Harry Potter does not belong to me. I only take ownership of original plot and characters. I hope you enjoy! Happy holidays!

Harry Potter and Hermione Granger numbly stared at two worn, white marble gravestones in the quiet, snowy cemetery of Godric's Hollow.

"The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death," the tombstone read.

The two teenagers seemingly had not a word to say. Death had again made the pair speechless. What was one to say when two loving parents are buried at their feet?

Hermione, in an effort to pay her respects, conjured a wreath of burgundy Christmas roses and levitated the offering carefully down to center of the stone. Ever the perfectionist; some have even compared her to the former Head Girl lying at her feet.

The act of reverence defrosted her friend standing behind her. He gently wrapped his arm around her waist and tears began to flow down his cheek, freezing along the way.

"I've always wondered what they would be like. Like if there was no war, and they never died," he whispered, staring at the graves with empty eyes.

Hermione laid her head on his shoulder, snuggling into the crook of his neck. He peered down at her questioningly, but made no move to disentangle himself.

"Well, I suppose they would be like any normal parents. Your mum would fuss over your hair, as it is rather untidy." Harry cracked a small smile at this, but let her continue. "Your father would be at nearly every Quidditch match cheering much louder than any decent person should. Of course Padfoot and Mooney would be there egging him on. Your mum would probably overload you with sweets your first few weeks at Hogwarts just like Malfoy's mum did, but then start sending you vegetables once she learned that you hardly ate anything but sweets." Harry was grinning broadly at this point, but enjoyed the view too much to interrupt. "Holidays would be a rather rambunctious affair," she continued, "Sirius would always try to out-do your parents by spoiling you rotten. Your mum would get irritated, but you would always secretly like her present more because it would be thoughtful. Mooney would make a simply divine chocolate torte and you would sneak a piece before anyone else noticed. All the while your father would break something while trying out the new broom your mum got him."

Hermione paused, realizing that feeding further into the imaginary would only serve to hurt Harry rather than make him smile. She peered up at him through her bushy hair and saw his eyes on her. He was looking at her tenderly with a wide smile. Deciding to wrap up her tale as she was feeling cold slush trickling into her boots, she removed her head from his shoulder and turned to face him, a loving twinkle in her eyes. "Overall," she ended with a fond smirk, "I think they would have been proud to have you as their son."

Before Hermione knew it, her best friend had her in a tight embrace. In every squeeze she could feel his appreciation and love.

"I love you too, Harry," she said, her voice muffled by the cloth of his winter coat.

Little did the witch know, her best friend was on the verge of tears again as he marked the sweetest moment of his young life. "I love you too, Hermione," he murmured into her fluffy curls.

After a prolonged hug in which Harry attempted to dry his eyes discretely, he untangled himself from his friend, took her hand, and began walking back toward the entrance of the graveyard.

The two friends silently trudged toward the gate hand in hand, both thinking of one another.

Hermione was analyzing both the smile Harry gave her and his declaration of love. She had never seen her best friend look at her quite like he just did. She wracked her brain for a comparison. Maybe the look he gave Sirius once he learned he had a family? No. The look he gave to Ginny when they would sit on the couches in the Gryfindor common room? Not quite. The expression stumped her. Hermione believed that she knew every expression Harry had to offer, but that smile wasn't one of them.

In an attempt to at least solve one mystery, Hermione turned her thoughts to his 'I love you'. It did not compare to any of his previous declarations of love she had heard from him before. She had heard 'Hermione, I love you! Thank you for saving us!' and 'I love you! Thank you for the gift', but never the low, gentle tone he used when he spoke into her curls.

A flighty butterfly beat against her stomach telling her the answer was rather obvious, but Hermione could not, or maybe would not, believe the feelings tickling her insides. It was simply impossible. Harry was her best friend, basically Ginny's boyfriend, there was no way he could feel like that.

Get yourself together! Hermione's brain berated. The guy you've supposedly been head over heals for left. Harry is your best friend. He was in distress over his parents' graves combined with recent events, and you comforted him. That's it.

Harry's thoughts were flowing in a similar fashion. I swear I saw something in her eyes I've never seen before. They sparkled with something more than kindness. And her 'I love you'. It was almost silky. It sounded off, like there was emotion behind it that isn't usually there. I think I've heard that before though. But from where? The memory caressed his consciousness, then floated just out of grasp, but an odd delightful feeling was forming in his chest.

Harry and Hermione were nearly to the kissing gate after walking in thoughtful silence for almost ten minutes. When the couple was a few paces from the gate, Harry blurted, "Why is it called a kissing gate? I've always wondered."

