VII

He woke up first.

Harry Potter couldn't help it. His eyes flew open at the crack of dawn and there was absolutely no way he would be able to get back to sleep. They had a big day ahead of them, so Harry wasted no time in heading to the bathroom to get ready. He had a feeling this was going to be a great day.

Jane woke up next and buried him in such a loving hug that Harry might have even teared up. Between the two of them, they got started on the waffles. Michael joined them shortly after, and he did the thing and hugged Harry as well, overwhelming the poor boy. When breakfast was almost ready, Jane sent him to wake up Hermione, and he literally jumped at the opportunity.

Harry grabbed a Santa's hat and a spoonful of waffle batter before he raced up the stairs. He knocked once on her door - just to be polite - and then he went inside. Hermione was positively adorable when she slept. She was actually tangled up in her sheets, her hair a mess, and a bare foot sticking out from under the covers. He resisted the urge to tickle her, but went for something equally dramatic.

Harry practically pounced on her, startling her.

Hermione screamed, and then burst out laughing at the sight of him, looking like a little kid on Christmas morning. He was wearing a Santa's hat that said 'Santa's Little Helper' and it took every ounce of her will power not to bring him down to her and just hold him close.

"Time to get up," he practically sang, bouncing on her bed in his excitement. "It's Christmas Day, Hermione, and you know what that means..."

She blinked up at him. "What?"

He bounced again. "Waffles!" At the sound of that, Harry dropped a dollop of batter onto her cheek and she shrieked, pushing him off the bed. Harry landed hard on the ground, but he didn't even notice through his laughter. He quickly got to his feet.

Just in time, really, because she suddenly lunged for him, and then he was running, Hermione hot on his heels. Harry bounded down the stairs and into the kitchen, deftly moving to hide behind Jane, decidedly not like the boy who's faced off against Voldemort one too many times.

"What the...?" Jane asked, but stopped dead when she spotted her daughter as she sprinted into the kitchen, batter dripping down her cheek and looking half-asleep. At the sight, Jane couldn't help but burst out laughing. Harry hadn't actually stopped.

"What's going on?" Michael asked, coming into the kitchen from the dining room. When he spotted his daughter, he too started laughing.

Hermione huffed, clearly annoyed.

Harry peeked at her from behind Jane. "Merry Christmas, Hermione," he said sweetly, and even blew her a kiss.

Hermione's anger dissipated immediately, and gave way to a deep blush. Without a word, she turned and fled the kitchen, swearing her revenge.

Michael high-fived Harry. "Though, you do know that she's probably come up with a million ways to get you back already," he warned. "Ways that you'll never see coming."

Harry shrugged. "Let her try."

Hermione was as polite as ever all morning. Too polite, and that was worrying. They'd gone to church and returned without any incident, but Harry was growing wary of her. She kept glancing at him and smiling cryptically. It was driving him insane.

If Harry were being really honest, he'd have to say that he rather enjoyed going to church. He didn't know half the things that the Father was talking about but it was all so very interesting, learning new things. The songs were nice as well. As wizards, they celebrated the Yuletide, but he didn't know if there truly was religion behind their own celebrations.

He doubted that the Dursleys were God-fearing people, though they definitely pretended to be. He made a mental note to discuss it all with Hermione, whenever she decided to end his torture. Really, couldn't she just strike already so he could relax?

Harry started to think that her revenge would be getting him and her father under the recently-hung mistletoe at the same time. Wow, that would be awkward! Harry even shuddered at the mere thought of it.

The mistletoe itself seemed to haunt him in some way. His eyes kept drifting towards it, as if it was taunting him. Goading him. Daring him.

"We should start getting ready to go," Jane said loudly from the kitchen after they'd been back home for a little more than twenty minutes, making sure that all of them knew. They'd decided that they would wait on opening their presents until they got back later in the day.

Harry and Hermione spent a few minutes helping Jane in the kitchen, packing her pies and presents for the journey to Norwich.

"It's going to be at least three and a half hours," Michael said, striding into the living room. "So if you need the loo, go right now. The car is all fuelled up; we won't be stopping until we get to the Freeman House."

Hermione let out a small squeak, as she rushed from the room, making the other three smile.

