With Christmas rapidly approaching, Harry's time was still largely dedicated, when not to schoolwork, almost entirely to his new responsibilities. In fact, he'd rarely stopped to spend any time doing anything else at all. If he wasn't tied up with preparing himself for the next duelling club, he was bracing himself for the next slug club meeting. The fact Slughorn seemed determined to set the dates of those meetings the very next day after a duelling session didn't help either, and it was usually a very exhausted Harry who welcomed the return to classes after the weekend with open arms, as a reprieve from everything else. He did feel a little guilty at how little time he'd had left for his friends amidst it all, but he knew he was doing the right thing and so, grudgingly, did his friends. Even Ron. Eventually, anyway.

Now with a week to go until Christmas itself, and the castle preparing to empty, there was only one more duelling session to go until January. Harry could barely contain his excitement for the chance of a break although, as Hermione pointed out, it was only for two weeks. Charming girl, that one. Still, he'd take what he could get.

It wasn't, to be clear, that he didn't enjoy the duelling club. In fact their first month, or coming up for that anyway, had been action packed and pretty interesting. They'd covered a few different types of magic each lesson, and the input of the teachers had been absolutely invaluable. With one notable but typical exception, of course. He still got, as an example of the success, gratifying compliments from his fellow classmates in the corridors about how well he'd handled the Thestral Hagrid had brought into the great hall in their first lesson, which had begun to run about the hall in a panic at seeing so many students in such a small space and had required a lot of coaxing by him and Hagrid to calm it down.

He had to admit, it was the first time he'd felt grateful to be able to see a Thestral, given what seeing them required you to witness. They had a ghoulish appearance in many ways, but they really were quite friendly creatures, if very shy, and he saw more than a little of some of his friends, particularly Luna, in them. Not that I'd ever say that of course. Never give a girl an opportunity to misinterpret a comment on her personality as a comment on her appearance; a Thestral certainly would not be a comparison much appreciated! Still, he'd really taken a shine to the Thestral herd after that lesson, and was pleased to have volunteered to help Hagrid take the one he'd brought in back to the forest.

Of course in that instance some students, usually but not exclusively clad in green-trim robes, had sneered at the 'uselessness' of Thestrals. This prompted him, in frustration, to remind them all that without the Thestrals, he and his friends could never have reached the ministry in time back in the summer. Of course he didn't mention the fiasco that had turned out to be since there's no need to ruin an otherwise reasonable argument after all, but the point was clear: a broom isn't always the best choice and Thestrals have several advantages. Notably their silent flight, agility and ability to blend into the night sky. Hagrid had positively beamed at Harry after that comment, once the hall had fallen quiet in contemplation and, eventually, agreement.

To an extent many of their lessons were like this and honestly, if it wasn't so exhausting, he'd be fascinated as he watched the sessions progress from what had been planned as simple basic training in self-defense to a surprisingly comprehensive, if very concise, discussion not just of how to perform magic, but how to actually put it into use effectively.

Now, Harry stood in the nearly empty great hall, helping to clear away the debris from the final session. The hall was strewn with all kinds of leftover Honeydukes sweets, as well as covered in scorch marks and various assortments of leftover spellwork ranging from conjured mice hiding under the tables at the sides of the hall, to a small forest that had sprouted towards the back when Ron's latest effort at a tactical manoeuvre had ended more than a little disastrously. In fact, it ended up a 12 foot tall pine tree disaster, with Ron firmly stuck on the top of it. Thinking on it, it could be Ron had done that on purpose, Christmas spirit being what it was. Actually, now he really thought on it, it's more likely the twin demons taught him that spell, almost certainly with the intention of leaving Ron a literal angel at the top of a tree. A very red faced angel, but still, angelic in a way.

Smirking to himself at the thought, he managed to catch the last of the mice and box them away before returning to the front of the hall where Susan, Draco (he'd grudgingly agree to refer to Malfoy by his first name, in exchange for the same in return), Padma and Professor McGonagall, who had been supervising the session, were talking quietly.

"All done Professor. If we're done here, I'll head off?"

McGonagall turned to look at Harry, a rare smile lighting her features up as she peered at him over her glasses with her usual mix of affection and sternness that she seemed to reserve for him, Hermione and Ron. I suppose we have caused her a lot of trouble of the years...sorry!

