II

Harry Potter.

Hermione Granger was sure her face gave away her shock and excitement, but nobody seemed to be paying close enough attention. Except Harry, of course, and he felt something ugly twist within him. Who had she picked? Whose name could result in such a reaction from his best friend?

"Who picked Harry?" someone asked, jolting Hermione from her wayward thoughts. She was already thinking hard about what she could possibly get the wizard in question. This was the perfect opportunity to - to what? To show him that she liked him more than either of them were ready for.

"Anyone willing to swap?" someone else asked.

Hermione took a deep breath before she spoke up. "No swapping," she said, loud enough for them all to hear over the sound of their own voices. "That isn't in the spirit of the game," she pointed out. "And believe me, if you try; I will know."

The way she said it, made them all believe her. After what she accomplished with their bewitched coins; it would be wise not to underestimate the young Gryffindor witch.

"I think that's all for today," she said, smiling happily, and then watched as several students started for the exit.

Harry came up close behind her. "I think you're the only person I know who could possibly terrify a room like that and look so happy about it," he commented mildly, clearly amused.

Hermione looked over her shoulder at him, surprised to find him standing as close as he was. She resisted the urge to put some distance between them and just smiled at him. "Well, I'm a regular old pro, aren't I; having to deal with you and Ron on a daily basis."

"Oh yes; I'm deadly afraid of you," he said, grinning.

"As you should be."

Harry stepped closer to her, dropping the volume of his voice. "So, are you going to tell me who you picked for your Secret Santa?"

She turned to face him fully, her eyes wide. Did he know? "And why would I do that?"

If Harry was surprised by her initial reaction, he didn't let on. He just continued to look at her with innocent, green eyes and a happy little smile. "Because I asked so nicely," he said, almost singing the words.

"You didn't even say the magic word," she pointed out.

Harry exaggerated a pout, and bat his eyelashes endearingly. "Pleeaase."

Hermione felt her body stiffen. Goodness, why was he so perfect? What was she expected to say to that face? Truly, if he kept it up; she would probably reveal every single one of her secrets.

Before Hermione could formulate a suitable response, Ron was stumbling towards them, looking concerned.

"What's wrong?" Harry was quick to ask, turning away and stepping back from Hermione. "What happened?"

Ron huffed. "Well, it's Smith," he began, already frowning. "I just overheard him saying that he ended up picking Colin, and he's talking about how he's just going to give him some of his spare pieces of parchment. Honestly, I've never met a more insufferable Badger. How is he not in Slytherin?"

Harry looked concerned. "Maybe we could pool together and get Colin something just in case Smith doesn't pull through with a suitable gift," he offered, and Hermione all but melted at the suggestion.

"I think that's a great idea, Harry," Hermione said, absently touching his forearm. "And plus, we know him well enough not to need his list."

Both boys nodded, before the three of them started to leave, seeing as they were the last students left. They didn't talk much on their way back to the Gryffindor Common Room because they were all lost in thought, trying to think up the best gifts for their Secret Santa gifts.

Hermione was still rather giddy that she'd managed to pick Harry. She was a little worried that some of the other girls would think that she did it on purpose. But why would she? It wasn't as if anyone knew the true extent of her crush on the famous wizard. Really, even she didn't know the depth of her own feelings. Right now, she was just his best friend; that was all. All she could do now was thank her lucky stars that it was his name she picked.

She wasn't even worried about who picked her. It actually could have been Zacharias Smith for all she cared. Though, it just never occurred to her that the very person agonising over what to get for her was none other than Harry Potter himself.

Harry knew Hermione well enough not to need the list she'd written, but it was still interesting to see what she'd added to the books and knitted items she'd mentioned earlier. It turned out that she liked ornaments, random trinkets and writing. He assumed that meant that she liked stationery and, maybe, notebooks? Hermione did have a lot of notebooks. What did she do with all of them? Would she mind another one?

Despite her eagerness to start planning Harry's gift, Hermione made them work on their homework. Ron made light-hearted jokes about her nagging, which she didn't seem to mind. He wasn't as irritated as the night before, so the three of them were able to get on in relative peace.