Jane looked at Harry. "You don't need to go, sweetheart?"

Harry was slowly getting used to the endearments. "I'm good," he said confidently.

She raised an eyebrow. "Why don't you just go in case?" she offered, somewhat knowingly, and Harry obliged. He really thought he would be fine, but it was better to be safe than sorry, wasn't it?

Because, in the end, they did end up having to pull over. For Michael.

Jane and Hermione giggled the entire time, teasing him incessantly about his inability to follow his own advice. He'd squirmed in his seat until he just couldn't hold it in anymore, and then pulled over on the side of the road. It was freezing. What was he thinking?

Harry could only cringe at the thought of taking a leak in this weather. Surely, there had to be a petrol station near by.

Jane handed Michael a wet wipe once he was back in the car, and turned up the heat.

"Nobody comment," he said, his teeth chattering. "Don't any of you dare say a word."

Hermione let out another giggle and Michael shot her look in the rearview mirror. She just rolled her eyes. "Seriously, Dad, this is hilarious. If it weren't you; you know you'd be laughing too."

Michael just huffed, as he took to the road again. There was Christmas music playing on the radio, and Harry felt warm and happy. All his worries about being alone on Christmas, or the cold anger that he'd felt when he received that letter seemed so far away. He was here with Hermione and her parents, and he just felt like he belonged.

"Look at that." Hermione suddenly said, leaning over to point out his window. "It's massive."

Harry turned his head to see a giant inflated Santa Claus, practically looming over them all. It was huge. And it was singing. "Those people really know how it's done," Harry said quietly.

Hermione was leaning towards him and, when Michael hit a small pothole in the road, she fell into him, bumping her head against his.

"Grr," Harry sounded, his hand flying up to rub against the impact point on his forehead. His eyes were tightly shut and he grit his teeth at the pain.

"Gahh," Hermione said, trying to right herself by putting a hand on what she thought was his thigh. "Sorry," she said quickly. She was rubbing at her temple with her other hand, wondering if she would end up bruising.

"Sorry," Michael called out, looking at the two of them in the rearview mirror. "Didn't see that."

Hermione shot a glare at her father, knowing full well that he'd done it on purpose. She could practically hear it in his voice. What was he trying to do? Concuss them? When she looked at Harry, he looked a little dazed. "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice a little more than a whisper.

His green eyes fell on her face, and he blushed.

"Harry?" she questioned.

He couldn't bring himself to say a word, so he just looked down at his lap, and Hermione's eyes followed his.

Oh.

That was not his thigh.

Hermione snatched her hand back from its position dangerously close to another part of his anatomy. She looked away, flushing a deep red almost instantly, and the two of them did not look at each other, nor did they talk until they arrived in Norwich.

"Oh, it looks like Barry and Georgia are already here," Jane said, spying her sister's car in the driveway.

"They do live in Norwich, Jane," Michael reminded her. "So, please, no family drama this year."

Hermione finally spoke. "Yes, please, no family drama," she reiterated.

It would be no use, they knew. They said the same thing every year, but there was always some kind of drama, and it almost always involved Dr Jane Elizabeth Granger, or her daughter nowadays. Hermione recovered enough to explain to Harry why that was as they were taking items out of the boot to carry into the house.

"My mum might be the youngest, but she is the most successful of the four sisters," she told him. "She's also the only one in a successful marriage. Barry is my Aunt Georgia's boyfriend. They've been together for a few years, but they keep breaking up and then getting back together. It's all so very complicated."

Harry just listened.

"Aunt Georgia has a daughter, who's twenty six. Her name is Beatrice, and she has two kids, Ryan and Kristen. They're adorable. Really, the cutest little tykes you've ever seen." She giggled. "Naughty little things, but truly adorable. I call them rascals, and my mum calls them bambinos."

Harry followed her into the house, where he was quickly and warmly introduced to Hermione's grandparents, aunt, and Barry. They had a few questions about him, which he happily answered, and then there were more people arriving. Hermione had him meet all her cousins, four in total.

