I have to confess that there weren't enough entries for the Christmas story drawing to make it fair to the few who participated, so I decided to write all the prompts. Now, I have to warn you that this may take a while, but bear with me, please.

This story is for Alex D. Her prompts were: Harold and Grace, ice-skating, hot chocolate, and a fireplace with the song "New York City Christmas" by Rob Thomas (absolutely beautiful song! Check it out!) I hope you enjoy my first foray into the star-crossed lovers. And may you all have a blessed holiday season.

I don't own Person of Interest.

Song prompt: "New York City Christmas" by Rob Thomas

A New York City Christmas

Harold Finch used the poker to move the logs and watched as the flames slowly caught, flickered briefly, then build strength. The faint smell of burning wood filled the area as the logs snapped, crackled, and popped.

Satisfied, Harold put the fire gate in place on the hearth and stood back. Rubbing his hands together, he relished in the heat. The night was almost perfect, he thought to himself. The sky was threatening snow on Christmas Eve to give them a possible white Christmas, and the faint strains of Christmas carols from the stereo added the right kind of ambiance to the moment.

"You built a fire," Grace observed. She walked into the living room. In her hands were two large red and green mugs.

"I felt that after the day we had, we should have a fire," Harold replied and wiped his hands on his slacks. "Come, sit down." He took the mugs from her as she took a place near the hearth.

"The fire is nice. Thank you."

"You're welcome." Harold handed the mugs back so he could take his place next to her. Once he was comfortable, he took one and sniffed. "What is it?"

"Hot chocolate. I know you like Sencha tea, but I felt that you deserved something special after all you did for me today."

"I don't mind trying something new." It wasn't exactly his cup of tea, he thought wistfully, but it was good and hot. And, after all, Grace had done the hard work to make it. He brought the mug to his lips.

"Careful," she warned, "it's hot."

Harold looked at her and raised his eyebrow. "Heh." He sipped the scalding liquid.

Grace realized her mistake and blushed fiercely. "That was silly of me, wasn't it? I mean, hot chocolate is supposed to be hot, right?" she giggled.

Harold smiled and chuckled. "This is good," he complimented.

"It was my grandmother's recipe. I felt that you deserved something different. You know, jazz it up a bit."

"I wanted to give you a Christmas to remember."

"I would say that seeing you on ice skates will be a memory that lives with me forever. I didn't know you were such a natural."

"There was a lake near where I grew up, and my friends and I spent the winters ice skating and ice fishing," Harold reminisced.

"Sounds nice," Grace said over the rim of her mug. "Where did you grow up?"

"A little town in Nebraska. The town isn't there any more," he added quickly to stop any questions from her.

Grace covered his hand with hers and gave a comforting squeeze. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright. So, you didn't want to go to Italy this year?" Harold wondered.

Grace shook her head. "No."

"We could, you know."

"What do you mean?" she smiled but gave him a wary look.

"Go to Italy. What do you say we go down to the airport right now and get a couple of tickets and fly out there for two weeks?" Harold suggested.

"I don't know... What about your job? Can you afford to take two weeks?"

"I have days on the books, so it shouldn't be a problem."

"Harold..."

"We could spend the remainder of Christmas in Vatican City. And then look around at all the museums."

Grace considered Harold's invitation. She looked at the beautiful Christmas tree they had decorated together and the warm fire in the fireplace.

"No. Thanks for the offer, though."

"Are you sure?"

Grace drained her mug and set it on the hearth. "Very sure. I'd rather stay here - with you - and have our own New York City Christmas."

Harold smiled. "I thought you would say that." He placed his mug on the hearth and stood up. "Would it be alright if we exchanged presents?"

"But it's Christmas Eve," she pointed out.

"I know. I thought we could start a new tradition where we open one gift on Christmas Eve."

Grace raised her shoulders and dropped them. "Okay."

Harold searched under the tree until he found the present he was looking for. "Here." He handed her the beautifully wrapped gift that was topped with a silver bow.

Grace took the package. "What is this?"

"Open it and find out."

Smiling, and her eyes dancing, Grace peeled back the paper, then gasped. Her hand covered her mouth as her eyes filled with tears.

"Harold," she breathed. "Oh... This is... I can't..." She tried to find the words, but they failed her.

"Do you like it?" Harold could tell by her look and reaction that the answer was yes, but he wanted to hear it from her.

Grace's fingers lightly touched the painting. "You got me 'The Demidoff Altarpiece'?" She touched it again to make sure it was real. It was. "Where? How?"

"I came across it at an auction a while back. I thought you might like it."

Grace brought the infamous painting closer to her face. "It's an original." Her eyes flew to lock with Harold's. "It must have cost a fortune."

"It cost enough," he conceded without going into detail.

Grace set the painting on the nearby chair and stood up. Wrapping her arms around Harold's neck, she kissed him. "You treat me so good."

"You deserve it." He kissed her back.

"Now it's your turn. Sit down and close your eyes." Reaching under the tree, she picked up a medium sized box. She placed it in Harold's hands.

Harold raised both of his eyebrows. "What is this?" He started to shake it.

"No!" Grace warned. "Don't do that!"

Harold looked at her and pulled back the wrapping paper. His fingers dug at the slip of cardboard in the small slit.

"is this a snow globe?" he wondered and pulled out the clear glass ball stuck on a ceramic stand.

Grace smiled and nodded. "It is. Do you like it? I remember you saying you like them."

Harold looked at it. "Is this your house?" he wondered aloud.

Grace turned out the lights and sat down beside him. "It is. I hope you don't mind."

"How?" Harold turned the globe upside down and watched as the snow fell gently on the roof of the ceramic replica.

"I have a friend who is an architect and he owed me a favour. So he built me a replica and the rest is...sitting in your hands."

"It's beautiful."

"I thought you might want to have a little something to remember me by when you're at the office."

"It's beautiful, Grace."

"So, you like it?"

"I do." He pulled her to him and kissed her gently.

Grace opened her eyes and looked out the window. "Look, Harold. It's snowing." She sighed. "That makes everything perfect."

Harold set the globe down. He wrapped his arms around the woman he loved and watched as the snow fell gently outside. He kissed her.

"Being with you makes everything perfect," he corrected. Grace sighed and laid her head on his shoulder.

"Merry Christmas, Harold."

"Merry Christmas, Grace."

While the snow fell across the city, they watched until the fire was nothing but glowing embers.
**********************

Sitting at his desk in the huge library, Harold held the snow globe in his hands. Turning it over, he gave it a nice shake before setting it on the desk. He watched as the fake snow fell gently down and around the house.

Standing up, he pressed his fingers to his lips, then pressed them against the clear glass dome. "Merry Christmas, Grace," he whispered around the lump in his throat as the last piece of snow fell on the roof.

Then he turned on his heel and walked away.

The End.