"Certainly Mr Potter. Before you go though, might I have a quick word in private?"

Surprised Harry simply nodded, bidding farewell to his classmates, before following McGonagall to the opposite end of the duelling platform they had set up where the teacher's table usually stood. Sitting down close to the edge of the platform, McGonagall motioned Harry to do the same, which he did, well trained as he was at this point.

"I just wanted to say, Harry, that I was very impressed with your work this term, and not just in Transfiguration. I had some reservations about the headmaster's idea, but the collective leadership seems to have worked well. How have you found it?" She was still smiling, if only slightly, and Harry didn't fail to notice the sudden and unusual use of his first name. Feeling using hers would probably still be poor form, he responded as he normally would.

"Thanks Professor. I think it's worked well, better than I had hoped too. I wasn't sure about some of my choices," and at that McGonagall's eyebrows raised slightly, clearly knowing without asking whom he was referring to, "but all three of them have really gotten behind the idea and Susan especially has really taken to it. I'm glad we've done this."

McGonagall nodded, smiling a bit more broadly at him now, and Harry felt the tension he normally had around his stern professor ease considerably, even smiling back himself.

"Those are largely, hints on personal issues with one student notwithstanding, my thoughts too, and I know the headmaster is proud of you all. I'll be talking to the others about this too of course, but felt you'd probably each like to hear this privately. Somehow, I think it makes it easier for us, the staff that is, to express our sincerity when we talk to you face to face like this."

Harry continued to smile at her, nodding his head slightly at her observation in agreement, before she hummed to herself, very gently, and continued.

"At any rate, that's really neither here nor there, there was a second reason I wanted to speak to you alone."

Harry's eyes widened slightly, concern now rushing into his features and McGonagall, spotting it, tapped her finger on his forehead lightly, gently reproving.

"Nothing as bad as that Mr Potter. Actually, I was asked by our mutual friend, Miss Granger, to send her, I believe she phrased it: request for your presence, along to you. She's waiting in: the usual place, apparently. All very cryptic, and though I don't appreciate being used as an owl for students, I'm making an exception for the two of you. Just the once, mind you." Sternness crept back into her features, but Harry could tell she wasn't really reproachful. Smiling again he nodded, thanked her for the message, and made his way out of the hall with a final wave to the other three, making his way to the usual place.

- Moments that define us -

Entering the room of requirement for what felt like the hundredth time this term, Harry wasn't surprised to find Hermione on their usual couch, and was even less surprised she had a small library stacked on the table beside her. Unquenchable thirst for learning, that one. It was a very endearing trait, but not one he shared really. Still, keeping respectfully quiet, knowing she'd already be aware of his presence but likely too keen to finish the chapter she was in to look up, he moved over to sit by her. Leaning back, he let out a quiet sigh feeling drained, if pleased, by all the progress he'd made. There was a long way to go, but things finally seemed to be moving along nicely.

He looked across at Hermione who was still intently leafing through her book, which he now realised was a relatively new copy of Fiendfyre: Uses and Abuses. She was, as ever, still in research mode then, he reflected wryly to himself. Though in truth he was glad she was so persistent. Without her efforts along with Dumbledore, they'd never have come so far in the battle to find a new way to destroy the horcruxes.

The Horcruxes.

Now there was a thought he had no intention of pursuing with much enthusiasm tonight. No, he wanted his christmas break, and as Riddle had conveniently decided to be absent again in recent weeks, he saw no reason to worry too much about the horcruxes for the moment. After all, since they still had little idea where to find them or what they were, it would be a wasted effort.

"Hello Harry."

Harry looked beside him to find Hermione was still buried in her book, but had a small smile on her face, which was enough to bring his thoughts back to more pleasant thoughts. He answered brightly.

"Hi Hermione, anything new in there?"

Hermione, sighing slightly, shook her head and, marking her place in the book, closed it with a small snap, placing it onto the pile beside her before also leaning back into the couch, rubbing her eyes blearily.

"No, not yet. It's definitely a viable option for destruction, but as far as making sure it doesn't run out of control..."

