~Harry and Hermione~
~Mistletoe~
Harry sat slumped against the back of his chair at the table in the small kitchen of the tent, and staring with a deadpan expression in the opposite direction. He had been like this for some time now, just sat there alone, almost asleep and yet still very much awake.
It was evening; the sun was almost descended behind the distant, snow covered hills, sending a crimson glow across the tent as if it were on fire. All was and still. Harry could here a small bird singing happily in the canopy of trees above him, completely unaware of the darkness – yielded by Voldemort - that was beginning to envelop them.
Hermione was outside picking wild flowers. It just seemed to calm her. Harry could only just see her from where he was sitting. She was reaching to pluck a bit of mistletoe from where it grew, the snow crunching softly beneath her feet as she stepped forwards, her bushy mane of hair surrounding her face.
He smiled slightly as he watched her, she was a very beautiful person: pretty, pure and intelligent - and he loved her. She was like a sister to him, only a best friend as well. Ron was also much like a sibling, but Hermione was always there to help or comfort him when he needed.
She re-entered the tent a few moments later, her nose and cheeks rosy from the cold winter's air. She looked at him and gave him a small smile, resting the neat bundle of flowers she had picked down in front of him on the table.
Harry looked up at her eyes, they were gentle and kind, but also very scared-looking. He returned her smile and then positioned his gaze away from her and onto the flowers.
"There really nice, Hermione." He said, reaching out stroking one of their leaves absentmindedly.
"Thank you," she replied taking off her gloves and hat and sitting down next to him. "There all I could find at the moment, seeing as its winter and everything, but they're not bad, I suppose."
Harry nodded, only half-listening as he thought. They sat in silence for a few minuets, not looking at each other. Then, after what seemed like ages, Hermione broke the silence and said tentatively, "I got some mistletoe."
Harry looked at her again, scrutinizing her face.
"I think I'm going to put it up in the sitting room, want to help?"
Harry grinned; he knew exactly what she was doing. Taking her hand in his as he got up from the table, he walked into the sitting room and helped Hermione hang the plant by casting a levitation charm over it.
When he had finished he stood back and turned around to look at her, surveying her face. There were tiny freckles lightly covering her nose and her skin looked quite soft to touch, her dark brown eyes did not look as frightened as before and a few strands of hair had fallen in front of her features.
He drew nearer, brushing the strands aside with the tips of his fingers and placing a small kiss onto her cheek as he wrapped his arms around her slim waist; pulling her into a tight hug.
When he pulled back he rested his head on her shoulder, nuzzling his nose into her jumper. She smelt sweet with perfume and earth, and Harry closed his eyes contentedly. He loved her. She was like a sister to him, only a best friend as well, and as he stood there - holding her and her holding him in the sanctuary of their little tent - he knew that no matter what lay ahead for the two, no matter how much danger they may endure together, nothing would ever change that.