Chapter 7
VII
He woke up first.
Harry Potter couldn't help it. His eyes flew open at the crack of dawn and there was absolutely no way he would be able to get back to sleep. They had a big day ahead of them, so Harry wasted no time in heading to the bathroom to get ready. He had a feeling this was going to be a great day.
Jane woke up next and buried him in such a loving hug that Harry might have even teared up. Between the two of them, they got started on the waffles. Michael joined them shortly after, and he did the thing and hugged Harry as well, overwhelming the poor boy. When breakfast was almost ready, Jane sent him to wake up Hermione, and he literally jumped at the opportunity.
Harry grabbed a Santa's hat and a spoonful of waffle batter before he raced up the stairs. He knocked once on her door - just to be polite - and then he went inside. Hermione was positively adorable when she slept. She was actually tangled up in her sheets, her hair a mess, and a bare foot sticking out from under the covers. He resisted the urge to tickle her, but went for something equally dramatic.
Harry practically pounced on her, startling her.
Hermione screamed, and then burst out laughing at the sight of him, looking like a little kid on Christmas morning. He was wearing a Santa's hat that said 'Santa's Little Helper' and it took every ounce of her will power not to bring him down to her and just hold him close.
"Time to get up," he practically sang, bouncing on her bed in his excitement. "It's Christmas Day, Hermione, and you know what that means..."
She blinked up at him. "What?"
He bounced again. "Waffles!" At the sound of that, Harry dropped a dollop of batter onto her cheek and she shrieked, pushing him off the bed. Harry landed hard on the ground, but he didn't even notice through his laughter. He quickly got to his feet.
Just in time, really, because she suddenly lunged for him, and then he was running, Hermione hot on his heels. Harry bounded down the stairs and into the kitchen, deftly moving to hide behind Jane, decidedly not like the boy who's faced off against Voldemort one too many times.
"What the...?" Jane asked, but stopped dead when she spotted her daughter as she sprinted into the kitchen, batter dripping down her cheek and looking half-asleep. At the sight, Jane couldn't help but burst out laughing. Harry hadn't actually stopped.
"What's going on?" Michael asked, coming into the kitchen from the dining room. When he spotted his daughter, he too started laughing.
Hermione huffed, clearly annoyed.
Harry peeked at her from behind Jane. "Merry Christmas, Hermione," he said sweetly, and even blew her a kiss.
Hermione's anger dissipated immediately, and gave way to a deep blush. Without a word, she turned and fled the kitchen, swearing her revenge.
Michael high-fived Harry. "Though, you do know that she's probably come up with a million ways to get you back already," he warned. "Ways that you'll never see coming."
Harry shrugged. "Let her try."
Hermione was as polite as ever all morning. Too polite, and that was worrying. They'd gone to church and returned without any incident, but Harry was growing wary of her. She kept glancing at him and smiling cryptically. It was driving him insane.
If Harry were being really honest, he'd have to say that he rather enjoyed going to church. He didn't know half the things that the Father was talking about but it was all so very interesting, learning new things. The songs were nice as well. As wizards, they celebrated the Yuletide, but he didn't know if there truly was religion behind their own celebrations.
He doubted that the Dursleys were God-fearing people, though they definitely pretended to be. He made a mental note to discuss it all with Hermione, whenever she decided to end his torture. Really, couldn't she just strike already so he could relax?
Harry started to think that her revenge would be getting him and her father under the recently-hung mistletoe at the same time. Wow, that would be awkward! Harry even shuddered at the mere thought of it.
The mistletoe itself seemed to haunt him in some way. His eyes kept drifting towards it, as if it was taunting him. Goading him. Daring him.
"We should start getting ready to go," Jane said loudly from the kitchen after they'd been back home for a little more than twenty minutes, making sure that all of them knew. They'd decided that they would wait on opening their presents until they got back later in the day.
Harry and Hermione spent a few minutes helping Jane in the kitchen, packing her pies and presents for the journey to Norwich.
"It's going to be at least three and a half hours," Michael said, striding into the living room. "So if you need the loo, go right now. The car is all fuelled up; we won't be stopping until we get to the Freeman House."
Hermione let out a small squeak, as she rushed from the room, making the other three smile.
Jane looked at Harry. "You don't need to go, sweetheart?"
Harry was slowly getting used to the endearments. "I'm good," he said confidently.
She raised an eyebrow. "Why don't you just go in case?" she offered, somewhat knowingly, and Harry obliged. He really thought he would be fine, but it was better to be safe than sorry, wasn't it?
Because, in the end, they did end up having to pull over. For Michael.
Jane and Hermione giggled the entire time, teasing him incessantly about his inability to follow his own advice. He'd squirmed in his seat until he just couldn't hold it in anymore, and then pulled over on the side of the road. It was freezing. What was he thinking?
Harry could only cringe at the thought of taking a leak in this weather. Surely, there had to be a petrol station near by.
Jane handed Michael a wet wipe once he was back in the car, and turned up the heat.
"Nobody comment," he said, his teeth chattering. "Don't any of you dare say a word."
Hermione let out another giggle and Michael shot her look in the rearview mirror. She just rolled her eyes. "Seriously, Dad, this is hilarious. If it weren't you; you know you'd be laughing too."
Michael just huffed, as he took to the road again. There was Christmas music playing on the radio, and Harry felt warm and happy. All his worries about being alone on Christmas, or the cold anger that he'd felt when he received that letter seemed so far away. He was here with Hermione and her parents, and he just felt like he belonged.
"Look at that." Hermione suddenly said, leaning over to point out his window. "It's massive."
Harry turned his head to see a giant inflated Santa Claus, practically looming over them all. It was huge. And it was singing. "Those people really know how it's done," Harry said quietly.
Hermione was leaning towards him and, when Michael hit a small pothole in the road, she fell into him, bumping her head against his.
"Grr," Harry sounded, his hand flying up to rub against the impact point on his forehead. His eyes were tightly shut and he grit his teeth at the pain.
"Gahh," Hermione said, trying to right herself by putting a hand on what she thought was his thigh. "Sorry," she said quickly. She was rubbing at her temple with her other hand, wondering if she would end up bruising.
"Sorry," Michael called out, looking at the two of them in the rearview mirror. "Didn't see that."
Hermione shot a glare at her father, knowing full well that he'd done it on purpose. She could practically hear it in his voice. What was he trying to do? Concuss them? When she looked at Harry, he looked a little dazed. "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice a little more than a whisper.
His green eyes fell on her face, and he blushed.
"Harry?" she questioned.
He couldn't bring himself to say a word, so he just looked down at his lap, and Hermione's eyes followed his.
Oh.
That was not his thigh.
Hermione snatched her hand back from its position dangerously close to another part of his anatomy. She looked away, flushing a deep red almost instantly, and the two of them did not look at each other, nor did they talk until they arrived in Norwich.
"Oh, it looks like Barry and Georgia are already here," Jane said, spying her sister's car in the driveway.
"They do live in Norwich, Jane," Michael reminded her. "So, please, no family drama this year."
Hermione finally spoke. "Yes, please, no family drama," she reiterated.