The seemingly random question knocked Hermione back to reality. Her exceptional mind whirled until is quickly landed on the information she was seeking. "They were used to allow people out of the enclosure without livestock following. Kissing comes from the way the gates closed together," she began, reaching the gate herself. Upon shuffling to the other side of the gate, she held it closed and smirked as Harry looked at her questionably from the other side. "However, some say it is because only one person can exit at a time, so a lady would pass through first, close the gate on her gentleman, and demand for a kiss for his entrance."

Between the wicked smirk on Hermione's face and the insinuation of a kiss, Harry's face began to burn. His earlier thoughts raced past him, and landed on the memory he was looking for. Bill and Fleur's wedding. That's where he heard that tone of voice. Fleur's vows.

Harry's heart skipped a beat in his chest. He had never considered Hermione as a girl that could be of interest, not because she held no beauty or an affection disposition, but because by the time he had reached the age to have an interest in the opposite sex, Ron had claimed her. Having Hermione set firmly in the 'off-limits' category from the beginning, he had never given himself the chance to see her admirable qualities in any other light besides friendship.

In that moment, with Hermione grinning wickedly from the other side of the gate, Harry imagined Hermione walking beside him as his girlfriend, holding hands and smiling up at him with a grin and love in her eyes. He blinked. She wasn't beside him. She wasn't smiling, with eyes full of love. She was on the other side of the gate, with her brow furrowed and a question in her eyes.

In an attempt to rescue himself from a situation he wasn't ready for, he plastered a smirk on his face and leaned in as if to kiss her. Predictably, she lightly smacked his shoulder, giggled, and let him through.

The moment passed without incident, and both Harry and Hermione managed to banish any sort of romantic thoughts from their busy minds for nearly two more days.

()

Harry and Hermione were fighting again. After the incident at Bathilda's house, Harry was left in a foul mood. His wand managed to get snapped in half in their hast to escape Nagani's fangs and was irreparable, leaving them to share Hermione's wand. Hermione had then shown him the copy of The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore which she had nicked from Bathilda's house on their way out.

Rage boiled up in Harry's chest as he read. Every line held secrets the Dumbledore failed to mention in their many lessons. Hermione was only adding salt to his wounds as she attempted to defend Dumbledore.

"Harry, I'm sorry, but I think the real reason you're so angry is that Dumbledore never told you any of this himself."

"Maybe I am!" Harry roared, getting up to hold his anger in by rhythmic pacing. "Look what he asked from me, Hermione! Risk your life, Harry! And again! And again! And don't expect me to explain everything, just trust me blindly, trust that I know what I'm doing, trust me even though I don't trust you! Never the whole truth! Never!" His voice cracked under the crushing despair that was threatening to take him over.

He turned toward Hermione expecting another round, but instead saw emptiness. The colour was seeping from her face leaving her tanned skin a greyish tone. Her normally lovely chocolatey eyes were dulled and as barren as a tundra. In that moment his anger receded enough to feel concerned. What was happening to his friend?

She turned away from him abruptly, a hint of sadness and anger glinting in her eyes before he could no longer read her face.

"You act as if Dumbledore is the only reason you fought," she whispered, then disappeared back into the tent without a sound.

()

Harry had been turning around her words in his mind over and over again. Of course he fought for more than Dumbledore. He fought for his life. He fought because he parents fought. He fought for his friends.

Friends. Oh Merlin.

Harry crept back into the tent, he found Hermione a few seconds later on the floor next to her bed curled up in a pile of blankets. Her hair was everywhere despite her attempt to tame it into a bun. She was glaring daggers at the book she held in her hands as if it personally offended her.

Harry padded over to her nest and settled across from her on the floor, pulling his knees to his chest. She didn't even acknowledge his presence.

"I'm sorry," Harry spoke softly, "I lost my wand and my view of Dumbledore and took it hard. But I shouldn't have taken it out on you." He paused, hoping to catch her eye, but she was still looking at her book. He continued, never taking his eyes off of her hoping to at least get her to look at him again. "Hermione, you mean everything to me. You have fought by my side since we were eleven. I would be dead seven times over without you."

The last statement made an almost unnoticeable smirk grace Hermione's lips, so he pressed on. "I know I don't say it enough, and I promise to work on that, but Hermione, I am so grateful for everything you do. You have a passionate, caring heart. You're the most courageous person I know, and the smartest person anyone has ever known. You're my best friend, and I didn't just fight for Dumbledore; I fought for you. I want to deserve your kindness and seemingly unending devotion."

Hermione was gazing at him, tears in her eyes with lingering sadness and that special look she gave him the other day in the graveyard. Her look made all of the thoughts and feelings from those moments rush back. He remembered the wreath she laid at his parents grave, her embrace, and 'I love you'. Along with the memories tumbling back, a new feeling slammed into is heart like a hug from Hagrid.