Hermione explained to him that her mother had three older sisters: Georgia, Michelle and Adrienne. On top of Georgia's Beatrice, there was Michelle's Craig, and then Adrienne's Matthew and Spencer. Her cousins were all older than her and, because she was usually at boarding school and lived in Oxfordshire, she didn't get to spend all that much time with them. Hermione told him that, when they were younger, she'd been rather close with Beatrice, but now she wasn't sure that the two of them could even hold a proper conversation. She just didn't know how to talk to her anymore.

Harry decided early on that he liked Matthew best. The boy was a loud comedian, though Harry had to acknowledge that Spencer was more of a silent assassin, truly funny and witty without even having to try.

"Matty and I always got on best," Hermione told him, as they got drinks from the kitchen. "I don't know why; we're not even that similar, but I reckon it's to do with the fact that he has a drive to learn things."

The eighteen-year-old did seem knowledgable about the most arbitrary things.

"We used to read my nan's encyclopaedias just to show off our reading skills," she admitted, blushing slightly. "My uncle, Craig's father, used to pay us to do it sometimes, just so he could marvel at it. He was never known to praise his own son though."

Harry could see cracks in the family where the drama could come from, but nothing really seemed to spark until they were all seated around the large table for their late lunch. It was Michelle who started it, asking Harry about the elusive boarding school that he and Hermione attended with the kind of snark that made him uncomfortable.

They thought it didn't exist. They thought Jane was hiding her daughter's incapabilities behind a lie.

It made Harry burn with cold anger and he spoke up before Hermione, Jane or Michael could, his voice clear and untroubled. "It makes sense that you would think that," he said coldly. "It's not exactly advertised, because some very important people send their children there. The fact that Hermione managed to get a scholarship to such a prestigious academy is just a testament to her capabilities. And the fact that she's the top of our grade, wow. She truly amazes me and I'm sure you're so curious about it because you're very proud of her."

The table fell silent.

Harry managed a smile before he returned to eating his food. He risked a look at Hermione, who was trying her hardest not to grin madly.

It was Craig who kept going. "So you go to this school too then?" he asked somewhat cheekily. "Your parents important as well, or are you supposedly smart like Hermione?"

Harry stiffened.

Hermione made to reprimand her cousin, but Harry's hand on her thigh stopped her. This part, he could do. He could handle talking about his parents when he was defending their honour; their sacrifice that not only saved his life but also put a temporary end to the reign of terror Voldemort was exacting on the Wizarding World.

"Actually, no," he said lazily. "Nobody is as smart as Hermione, so there's no way I could have ever received a scholarship like her. And, as for my parents, yes, I believe they were truly important people, especially in the War, where they were both killed in action when I was still a baby."

Harry would be asked no more questions.

Hermione leaned into him. "Oh my God, Harry; I am so sorry," she whispered. "This is horrible. This is - "

"It's okay, Hermione," he whispered back, cutting her off. "Don't worry about it, okay," he assured her. "This sunshine kid is perfectly fine, all right?"

Hermione didn't look appeased, but she did return to her meal. Jane didn't look any better. She was literally fuming in her seat, but she was determined not to have it out with her second oldest sister in front of Harry. The poor boy didn't need to see that. And, really, if they had something to say about Hermione; all they had to do was come out and say it.

Also, Jane wanted to pepper Harry with kisses for defending Hermione so succinctly. He seemed well-practiced in coming to her defence, but Jane didn't allow her mind to dwell on that for too long.

The rest of the meal was superbly awkward, and it took Hermione's nan, Ruth Freeman, announcing that dessert was served to ease some of the tension.

"I don't think I could eat another thing," Harry declared, quietly enough for only Hermione to hear.

"We can wait a little while," she offered. "Though, maybe we should dish some and set it aside. My cousins can be hoovers when it comes to the sweet stuff."

Hermione wasn't kidding. If they hadn't dished out some pudding; all they would have been left with was the rice pudding. They were both lucky enough to snag a slice of one of Jane's chocolate pecan pie each. It was so good.

Harry and Hermione settled on the couch in the living room and started up a game of Monopoly with Matthew and Spencer. Hermione considered inviting Craig to join but decided against it when the twenty-one-year-old couldn't be found.

Hermione didn't wonder where he was until she heard the raised voices. She buried her face in her hands. She could only imagine that her nan had waited to let rip on her daughters and grandson for making a guest in her home feel so unwelcome. And for trying to undermine Hermione by using her friend to do it. It was tacky and distasteful.