It would be no use, they knew. They said the same thing every year, but there was always some kind of drama, and it almost always involved Dr Jane Elizabeth Granger, or her daughter nowadays. Hermione recovered enough to explain to Harry why that was as they were taking items out of the boot to carry into the house.
"My mum might be the youngest, but she is the most successful of the four sisters," she told him. "She's also the only one in a successful marriage. Barry is my Aunt Georgia's boyfriend. They've been together for a few years, but they keep breaking up and then getting back together. It's all so very complicated."
Harry just listened.
"Aunt Georgia has a daughter, who's twenty six. Her name is Beatrice, and she has two kids, Ryan and Kristen. They're adorable. Really, the cutest little tykes you've ever seen." She giggled. "Naughty little things, but truly adorable. I call them rascals, and my mum calls them bambinos."
Harry followed her into the house, where he was quickly and warmly introduced to Hermione's grandparents, aunt, and Barry. They had a few questions about him, which he happily answered, and then there were more people arriving. Hermione had him meet all her cousins, four in total.
Hermione explained to him that her mother had three older sisters: Georgia, Michelle and Adrienne. On top of Georgia's Beatrice, there was Michelle's Craig, and then Adrienne's Matthew and Spencer. Her cousins were all older than her and, because she was usually at boarding school and lived in Oxfordshire, she didn't get to spend all that much time with them. Hermione told him that, when they were younger, she'd been rather close with Beatrice, but now she wasn't sure that the two of them could even hold a proper conversation. She just didn't know how to talk to her anymore.
Harry decided early on that he liked Matthew best. The boy was a loud comedian, though Harry had to acknowledge that Spencer was more of a silent assassin, truly funny and witty without even having to try.
"Matty and I always got on best," Hermione told him, as they got drinks from the kitchen. "I don't know why; we're not even that similar, but I reckon it's to do with the fact that he has a drive to learn things."
The eighteen-year-old did seem knowledgable about the most arbitrary things.
"We used to read my nan's encyclopaedias just to show off our reading skills," she admitted, blushing slightly. "My uncle, Craig's father, used to pay us to do it sometimes, just so he could marvel at it. He was never known to praise his own son though."
Harry could see cracks in the family where the drama could come from, but nothing really seemed to spark until they were all seated around the large table for their late lunch. It was Michelle who started it, asking Harry about the elusive boarding school that he and Hermione attended with the kind of snark that made him uncomfortable.
They thought it didn't exist. They thought Jane was hiding her daughter's incapabilities behind a lie.
It made Harry burn with cold anger and he spoke up before Hermione, Jane or Michael could, his voice clear and untroubled. "It makes sense that you would think that," he said coldly. "It's not exactly advertised, because some very important people send their children there. The fact that Hermione managed to get a scholarship to such a prestigious academy is just a testament to her capabilities. And the fact that she's the top of our grade, wow. She truly amazes me and I'm sure you're so curious about it because you're very proud of her."
The table fell silent.
Harry managed a smile before he returned to eating his food. He risked a look at Hermione, who was trying her hardest not to grin madly.
It was Craig who kept going. "So you go to this school too then?" he asked somewhat cheekily. "Your parents important as well, or are you supposedly smart like Hermione?"
Harry stiffened.
Hermione made to reprimand her cousin, but Harry's hand on her thigh stopped her. This part, he could do. He could handle talking about his parents when he was defending their honour; their sacrifice that not only saved his life but also put a temporary end to the reign of terror Voldemort was exacting on the Wizarding World.
"Actually, no," he said lazily. "Nobody is as smart as Hermione, so there's no way I could have ever received a scholarship like her. And, as for my parents, yes, I believe they were truly important people, especially in the War, where they were both killed in action when I was still a baby."
Harry would be asked no more questions.
Hermione leaned into him. "Oh my God, Harry; I am so sorry," she whispered. "This is horrible. This is - "
"It's okay, Hermione," he whispered back, cutting her off. "Don't worry about it, okay," he assured her. "This sunshine kid is perfectly fine, all right?"
Hermione didn't look appeased, but she did return to her meal. Jane didn't look any better. She was literally fuming in her seat, but she was determined not to have it out with her second oldest sister in front of Harry. The poor boy didn't need to see that. And, really, if they had something to say about Hermione; all they had to do was come out and say it.
Also, Jane wanted to pepper Harry with kisses for defending Hermione so succinctly. He seemed well-practiced in coming to her defence, but Jane didn't allow her mind to dwell on that for too long.
The rest of the meal was superbly awkward, and it took Hermione's nan, Ruth Freeman, announcing that dessert was served to ease some of the tension.
"I don't think I could eat another thing," Harry declared, quietly enough for only Hermione to hear.
"We can wait a little while," she offered. "Though, maybe we should dish some and set it aside. My cousins can be hoovers when it comes to the sweet stuff."
Hermione wasn't kidding. If they hadn't dished out some pudding; all they would have been left with was the rice pudding. They were both lucky enough to snag a slice of one of Jane's chocolate pecan pie each. It was so good.
Harry and Hermione settled on the couch in the living room and started up a game of Monopoly with Matthew and Spencer. Hermione considered inviting Craig to join but decided against it when the twenty-one-year-old couldn't be found.
Hermione didn't wonder where he was until she heard the raised voices. She buried her face in her hands. She could only imagine that her nan had waited to let rip on her daughters and grandson for making a guest in her home feel so unwelcome. And for trying to undermine Hermione by using her friend to do it. It was tacky and distasteful.
Hermione turned to Harry in embarrassment. "I am so sorry," she said, leaning into him. "Oh, this is so awful."
Harry moved to put an arm around her, and she buried her face against his chest. "It's fine," he said soothingly, his hand rubbing her back. He just managed to ignore Spencer's snicker. "Family is drama; it's fine, Hermione."
"But this was supposed to be a good Christmas for you," she mumbled against his chest. "And now it's ruined!"
"Are you kidding?" he asked incredulously, forcing her to look at him. "This is the best Christmas I've ever had, and it's because of you, okay? Don't think that a few little stray comments and a family fight are going to ruin that." Harry touched her nose with the forefinger of his free hand. "Okay?"
Hermione stared at his face, seeing the lightness in his eyes and his relaxed brow. "Okay," she whispered.
Harry waited a beat before his lips took the place of his finger and he kissed the tip of her nose. "Now, if you don't mind, I think you owe me like a billion Pounds right now."
Hermione turned her attention to the board game, and her two cousins, who had been watching the two of them knowingly. "Shut up," she muttered through her breathless blush, and they just burst out laughing.
With the crisis averted, the four of them returned to their game, which seemed to go on and on. Matthew was a smooth-talker, and was able to get out of sticky situations way too easily. Spencer was downright sneaky; Hermione was a regular professional at this game, and Harry was just painfully honest.
Because of it, the teenaged wizard was bankrupted first. He took up the position of the Bank for the most part, but he did sneak away at some point, only to return with a tray with four cups of hot chocolate and a plate of assorted festive biscuits.
Spencer grinned at him, and then turned his attention to Hermione. "He's a keeper, Hermione," he said. "Marry this boy."
Harry stumbled over his own feet, and he was just glad that he'd already set the tray down. What!
