Disclaimer: Mr. Potter, Ms. Granger, and all the other characters belong to JKR.
Author's Note: This will be a short romance fic (likely 6 chapters) with some Christmas fluff.
Please note that the title is not a typographical error. Although clearly inspired in part by the Christmas carol with the traditional Latin title "Adeste Fideles" ("O Come, All Ye Faithful"), the phrase ades fidelis is a singular imperative instead of plural. Rather than a command to a group of faithful people to draw near, fidelis therefore implies a single faithful person. Outside of a liturgical context, the word also doesn't necessarily mean "having faith," but rather denotes a general concept of fidelity. Furthermore, the verb adesse in this context would take on a rather specific connotation beyond its general meaning of "being present at or near someone" when coupled with fidelis. I'll just quote the relevant sense of adesse from Lewis and Short's Latin Dictionary: "To be present with one's aid or support; to stand by, to assist, aid, help, protect, defend, sustain." That definition is a pretty good description of the "faithful one" the title references here.
Chapter 1
The day was cold, gray, and bleak.
Not unlike many of the frozen mornings the previous winter, thought Harry, when he and Hermione had witnessed the days gradually become shorter and shorter in their relentless march toward the solstice. Last year, alone in the wilderness and succumbing to fatigue from their continuous watches, they hadn't even noticed the subtle turn when the days began to grow again. It wasn't until they arrived at Godric's Hollow that they even realized it was already Christmas Eve.
Yet as Harry stared out through the frosty glass of the drawing room window at 12 Grimmauld Place, watching giddy passersby filled with holiday cheer and others bustling about on last-minute errands, he was certainly conscious of the date today. During his upbringing with the Dursleys, Christmas was at best a time for him to be shuffled off and hidden from the extended family. Harry was all too happy to spend most of the day alone in his cupboard. No laughing or crying—not even a peep—and he could avoid attention. At worst, it could be a time when Uncle Vernon drank a bit too much and might take a swing at him over some trifling matter. Of course, the concept of presents for him seemed absurd to Vernon and Petunia.
Since then, Harry had come to think of Hogwarts as his home for Christmas for several years. Christmas became about new jumpers for Ron, Hermione running in wearing her pajamas and bearing a pile of gifts, and Hogwarts decorated with greenery and candles. Then the disruptions of the war came and went: holidays were a luxury temporarily forgotten for all.
But Christmas tomorrow would return Harry to the solitary existence he grew up with. Briefly hailed as a kind of savior, he was the newest pariah of the wizarding world. And he had only himself to blame for it.
Still, he was prepared: it wouldn't be like the happy Christmases of some past years, but at least he had his own home and could do what he wanted. And right now, he didn't want to do much of anything at all.
"Master," a voice called from behind him. "Master Harry?"
Harry closed his eyes. He couldn't deal with anyone right now, especially not someone with the absurd attitudes and behavior of Kreacher. Taking a deep breath and not turning around, he muttered, "Yes?"
"Would Master Harry like anything for breakfast?" said Kreacher.
Harry opened his eyes again. "Nothing. I told you that before." Maybe he could placate the house-elf and make him go away. "Just... please bring me some tea here." He waited for Kreacher to respond, but—hearing nothing—he turned to face the house-elf, who was standing with an odd posture, staring at him. "Is there something else?"
Kreacher slowly approached and held out a small box, presenting it to Harry. "Kreacher thinks Master Harry should eat. It's nearly noon, and Master does not look well."
The wizard wasn't quite sure what to make of Kreacher's strange attitude and unprecedented expression, which appeared to be a look of sadness and perhaps even sympathy. Harry took the box and opened it to discover a selection of chocolates. In confusion, he asked, "What is this?"
"Happy Christmas, Master Harry."
Harry's brow furrowed as he glanced up from the box in astonishment. "This… is a present?"
Kreached bowed formally. "Kreacher saw as Master defended the wizards and even the house-elves. Master risked his life and does not deserve to be forgotten by all."
It has come to this, Harry thought. The ancient insane house-elf was taking pity on him at Christmas. "Thank you, Kreacher," he said with a sigh. "That is very thoughtful." In past years, Harry would have wondered if the chocolates were poisoned, though Kreacher had shown his loyalty in the past months. "But you will still take the whole day tomorrow. Do not attempt to do any work for me or this house."
After his role in the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry had convinced Kreacher to accept a small salary in exchange for his continued work at Grimmauld Place. While initially insulted, Kreacher agreed when told the other option was being freed completely and asked to leave. Harry also informed him that he must agree to take a few days off each year to do something that he wanted to do. Harry didn't learn much about Muggle traditions growing up, but he knew that even Ebenezer Scrooge would give Bob Cratchit off the entire day for Christmas.
Kreacher shuffled his feet and appeared disappointed, apparently assuming his gift would be a way to get out of this obligation. "Kreacher will scrub twice as hard for the entirety of next week," he grumbled.
Harry turned back toward the window and tried not to roll his eyes. "Fine," he muttered. "Just bring the tea and then leave me alone." A couple minutes later, he moved to the sofa near the center of the room and closed his eyes. His head ached, and he felt exhausted. Sleep came only at odd hours in the past couple weeks, almost returning to the kind of irregular schedule he had experienced on the Horcrux hunt a year before. The darkness of night seemed more likely to bring actual nightmares, ironically enough. They had lessened for a while over the summer, but with his recent isolation, the horrors of the war and Voldemort had returned.