Hermione turned to Harry in embarrassment. "I am so sorry," she said, leaning into him. "Oh, this is so awful."

Harry moved to put an arm around her, and she buried her face against his chest. "It's fine," he said soothingly, his hand rubbing her back. He just managed to ignore Spencer's snicker. "Family is drama; it's fine, Hermione."

"But this was supposed to be a good Christmas for you," she mumbled against his chest. "And now it's ruined!"

"Are you kidding?" he asked incredulously, forcing her to look at him. "This is the best Christmas I've ever had, and it's because of you, okay? Don't think that a few little stray comments and a family fight are going to ruin that." Harry touched her nose with the forefinger of his free hand. "Okay?"

Hermione stared at his face, seeing the lightness in his eyes and his relaxed brow. "Okay," she whispered.

Harry waited a beat before his lips took the place of his finger and he kissed the tip of her nose. "Now, if you don't mind, I think you owe me like a billion Pounds right now."

Hermione turned her attention to the board game, and her two cousins, who had been watching the two of them knowingly. "Shut up," she muttered through her breathless blush, and they just burst out laughing.

With the crisis averted, the four of them returned to their game, which seemed to go on and on. Matthew was a smooth-talker, and was able to get out of sticky situations way too easily. Spencer was downright sneaky; Hermione was a regular professional at this game, and Harry was just painfully honest.

Because of it, the teenaged wizard was bankrupted first. He took up the position of the Bank for the most part, but he did sneak away at some point, only to return with a tray with four cups of hot chocolate and a plate of assorted festive biscuits.

Spencer grinned at him, and then turned his attention to Hermione. "He's a keeper, Hermione," he said. "Marry this boy."

Harry stumbled over his own feet, and he was just glad that he'd already set the tray down. What!

Hermione sputtered, her cheeks flaming. "Oh - um, no, it's not - no, Harry and I - we, uh - "

Matthew and Spencer both burst out laughing again. "Jeez, try not to burst an aneurysm," Spencer said, enjoying being able to tease her. "We get it. You're not, uh, wuh, uh, no." He grinned. "Totally."

Hermione ducked her head, wishing that the ground would open up and swallow her whole. She couldn't bare to look at Harry. He was probably horrified at the very idea. She took a deep breath as Harry moved to sit down next to her again. He leaned into her to whisper in her ear.

"You reckon Spencer would insist on our naming one of our kids after him?" he asked, making her yelp.

Hermione had barely recovered from Spencer's last jab, and now Harry was making it worse. "You're not helping," she muttered.

"I like it when you get all flustered," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "It's cute."

"No it's not," she argued.

"Well, I think it's cute, which is why I'll keep saying thing to fluster you."

Hermione wanted to kiss him. He was so close, and he was so warm. It was so tempting. He was too tempting.

"Hermione," Matthew said, forcing her to look away from Harry. "It's your turn to roll."

Jane was the one to put an end to the game. Somehow, Matthew and Spencer were holding on. It was because of Harry, really. He kept vouching for them, turning his pout and perfect eyes on her. It was so difficult to resist sometimes.

Jane told them that it was time to go, if they wanted to get home before Boxing Day. And they had presents to open. Hermione had them quickly count their fake Monopoly money to prove that she had, indeed, won. Always the competitor.

Harry and Hermione said their farewells, and Ruth invited Harry back whenever he wanted, which touched him. She also apologised for the hostility at the dining table, and Harry just accepted it. And then they were on their way back to Oxfordshire.

The two teenagers conspired in the backseat about the possibility of a Wizarding Monopoly. Hermione even took out her journal to start jotting down their ideas. Even though she was quite excited by the prospect, Hermione didn't dare lean towards him in case her father hit another pothole that he supposedly didn't see. She wouldn't let her mind think about where her hand had touched him.

It'd been a long day, and it was already nine o'clock by the time Michael pulled into their garage.

Jane looked into the backseat to see that both Harry and Hermione were still, surprisingly, awake. "Why don't you two head on up and get changed; I'll get started on the hot chocolate, and then we can open presents?"