In fact, Hermione was surprised when the person to disrupt their calm was Harry Potter. He grew bored of reading up on the next Potion they would be brewing and took to annoying the hell out of Hermione to get her to reveal who her Secret Santa was. The thing was, though, that Harry Potter's idea of annoying wasn't annoying at all. At least not to Hermione, who felt like she'd won the lottery whenever she was his sole focus.

He tried stealing her quill a couple of times, and shifted her parchment while she was writing, which, okay, did annoy her; but he looked so cute and innocent, and how was she supposed to stay mad at that face?

Wow, she had it bad.

Somehow, Hermione was able to keep him at bay, and convince him to return to his reading. It took great effort, of course, but he eventually did it, and they returned to working. Ron just found it all so amusing, especially since Hermione probably would have flayed him for even taking too long of a breath when he should have been working. These double standards.

Harry, however, didn't let up on trying to figure out who she'd picked. He spent the next few days constantly asking her, whether verbally or in written form. Whenever she asked him who he picked, he would clam up, which definitely interested her.

Hermione's gift idea for him came to her when she was researching catching - and so preserving - snowflakes for Harry. She was definitely curious to find out why he'd asked her about it, but she wasn't sure how to bring the topic up again. He'd shut it down so quickly that she wasn't sure if it was a good or bad memory.

"It's a good one," he told her, when she finally plucked up the courage to ask him about it. She'd found him on his large rock by the Black Lake again, braving the cold in his own stubborn way.

Hermione was more graceful jumping up onto the rock this time around, so there was no need for her to grab his arm, but he still offered it to her knowingly. She didn't even hesitate before she was hugging it to her chest, soaking up the warmth of him.

"At least, I think it's a good one," he added thoughtfully. "I think you'll have to be the judge." He took a long, shuddering breath as his eyes focused on the frozen lake in front of them. "It was my first year in school," he began. "Dudley and his friends, they'd made my year horrible, targeting me during our breaks and making sure that none of the other kids became my friends." He smiled ruefully. "But in late December, just before school closed for the holidays, it started to snow, and our teachers let us out early, to go and play in it, I guess.

"It was the first break that I wasn't scared of being hunted by my cousin and his gang," he said quietly. "I remember standing there, arms spread and mouth wide open, thinking that, if I could just capture this moment, every other day would somehow be worth it. I guess that turned into catching snowflakes. Catching memories." He looked at her, surprised to see the tears in her eyes. "So I think it's a good one," he said softly.

Hermione leaned into him, breaking their eye contact. "It's a good one, Harry," she whispered, and the two of them settled into comfortable silence. It stretched on for quite some time, before Harry heard her teeth chatter. It was his cue to suggest they go inside.

And, as they were headed into the relative warmth of the Castle, Harry couldn't resist the urge to ask her, once again, who she'd picked for her Secret Santa.

Hermione was just curious as to why he was so desperate to know. So she asked him, the next day, as they were making their way to Hogsmeade in a carriage with Ron, Luna, Neville and Ginny. It wasn't exactly a tight squeeze but it was more crowded than the Trio was used to.

"I just want to know," Harry replied evasively.

Hermione eyed him carefully but made no comment. There was definitely more to it, but she wasn't going to ask any more questions while they were in the presence of other people.

"So what shops do we all need to go to?" Hermione asked the group, taking control the only way the future Head Girl could.

From the spatter of responses, they decided to split up into three pairs for the first few hours to pick up their necessary gifts, and then meet at the Three Broomsticks for some lunch. Harry ended up setting off with Neville, Hermione with Ginny, and Ron with Luna, which had the redhead looking a little bewildered. How had that happened?

Hermione and Harry exchanged an amused look before they went in opposite directions. As much as Hermione wanted to be paired with him, she couldn't exactly buy the things she needed for his gift while in his presence. He would be sure to know, and she was not going to give him the satisfaction of having his relentless question answered before time.

