Author's Note: This chapter is all about creating some simple moments to show and further build Harry and Hermione's closeness. I'm all about making the Harmony ship seem realistic, without unnecessarily bashing Ron, Ginny, or the Weasleys. It isn't very long, but I hope you enjoy it none the less. Please remember to leave reviews – it always helps me to know if you are enjoying the story or not.
As a side note, I'm looking for a beta. So if anyone is interested, let me know.
Disclaimer: I don't own HP, I just enjoy day dreaming in Harry's magical world.

Hermione was standing next to the stove waiting for the kettle to be ready. Once she heard the familiar whistle, she turned the knob to off and poured the water into two mugs. She walked to the table and set each mug down.

Harry was on his bed, messing with the radio. Most stations came in as simply white noise with some voices too muffled to be understood. Then a station with a song came through. The sound of guitar strings and easy drumming filled the tent, a man's voice was singing. Harry didn't care about who sang the song or the words, it just felt nice to play a song rather than listen to the news reports – it reminded him of a sense of normalcy.

Hermione stood a couple feet away, silently watching Harry. She felt a bit defeated. It was Christmas already and they weren't much closer to finding and destroying the Horcruxes. They had even risked their lives going to Godric's Hollow without taking nearly as many precautions as Hermione thought necessary and still didn't find anything. All the trip had done was caused a quiet sadness to overcome them – finding James and Lily Potter's gravestone in the snow on Christmas has just reminded them of how much their lives had changed. Neither of them could be home with their families for Christmas.

Hermione was abruptly pulled from her thoughts when she saw Harry's outstretched hand. He smiled weakly at her, silently urging her to just accept his hand. She tilted her head slightly in protest, but ultimately decided that resistance was futile and accepted his hand..

He took both her hands in his own and they started to awkwardly sway to the music. Hermione still looked apprehensive; neither of them were particularly good at dancing, especially dancing with one another. But as the music played and she looked up at Harry's silly grin, she couldn't help but relax a little. Soon the two of them were dancing like two young kids, random twists and turns as they kept their fingers intertwined. They both had a smile on their face and every once in a while, Hermione let out a laugh. It felt good dancing together like this – silly, juvenile, carefree. It was the complete opposite of what their lives had become.

Catching their breath, they danced closer together now. Harry rested one hand on the small of her back, the other holding her hand. Hermione's arm was lazily placed on Harry's shoulder. They both smiled for a few more lingering seconds, but as the song began to fade away, so too did their smiles. Hermione let out a long sigh and closed her eyes as she rested her head against Harry's shoulder. He leaned his head against hers and their swaying slowed until the movement stopped. This temporary reprieve from their reality had ended, and once again, it was just the two of them left.

Hermione pulled herself away from Harry but did not move her feet. They stood there, face to face, but neither one having the strength to meet the eyes of the other.

"Thank you." His voice was barely a whisper, just loud enough for her to hear.

At this, she looked up at him. Their eyes met for a moment and she searched for the right words to say. She smiled at him as she tried to figure out how to explain it to him, yet again. She was with Harry on this journey until the end, her loyalty unwavering. Besides, this whole thing was about so much more than Harry – it had always been bigger than just Harry. The fate of the world was sitting on his young shoulders, attempting to hold the world together. It was more than should be expected of him to handle, but handle it he must. She wasn't going to sit back and just let him bear that weight on his own. Yet, none of the words that floated through her mind seemed to fit.

So she looked up at him and gave him a small nod and a smile. It was small – tired even – but genuine. She stared into his green eyes, hoping that he understood. Understood all that she was trying to say.

She could see a flash of something cross his eyes – desperation perhaps - but she couldn't identify it clearly. She related to the loneliness, the complete helplessness that seemed to linger between the two of them. For the briefest of moments, she thinks she may have seen something other than loneliness and fear, and she contemplates losing herself in it.

Her breath hitches in her throat and the sensation is just enough to bring her thoughts back to reality.

She let her hands drop down to her sides, feeling defeated at the passing chance of relief. Her eyes drop down to the floor as she turned from Harry. She paused briefly, as if deep in thought, and then sat back down on her bed.

Harry stood still for a moment, wondering if she had seen in his eyes what he had saw in hers. The sensation was unexpected and caught him off-guard; he wondered if it has all been in his imagination.

Harry was off gathering wood for a fire as Hermione sat, bundled in her sweaters and a blanket as she studied yet another book. It was quiet and calm in the forest, with the cold seeming to stop much activity.

She heard the cracking of twigs as Harry's footsteps neared but didn't look up. When he arrived to their camp site, he tossed the twigs and sticks that he had found into a pile and tried to light them. He was growing more and more frustrated with each fire spell he cast at the sticks. Hermione stood up, feeling a stiffness in her joints from the cold, and held up her hand silently. With a quick movement of her wand, she cast a spell to dry the sticks before igniting them in a small fire. She sat back down, leaning her back against a tree.

Harry, angry at himself for not thinking to dry the sticks first, sat defeated on the ground opposite of Hermione. They sat like that in silence for a bit, each staring loosely into the fire.

"Why don't we just stay here, Harry?" The words left her lips apprehensively and her eyes didn't leave the fire. "Live among the trees and the river... grow old together..." Her voice sounded tired and quiet.

Harry's eyes didn't move from the tiny dancing flames in the small fire below. He took a slow, deep breath in as he let the question linger in his mind and smiled to himself at the thought. It'd sure be easier and less scary.

Without much thought, he moved to sit next to Hermione. As if by instinct, she lifted the blanket she had wrapped around herself and put it over the two of them. Watching her warm breath turn into a mist in the cold air, she leaned her head down on his shoulder and began to cry. He leaned his head into hers and sat there in the quiet of the forest – the quiet only disturbed by Hermione's quiet sniffles and shaky breathing.

"Do you think they are okay?" she asked quietly. She hadn't specifically referred to anyone in particular and yet Harry seemed to know exactly who "they" was.

"They have to be," he replied.