Aaaaaaaaaaaaaand another Christmas fic! So obsessed with Christmas, I tell you. I'll stop after this, I swear.
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Inspired by that little line from Love Actually: "If you can't say it at Christmas, when can you, eh?"
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Harry Potter.
The Boy-Who-Lived, The-Boy-Who-Lived-Again, Saviour of the Wizarding World.
To Hermione Granger, however, he was the boy who held her heart for as long as she could remember. For the longest time, despite being the brightest witch of her age, she had always wondered why it was that whenever Harry and Ginny kissed in front of her during Hogwarts, after Hogwarts and the time in between, she'd feel this uncontrollable urge to throttle and destroy everything around her.
At first she brushed it off as jealousy – the friendship kind. After all, Harry had been her first best friend, the first to accept Hermione as she was, to like her just as she was, and the one who was always there – especially during the stupid times with Ron. Harry, who had always, always effortlessly made her feel like she mattered, like she was beautiful. Harry, who she could count on.
Being with Ron had never felt right, not when they kissed and not when they made love. She was miserable – a robot – a person who was expected to be the next Mrs. Weasley. And she'd tried to be just that, and she could say with total conviction that that was the worst decision she had ever made.
One messy breakup later, Hermione began seeing Harry more regularly (seeing how The Golden Trio would never be the same again let alone be in one room), she was happy, she was radiant … she was just Hermione.
And then it struck her. It was elaborate, it was long-winded and it was much too late but that didn't stop the gears in Hermione's brain from working furiously to finally formulate the answer to the long-standing equation.
She was in love with him.
It was inevitable. Harry could charm the socks of anyone with ease, with his silly yet down-to-earth demeanor and the quiet confidence. He was just so … real. She also figured out why she was always so afraid for him, she worried half to death for him when Voldemort was creating havoc.
In hindsight, she should have known since the moment she looked at Harry in the eyes, and resolutely said, "I'll come with you" when Harry told her that he had to go out and face Voldemort. She needn't have thought twice about facing death with Harry beside her.
These days, the want and need were so prevalent that she'd lay in bed night, clutching her pillow as tightly as possible and curling herself into a ball if it would only help her sleep, whilst trying to fight off thoughts of Harry and thoughts that things would be much easier if Harry was next to her.
She knew the exact reason why she was so reluctant to start dating after her breakup with Ron, despite her friends' badgering, unless – unless her date had dark hair and green eyes. But whoever she ended up having dinner on certain nights during the week, she'd be disappointed to find that they paled in comparison to Harry.
David's hair wasn't as messy. Richard's smile wasn't as lopsided. Tom's eyes weren't as vibrant, weren't as alive, wasn't as bright. Granted, they were an interesting shade of green but they weren't Harry green.
Thus began the journey of Hermione finding the right time and place to tell Harry how she felt.
...
New Year's Day
"Ginny and I broke up," Harry said casually over their customary lunch dates. As friends, of course, much to Hermione's consternation.
Something clenched in Hermione, providing her with a tinge of hope and somehow, that nugget of information pleased her more than anything else ever should.
Schadenfreude, her mind supplied poisonously.
She quickly shook herself out of it and switched her dutiful best friend mode on. Watching him for long moments, she struggled to put together words in light of this somehow bad but somehow – dare she think? – good news.
Shining green eyes were looking at her.
Yes, yes, this is madness. Her best friend, the man she had been in love with just broke up and she couldn't even stop thinking about how badly she wanted him.
"On New Year's Day?" she bit out.
A small smile played at the corner of Harry's mouth.
"No, we talked about it a few months ago. We were officially over as of last night. Starting fresh, new year and all," he grinned cheekily.
Hermione nodded and took a sip of her water.
"I'm okay with it though," he said, taking a sip of his own glass and then slouching back.
"Are you?" she reached out to grasp his hand and squeezed.
"Yeah," he smiled and nodded, "I saw it coming. I'm almost relieved though, that this is finally happening."
"Oh? Why's that?" she asked.
He shrugged and sent her a mysterious smile.
She didn't press the issue, choosing to continue wolfing down their lunch – which strangely tasted better since the first bite – in lieu of saying half-hearted comfort words.
Now would have been the most terrible time to tell Harry how she felt.
...
Valentine's Day
She had personally gift-wrapped Harry's favourite chocolates and treats – they were home-made, mind you. Hermione had slept late last night bustling over the confectionary perfection that she had created for Harry.
To other people, and to maybe Harry himself, these were just normal Valentine's Day gifts as they were after all, used to exchanging gifts since Hogwarts. To Hermione, it was something more. It came from the heart.
Harry threw his head back and laughed at a certain note he had opened at his Ministry desk. The chuckle made Hermione stop and watch him – the sound deep as rivers and rich as honey.
She had known desire, but never before it had a face.
Whenever she thought of kisses and hugs and passion, Harry kept appearing at the forefront of her mind, time and time again and she found that she was okay with that. More than okay.
Harry had marked her heart, and it took her years to realize it. Her heart had his thumbprint on it, which, she suspected, was much more permanent than the Dark Mark.