Harry was suffering the same dilemma, though he wasn't quite sure why. He and Neville headed straight for Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop. Neville whispered to Harry that he wanted to get an engraved set of quills for his Secret Santa, which Harry thought was a great idea. The praise seemed to bolster the Gryffindor, and he disappeared into the shop purposefully, while Harry looked around, absently meandering through the aisles. He had an idea, but he wasn't sure if his idea actually existed.

Well, he was a wizard. If it didn't exist; he would make it exist.

Harry found the perfect set of leather-bound notebooks. Well, they were slightly smaller than Hermione's normal notebooks. They were rather journals, but that didn't seem like a concern. Harry plucked them off the shelf and made his way to the front counter. He had to explain his idea to the young man behind the desk two times, before he finally clicked.

"You want them embroided, or is it engraved?"

Harry nodded anyway. "Is that possible?"

"Magically, anything is possible," he said cryptically, which wasn't exactly an answer but Harry decided to roll with it.

"Well, do you do it here?" Harry asked; "or do I have to go to another shop for that?"

"We can send it out for you," the man replied. "There isn't a shop in Hogsmeade that does it, but it will take two to three days though."

That was cutting it close, and Harry couldn't keep the grimace off his face.

"Of course, though, with a little extra incentive, I can get it back for you by Monday," he said coyly, and Harry had to roll his eyes. "We'll deliver it by Owl, of course."

Harry waited a beat, accepting the exploitation. "Fine. By Monday."

"Maybe Tuesday morning," the man said, dropping his gaze. "It has to come here first, before I can send it to you."

Harry growled quietly. "It better be perfect then," he said sharply. "You wouldn't want Harry Potter to be unhappy, now would you?"

The young man blinked in surprise and, frankly, Harry was surprised as well. Was that some kind of threat? Did he just use his fame like that? Merlin, what was this gift doing to him? Better yet, what was this gift for Hermione doing to him?

"It will be perfect," the man said, nodding his head. "You have my word."

Harry sighed. "Okay then," he relented. "This is what I want on the books..." By the time Harry was done handing over the various drawings he'd done, Neville was back at his side, grinning widely. Harry resisted the urge to ask him all sorts of questions, as he paid for his own items.

Neville's eyes bulged slightly at how much Harry was spending.

"They're special order," Harry told him. "Merlin, please don't tell Hermione; she'll kill me with guilt over this not being in the spirit of the game."

Neville chuckled. "Your secret is safe with me, Harry."

And Harry believed him. Really, truly, Neville Longbottom was a boy who you trusted. Once the order was sent through and everything was paid for, the two boys left the shop. Barely an hour had gone by, so there was no point in heading to the Three Broomsticks already.

"Honeyduke's," Neville declared, laughing at his own antics.

"Lead the way," Harry said, laughing as well. "Oh, I can pick up some sugar quills. I love those things."

"I think the entire world knows that," Neville commented as the two of them trudged through the sticky snow. It wasn't exactly melting but it was rather sludgy and they had to be careful where they stepped in case they went sliding across the cobbled ground. "The Quibbler has a weekly column about your likes and dislikes."

Harry blinked. "It does?"

Neville nodded. "Oh yeah," he said. "They've always supported you, Harry. Luna says that her father truly believes you and he wants to do all he can to get others to believe as well. And plus, is it so horrible that his little column shows that you truly aren't going Dark? I mean, what Dark wizard doesn't like Chocolate Frogs?"

Harry laughed out loud, almost slipping on the ground. "It's just the concept that gets me," Harry tried to explain, using a hand on Neville's shoulder to steady himself. "They're frogs, Neville, urgh." He shuddered at the thought. "I mean, I sort of like chocolate, but leaping frogs, no thank you."

"If I recall correctly, Hermione bought you an entire box of them for Christmas in our first year," he said, raising an eyebrow. "And I'm pretty sure that the entire box ended up empty."

Harry couldn't hide his blush. "In her defence, she didn't really know back then," he said. "And I'm sure that the lot of you ate most of them."

"But you did brave a few, just for her, didn't you?"

"I didn't want to be rude," he said, somewhat defensively. "And now she knows I don't like them, which is something she loves to tease me about."