Hermione sputtered, her cheeks flaming. "Oh - um, no, it's not - no, Harry and I - we, uh - "
Matthew and Spencer both burst out laughing again. "Jeez, try not to burst an aneurysm," Spencer said, enjoying being able to tease her. "We get it. You're not, uh, wuh, uh, no." He grinned. "Totally."
Hermione ducked her head, wishing that the ground would open up and swallow her whole. She couldn't bare to look at Harry. He was probably horrified at the very idea. She took a deep breath as Harry moved to sit down next to her again. He leaned into her to whisper in her ear.
"You reckon Spencer would insist on our naming one of our kids after him?" he asked, making her yelp.
Hermione had barely recovered from Spencer's last jab, and now Harry was making it worse. "You're not helping," she muttered.
"I like it when you get all flustered," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "It's cute."
"No it's not," she argued.
"Well, I think it's cute, which is why I'll keep saying thing to flusteryou."
Hermione wanted to kiss him. He was so close, and he was so warm. It was so tempting. He was too tempting.
"Hermione," Matthew said, forcing her to look away from Harry. "It's your turn to roll."
Jane was the one to put an end to the game. Somehow, Matthew and Spencer were holding on. It was because of Harry, really. He kept vouching for them, turning his pout and perfect eyes on her. It was so difficult to resist sometimes.
Jane told them that it was time to go, if they wanted to get home before Boxing Day. And they had presents to open. Hermione had them quickly count their fake Monopoly money to prove that she had, indeed, won. Always the competitor.
Harry and Hermione said their farewells, and Ruth invited Harry back whenever he wanted, which touched him. She also apologised for the hostility at the dining table, and Harry just accepted it. And then they were on their way back to Oxfordshire.
The two teenagers conspired in the backseat about the possibility of a Wizarding Monopoly. Hermione even took out her journal to start jotting down their ideas. Even though she was quite excited by the prospect, Hermione didn't dare lean towards him in case her father hit another pothole that he supposedly didn't see. She wouldn't let her mind think about where her hand had touched him.
It'd been a long day, and it was already nine o'clock by the time Michael pulled into their garage.
Jane looked into the backseat to see that both Harry and Hermione were still, surprisingly, awake. "Why don't you two head on up and get changed; I'll get started on the hot chocolate, and then we can open presents?"
Hermione just nodded, and then got out of the car and headed into the house. Harry waited to help offload the boot, before he also disappeared up the stairs. He was back down before Hermione, and he proceeded to build their little blanket palace once more. It was just about done when Hermione came back down, dressed in fuzzy pink pyjamas and looking decidedly less than her sixteen years. Harry absolutely loved it.
"Who's first?" she asked, grinning widely.
"Why don't you split them up into piles?" Jane offered, entering the room with a large tray. "We've got biscuits!"
Harry helped tailor everyone's hot chocolate to their liking, while Hermione delivered all the presents under the tree to the various recipients. Harry, admittedly, was both surprised and touched by the number of presents that ended up on his pile. In fact, it floored him.
Hermione eventually settled in nice and close to Harry, and the two of them sipped at their hot chocolate until Michael rejoined them. From then on, it was free for all, though Jane did try to maintain a semblance of order. They tried to pay attention to each present as it was opened, but it was a futile attempt in the end.
Jane positively cooed at the scarf that Harry bought for her. "Oh it's perfect, Harry! It matches my skirt. Thank you so much!" She called him into a long, tight hug, pushing his boundaries to the very limit.
Michael bought a black suit for Harry. "Every young man should own at least one suit," he explained. "And, well, you're probably going to have to wear it on New Year's Eve."
Harry frowned. "New Year's Eve?"
Michael looked at his daughter accusingly. "Didn't you tell him?"
Hermione was just unrolling the poster her father bought for her. "Umm, no, not yet." She turned to face Harry. "There's an annual Granger New Year's Eve party that we all have to attend next week," she said simply. "It really is painful."
"Hermione!" Michael scolded, and then he burst out laughing. "But she's right, Harry. It's awful."
Jane picked up the thread. "If you thought my family was bad, then you're in for a real shock."
"I'm also the youngest of four," Michael explained, and all my siblings have at least three children each. He laughed when Harry's eyes widened. "And then my father got remarried after he left my mum, so I have a further three half siblings. They're all going to be there, with their own spouses and their own children." He sighed. "And my mum is one of twelve kids, so there's all that other family." He shuddered before he turned to look at Jane. "Isn't there some way we could just not go?"
Jane covered his face with her hand dismissively. "Shut it, Mickey; we're going. You know how they'll talk if we don't."
For a moment, Harry was almost grateful that he didn't have family. Well, not really, because he wouldn't mind family drama if his parents were still alive. Though, looking at it, he didn't know if he could have survived having a bad relationship with them. Would he have other siblings? Would they resent him as well?
Hermione giggled at the sight of her poster, drawing all their attentions. "Oh, I know exactly where this is going!"
From Jane, Harry received a cook book, which included the lamb curry from his second night in the Granger household. "Oh wow!" he said, looking through the various recipes. "This is so cool! Thank you!"
Jane smiled at him. "Well, you looked quite interested, so I thought you'd appreciate it," she explained. "We can try some things out together before you leave, if you'd like."
"I'd love that," he said, beaming at her. There was a moment where he hesitated, caught between wanting to hug her and actually doing it. It took a wave of her hand for him to propel himself forward so he could hug her. While he was there, Hermione screeched his name.
"Harry!"
He released Jane to look at her. "What? What?"
"It's beautiful," she declared, staring down at the watch she held in her hand. "It's too much."
Harry moved to kneel beside her. "Nonsense," he said dismissively. "It's barely enough."
Hermione quickly clipped the white gold band on her wrist, her eyes continuing to stare at its face. She couldn't bring herself to look away from it. Even her parents were commenting on how lovely it was.
"Did you see what's engraved on the back?" he asked.
Her eyes snapped towards him, panicked, and she quickly removed the watch again. Her eyes read the words first, and then the tip of her right forefinger traced the letters.
Merry Christmas, HJG.
25/12/1995
- Love HJP
Love.
Hermione turned to look at him, her eyes shining.
Harry swallowed nervously. Why was she looking at him like that? "Umm, so, there's a switch there that can swap it between yours and mine," he explained, pointing at a small knob on the side of the watch. "It's showing mine right now because we still don't know what your patronus is. Once you cast your first fully-formed one; it'll show up, apparently." He dropped his voice to a whisper only she could hear. "My watch does the same thing."
Hermione threw herself at him, knocking the wind right out of him. He almost lost his balance and fell backwards, but he managed to stay upright as Hermione hugged the life out of him. He felt her lips place a chaste kiss against his neck, and then she released him, putting considerable distance between them.
Harry could only stare at her, dumbfounded. She'd kissed his neck. Merely the thought of it brought a blush to his face and, from the looks of it, she wasn't handling it any much better than he was.
He cleared his throat. "You should probably read up on all the other things it has," he said, referring to the pamphlet that came with the watch. "It's got all sorts of enchantments and protections."
Hermione just nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She would figure out a way to say thank you soon enough.
"Oh, epic," Michael sounded, opening his next present and allowing the teenagers a reprieve. It was the tie from Hermione. He held it up and it unrolled to reveal a large Tigger from Winnie the Pooh, bouncing on his tail and looking about as happy as he could get. "Harry, we match! I love it," he declared, immediately putting it on, even though he wasn't even wearing a collared shirt anymore.