Affection. He could not quite tell if it was love, but he wanted to find out.

"Hermione?"

"Yes, Harry?" she responded with a degree of hopefulness lacing her delicate voice.

Sudden nervousness took over his body, and it took all of his Gryfindor courage to say, "Can we just take a bit of time off from watching and fighting and curl up together?"

A blush graced her cheeks as she realized her best friend wanted to cuddle with her and what that could lead to. She gave a small nod, and the pair gathered up all of the blankets and made their way to the couch. Hermione laid with her back to Harry's chest and pulled the blankets around themselves.

He began running his hands through her curls as a way to calm his anxious mind, but realized soon after Hermione let out an enticing moan of pleasure and relaxed into him that he had found something new about Hermione: she liked her hair played with. It wasn't a grand revelation, but after believing that he knew everything there was to know about the brown-eyed witch, it came as a hint that there were probably many other surprises she may hold if he pursued his current train of thought. He really liked the thought of knowing everything about her.

"Hermione?" he asked again with slightly more courage now that she wasn't facing him.

"Mhmmmm?" she replied, a lazy moan escaping her lips as he ran his fingers around the scalp behind her ear.

Harry took a calming breath to prepare himself, then blurted, "haveyoueverthoughtofmeasaboyfriend?"

"Hmmm?"

He took another breath and tried to slow his speech. "Have you ever thought of me as a boyfriend?"

He waited for her answer with bated breath.

"Well, by the time I began to think of boys like that, you were mooning over Cho, then Ginny, so I guess I just put you in a off limits category and never thought more about it." Hermione was glad her back was to Harry so he couldn't see the extent to her blushing.

Her answer was better than he expected by far. She seemed to have done the same with him as he did with her. However, her answer to his next question might crush him, but he had to ask. He couldn't let go of his brief fantasy of their could-be relationship, and he had to know if there was even any hope for it.

"What about now?" he asked softly, his voice betraying his nervousness.

Hermione's stomach erupted with butterflies.

"I haven't had much time to think about it," she replied, pondering his question. Hermione knew better than to make rash decisions, and she wasn't sure if these new feelings were real or a passing phase.

Harry's heart sank. He wouldn't admit it to himself, but he had hoped to hear at least an 'I'd consider it'. His hand playing with her hair stilled, and he let out a strangled sigh, trying to recover his composure. Being shot down was not uncommon to Harry, and he knew with time they would fall back into a comfortable friendship.

Still deep in his thoughts, he almost didn't hear her begin, "I suppose it-".

She was cut off by the arrival of a familiar doe patronus trotting into the tent. Without a thought, Harry shot after the silvery creature as it took off into the woods leaving Hermione mid-sentence and very disgruntled.

She huffed, and fell back on the couch in a heap. Hermione was just about to admit the prospect of feelings for her best friend, which takes a great deal of courage, and with his sudden departure, her courageous moment fell flat, and she felt drained.

()

When Hermione walked out of the tent in response to loud rustling from the trees, she fell short when she saw Ron at Harry's side. Waves of emotion hit her, relief, anxiety, anger, disgust, a twinge of happiness, and before she knew it she lost it.

All she wanted was to hex Ron to the next plane, if Harry hadn't kept her wand from her- which she was still very unhappy about- she would have used every nasty curse in her library until he was a bloody pulp. Even after she had appeared to calmed down, she was internally fuming. How dare he believe that he should be instantly forgiven? And Harry! How could he turn his back on me, just because Ron came back? Yes, he saved Harry, but I've saved them more times than they can count. I guess it's good I didn't tell Harry.

(~)

Harry was laying in his bed listening to Ron's grating snores and mentally kicking himself. Yes, Ron came back and saved his life, but he knew that it was no excuse for how he treated Hermione. She seemed to have come to terms with Ron being back, but Harry also knew that she was probably just stewing below the surface. It's not like she could run away from her two friends. After all, her parents didn't remember her, and there were wanted posters shouting her name at every corner.

He sighed and tried to fall asleep, determined to make the next day a better one.

()

Agony. Harry Potter never knew the true meaning of the word until the very moment. Agony, he discovered, was not a deep cut that hurt more than you could handle. It was not the overwhelming pain in his skull when Voldemort was near. Agony was torture. It was clawing at the bars in the Malfoy dungeons until his fingers bled. It was screaming her name until his throats could handle no more. Agony was hearing his Hermione's screams and being helpless to stop them, knowing every moment that she was in pain beyond measure protecting his secrets. He begged to take her place, but all he received was cool laughter and a kick to the ribs.