Neville just smiled, his head shaking slightly, as they reached Honeyduke's. Harry opened the door and Neville went in first. It wasn't as full as Harry thought it might be, but they did run into Ron and Luna. The redhead still looked beyond bewildered, but the sides of his mouth were turned slightly upwards from his own amusement at whatever Luna was going on about. He didn't even beg his fellow Gryffindors to save him.

Neville and Harry looked through the shelves for a while, picking out various sweets and candies. Harry figured that, with this Secret Santa thing in play; he could afford to give his other friends things from Honeyduke's. Everybody liked a good sweet or two.

On their way to pay, Harry stalled and lifted a box of chocolate frogs.

Neville raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"For Hermione," Harry said simply.

Neville chuckled. "You do know that Hermione doesn't like chocolate frogs either, right?"

Harry did know, and Neville knew that Harry knew. "So, really, I'm buying this box for the lot of you, aren't I?" he joked.

Neville shrugged, still smiling. "You don't hear me complaining. I love those dainty amphibians."

The more time that Harry spent with Neville; the more he started to wonder why they hadn't hung out more before today. Neville was great company, and really funny too. Harry made a mental note to spend more time with the blond Gryffindor.

Once they were done in Honeyduke's, the two of them did some further wandering. They stopped by a book shop and just browsed. Harry was tempted to buy Hermione something more but decided against it. She would disapprove of her set of journals anyway. He didn't want to risk more of her wrath.

They past by a Quidditch shop, which Harry resisted entering. Neville didn't seem that interested. Which was how they ended up in a jewellery shop. Neville spotted something in the window that he might have liked to get for his grandmother, and Harry followed him inside. The shop was empty but for the two of them, and two older women behind the counters. One of the women was quick to start helping Neville, while the other hovered as Harry looked around.

Harry glanced over the rings, lingered on the bracelets and then stopped on the necklaces. There were so many different types of charms, both pretty and meaningful. Then there were the not so formal ones, like little books, broomsticks and cauldrons. It all made him smile.

"See anything you like?" the woman behind the counter asked, her voice raspy.

Harry felt slightly uneasy, but he tried to keep it off his face. "I'm just looking," he said simply.

"We received some new watches," she informed him. "They're very lovely. Would you like to take a look?"

Harry was tempted to say no, but something stopped him. The word just wouldn't leave his mouth, so he finally nodded.

The woman smiled, revealing yellow-stained teeth. She was a little scary-looking, but Harry's unease was slowly fading. Something told him that he didn't have anything to be worried about with this woman. "They're over here," she said, gesturing for him to move to his right. "We've got various metals, and various faces. Are you looking for yourself, or for a friend?"

Harry blinked. He didn't wear a watch, and he wasn't sure he wanted to start. "Umm, do you have matching his and her sets?" he found himself asking.

She smiled widely at him. "Oh, how wonderful!" she exclaimed, as she bent down to retrieve several boxes. "Of course, you can specify next to every detail of the watch itself," she explained. "You can pick aspects of the watches you see before you and we can have them custom made."

Harry just nodded, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. What was he doing? Was he really going to buy a set of watches? Matching watches?

Yes, yes he was.

Harry was done with his purchase well before Neville was. The woman promised him that the watches would be delivered on Wednesday morning, specially wrapped and sealed, only to be opened on Christmas Day. It was a gift that Harry would hand over in private, in case... Well, he wasn't sure what would happen.

"Ready to go?" Neville asked him, getting his attention.

Harry nodded. "I'm thinking that I could do with a nice, warm butterbeer right now," he said, leading the way out of the shop. "Though, I would like to make one more stop before we head to the Three Broomsticks, if that's all right?"

Neville just nodded, following behind Harry. They stopped at a clothing store, and Harry bought various pairs of quirky socks, several scarves and beanie sets, and a few pairs of gloves. Neville made no comment as Harry paid, but he did find it amusing that most of the items he bought were for girls.

Neville and Harry were the last pair to arrive at the Three Broomsticks, which was already full of students. They found their friends in a booth in the back, six butterbeers in front of them. Harry slipped in next to Hermione, who beamed at him.