"It's perfect," Jane said, tugging on the tie so they could share a kiss.
Harry looked away just in time to catch Hermione rolling her eyes.
Michael practically squealed at the pipe that Harry bought for him, Hermione did a little happy dance at her book voucher and Jane immediately doused herself in the Poison perfume that Michael picked out for her. At the time on purchase, Harry had gawked at the fact that a perfume could be called Poison, but he had to admit that it smelt very nice.
And then Harry opened his gift from Hermione. She bought him a few books - all part of the series that she'd got him hooked onto referred to as The Forbidden Game Series - and a Christmas stocking... that had his name on it. He just stared down at the green and red fabric, his heart thundering in his chest.
Hermione sidled up to him, the heat of her equally overwhelming. "I thought we could put it up with ours by the fireplace," she said, touching his arm. "And then, for years after this, you'll always have a place here at Christmas. Or whenever, really."
Harry blinked back tears. "This - this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. "You are amazing, Hermione. Thank you." Before he even knew what he was doing, he was wrapped around her in a tight hug that surprised them both.
It took the sound of Michael clearing his throat to get them to release each other, both of them blushing madly.
"I'm glad you like it, Harry," Hermione said softly.
"I love it. I absolutely love it!"
Jane and Michael exchanged a look, a mixture of sadness and happiness in both of their expressions. How was it that a stocking could be so well received?
Harry clutched the fabric against his chest, letting his emotions ride through him. He leaned against Hermione. "I've never really had anything with my name on it like this," he whispered to her and, this time around, she wrapped her arms around him. She hugged him for all he was worth, trying desperately to convey something to him without having to use words.
Jane quickly moved them along until all their presents were opened and piled neatly to be taken to the various bedrooms.
"You kids up for a game of Scrabble?" she asked, eyeing their drooping eyelids.
Hermione's face lit up but Harry merely looked confused. She had to explain to him that it was a word-building game, with the goal of building words to score the highest number of points. Of course the Dursleys wouldn't have played a game that required that much thinking.
The game, admittedly, didn't last very long. Michael was the one who passed out first, and Harry was quick to follow. Jane and Hermione continued for a little while, before Hermione yawned, and Jane called an end to proceedings. The two of them cleaned up the best that they could, and then Jane was waking Michael and Hermione was waking Harry. She would never be able to get over just how cute he looked when his eyes fluttered open.
"Time for bed," she said, helping him stand up.
They all bid goodnight to one another, and then disappeared behind closed doors. Before Harry climbed into bed, he used the toilet and then decided that he needed a glass of water. He wasn't feeling as sleepy now that he was up and about.
Harry headed down to the kitchen, and poured himself a glass of water. He had just reached into the biscuit tin to swipe one, when someone spoke from some place behind him.
"Hey you," Hermione said, unable to resist.
Harry startled, and almost dropped the glass of water in his hand. He turned sharply, and looked at her accusingly. "Are you trying to kill me?" he asked, his breath ragged.
Hermione just smiled. "Well, I did go to your room to jump on you the way you did this morning, but you weren't there," she said, shrugging. "So, what are you doing?"
"Getting some water."
"And that biscuit in your hand; it's just a what, an illusion?"
Harry blushed. "Would you like one?"
"Why not?"
Harry set his glass of water down on the counter and proceeded to get another biscuit from the tin on the same counter. He was astutely aware of Hermione moving towards him, and he did all he could not to react in some way. The kitchen was dark, and he felt happy - there was no saying what he would do.
Harry handed her a biscuit, and the two of them ate in silence for a moment. When Hermione lifted his glass and took a sip from it; Harry filled with a warm feeling that he wouldn't be able to name. He was sure it wasn't even rational because all she did was drink from his glass, but, seriously, he felt giddy.
"What?" Hermione asked, the glass held against her lips. "You didn't spike this with some potion, did you?"
"And why would I do that?" he asked, unable to get rid of his smile.
"Exactly," she agreed. "Why would you?"
Harry took the glass from her, his fingers brushing against hers, and then took a large gulp of water, before handing the glass back to her. "Let's wait a minute to see if anything happens," he said.
They passed the glass between them until all the water was gone, and then they stood and looked at each other, just waiting. Neither of them said a word, but slowly, their smiles widened until they were both laughing at how ridiculous they were acting.
Eventually, Hermione spoke. "You are so weird," she said.
"That may be so," he agreed; "but you don't care, do you?"
"Not in the slightest," she said, resisting the urge to touch him. Then: "We should probably get some sleep, Harry."
He nodded in agreement, before he carried the empty glass and placed it in the sink. He'd probably make too much noise if he were to try to wash it now. He followed Hermione out of the kitchen, and into the living room, where she stopped to pick up her novel.
They seemed to forget.
It was the only explanation, really, that would have them willingly walk through the arch that they both knew housed the dangerous mistletoe. Together. They came to a mutual stop right under the offensive plant, and Harry's heart immediately started to race.
"Oh," Hermione sounded, unable to form suitable words. Why oh why had she insisted on picking up her book? "I forgot about this," she managed to say. "We, uh, we can not, and just say we did," she offered quietly, definitely giving him an out. This was so not how she wanted to kiss him.
Harry steeled himself. "Or we could, and still say we did," he counter-offered.
Hermione just stared at him.
Harry turned his body to face her fully. "It is Christmas, Hermione," he said, giving her a small smile. "Unless you don't want to?" he asked uncertainly.
"I do," she said quickly, turning to face him as well. "It's all in the spirit of Christmas, right?"
Harry nodded as he took a small step towards her, his breath ragged. Was this really happening? Was he really going to kiss her?
Yes, yes he was.
Hermione couldn't breathe. This was terrifying. Harry looked like he wanted to kiss her, and that was paralysing. What was she supposed to do now?
Harry closed the space between them with one more step, his right hand moving to rest at her hip. She gasped quietly at the contact, but it bolstered her own position, and she raised her hand to trace his jaw with her fingers. His skin was so warm.
Hermione decided that it would be a chaste kiss, just a peck, a quick meeting of lips, and then they would go to bed and forget that this ever happened.
But when his lips tenderly pressed against hers, all thoughts left her. She practically melted against him, absently pulling him closer as her fingers moved to run through the strands of his perfect hair. It was everything.
Harry pulled away to whisper against her lips. "Hermione."
But she was pulling him back to her, not wanting this magical moment to end. Harry kissed her back with increased urgency, his warm hands cupping her face. He felt like he was on fire. That was it. His skin was burning wherever they were touching, and the fact that she was pulling him closer was, well, consistently robbing him of precious breath. He was kissing her, and it was everything.
Hermione felt both light and heavy at the same time. She wanted to say his name, just to be sure that this was really happening, but her voice got stuck in her throat. Really, she was convinced that she would never be able to speak again.
Harry pulled away first, his eyes remaining closed as he rested his forehead against hers. Their breaths mingled and it sent a shiver down and then back up Hermione's spine. There were things that they needed to talk about - particularly this kiss - but she couldn't. She wouldn't.