Harry nodded, giving her a reassuring, or so he hoped, pat on the shoulder, understanding all too well her frustration. He and Dumbledore had settled on Fiendfyre as the most reliably available method of disposing of the horcruxes. The sword of Gryffindor was, after all, not all that convenient to use in a tight spot, and so they had picked Fiendyre as their backup plan. Trouble was, it was damn near impossible to control once released.

"We'll find a way Hermione. Or," he smiled roguishly, giving her a nudge with his elbow, "you will anyway, you always do."

Hermione laughed slightly, nudging him back, before settling back again, leaning against him, and mumbling disagreeably for a moment before responding.

"I wish that were true, but this really does seem impossible to control. I know you said Voldemort controlled it well at the ministry, but we don't exactly have his dark magic knowledge or contacts to find out how he does it...nor am I sure I really want to know, for that matter."

Harry nodded slightly, understanding completely her thoughts on that score.

"Fair point. Point is, we'll get there, it's just a matter of time."

She smiled slightly wearily and closed her eyes to rest them. As she did so, he couldn't help but follow suit. After all, he was so tired...

- Moments that define us -

Harry opened his eyes blearily, unable to focus and yawning widely.

Where...oh, right, must've dropped off. Silly really, should have expected that.

He prepared to shake himself more fully awake when he realised that Hermione was still with him, curled up with her legs underneath her on the couch leaning heavily into his side, her left hand balling up the front of his robes.

Oh, well, guess I'm not moving then. She really -does- look just like a cat when she sleeps like that, no wonder Crookshanks likes her so much.

He chuckled, softly as he could, at the thought of the bandy-legged terror and continued to watch the top of Hermione's head, deep in thought, as her back rose and fell softly with her breathing. It was a wonderful feeling, having her so close to him, and the warmth would be enough to send him back to sleep again, if he really wanted to. Somehow though, he was content just to watch her, thoughts idly running over everything they'd done that term, all the progress they'd made. Together.

Of course, they'd had support and friendship from Ron and the others to count on, but there was no denying Ron had, Harry reflected a little sadly, been somewhat in the spectator seat lately, preferring to spend time with the others. Of course, they still spent a lot of time together, and he felt confident their relationship hadn't changed so much as Ron had backed away for a time. If I didn't know better, I'd say he wanted to give us more private space...how uncharacteristically sensitive, if true.

Smiling to himself at what he presumed to be the thoughtfulness of his best friend, he continued to let his mind wander. Really, they'd made enormous progress this term. Slughorn was on side, and they'd even gotten his memories much sooner than even Dumbledore had hoped, as he'd told Harry proudly when Harry brought them to him. Even better though, Slughorn had turned out to be more than an asset, but a real companion. A friend, even. Harry realised he'd been very fortunate that Slughorn had turned out to be the kind of man he was, and was very glad indeed that Dumbledore had brought him back.

Besides that, there was the Voldemort front. Of course, that still worried him. Always would until the snake-faced terror was gone for good, but they had plans, and though they had a long way to go, he had the sense of genuine progress being made there. He hadn't failed to notice though, not only the reported absence of Voldemort since the breakout, but also the fact his scar was utterly silent. Not a single pain or throb in months. Not since the ministry, come to think of it. Actually, why didn't I notice that before? I better ask Dumbledore about that next month...

Still, on the whole, things had been going well, very well in fact, which just really left one issue still open.

Hermione.

Focusing his gaze on her fully now he watched her breathing softly, and, as it always did, the protective and fierce spirit emerged inside him as usual when he was with her. He felt he could freeze time at this moment and remain here with her forever, and even after a thousand years, he'd still be smiling as fully as he was now. It was a wonderfully fulfilling feeling, and he really had never felt anything like it, not even with Cho.

Especially not with Cho, thinking on it. What on earth did I see in her?

Cho wasn't a bad girl by any stretch of the imagination, but she had never been his sort of girl. Too much crying, too much self-pity and melodrama for his taste. Though, to be fair, he could face the same charge on the latter, and perhaps he'd even agree. Really, it just came down to the fact that they weren't compatible people and never would be, even despite her renewed 'interest' since they'd duelled together during one of their early club sessions. That confused him still, for her 'feelings' to re-emerge so suddenly, but he didn't give it much thought. He had better things to think of.