"Another one from your admirers?" she cajoled.
Harry rolled his eyes and smiled.
"Oh, what's that?" she pointed at a magnificent-looking heart-shaped box, a black bow planted thoughtfully on top it. It stood out from the rest of the nondescript boxes lying around Harry's already-full desk.
Of course it stands out, it's my gift, Hermione growled mentally.
"Dunno," he replied, but reached out and brought it to his lap. "Looks very …"
"Elaborate," Hermione supplied.
"Yeah, thoughtful," he grinned at it before pulling the lid off.
"Wow. These are my favourites!" Harry exclaimed, looking delirious as he grabbed one of the home-made chocolates and planted it inside his mouth. He shut his eyes and groaned, "Oh God, these are divine. Here, try some."
"Oh, no thanks," Hermione shook her head. She spent the night perfecting the taste, so if she had to take another bite of that she might just throw up.
"It doesn't say who it's from though," Harry said, checking the box for any notes.
This is it.
"Actually, Harry, it's from …"
Bright, green eyes looked up at her.
She swallowed.
"It's from someone who loves you very, very much."
Harry grinned and stood up.
"I'm flattered. Listen, I have a meeting with Kingsley. I'll drop by later for dinner, alright?" Harry walked up to her and planted a kiss on her cheek, "Happy Valentine's Day, 'Mione."
"Happy Valentine's Day, Harry."
I love you, it's from me – I've loved you for the longest time – don't go – wait –
The door shut, leaving Hermione alone in Harry's office.
Hermione groaned as loud as possible.
...
Easter
After a very awkward gathering at The Burrow (Harry and Hermione being outcasts there now), Harry and Hermione decided to drop by the pub after dinner.
They continued chatting and drinking, and Hermione sighed low in her throat as Harry moved like liquid desire to order them a new round of drinks.
That night, Harry was almost unconscious as they both landed in Hermione's flat. This was almost like a tradition. Whenever Harry got too pissed, she would put him up for the night.
"Jesus liveeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeees!" Harry howled into the open air.
Hermione dragged his slurry, swaying form into the guest bedroom and pushed him onto it.
"Harry? I've got something to tell you," she said as Harry struggled to get comfortable, knowing that this was the worst time to reveal to him her feelings.
She waited with bated breath for a response, but none came, save for a heavy snore.
Chuckling silently and shaking her head, she took off Harry's shoes and dragged a blanket over his form. She took off his glasses and pushed his dark fringe off his forehead, lingering for a moment to watch Harry's peacefully sleeping face before leaving the room.
Not this time.
...
Halloween
Hermione almost fainted.
Harry was like his own brand of sexy in that costume. He was dressed as Superman and his costume clung to him and his muscles like second skin.
"Hello, 'Mione," he said to her, voice all dark chocolate and black velvet before enveloping her in a tight warm hug, "You look lovely."
She was dressed as Catwoman and she was quite thwarted that they were both clashing in comic book characters. If Harry had decided to be Batman for that night, they would have been perfect together.
"You too," she said a little breathlessly.
He grinned at her, eyes lambent and the thing in Hermione's chest beat its wings violently.
Hermione was practically having a conniption. And her brain was uselessly supplying her with Superman pickup lines.
I know you have heat vision, Superman, because you're melting my heart with just one look.
Want to bet that kissing me would be like Kryptonite? Because it'll make your knees weak.
Hermione did share these pickup lines with him when they danced, but Hermione had found his body heat too stifling, his breath far too sweet to be able to confess what she truly needed to.
"What are you thinking about?" Harry asked from above her head, and she pulled away from his chest to look at him properly, both swaying to a slow song.
"You," she smiled.
"Oh? What about me?"
Hermione steeled herself.
"Harry, there's something I've been meaning to tell you," Hermione rested her head against his chest again.
"Mm, tell me," he said softly, his chest rumbling.
Hermione paused.
"'Mione?"
Hermione pulled her head back and opened her mouth.
"Harry, I -"
"HARRY POTTER!" a high-pitched squeal came from their right and they both broke apart to watch as a girl dressed up as a vampire came up to them.
"I'm a huge fan!" the girl exclaimed, clapping, "I've just started my internship here and … would you mind if … you could sign this?"
She took out a picture of Harry smiling at the camera and waving.
"Of course …" Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck, feeling shy all of a sudden.
Hermione rolled her eyes as the girl started jumping and clapping her hands, squealing all the while.
"What was that, 'Mione?" Harry asked after the girl left.
"Nothing."
Nope, not this time, either.
...
Christmas Eve
Hermione's frustrations had reached its apex.
Harry had an Auror Mission and was in Albania. He had told her that he wasn't sure when he would be back, but to owl him anyway.
This meant that Hermione was spending half of Christmas Eve and half of Christmas Day alone before she had to go visit her parents for lunch.
She wrapped Harry's gift and opened the empty Christmas card she had got for him. Tapping her quill, she thought of what to write.
Just then, something in her chest lurched and she had to shut her eyes tightly at the thought that had caused such a reaction from her.
Taking a deep breath, she wrote.