His agony seemed to last hours. He could do nothing to protect her or lessen her pain. All he could do is listen, and listening tore his being apart.

Only when Dobby had managed to get them to Shell Cottage, courageously sacrificing his own life, did the agony lessen to anguish. After he buried Dobby, he finally got a good look at Hermione. Her eyes were dead and her arm was still bleeding, covering the word carved into her flesh. He would sit at her bedside while she slept fitfully, comforting her in the few ways he could.

Her nightmares got worse before they got better. Every muffled scream reminded him that her suffering was his fault. He knew any chance of a romantic relationship was out the door, but focused instead on keeping her as a friend; a healthy one at that. If only Rita Skeeter found out that the Boy Who Lived preferred to be Hermione's nurse.

()

The war was finally over. They found the horcruxes. Ron gave Hermione an untimely, awkward mid-fight kiss. Harry had Snape's memories to process; he was still unsure how he felt about the man. And Harry survived the killing curse for the second time to defeat Voldemort once and for all.

The trio was sitting under the tree near the Black Lake in silence. It had been two days since the end, and between repairing the castle, caring for the wounded, and burying the dead, they hid themselves away to breath in the comfort of each other's company. Finally, one of them spoke.

"Ron, can I talk to Hermione for a bit?" Harry asked, looking at his best friend with a concerned expression. He knew that Ron was sensitive about Hermione and his relationship. However, without hesitation, Ron nodded and quietly got up from their tree and headed toward the other red heads nearby.

Hermione looked up at him with a questioning look, but said nothing. Seeing he had her attention, Harry began, "I'm sorry I've been a rubbish friend. I should have taken your side when Ron came back. I forgot my promise to thank you more. Thank you. Thank you for risking everything for me, and keeping us safe even when we didn't appreciate it. I lead you into danger, let you risk your life for me-"

"I'd do it all over again," she interrupted sincerely. A familiar look on her face sparked an older memory. He smirked and decided to have some fun.

"You know," he started with a playful grin. "You never answered me that day."

She looked briefly puzzled, but with a blushing smile, she a knowing look dawned on her face. "Well," she began slowly appraising him and seeing his jovial mood. "I would say that you need to talk to Ginny first," she replied, a devilish smirk gracing her features.

Despite knowing his friend was joking he frowned. He had been avoiding thoughts of his inevitable talk with Ginny. Seeing his abrupt change in mood, Hermione began apologizing. "I'm so sorry. I was trying to joke. I didn't mean to upset you," she gushed, but he stopped her by laying a hand on her arm.

"It's okay," he reassured her, "it just reminded me that I have to have an uncomfortable talk soon." He sighed.

"You're going to break it off for good?" she asked, her face carefully blank.

Harry ran his hand through his untidy hair and let out a 'it's complicated' sigh. "I think so." He paused and let out a breath, then began to explain. "I love that she made me feel like a normal guy, but there was always an underlying Boy Who Lived admiration with her. When she tried to make me jealous by dating Dean, I didn't know it at the time, but I wouldn't trust her fully after that. Then, when we were on the run, I missed her a bit, but not as much as I should have." He finished with a huff, happy to have let all of his thoughts out.

"That sounds like a fun," Hermione said sarcastically, putting her arm around him in comfort.

Leaning into her embrace, Harry asked the question that had been nagging him for a while. "What about you and Ron?"

It was Hermione's time to let out a sigh. "I thought I liked him, but he's not good for me. We're always fighting. He takes advantage of everything I do for him and doesn't seem to appreciate it at all. Plus, how can I be with someone who believes my intelligence is bad unless it saves him?"

It was Harry's turn to comfort his friend. "Looks like we're both single," he commented with a smile. She looked up at him with a faint smile and a glimmer of something in her eye. Harry was curious.

"Harry?" She asked quietly.

"Yeah?"

"Have you ever thought of me as a girlfriend?" She ask, barely above a whisper, her face flushed.

Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. He gave up a while ago on the thought that Hermione might like him as more than her friend, but his affection never ceased. Her simple question was enough to make his heart soar.

"More than once," he said, smiling.

"And now?" she asked breathless.

"I'd give anything for you to think of me the same way."

Hermione threw her arms around Harry pulling him into a sweet embrace. "I have for years. I just never wanted to seem like some Boy Who Lived fan girl," she said with a dry laugh, joy in every tone of her voice.

Harry was happier than he had ever felt. Hermione's arms around him felt perfect, a combination of warmth and never ending devotion. "You're perfect," he professed into her shoulder.

"I'm yours," she whispered back.

Harry Potter felt complete.

A.N. Happy Holidays! I hope you all enjoyed this short happy story. More updates to main stories soon. Working without wifi right now.