Hermione just nodded, and then got out of the car and headed into the house. Harry waited to help offload the boot, before he also disappeared up the stairs. He was back down before Hermione, and he proceeded to build their little blanket palace once more. It was just about done when Hermione came back down, dressed in fuzzy pink pyjamas and looking decidedly less than her sixteen years. Harry absolutely loved it.

"Who's first?" she asked, grinning widely.

"Why don't you split them up into piles?" Jane offered, entering the room with a large tray. "We've got biscuits!"

Harry helped tailor everyone's hot chocolate to their liking, while Hermione delivered all the presents under the tree to the various recipients. Harry, admittedly, was both surprised and touched by the number of presents that ended up on his pile. In fact, it floored him.

Hermione eventually settled in nice and close to Harry, and the two of them sipped at their hot chocolate until Michael rejoined them. From then on, it was free for all, though Jane did try to maintain a semblance of order. They tried to pay attention to each present as it was opened, but it was a futile attempt in the end.

Jane positively cooed at the scarf that Harry bought for her. "Oh it's perfect, Harry! It matches my skirt. Thank you so much!" She called him into a long, tight hug, pushing his boundaries to the very limit.

Michael bought a black suit for Harry. "Every young man should own at least one suit," he explained. "And, well, you're probably going to have to wear it on New Year's Eve."

Harry frowned. "New Year's Eve?"

Michael looked at his daughter accusingly. "Didn't you tell him?"

Hermione was just unrolling the poster her father bought for her. "Umm, no, not yet." She turned to face Harry. "There's an annual Granger New Year's Eve party that we all have to attend next week," she said simply. "It really is painful."

"Hermione!" Michael scolded, and then he burst out laughing. "But she's right, Harry. It's awful."

Jane picked up the thread. "If you thought my family was bad, then you're in for a real shock."

"I'm also the youngest of four," Michael explained, and all my siblings have at least three children each. He laughed when Harry's eyes widened. "And then my father got remarried after he left my mum, so I have a further three half siblings. They're all going to be there, with their own spouses and their own children." He sighed. "And my mum is one of twelve kids, so there's all that other family." He shuddered before he turned to look at Jane. "Isn't there some way we could just not go?"

Jane covered his face with her hand dismissively. "Shut it, Mickey; we're going. You know how they'll talk if we don't."

For a moment, Harry was almost grateful that he didn't have family. Well, not really, because he wouldn't mind family drama if his parents were still alive. Though, looking at it, he didn't know if he could have survived having a bad relationship with them. Would he have other siblings? Would they resent him as well?

Hermione giggled at the sight of her poster, drawing all their attentions. "Oh, I know exactly where this is going!"

From Jane, Harry received a cook book, which included the lamb curry from his second night in the Granger household. "Oh wow!" he said, looking through the various recipes. "This is so cool! Thank you!"

Jane smiled at him. "Well, you looked quite interested, so I thought you'd appreciate it," she explained. "We can try some things out together before you leave, if you'd like."

"I'd love that," he said, beaming at her. There was a moment where he hesitated, caught between wanting to hug her and actually doing it. It took a wave of her hand for him to propel himself forward so he could hug her. While he was there, Hermione screeched his name.

"Harry!"

He released Jane to look at her. "What? What?"

"It's beautiful," she declared, staring down at the watch she held in her hand. "It's too much."

Harry moved to kneel beside her. "Nonsense," he said dismissively. "It's barely enough."

Hermione quickly clipped the white gold band on her wrist, her eyes continuing to stare at its face. She couldn't bring herself to look away from it. Even her parents were commenting on how lovely it was.

"Did you see what's engraved on the back?" he asked.

Her eyes snapped towards him, panicked, and she quickly removed the watch again. Her eyes read the words first, and then the tip of her right forefinger traced the letters.

Merry Christmas, HJG.

25/12/1995

- Love HJP

Love.

Hermione turned to look at him, her eyes shining.

Harry swallowed nervously. Why was she looking at him like that? "Umm, so, there's a switch there that can swap it between yours and mine," he explained, pointing at a small knob on the side of the watch. "It's showing mine right now because we still don't know what your patronus is. Once you cast your first fully-formed one; it'll show up, apparently." He dropped his voice to a whisper only she could hear. "My watch does the same thing."