"I hope you don't mind, but we ordered for you," she said, blushing slightly. "We weren't sure how long we'd have to wait."

"Thank you," he said, meeting her gaze. "I was wishing for one of these."

Neville nodded, letting everyone know that Harry really was.

"So, what did the two of you get up to?" Ginny asked from her position beside Neville. "Looks like you did quite a bit of shopping."

Neville smiled at her. "Now, you know we can't tell you," he said. "I'm sure you'll find out soon enough."

Ginny pouted for a moment, before she relented and started on her drink again. The six of them fell into easy conversation, happily discussing their plans for the upcoming Christmas Break. Harry was going to Grimmauld Place, Hermione was going home to Oxfordshire, Luna was going on an expedition northwards with her father, Neville was going home to Longbottom Manor, and Ron and Ginny were going home to the Burrow.

Harry would end up seeing them, he was sure, when the Weasleys visited Grimmauld, but nobody made any promises. The good thing, Hermione supposed, was that Harry wouldn't be alone in the Castle. She'd worried about that when the Weasleys announced that they would be going home for Christmas this year, citing something about not spending enough time as a family, especially with Voldemort around.

It was also one of the reasons why Hermione insisted on going home as well. That, and she missed her parents quite terribly. As an only child, she was convinced that she'd adjusted to boarding life quite well, but that didn't stop her from missing being at home every day with the Drs Granger.

Conversation went on rather nicely until Harry gasped.

"What? What?"

Harry was looking at Hermione. "What on earth happened to you?" he asked, his eyes drifting down her back to her legs.

"Oh," she sounded, flushing red instantly.

Ginny laughed. "It you're referring to the wet, and the dirt; you should know that she fell."

"I slipped on a particularly slippery rock," Hermione defended herself, even as Harry's face broke out into a smile.

"Three times," Ginny added, and Hermione shot her a heated look. Ginny ignored it. "It was hilarious."

"She laughed for a good thirty seconds before she even thought to help me up," Hermione muttered, huffing. "She laughed even longer the second time. I had to get up myself the third time. My gloves are soaked right through."

Harry waited a beat. "Well, I have a solution for that," he said, reaching into the packet under the table and bringing out a lovely pair of red gloves. "These are for you," he said, absently reaching for her hands.

Hermione's brain shut down long enough for him to take hold of her hands. "Oh, no, Harry, I couldn't," she protested weakly, coming back online.

"It's okay," he said, gently. "I bought them for you."

"Oh."

Harry refrained from putting them on for her, because they were inside, but it was mainly because his entire face was heating up. Everyone was looking at him, and his heart was starting to race. He eventually released her hands, leaving the gloves with her, and then turned to the group, who were just staring at him.

"I, umm, well, I bought gloves for you and Luna as well," Harry said, looking at Ginny. He reached into the packet again and retrieved a set of blue and a set of gold gloves, before handing them over. He'd also bought a pair for Cho, but he decided not to mention that.

"Thank you, Harry," Luna said, clutching the soft fabric of the blue gloves to her chest. "They're lovely."

"They really are," Ginny agreed. "Thank you, Harry."

Harry let out a shaky breath and glanced at Hermione, who looked pensive. It took her a moment to shake herself out of it, and then return to the conversation. Harry waited until the other four were involved in quite a debate to lean into Hermione, so he could whisper in her ear.

"Don't worry, pretty girl, I got only you a matching scarf and beanie as well."

Hermione yelped, the feel of his breath against her skin both shocking and so lovely. Harry jumped at the sound and pulled back, clearly worried.

"Bloody hell, Harry," Ron said; "what did you say?"

"Nothing," Harry protested innocently. "Honestly, I didn't say anything." He gave Hermione a significant look, which she did her best to ignore. Harry leaned back, wondering what it was about what he'd said that made her react the way she did. Didn't she want the matching scarf and beanie?

Harry returned to his butterbeer, and they all managed to get past the awkward moment. Harry didn't actually speak to Hermione directly again until they were leaving, and he asked if she needed help with her bags.

