know it," sighed Hermione. "This one'll have my up every hour on the hour to go to the loo, Christmas or not."

"I know, it's terrible," Ron agreed. "You'll wake me up, too, it—oi! Hah!" he chuckled, dodging away from Hermione who was poking every bit of him she could reach. "I can't feel a thing with this costume on."

"Better keep it on all the time then," Hermione quipped. "When I go into labour I can throw things at you and hit you and you won't feel a thing..."

"Rosie might get a bit confused as to why I'm still wearing it," he said.

"More likely she'll be confused about why Santa's coming out in March," Hermione said. "I heard her sneaking about earlier, so I'm pretty sure she'll have seen Father Christmas laying out the presents under the tree. Hopefully she won't wonder where Daddy got to at the same time..."

"We've got a few years left before she catches on," Ron smiled. "And next year, there'll be two of them to fool."

"Shouldn't be too hard, with all of your genes in them!" Hermione said primly.

"Oh, shut up!" Ron said.

"Make me!"

"Very well!" He leaned down and kissed her. And kissed her and kissed her. And neither of them heard the little footsteps, sneaking around...

x

"Dear, is Rose alright?" Molly asked, passing Ron a stack of plates in the kitchen of The Burrow.

"I'm not sure," Ron frowned. "She does seem kind of...off today, but I don't think she's ill. Maybe it's just Christmas getting her a bit over excited?"

"Did Santa not bring her what she wanted?" asked Charlie, who had appeared in the kitchen wearing a pink tiara and wreath of tinsel. "Molly wanted to decorate me," he said, by way of explanation.

"I don't think it's that," Ron said, frowning. "We got her the book she said she wanted, and a toy broomstick. The only thing we didn't get her that she'd put on her letter to Santa was a dragon," he added, glaring pointedly at Charlie. "But Hermione had warned her that Santa doesn't bring dragons, and anyway, this is Rose! She's not the kind of child to throw a fit because she doesn't get a certain present..."

"Must just be the excitement of Christmas, then," Molly said wisely. "I'm sure she'll be fine. Now, Ron, you take those plates through, and Charlie, you come here—I think these sprouts are done..."

Half an hour later, a magnificent Christmas lunch was being served at the (very extended) table, and all the Weasleys were talking and laughing their way through the meal. "Rosie, can you pass me the carrots, please?" Hermione asked her daughter, who was sat two seats away, with Harry, her "favit uncle", between them.

Rose looked at her mother, then at the dish of carrots in front of her, then back at her mother. "No," she said smugly. "Shan't."

"Rosie!" laughed Harry, picking up the carrots dish himself and passing it over to Hermione. "That's not very nice. You shouldn't speak to your Mummy like that!"

"Mummy's howwid!" exclaimed Rose, loudly enough that several conversations around them stopped.

"Rosie, don't say things like that," Harry began, but his niece interrupted him.

"Mummy is howwid. I don't like her!" Rosie said, setting her fork down with a bump.

"Don't worry, she doesn't mean it," Angelina said, leaning over to Hermione. "I remember when Fred was her age, he called me horrible and didn't speak to me for three days because I'd broken his favourite doll." Six year old Fred, who had heard his mother's every word flushed, and James and Louis looked gleeful, causing Percy, who was trapped in the middle to help keep the peace, to look quite alarmed.

"Rose, apologise to your mother," Ron said. His daughter's bottom lip began to tremble and she jumped off her seat, racing over to him and climbing onto his lap.

"Shan't!" she said tearfully. "Mummy is howwid, and she's howwid to you! That's not nice!" Ron and Hermione exchanged mystified glances.

"Rosie, if Mummy and Daddy were arguing with each other, it doesn't mean that they don't love each other," Ginny said gently. "Or that Mummy is horrid. It just means that they were disagreeing on something, but it's not a big deal. Everyone argues with people, even people they love!"

"'Specially Auntie Miney and Uncle Ron," Roxanne piped up. "They argue all the time, Daddy says so!" George attempted to look innocent.

"Not arguing," Rose said, still sat on her father's lap. "Mummy did something terrible."

"Worse than the time she shrank your Cannons robes in the wash?" Ron asked, attempting to inject some levity into the situation.

Rose nodded solemnly. "She kissed on the lips a man and it wasn't you!" she said. At this, every conversation that hadn't already stopped ground to a halt; even the children were looking around at their parents, aware that something serious was going on.

"Rose, I'm sure you're mistaken—" Ron began, but Rosie shook her head insistently.

"Nu-uh," she said. "I saw it. She kissed a man and it wasn't you!"

"Is Auntie Hermione having an affair like Auntie Gabrielle did?" asked Victoire, who was the eldest and quite quick on the uptake.

"Victoire! Don't be ridiculous!" hissed Fleur. "And 'ow do you know about Tante Gabrielle?!"

"Daddy told us!" Dominique said, around mouthfuls of food.

"Er," her father said, determinedly avoiding his wife's eye. They began a fierce, whispered conversation, but everyone else was gawping at either Ron, Rose or a very pink in the face Hermione.

"I see'd you kissing him. He came to our house!" Rose said. "And you kissed him." Molly dropped her fork.

"You had another man come to your house?!" she asked.

"I'm quite impressed," Audrey stage-whispered to Ginny. "I don't have enough hours in the day to look at Percy, let alone another man..." Ginny giggled, and Percy—still trying to keep an eye on James, Fred and Louis who were the only ones not gazing avidly at the display in front of them—glared at his wife.

"Was it the postman, Rosie?" George asked.

"What?!" asked Ron.

"You know, it's always the postman the wife gets off with in those Muggle films—that I, er, definitely don't know anything about," he added hastily, catching Angelina's fierce stare.

"What's getting off?" James curiously, and Harry sighed loudly.

"Rosie, I'm sure there's been some mistake," said Hermione, but her daughter interrupted.

"I saw you! Last night! You kissed him! And that's not nice to Daddy," Rose said triumphantly.

"Last night...oh. Oh," said Hermione, trying not to laugh. "Oh!" Ron began to chuckle, too, and the rest of the Weasleys looked at them in confusion.

"Are you going to let us all in on the joke?" Ginny asked.

"Rosie," Ron said, struggling to keep a straight face. "What did the man Mummy was kissing look like?"

"He was very big," Rose said, screwing up her face in an effort to remember. "An' he had a beard. An' he was very old, 'cause his hair and his beard was white. An' he was wearing all red. An' she kissed him."

Ginny, George, Bill and Charlie was all outright laughing; Audrey had covered her mouth with her hands; Fleur was unsuccessfully trying to keep a poker face, and even Molly's lips were twitching. Only Arthur, who could see how upset Rose was becoming in thinking everyone was laughing at her, managed to keep a straight face. "It's alright Rosie, your Mummy wasn't doing anything she shouldn't have been!" he said kindly.

"But she was kissing him!" Rose said, pouting.

"Er—yes," her Grandad replied. "But...well, you'll understand when you're older. And maybe your Daddy wasn't as far away as you thought, when she kissed him."

Rose scrunched up her nose. "Huh?"

Arthur looked around, hoping someone else would step up to the plate. The adults were all still laughing, but most of the children had gone back to their own discussions—all except Molly, who was very much Percy's daughter—who asked, with genuine concern in her voice, "But that person that Auntie Hermione was kissing sounds like Santa! How can she be kissing Santa? He's not Uncle Ron!"

"Yeah!" said Rose, who seemed quite pleased that someone was willing to take her side, even if she didn't understand quite what Molly was getting at. "Santa's not Daddy, is he?"

"Ask your Daddy, dear," Hermione said, finally helping herself to the carrots.