Hermione threw herself at him, knocking the wind right out of him. He almost lost his balance and fell backwards, but he managed to stay upright as Hermione hugged the life out of him. He felt her lips place a chaste kiss against his neck, and then she released him, putting considerable distance between them.

Harry could only stare at her, dumbfounded. She'd kissed his neck. Merely the thought of it brought a blush to his face and, from the looks of it, she wasn't handling it any much better than he was.

He cleared his throat. "You should probably read up on all the other things it has," he said, referring to the pamphlet that came with the watch. "It's got all sorts of enchantments and protections."

Hermione just nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She would figure out a way to say thank you soon enough.

"Oh, epic," Michael sounded, opening his next present and allowing the teenagers a reprieve. It was the tie from Hermione. He held it up and it unrolled to reveal a large Tigger from Winnie the Pooh, bouncing on his tail and looking about as happy as he could get. "Harry, we match! I love it," he declared, immediately putting it on, even though he wasn't even wearing a collared shirt anymore.

"It's perfect," Jane said, tugging on the tie so they could share a kiss.

Harry looked away just in time to catch Hermione rolling her eyes.

Michael practically squealed at the pipe that Harry bought for him, Hermione did a little happy dance at her book voucher and Jane immediately doused herself in the Poison perfume that Michael picked out for her. At the time on purchase, Harry had gawked at the fact that a perfume could be called Poison, but he had to admit that it smelt very nice.

And then Harry opened his gift from Hermione. She bought him a few books - all part of the series that she'd got him hooked onto referred to as The Forbidden Game Series - and a Christmas stocking... that had his name on it. He just stared down at the green and red fabric, his heart thundering in his chest.

Hermione sidled up to him, the heat of her equally overwhelming. "I thought we could put it up with ours by the fireplace," she said, touching his arm. "And then, for years after this, you'll always have a place here at Christmas. Or whenever, really."

Harry blinked back tears. "This - this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. "You are amazing, Hermione. Thank you." Before he even knew what he was doing, he was wrapped around her in a tight hug that surprised them both.

It took the sound of Michael clearing his throat to get them to release each other, both of them blushing madly.

"I'm glad you like it, Harry," Hermione said softly.

"I love it. I absolutely love it!"

Jane and Michael exchanged a look, a mixture of sadness and happiness in both of their expressions. How was it that a stocking could be so well received?

Harry clutched the fabric against his chest, letting his emotions ride through him. He leaned against Hermione. "I've never really had anything with my name on it like this," he whispered to her and, this time around, she wrapped her arms around him. She hugged him for all he was worth, trying desperately to convey something to him without having to use words.

Jane quickly moved them along until all their presents were opened and piled neatly to be taken to the various bedrooms.

"You kids up for a game of Scrabble?" she asked, eyeing their drooping eyelids.

Hermione's face lit up but Harry merely looked confused. She had to explain to him that it was a word-building game, with the goal of building words to score the highest number of points. Of course the Dursleys wouldn't have played a game that required that much thinking.

The game, admittedly, didn't last very long. Michael was the one who passed out first, and Harry was quick to follow. Jane and Hermione continued for a little while, before Hermione yawned, and Jane called an end to proceedings. The two of them cleaned up the best that they could, and then Jane was waking Michael and Hermione was waking Harry. She would never be able to get over just how cute he looked when his eyes fluttered open.

"Time for bed," she said, helping him stand up.

They all bid goodnight to one another, and then disappeared behind closed doors. Before Harry climbed into bed, he used the toilet and then decided that he needed a glass of water. He wasn't feeling as sleepy now that he was up and about.

Harry headed down to the kitchen, and poured himself a glass of water. He had just reached into the biscuit tin to swipe one, when someone spoke from some place behind him.

"Hey you," Hermione said, unable to resist.

Harry startled, and almost dropped the glass of water in his hand. He turned sharply, and looked at her accusingly. "Are you trying to kill me?" he asked, his breath ragged.

Hermione just smiled. "Well, I did go to your room to jump on you the way you did this morning, but you weren't there," she said, shrugging. "So, what are you doing?"

"Getting some water."

"And that biscuit in your hand; it's just a what, an illusion?"

Harry blushed. "Would you like one?"

"Why not?"