Hermione just shook her head, and Harry left it at that.

When they got back to the Castle, Harry went up to his room to put his things away. He was feeling odd, like he'd done something wrong, but he wasn't sure what. He didn't like the feeling at all.

Harry didn't go back down to the Common Room until it was time for dinner. He'd toyed with the idea of going out to his rock, but ultimately decided against it. It really was cold outside, and it really was no fun sitting out there without Hermione, now that he had.

The Common Room was empty save for one person. Hermione looked like she was waiting for him, and she seemed to perk up when she spotted him. She beckoned him over with a wave of her hand and he joined her on the couch across from the burning fireplace.

"They've all gone down to dinner," she said, watching as he looked around. "Apparently Hogsmeade visits make Gryffindors hungry."

"Why aren't you down in the Great Hall with them?" he asked.

"Well," she said smiling at him; "I was waiting for a certain matching scarf and beanie before I braved the cold."

"Oh," he said, grinning. "I'll be right back," he rushed, jumping to his feet and racing up the stairs. He ruffled through his things until he found what he was looking for, and then raced right back down the stairs. When he returned to her side on the couch, he absently sat a little closer to her.

Hermione noticed but she said nothing. What could she say, really? He didn't even realise what he was doing, which she agreed was worse than having him know, surely.

"These are for you," Harry said proudly. "Gryffindor red."

"Because I'm a Gryffindor?"

He blinked. "No, because I like the way that you look in red."

"Oh?"

Harry blushed bright red. "I'm sorry," he said suddenly. "Is that weird? Am I allowed to say that?"

She frowned slightly. "Why wouldn't you?"

"I don't know," he said quietly. "I mean, I said something earlier and, well, you, ummm, you yelped, Hermione."

Hermione offered him a reassuring smile. "I'm sorry about that," she said. "You just surprised me is all."

"But we're okay?"

"We're perfect, Harry," she said, nudging him lightly with her elbow. "And thank you for my gloves, hat and scarf. I absolutely love them."

At that, Harry stood up and put out his hands to help her up. Hermione ended up standing right in front of him, close enough for her to feel his breath on the bridge of her nose. He reached for her new scarf and wrapped it around her neck. He placed her beanie on her head and positioned it just right, taking care not to pull on her hair. He was so gentle; so careful, and Hermione realised only after he stepped back that she was holding her breath.

"Shall we go?" he asked, staring at her face. "Now that you're going to be nice and warm; we can go for a walk down to the Lake after dinner, if you'd like," he offered nervously.

"I would like that very much, Harry," she said calmly - nothing like she felt. His suggestion felt like more, but she wasn't sure how that could be.

Harry had the somewhat reckless urge to take hold of her hand, but he stopped himself. "Let's get going," he said, stepping back and turning to lead the way out of the Common Room. They walked side by side, their fingers occasionally brushing against one another, but neither of them were bothered by the contact.

In fact, by the time they reached the Great Hall; they were both blushing madly. Only Ginny seemed to notice, but she made no comment as Harry and Hermione sat down together. Closer than normal; not that either of them even realised.

Hermione removed her scarf to eat, and laid it over her lap. Harry smiled at her, and then proceeded to eat his dinner, trying not to panic about the walk that was going to come after. They normally did take walks, but this felt different. He wasn't sure why or how it could be, but it did.

"Do you think there will be dessert?" Ron asked after a while, making all his friends laugh. Trust the youngest male Weasley to be the first to ask about dessert.

Even though no words passed between them, both Harry and Hermione knew that they wouldn't be staying for dessert. It would be too late and too cold for their walk if they were to stay. So, by mutual decision, they both stood up and gathered their winter garments.

"Where are you two off to?" Ginny asked.

"Just a walk," Harry answered.

"DA things?" Ginny asked, pressing for information.

"Sure," Harry said absently, stepping back. He placed a hand on the small of Hermione's back and led the way out of the Great Hall. Just before they left the Castle, Harry made sure that she was bundled up warmly. He wrapped her scarf nice and tight, even covering her mouth and nose to protect them from the bitter cold.