Just as he was about to drift off, Kreacher appeared and set down a tray with a teapot, creamer, sugar bowl, spoons, and two teacups with saucers. As Kreacher arranged the china on the table, the noise roused Harry, who stared quizzically at the house-elf. Was Kreacher planning to join him? After the unprecedented kindness of the gift a few moments before, Harry didn't know what to expect.
But as soon as the house-elf had finished laying the tea service out, he said, "Master has a visitor waiting."
"I told you I don't want to see anyone," Harry said in annoyance. "Please tell whoever it is to leave."
"Kreacher does not think anyone could make her leave," replied Kreacher dryly.
Harry began to stand up to clarify his orders, but then realized there was only one person in the world Kreacher would have dared to defy his wishes for in the first place, just as Hermione appeared at the door to the drawing room, still in her winter coat.
"Harry!" she shouted, rushing over and pulling him into a crushing hug. "I'm so sorry, but I simply couldn't wait," she said quickly over his shoulder. "Kreacher told me I needed to stay downstairs, that you weren't seeing anyone, but it's been a couple weeks since you've responded to my owls, and weeks and weeks since I've seen you, and I've been so worried but couldn't get away until the end of term, and Professor McGonagall needed me to help get things ready for those students staying over break, and…" She finally took a breath and pulled back, though still holding tightly onto his arms. "How are you? Are you okay?"
While part of Harry was thrilled to see her, Hermione's whirlwind of energy was overwhelming at the moment. "I'm fine," he muttered, as he sat back down. Hermione settled herself beside him, keeping hold of one of his hands while eyeing him carefully. "As I told you in my last owl, I just need some time away from everything."
The house-elf reached out toward the teapot, before Hermione grabbed the handle first. "Thank you, Kreacher. I can take care of it from here." Kreacher glared at Harry, who merely shrugged, leading the house-elf to pop away in a huff.
"If I weren't Head Girl and if it weren't this horrible year where we've been trying to rebuild things and get order back to the students at Hogwarts, you know I would have been here with you weeks ago," Hermione said as she poured the tea. "I know you haven't been seeing anyone—"
"No one wants to see me," Harry said. "Most people think I should be in Azkaban, and the rest are either scared of me or too scared to disagree." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Since I last wrote to you, aside from the occasional annoying reporter, no one has even tried to contact me, apart from you."
"Hypocrites," she said, shaking her head and finally removing her coat, laying it beside her on the edge of the sofa. "They owe their lives to you, and this is how they show their gratitude."
A burst of pain returned to Harry's head, and he put his hand to his forehead, an act which appeared to cause Hermione great distress. "What's wrong? Are you sure you're okay?"
"It's nothing. Just a headache."
Hermione reached out to stroke his cheek. Harry couldn't quite take the intensity of her stare; his gaze fell down to his lap. "I can tell you haven't been sleeping," she said.
"I just feel exhausted most days and nights," he said quietly. He wanted to try to explain more, but he didn't even know where to begin. "I'm sorry I'm not better company."
She started to stand up. "Let's go to your bedroom so you can lie down properly. I'll get a warm flannel for your forehead and—"
He looked up to her, interrupting, "Hermione, you don't need to be my nurse. We have tea, and you've come all this way..." The dull ache worsened and throbbed again though, causing him to close his eyes. He felt Hermione sit down again, running her hand across his forehead and cheek, checking him. Harry truly didn't want to worry her—he knew this was just a normal tension headache, nothing like what Voldemort used to put him through. Still, it was distracting enough he couldn't think properly at the moment. "Maybe I should lie down just for a bit," he said, opening his eyes to see her staring at him in obvious concern, "but you don't need to stay with me… I just need to let my head clear."
"I can wait. I'll have tea while you rest."
Harry was grateful she at least took the hint to let him be for a while. Frankly, he felt a little embarrassed that she walked in on him in such a state. He hadn't showered or shaved in days. Since he hadn't really slept the previous night, he was still wearing his clothes from yesterday. Hermione had of course seen him at his worst, but he just needed a little time to pull himself together. Maybe she could just come back another time. "It's Christmas Eve," he said. "You should be with your family—"
"I already stopped to see my parents briefly this morning." Taking his hand, she glanced up at him with that familiar look of determination. "Harry, I came here to see you, and I'm certainly not leaving until I know you feel better." He could have predicted that she'd say that. "Besides," she added, "there are plenty of books in the library here I can occupy myself with."
Harry couldn't argue with that. Over the summer, she had catalogued the Black collection and created appropriate safeguards on some of the more dangerous books. But she told him before she left for Hogwarts in September that there was still so much to explore, and there was nowhere that Hermione was happier than in a library.
He nodded, giving in, before heading to the doorway. But he halted for a moment and turned half-around: self-doubt reared its head. "I just want you to know," he said. "You don't owe me anything."
Hermione's eyebrows scrunched down. "Why would you even say that? Why would you think…" She shook her head. "Harry, that's not why I'm here. You're my best friend, and I told you I was coming." Harry's eyes dropped down to avoid hers as she sighed. "You haven't been reading my owls, have you?"
He felt too ashamed to even shake his head; he hadn't meant to ignore her. He just couldn't deal with anyone, and reading her letters only reminded him of what he had done, why he had been thrown out of the auror training program and had been deserted even by his closest friends. But she was here now, and he was so grateful to her. Of course she'd come—she was the only person in the world who had never abandoned him. How had he been so stupid to ever think otherwise?
Harry finally built up the courage to meet her eyes again, and rather than a look of annoyance for neglecting her, he saw the most gentle and sincere concern on her face. "Just get some rest," she said softly. "We'll talk more later."