Harry set his glass of water down on the counter and proceeded to get another biscuit from the tin on the same counter. He was astutely aware of Hermione moving towards him, and he did all he could not to react in some way. The kitchen was dark, and he felt happy - there was no saying what he would do.

Harry handed her a biscuit, and the two of them ate in silence for a moment. When Hermione lifted his glass and took a sip from it; Harry filled with a warm feeling that he wouldn't be able to name. He was sure it wasn't even rational because all she did was drink from his glass, but, seriously, he felt giddy.

"What?" Hermione asked, the glass held against her lips. "You didn't spike this with some potion, did you?"

"And why would I do that?" he asked, unable to get rid of his smile.

"Exactly," she agreed. "Why would you?"

Harry took the glass from her, his fingers brushing against hers, and then took a large gulp of water, before handing the glass back to her. "Let's wait a minute to see if anything happens," he said.

They passed the glass between them until all the water was gone, and then they stood and looked at each other, just waiting. Neither of them said a word, but slowly, their smiles widened until they were both laughing at how ridiculous they were acting.

Eventually, Hermione spoke. "You are so weird," she said.

"That may be so," he agreed; "but you don't care, do you?"

"Not in the slightest," she said, resisting the urge to touch him. Then: "We should probably get some sleep, Harry."

He nodded in agreement, before he carried the empty glass and placed it in the sink. He'd probably make too much noise if he were to try to wash it now. He followed Hermione out of the kitchen, and into the living room, where she stopped to pick up her novel.

They seemed to forget.

It was the only explanation, really, that would have them willingly walk through the arch that they both knew housed the dangerous mistletoe. Together. They came to a mutual stop right under the offensive plant, and Harry's heart immediately started to race.

"Oh," Hermione sounded, unable to form suitable words. Why oh why had she insisted on picking up her book? "I forgot about this," she managed to say. "We, uh, we can not, and just say we did," she offered quietly, definitely giving him an out. This was so not how she wanted to kiss him.

Harry steeled himself. "Or we could, and still say we did," he counter-offered.

Hermione just stared at him.

Harry turned his body to face her fully. "It is Christmas, Hermione," he said, giving her a small smile. "Unless you don't want to?" he asked uncertainly.

"I do," she said quickly, turning to face him as well. "It's all in the spirit of Christmas, right?"

Harry nodded as he took a small step towards her, his breath ragged. Was this really happening? Was he really going to kiss her?

Yes, yes he was.

Hermione couldn't breathe. This was terrifying. Harry looked like he wanted to kiss her, and that was paralysing. What was she supposed to do now?

Harry closed the space between them with one more step, his right hand moving to rest at her hip. She gasped quietly at the contact, but it bolstered her own position, and she raised her hand to trace his jaw with her fingers. His skin was so warm.

Hermione decided that it would be a chaste kiss, just a peck, a quick meeting of lips, and then they would go to bed and forget that this ever happened.

But when his lips tenderly pressed against hers, all thoughts left her. She practically melted against him, absently pulling him closer as her fingers moved to run through the strands of his perfect hair. It was everything.

Harry pulled away to whisper against her lips. "Hermione."

But she was pulling him back to her, not wanting this magical moment to end. Harry kissed her back with increased urgency, his warm hands cupping her face. He felt like he was on fire. That was it. His skin was burning wherever they were touching, and the fact that she was pulling him closer was, well, consistently robbing him of precious breath. He was kissing her, and it was everything.

Hermione felt both light and heavy at the same time. She wanted to say his name, just to be sure that this was really happening, but her voice got stuck in her throat. Really, she was convinced that she would never be able to speak again.

Harry pulled away first, his eyes remaining closed as he rested his forehead against hers. Their breaths mingled and it sent a shiver down and then back up Hermione's spine. There were things that they needed to talk about - particularly this kiss - but she couldn't. She wouldn't.

"Merry Christmas, Hermione," he murmured, his thumb gently running across her bottom lip. He placed one last kiss against the corner of her mouth, and then he headed up the stairs, taking them two at a time and disappearing into his room before Hermione could recover enough to open her eyes.

She knew that he was gone from the loss of heat, but she couldn't stop a goofy smile from taking hostage of her face. She looked up at the mistletoe, breathing out a quiet thank you.

Definitely a great day!