"Can you hear me?" she asked.

"Loud and clear," he said, tightening his own scarf. "Can you hear me?"

Even though he couldn't see her mouth smile; he could tell that she was smiling widely through her eyes. He'd never really noticed just how expressive her eyes were. They revealed so much sometimes.

"I feel like we're going on some super secret mission," she said, jumping slightly.

"Easy there, Batman," he teased, starting to walk. "Do try not to slip, if you can."

Just as he finished speaking, Hermione did slip on the icy top step and her sudden grip on Harry's arm was all that saved her from landing hard on her bottom. She tried to glare at him when he laughed, but she more or less started to laugh as well. His real laugh was rather contagious.

Over the years, Hermione learned to tell the difference between his true laugh and his forced one. She didn't blame him for having a fake laugh, mainly because of the outward expectations that the Wizarding World had for him. There were things that she knew he was working through, and still had to work through, which would probably make it difficult for him to feel happiness.

And then there was this laugh. It was honest, true, real and so very beautifully Harry.

The two of them walked arm-in-arm towards the Black Lake, neither of them feeling the need to talk. If anything, Hermione was actually rather surprised by how cold it actually was. She clenched her jaw to stop her teeth from chattering. She gave herself fifteen minutes at the most; probably more if they kept moving.

"Do you know that I hate the cold?" she asked, breaking their silence as they approached the Lake. "The cold, and the wet," she said, shivering. "Hate them."

"Why?"

"Well, for starters, it's cold," she said, laughing; "and, well, I do end up on the ground more often than not, which isn't fun. I mean, it's really difficult not to feel miserable when it's pouring out, isn't it?"

Harry glanced at her. "So you prefer the summer then?"

"I'm actually a fan of Autumn," she informed him. "I love the colours, and, I don't know, but the thought of falling leaves just fills me with warmth."

It amazed him, really, that he was still learning new things about her. He hoped it would never stop, because, well, he was convinced there were many layers to this wonderful girl. He'd even called her amazing, because he was coming to realise that she truly was.

Harry didn't keep them outside for very long. Despite the cold, it was nice to spend some time with Hermione, alone and without eyes constantly watching him. This year was one he would like to forget, but his days weren't all that terrible recently. He wasn't yet ready to acknowledge that it had a lot to do with Hermione Granger.

By the time they made it back to the Common Room; Hermione felt as if they hadn't even left the Castle. It wasn't yet curfew, but the Common Room was emptier than what was normal for a Saturday night.

"Didn't Fred and George mention something about a demonstration in the Great Hall?" Hermione asked, absently recalling one of the twins - she still wasn't sure which one - saying that they had a new product and were going to set it off tonight.

"They're just trying to get themselves expelled," Harry said quietly, as they stepped towards the staircases leading up to their separate dormitories. "And, with Umbitch prowling; it'll probably happen."

Instead of reprimanding his use of language, Hermione giggled. "I'm sure they're being careful," she said, which had Harry giving her a pointed look. "Right. Of course. Never mind."

Harry loosened his scarf and let it hang down around his neck. Without asking for permission, he did the same for Hermione. Her face was bright pink, though neither of them was sure it was from the cold.

Hermione was the first to yawn, and Harry quickly followed suit, making them both smile. "It's been quite the day, hasn't it?" she asked.

"All that shopping has tired you out, huh?"

"You could say that."

"So then it's time for bed for my pretty girl," he said, putting his hands on her shoulders.

Hermione might have died and gone to heaven. Did he just call her his pretty girl? Oh. My. God.

Harry tugged on her beanie until it covered her eyes, and he just stared at what was left of her face for the longest time, his mind racing. Before he lost his nerve, he placed a gentle kiss against the soft skin of her left cheek, absently breathing her in. "Goodnight, Hermione," he whispered.

Hermione was too shocked to speak and, by the time she recovered enough to lift her beanie; Harry was gone. Her face broke out into a smile of, maybe, disbelief, and pure happiness. That boy.

All she knew was that she was definitely going to have another night of vivid dreams filled with a certain green-eyed wizard, and she didn't mind that at all.