"Merry Christmas, Hermione," he murmured, his thumb gently running across her bottom lip. He placed one last kiss against the corner of her mouth, and then he headed up the stairs, taking them two at a time and disappearing into his room before Hermione could recover enough to open her eyes.
She knew that he was gone from the loss of heat, but she couldn't stop a goofy smile from taking hostage of her face. She looked up at the mistletoe, breathing out a quiet thank you.
Definitely a great day!
Chapter 8
AN: There are a few lines from the film in this chapter, mainly because I loved them so much.
VIII
He couldn't get to sleep.
Harry Potter tossed and turned in bed until he finally gave up on reaching any form of unconsciousness. He kissed Hermione. He kissed her. And she kissed him back. No, she'd commanded the kiss, deepening it and turning his brain to porridge. He could still feel the aftereffects of her fingers in his hair and her lips against his. Claiming his.
There was no way he was going to be able to sleep now.
He wanted to kiss her again. Really, he wanted to get out of bed and go to her. He needed to be sure that it hadn't all been a dream; that it really happened, and that she didn't want to take it back. Did she regret it? Did it mean anything?
Eventually, the events of the day caught up with him and Harry finally fell asleep. It was a troubled sleep, and he woke up a few times, but not from nightmares. He rather dreamt of Hermione and, now that he knew how it felt to kiss her; his dreams were filled with snapshots of her warm breath, soft lips and possessive fingers.
Harry knew it was just supposed to be a mistletoe-kiss, but it was so much more than that now, and they were going to have to talk about it. When, he didn't know, because, as soon as he headed downstairs the following morning, Michael rushed him straight through breakfast. They needed to leave as soon as possible to deal with traffic to be in the stadium by the three pm kickoff.
The one good thing, Harry decided, was that Hermione was still looking at him. So she wasn't angry with him, which was a relief.
"Are you ready to go?" Michael asked Harry, as soon as Harry was done chewing and swallowing his last mouthful of breakfast. "Grab your coat. I'll meet you in the car."
Harry just looked bewildered.
Jane smiled at him. "He's excited," she explained simply. "And it'll probably be better if the two of you did arrive early. Who's to say how the traffic's going to be? It might have snowed between here and London."
Harry just nodded, as he got up from the table. "Do you, uh, need any help with this?" he asked, caught between being polite and his eagerness to get going as well.
"I think Hermione and I can handle it," Jane said.
At that, Harry's eyes flickered towards Hermione, who was smiling at him, her cheeks red and her eyes hooded by her lashes.
"I've instructed Mickey to take lots of pictures," Jane said. "You make sure he does that, all right?"
"I promise," he said, before he left the kitchen to fetch his coat and use the toilet before they set off. Jane packed Michael a thermos of coffee, and one for Harry with hot chocolate. She packed some sandwiches and biscuits for them, adding extra for the burly Martin Porter and his oldest son, Cody Porter.
Hermione did not hug Harry before he left, which was a fact that didn't quite sit right with either of them, but neither of them said a word about it.
It took just over two hours for them to get anywhere near Highbury, and finding parking was a complete and utter nightmare, but Harry was enjoying every second of it. Michael had spent majority of the drive there explaining to Harry the history of Arsenal Football Club, and the reasons why he loved them so much.
There were so many people in and around the stadium, and the atmosphere was positively buzzing despite the freezing temperatures. Harry had never been to a football match in his entire life and he couldn't have asked to go with anyone other than Michael Granger.
"Oh, there's Martin," Michael said, leading the way with his hand on Harry's back. They'd agreed to meet near the closest entrance to their seats. "And Cody. Wow, they're so decked out. Now those are true Arsenal supporters."
Harry felt a bit awkward standing there, before Michael introduced him to his fellow dentist and his son.
"Got yourself another kid, I see," Martin joked with Michael, and Michael didn't once deny it. Martin thrust his hand forward. "It's nice to meet you, Harry. Are you an Arsenal supporter?"
"He's about to be," Michael said, laughing. "Kid doesn't have a team yet. Think the Gunners can convince him today?"
"Against QPR," Cody scoffed. "Rioch could field a reserve team if he wanted to."
Michael nodded his agreement, and then noticed Harry's confused look. "Bruce Rioch, he's the new Arsenal manager," he explained. "I'm still feeling him out, but Martin and Cody here are convinced he's the man for the job." He looked at Martin. "It's all the draws, mate. They have to turn into victories."
Harry just listened, and took in everything he could. Maybe if he learned enough; he'd be able to talk to Dean about football. If he recalled correctly, Dean was a West Ham United fan. Which, Harry discovered, was also a London club; a great rival of Arsenal's.
Before they headed into the Highbury Stadium, Michael had Martin snap a picture of Harry and him posing in front of the stadium.
"Jane would kill me if I didn't," Michael commented.
"Not if Hermione didn't get you first."
Harry, admittedly, felt a little winded having said her name. He felt his palms start to sweat, even in his gloves. What was that girl doing to him? What more did he want her to do to him?
"Harry," Michael said, looking down at a bit of Harry's exposed wrist; "Is that...?"
Harry immediately blushed. "It is."
"Does she know?"
"Not exactly," he said, covering up the watch, protecting it from the cold.
Michael nodded thoughtfully before Martin's voice caught his attention.
"You two ready? We're heading inside now."
Michael started forward, moving through the crowd with purpose.
Harry waited a beat, and then he followed, his excitement pushing away all thoughts of what was supposed to happen now that he knew how amazing it felt to kiss Hermione Granger.
She was distracted.
Hermione Granger could barely pay attention to what her mother was saying as they discussed outfits for the upcoming New Year's Eve party, and Jane definitely noticed.
"Sweetheart, is everything okay?" Jane asked cautiously, wary of whatever her daughter might tell her.
Hermione seemed to snap to attention. "Hmm?"
"Are you all right?"
Hermione let out a tired laugh. "Am I okay?" she asked quietly. "Do you think, well, umm, do you think I can take down that mistletoe in the arch now?" she asked.
Jane was surprised by the question. "Umm, I'm sure you can," she said, sensing something severe in her daughter's tone. "Do you mind my asking why?"
Hermione sighed, and then flopped down onto her parents' bed. "Harry and I ended up under it last night," she confessed, covering her face with her hands.
Jane wasn't sure how to read her daughter at this point. She suspected that Hermione would have been over the moon if they'd kissed so, based on this reaction, Jane could only assume that they hadn't. "Didn't you kiss?" she asked cautiously.
Hermione sat up suddenly. "What makes you think that?" she asked pointedly, forcing Jane to sputter in her position just inside her walk-in closet.
"Well, you look miserable, so, I don't know... What happened?"
"I gave him the option not to," Hermione said. "I told him we didn't have to, but then he said that we should, because it was Christmas and all that, and I went with it, because why wouldn't I? It was just going to be a quick kiss, you know, but then he came at me with those perfect eyes and cute face, and... Urgh!"
Jane was so confused. "I'm not sure I follow."
Hermione dropped down onto the bed again and groaned. "God, it was perfect, Mum," she eventually said. "Everything about it. He wanted to kiss me; I know he did, and it was amazing and wonderful and terrifying all at the same time." She swallowed. "But it was a mistletoe-kiss, so it doesn't count. It wasn't a true kiss but it felt like so much more, and now that we've had this perfect moment; it's just..." she trailed off, sighing again.