My Dearest Harry,
Merry Christmas! It's too bad that you're far away; I would have loved to see your face when you open your present.
Anyway, I just –
She paused. She bit her lip. And she continued.
-wanted to say something … something that I've always wanted to say for … God, maybe the longest time, because if you can't say it at Christmas, when can you, eh? I love you very much, Harry Potter and I mean that completely in the most non-platonic way. I have been in love with you for as long as I can remember and every time I attempt to tell you this, I lose my courage and shut up about it. So now, just because it's Christmas, I want to say that I think about you all the time … your laugh, your voice, your eyes, your silly hair, your presence and everything about you, really. You're lovely like that. I just needed to tell you that before I explode into smithereens.
I hope you realize that things between us will be awkward as arse for quite a while, but I'm sure we'll get through it. We always do.
But no matter what you do and no matter what day it is, just remember that someone loves you. I love you with all my might, and even if you are not mine, I will always be yours.
Hermione.
By the time Hermione dotted the end of her sentence, the card looked like an army of ants had just stepped out of an ink bottle and started walking all over her Christmas card. That, however, was the farthest thing from her mind.
She carefully stuck the card to the parcel and sent it off to Harry with an owl.
Finally, she thought as the owl disappeared from sight.
...
Christmas Day
Something was tickling her nose. She shifted away from it.
The sounds from the telly could still be heard in Hermione's state of half-comatose.
The tickling returned and she groaned, batting away whatever it was that was annoying her.
A deep chuckle came from right in front of her.
Her eyes flew open, fast as lightning as she took in her surroundings. She had fallen asleep in the living room, legs dangling off the armrest of her chair, and Harry was standing in front of her, sporting an amused grin.
"Harry?" she croaked, eyes squinting.
"Hermione," he called back, still smiling as Hermione got off the couch, massaging her sore neck.
"What are you doing here? I thought you were in Albania," she blinked repeatedly, mental faculties still lost somewhere.
"I was," he replied, "We finished the mission only about three hours ago and midnight came … and then I got this -"
Harry shook a very familiar parcel and card in his hand and Hermione paled considerably.
"And I decided I had to come back as soon as possible," he added.
"Oh," Hermione answered dumbly.
"I just wanted to …" Harry approached her, step by step, as Hermione stood frozen on the same spot, "Thank you, for the present and the card. Was very sweet, that was."
"Oh, yeah, you're welcome," she nodded, feeling all the heat in her body go up to her ears.
"I got your gift with me. Unfortunately, I didn't get a card but suffice to say I think my presence here is a good enough reply, don't you think?" he grinned as he wrapped his arms around Hermione and pulled her close to his chest.
"It is?" Hermione said, frowning at his nose.
"Yeah, I reckon so. I mean, I wouldn't have come here straight away if I didn't love you back so …" he trailed off, watching Hermione's face.
Hermione's eyes widened at that and she tore her attention from his nose to look at him properly in his eyes. His bright, emerald green eyes. Harry's eyes.
"You do?"
"More and more with each passing day," he nodded, eyes shining as he brought a thumb up to brush against her jaw.
"Since when?" Hermione asked, still surprised at the turn of events.
"About the same time as you, I suppose," he laughed.
Hermione closed her eyes tight as he laughed, that deep familiar voice caressing every inch of her as she drank in the knowledge that Harry loves her back – and what a feeling it was. It felt better than Christmas.
One of Harry's hands came up to stroke her face, tracing her nose and over her cheeks and when he dropped his hand to her neck, she was sure that he could feel the rapid tremble of her pulse there while she felt the ghosting of his breath against her own lips.
"Waited," Harry whispered against her mouth, "Waited for so long … didn't know what to make of it, didn't know what to do … have always known, always knew, deep inside always knew you were the one, always knew why I …"
But Hermione's lips drowned out the rest of Harry's mumblings, electrifying them both with just a simple brush of her lips against his.
Harry hummed a smiled against her lips at the action. Merlin but she wanted this man most ardently and the fact that he felt the same way made Hermione feel like she could very well fly without a broomstick at that very moment.
They kissed luxuriously, lazily, lovingly – everything was so new and foreign to the both of them, but at the same time it felt so familiar.
Harry tilted her jaw ever so slightly and kissed her deeper, as lips parted and sparks ran rampant in her body. She sagged into him and he pressed closer against her, making her head buzz and blood sing in a tune that sounded suspiciously like 'Joy to the World'.
"I'm in love with you, too, Hermione," Harry spoke, pulling away just a bit and Hermione followed his lips, even as he shifted slightly, not willing to lose contact even for a second.
Hermione smiled and grabbed a fistful of his clothes and pulled him against her once more, eager to taste Harry again.
Finally. Finally.
Hermione felt Harry's tongue trace her bottom lip and she opened her mouth almost immediately, groaning contentedly at the warm muscle as Harry ran it gently against hers, playfully. And then he pulled back, planting soft, soft kisses at the corners of her mouth.
"Merry Christmas," he whispered.
Hermione grinned as Harry laid a gentle press over the full swell of her lips with his own.
Merry indeed.
THE END! Teehee!
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