Such as the bushy haired, ridiculously cute girl, curled up with me now.

Reaching one of his hands down gently, he couldn't help but be seized by the comparisons to Crookshanks, at least the good ones and without even thinking about it, very gently began stroking her hair. To his surprise, she gave a small noise of content as he did so and, feeling a thrill of happiness at her response, continued to stroke her hair softly, murming small, nonsense noises as he focused his thoughts on her. Her warmth, her soft scent, her deep, expressive and completely understanding eyes.

"I really am doomed."

It still surprised him how far gone he was and yet, there it was, the simple fact stated out loud. Wait, out loud?!

He stopped moving his hand briefly, carefully peeking to see if Hermione had heard him, but her only response was a clear grunt of discontent, so he quickly replaced the hand. He couldn't help it, he gave a soft laugh as he did so.

"I could do this all day, and it looks ridiculous."

Still, ridiculous or not, it was fulfilling, and strangely, he didn't feel bad at all doing this while she slept beside him. After all, it was her clutching to him tightly. Even if she was sleeping, he reasoned to himself, you don't do that sort of thing if you hate someone. And, really, he usually rubbed her head anyway when she was upset, just as she did for him. This is just a natural thing to do.

After what seemed only moments but could have been hours, Hermione stirred gently, and Harry looked down again to watch her wake, rubbing her eyes slightly as she released her grip a little, but continuing to play with her hair softly.

"Mpf, what time is it? Harry?"

He smiled at her now wide eyes, first filled with confusion, then recognition and, lastly, embarrassment.

"No clue Hermione, we've been here a while though."

"Oh.." she murmured looking somewhere over his shoulder, clearly still a bit dazed. After a moment, she looked into his eyes again. "Harry? You're stroking my hair."

"Sorry!" Harry jumped as if bitten, moving his hand away in guilt, not having realised he was still doing that, but was surprised when she grabbed his arm, still watching him, and smiled softly.

"It's fine. I like it actually, just don't do it around Ron."

Harry blinked, shocked for a moment before, as though it were completely normal and natural, resuming stroking her hair, smiling softly.

"I'll be sure not to."

"Good."

They continued to look at each other, both thinking idle thoughts, not wanting to move. After a few minutes, Hermione spoke to him again.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"That date we missed. Is Christmas eve OK? I figured we could, well, I don't know what we'll do really, but I'm staying here this Christmas while my parents head off to America, and...well, what do you think?"

Harry really was stunned now, but recovered rapidly, smiling so much his cheeks actually hurt.

"I think that's a brilliant idea, and I'd love to do anything really. We could even read." He added the last with a sly smirk, and she growled at him playfully before nodding her head, smiling up at him. Then, to his immense surprise she leaned up to him and, very tentatively, her nervous breath flowing across his cheek, placed a small kiss there.

"Then it's a date. Just don't sit on Crookshanks again and I'm sure we'll have fun, whatever we do."
Harry, truly out of his depth here, really didn't have any answer to give, though he did nervously laugh at the last comment. That bloody Kneazle will get sat on before this year is through, that's for damn sure! Still as he looked at her, her own face reddenning at what she'd just done, he knew how to respond. Leaning down himself, he gently kissed her cheek in return, and was rewarded with the brightest shade of red Hermione Jean Granger would likely ever go.

"Then it's settled."

Rising, with no shortage of regret, from the couch, he held out a hand to her and, helping her to feet, he suppressed his nerves and smiled brightly at her, hope and no shortage of the beginnings of joy soaring through and around his heart like the crest of an enormous wave crashing around the shore; exhilarating and explosive.

"We'd best get back, don't want Crookshanks to think I've kidnapped you."

Hermione, taking his hand, her own smile returning though still slightly flushed, smiled brightly back, firmly squeezing his hand as she spoke with a laugh.

"Oh my, best keep this a secret from him then, or you'll end up his newest scratch post."

Laughing together they made their way, hands still joined, back to the common room and for the first time in weeks Harry slept soundly, peacefully and, for the first time in a long time, felt truly, completely happy.

This, right here, is all I ever wanted.