Jane moved to sit down on the edge of her bed, trying to make sense of what her daughter was trying to tell her. "Did you talk to Harry about it?"
Hermione just stared at her mother. "And say what? Oh, Harry, you know how we kissed... Well, it turns out that I'm actually in love with you; want some eggnog?"
Jane raised her eyebrows. "You're in love with him?"
Hermione made a gurgling noise as she sat up, panicked. "I just said that out loud, didn't I?"
Jane was not prepared for this. She was definitely not ready for this conversation. This was why it was probably easier to have a son. "Hermione?" she prompted.
Hermione sighed. "I don't know how it happened, Mum, but somewhere among all our stupid little fights, our many inside jokes, long conversations and all our laughs; I just - I fell in love with him."
"So, Harry knows none of this?"
"Of course not," Hermione answered quickly. "It would be so embarrassing if he ever found out, so you can't tell him!"
Now Jane was confused. "Why would it be embarrassing?"
"Well, because he'd get all awkward, and he wouldn't know how to let me down easy without hurting my feelings, and then we would have to spend the rest of the holiday together, and it would just be so awful."
"But how do you know that he won't like you back?" Jane asked the question, fully prepared to shoot down any of her daughter's insecurities, but what she received as a response threw her for a loop.
"Because there's another girl that I know he likes," Hermione said flatly. There was no malice in her tone, or even any irritation. Hermione had been trying to help him with Cho all year because all she wanted was for him to be happy. "I mean, I'm sure he still likes her. He has for quite some time now, but they don't really talk. He doesn't know her and, well, she doesn't really know him either. The thing is that, well, they kissed a few weeks ago, and, I mean, it didn't go that well, but I think he still has feelings for her."
Jane gently pat her daughter's leg. "Hermione, I think that you need to talk to Harry," she said solemnly. "You're obviously important to him and he's probably also quite confused about all of this. He probably doesn't even understand what he might be feeling, for you, or for this other girl. Be his friend first, remember?"
Hermione sighed. "I remember."
Jane chuckled. "I'm so glad I'm no longer a teenage girl. Everything sounds so complicated and, wow, everything just feels like the end of the world."
Hermione did not mention to her mother that she was convinced that she already knew what the end of the world could feel like. She'd experienced a feeling like that when Harry disappeared from the maze and, when he'd returned, for the shortest of moments; she'd been convinced that he was the one who was dead.
That felt like the end of the world. The end of her world.
Jane eventually stood up. "Now, help me find something to wear," she said. "We need to blow them away."
Hermione welcomed the opportunity to stop thinking about Harry and the feel of his lips against hers. After they finally decided on an outfit for Jane, they worked on Hermione's. Jane apparently wanted to find something that would make Harry turn his head. Hermione didn't even try to fight her.
"I want to wear red," was all Hermione offered up.
Jane glanced over her shoulder at her. "Why?"
"Harry likes the way I look in red," she said simply, and that was that.
It was only much later that the boys got home, and she was almost bowled over by the force of Harry's hug. He was grinning madly, seconds away from doing a happy dance.
"Hermione!" he said, placing his hands on her shoulders. "That was amazing! Oh my God - it was so awesome! Look at me; I'm literally shaking." He bounced on the spot, and Hermione looked over Harry's shoulder at her father.
"How much sugar did you give him?" she asked, ready with an eye-roll.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Michael said innocently.
Harry dropped his hands but remained standing right in front of her as they stood in the kitchen. "It was so loud," he said, rubbing his ears to show her just how much. "There were like thirty-eight thousand people there, just to watch a football match that wasn't even a Quidditch World Cup final or anything. That's a lot of people!" He shook his head in amazement. "They started shakily, but then they recovered, and then they totally dominated possession. And then Wright scored! Of course he did. And then Merson scored twice! Twice, Hermione! Apparently that's called a brace. And three would be..."
Hermione let him go on until he ran out of breath. She couldn't have stopped her own smile if she tried. He really was a sunshine kid in this moment.
"Harry," she eventually said, forcing him to look at her. "I have a surprise for you."
He blinked, his mind flying to something along the lines of secret kisses in the dark. "You do?"
Hermione took hold of his hand, and then led him out of the kitchen through the house towards the study.
"The surprise isn't the rest of our homework, is it?" he asked, sounding amused.
Hermione cast him an unimpressed look. "Hush, you."
"I'm just saying, Hermione; we could - " but he stopped speaking entirely when he stepped through the door and spotted Sirius Black in the middle of an intense game of chess with Jane Granger.
"Sirius!" Harry exclaimed automatically, his mouth moving before his brain caught up.
The older wizard startled and ended up knocking the chess board, causing several pieces to topple over.
Harry covered his mouth. "Sorry," he mumbled guiltily, but then he was being wrapped up in his godfather's arms and nearly every other feeling just fell away. Sirius was here. His godfather. He was here. Harry pulled back, frowning. "What are you doing here?" he had to ask. "Is everything okay? Did something happen?"
"Harry," Hermione said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Sirius came to see you."
Harry blinked in surprise. "You did?" he asked the shaggy man.
"Of course," Sirius said, ruffling Harry's hair. "It's Christmas and all that. Had to discuss with Hermione when would be the best time."
Harry glanced at Hermione, his heart swelling with affection.
Hermione blushed under Harry's intense gaze. "I was just making some hot chocolate. You two catch up. Mum, some help?"
Jane stood up and started towards them. She greeted Harry by placing a kiss atop his head and then she and Hermione left godfather and godson to talk. She could just make out their excited voices as they headed towards the kitchen.
"He was about to win," Jane informed Hermione, as the younger Granger went to reboil the water in the kettle. "Remind me to thank Harry later."
Hermione laughed. "Sirius will end up wanting a rematch, you know?"
"I'll be better prepared next time," Jane said, and then smiled when she spotted Michael in the living room. "Mick, come here," she called out; "you didn't even say hello."
Hermione was taken aback by the excitement that her father displayed. It was almost as bad as Harry's. He went on and on about the match to his wife, and he gushed about how he was sure that he'd convinced Harry to be an Arsenal fan.
"Can we keep him?" he asked, grinning.
Both her parents looked at Hermione, and she blushed. "Sure, Dad," she said. "We can keep him."
Michael threw a fist into the air. Then, he glanced down at the tray that Hermione set out. "What are you doing?"
"Oh, uh, Harry's godfather is here," Hermione explained. "He stopped by to wish Harry well, and I'm just taking them something to drink."
Michael frowned. "Harry has a godfather? Why isn't he with him for Christmas?"
Hermione grimaced. "It's complicated," she admitted. "Sirius, well, he's, umm..."
Jane picked up the thread. "Technically, he's a fugitive," she said, summarising what Sirius had told her over their chess game; "but he's definitely innocent."
Michael blinked a few times, visibly tensing.
Hermione hurried with some more explanation. "He was sent to prison for supposedly killing thirteen people, after he was believed to have betrayed Harry's parents, which ultimately led to their deaths," she said, cringing when her father's eyes widened. "And then he escaped because he recognised the real person responsible for all of that in a newspaper. It turned out that the person was actually Ron's rat, and so, well, Sirius tried to get to him. To save Harry."
Michael still looked uncomfortable.
"Maybe you should just meet him," Hermione offered. "He's really great, if a little dramatic sometimes."
Michael just nodded and, once the tray was ready to go, the three of them headed to the study together. It was a little awkward at first, mainly because Sirius and Harry were slightly awkward. Michael also wasn't helping, but then Hermione got Harry talking about the football match and that was that.
Michael, Sirius and Harry went on for ages discussing the intricacies of both football and Quidditch, laughing at the similarities and wishing that more of the other game could influence the other. Jane shot Hermione an accusing look before the two of them decided to leave.
Harry reached for Hermione's hand before she left, catching her attention. "Thank you," he mouthed.
Hermione made to speak, but then her eyes drifted to the watch on his left wrist and she froze. That was... She blinked.
Harry noticed, and he immediately released her hand, flushing instantly. "Told you that I got us a present," he said quietly. "I'm just waiting on your Patronus form now, so you better get working on that."
Hermione couldn't resist leaning forward and kissing the top of his head, before she scurried out of the study.
Harry took a moment to compose himself before he turned back to Sirius and Michael, who both looked deathly amused. "Shut up," Harry automatically said, talking directly to Sirius.
But it was Michael who made the poor boy blush that bit more. "I hope you know that she won't want a winter wedding."
Sirius and Michael both burst out laughing at Harry's horrified expression, and it took them an obscenely long time to calm down enough to continue a normal conversation, though Sirius was enjoying being able to tease Harry a little too much.
"Always liked that one," he'd say. "Couldn't have picked a better girl, Potter." Or: "Knew it the first moment I met her she'd become my goddaughter-in-law."
Harry turned to Michael for help but it was no use. He too was caught in Sirius' antics, and all Harry wanted to do was hide away somewhere and never come out.
Eventually, Michael relented and left Sirius and Harry to talk alone, realising that they usually had very little time to spend together. Harry sat perfectly still when Michael left, still in a little bit of shock that Sirius was actually here, right in front of him. The more they talked, the more he relaxed, and then he was opening up about his fears... about the reasons he knew that Dumbledore decided against having Harry at the Order's Headquarters.
"This connection between me and Voldemort... what if the reason for it is that I'm becoming more like him? I just feel so angry, all the time. What if, after everything that I've been through, something's gone wrong inside me? What if I'm becoming bad?"
Sirius regarded him for a moment, his heart breaking for this young man in front of him. "I want you to listen to me very carefully, Harry," he said, leaning forward. "You're not a bad person. You're a very good person, who bad things have happened to. Besides, the world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters. We've all got both light and dark inside us. What matters is the part we choose to act on. That's who we really are."
Harry just nodded.
"And, tell me this, do you really think that Hermione would ever allow you to go bad?" he asked, smiling knowingly.
Harry blushed again, wondering why Sirius kept going on about him and Hermione. Could he tell? Could he tell that Harry's view of Hermione had changed? Harry refused to bring the word 'feelings' into the equation, because that would just be too complicated for his little boy brain to handle right now.
Harry, admittedly, was tempted to ask Sirius for advice, but then decided against it. He probably would have been teased until he was crying tears. Somehow, he would figure it out. He'd figured out nearly everything else on his own anyway.
Or, really, he'd just ask Hermione.
The witch on his mind returned shortly after, with a small gift in her hand. She sat down next to Harry before she handed the gift to Sirius. "This is from me and Harry," she said. "And don't you start with your jokes about tandem gifts," she reprimanded before he could even open his mouth. "Just open it."
Sirius looked between them before he did as instructed and unwrapped the gift to reveal a miniature version of the tapestry that Sirius had shown Harry in Grimmauld Place. Instead of having the Black Family Tree, it was a retracted version of the Potter one, and it included Sirius as James Potter's brother, and Fleamont Potter's son.
Tears sprung to Sirius' eyes.
"Harry drew it up," Hermione explained; "and then I worked out how to transfer it to the tapestry. Do you like it?"
"I love it," he said, forcing himself to look up. "Thank you, both of you. Thank you."
Harry suddenly felt uncomfortable with all the emotion Sirius was trying his best not to display, but Hermione just stood up and went to hug him.
"We're glad you're here, Sirius," she said, releasing him. "Which is why I was instructed to tell you that you've been invited to stay for dinner, and you are not allowed to decline."
Sirius chuckled. "I wouldn't have dreamt of it."
Hermione beamed at him. "Great! Because dinner's ready!" She stepped back and pulled Harry to his feet, giving Sirius a moment to compose himself. Hermione didn't immediately release Harry's left hand. In fact, she brought his left hand up and moved his sleeve out of the way to look at his watch. It was a male's version of her own. She was touched that he'd bought a set, and thought of her.
"If you two need a moment," Sirius said, sounding amused.
Hermione immediately released Harry's hand, and then fled from the room. Harry shot a glare at Sirius, and then he too left the room, Sirius following behind.
They ate in the dining room because the kitchen table could only fit four people comfortably.
It was a great dinner, full of laughter and endless innuendo targeted at the two teenagers. They were both squirming in their seats, blushing red and equally horrified that the adults seemed to pick up on something that neither of them could quite make sense of.
It was deathly embarrassing but they remained a united front, doing their best not to react to the obvious baiting.
Jane made a wonderful dinner, and Harry was a little annoyed that he hadn't been able to help and learn. Jane enjoyed his enthusiasm though, because her daughter wasn't very interested in the kitchen, though she claimed that she could bake. Well, she could, but it was mainly shortbread. Hermione made amazing shortbread.
It was much later that Sirius decided that it was time to go home. As much fun as he'd had with the wonderful Granger family, he knew he had overstayed his welcome. And plus, Harry kept yawning. Based on what he'd learned about the day the young wizard had; he expected that Harry was truly exhausted.
They'd headed back to the study once more and, at some point, it was just Harry and Sirius left, which let Sirius know that it was definitely time to say goodbye.
"When this is all over, we'll be a proper family. You'll see," Sirius said, and Harry believed him. Well, he believed that Sirius believed what he said, and that was more than enough for him. "I couldn't actually bring your Christmas present with me, but you'll definitely see it when you come to Grimmauld Place."
"If I ever come to Grimmauld Place," he muttered, and Sirius made no comment.
"I should get going."
Harry nodded sadly, before he stood up. He waited while Sirius said his farewells to Jane, Michael and Hermione, and then Harry was walking him out into the backyard.
"I made an illegal Portkey," he admitted, laughing. "You think they'll send me to jail for that?"
Harry couldn't bring himself to be amused.
Sirius could tell, so he drew the younger wizard into a last hug. "It's all going to be all right, Harry," he said softly. "You'll see. We'll figure this all out, and then we'll find some place nice to live, and just be. How does that sound?"
Slowly, a smile crept across Harry's face.
"That's more like it," Sirius said, releasing Harry so he could look at him. "Believe me, I want nothing more than for you to come and live with me. Okay?"
Harry nodded. "Okay."
"Good." Sirius stepped back and took out a small piece of rope. "I'll see you soon," he said, winking. "James."
And then he was gone, and Harry was left there to ponder all his emotions. At this point, he could fall either way. There was the melancholy that was threatening to claim him, and then there was the happiness that was calling out to him.
So Harry accepted it. This had been a great, amazing, fantastic day that he was sure he would never forget.
Suddenly, Harry was so happy; it was threatening to spill out of him. Honestly, he couldn't imagine a better day ever in his life. Well... he had an idea on how it could get just that bit better.
After making the decision, Harry went in search of Hermione. He found her in the living room - perfect - and surprised her by tugging her up off the couch and dragging her towards the arch that housed the mistletoe. Only, the little bundled-up plant was gone.
"Huh?"
Hermione was frowning, clearly confused. "Harry?"
"Where's the mistletoe?" he asked, his confidence waning.
She blushed. "Oh, I, uh, I took it down, now that Christmas is over," she admitted.
Harry instantly deflated. "Oh."
Hermione blinked. "Why are you asking?"
Harry felt his heart rate rise. "Oh, you know, no real reason," he said nervously. "I was just wondering." And then he bolted, leaving Hermione to watch after him, equal parts confused and electrified.
Hermione remained where she was, her mind reeling. He'd brought here here for a very specific reason and, the moment she allowed herself to accept that; her heart rate started to rise. Did Harry really want to kiss her again?
As she stood there, she realised that her mother was right. She definitely needed to talk to Harry about all of this. At this point, it was the only way.
Hermione waited another beat before she headed upstairs and knocked on his bedroom door. As soon as she heard him speak, she opened the door to find him sitting on his claimed bed, his eyes focused on the picture frame she'd given him for Secret Santa.
"I brought it with me," he admitted, blushing slightly. "I just, well, I love it so much that I couldn't just leave it behind."
Hermione moved to sit down next to him. "I think that you and I need to have a little talk," she said, sounding much calmer than she felt. She took hold of the frame from him and set it aside before she took hold of both his hands. "What happened downstairs, Harry?" she asked carefully.
"When?"
She raised an eyebrow, almost daring him to continue playing dumb.
"Oh," he breathed. "That."
She nodded. "That."
"What do you want me to say, Hermione?" he asked, dropping his gaze.
"Well, first, umm, did you drag me to that arch because you, umm, wanted to kiss me?" she asked uncertainly, and felt Harry's hands stiffen in hers.
He swallowed. "Would you be mad if I did?"
Hermione's heart skipped a beat. "No, I wouldn't."
Harry seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. "Then yes," he confessed. "Desperately."
She needed to keep a check on her breathing. "Why?"
He frowned. "What do you mean why?"
"Why did you want to kiss me? Why now?"
Harry had the sudden urge to take his hands back and possibly sit on them, but he remained in position, his heart thumping in his chest. He could have sworn it was echoing throughout his entire body. "Umm..."
"Was it because you were feeling happy, maybe? And I was just around?"
Harry's eyes widened. "What? No!" This time, he did take his hands back. "How can you even ask that?"
"Then you weren't happy?" she asked quietly.
Harry sputtered. "No, I mean, I was," he said, stumbling over his words. "I mean, I am. But that's not why I wanted to kiss you. I mean, it is, but not just because you were there. If you weren't around, I probably wouldn't have wanted to kiss anyone." He was somewhat satisfied with his awful response right until the moment that Hermione spoke again, asking a question that threw him.
"Not even Cho?"
Harry visibly deflated. He hadn't thought about Cho since... well, he couldn't quite remember when. "Is that what you're worried about?" he asked Hermione. "That I would only want to kiss you because you're conveniently here?"
Hermione dropped her gaze, unable to answer.
This time, Harry took hold of her hands, and waited for her to look at him. Truthfully, he wasn't sure what he should be saying to her, but he knew it had to be reassuring. And, frankly, he couldn't quite figure out what he was feeling enough to make sense of any of it. "I wanted to kiss you, Hermione," he said strongly. "I, uh, I like kissing you. Far better than I like kissing Cho, that's for sure."
Hermione couldn't help her chuckle, and it seemed to ease the slight tension in the air.
Harry released one of her hands so he could tilt her chin to make her look at him again. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I shouldn't have, umm, tried that way. You're my best friend, and I should never have put you in that position, especially when you and your parents have been so kind to me. Can you ever forgive me?"
Hermione just stared at him, taking in his perfect green eyes and slightly pouted lips. Did he think she was upset over the fact that he'd tried to kiss her? Oh no! He did! And that meant that he definitely wouldn't try it again. So, well, Hermione did the only thing she could think of and leaned forward to kiss him.
Harry was surprised at first but then his brain shut down and his body took over. Hermione's lips parted on a gasp when one of Harry's hands moved to her hip, and then their tongues touched. It was like an electric shock passed through both of them and Harry resisted the urge to pull away so he could look at her. Tasting her was a lot better.
Hermione's hands trailed up his forearms, over his muscles towards his shoulders, until finally taking refuge in his hair. She pulled him closer, somehow forgetting that this was Harry Potter she was basically man-handling.
"Hermione! Harry! Hot chocolate!"
They broke apart at the sound of Jane's voice booming from downstairs. Harry was grinning stupidly, his eyes widening as he realised what had just happened, and Hermione was flaming red, her gaze dropped.
"Oh my God, Hermione," Harry said, blinking repeatedly as complete panic started to set in. "What was that?"
She giggled behind one of her hands, enjoying the shocked look on his face. "Well, I don't want you to think that I didn't want you to kiss me," she said. "I like kissing you too."
Harry just stared at her. "You do?"
"Why do you sound so surprised?" she asked, standing up and starting for the door. "And I reckon I was wrong, you know?"
Harry managed to get to his feet as well, stumbling slightly. "About what?"
"Your kissing," she said, sounding that same playful that made his heart race. "It is so much more than satisfactory."
Harry grinned at her, that warm happiness filling him from the inside out. "Who are you and what have you done with Hermione Granger?"
Hermione looked over her shoulder at him, loving the look of bewilderment in his eyes. "Why, Harry Potter, didn't you know that I was a closeted rule-breaker?"
Harry started towards her. "I always knew you were one of us," he said, his voice airy and light. "Just masquerading as a diligent student all these years."
Hermione sucked in a breath when he reached her, coming to stand uncomfortably close to her. "It's hard work being me," she managed to say, her breathing ragged.
Harry brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. "I'd imagine so," he said softly, his breath warm on her skin. "It must be hard work being perfect."
For a moment, Hermione just stared at him, and then she burst out laughing. "Oh wow!" she wheezed. "That was awful, Harry."
He laughed as well. "It was, wasn't it?" he agreed. "I'm not good at this kind of thing."
"Liar," she said. "You are. You definitely are."
Harry tilted his head to the side. "If you say so, pretty girl."
Hermione took a deep breath, one of her hands touching his chest. "See," she said softly. "Complete sunshine."
They kissed again. It was a slow, meandering kiss that could have gone on for hours if Jane hadn't yelled for them again. Their hot chocolate was getting cold.
Hermione reluctantly pulled away, her eyes fluttering open. "We should go," she said, her voice raspy; "before, you know, she comes and gets us."
Harry just nodded, before he stole one last, chaste kiss, and then opened the door to let them both out. He followed after her, his head spinning. This had to be the greatest day of his entire life. Seriously.
Because, truly, the girl was perfect, even if she didn't believe it.