England

December 2010


A few hours outside of Georgetown, Guyana

23rd December 2010

Thunder rumbled for several moments before the rain pelted down on them. The humidity started fogging Harry's glasses and a quick Impervius charm prevented it from happening again. They were deep within the Amazon rainforest on a stealth mission to retrieve a dark artifact codenamed Memphis. A few days ago, Harry and Peder met in the village of Whitewater, on the border between Guyana and Venezuela where a man called Armando accompanied them to a safe house in the commune, along the banks of the Cuyuni River. They spent four days briefing and planning their mission while also collecting information on illegal gold mines strewn about the Amazon region. Armando was joining them and two other operatives who called themselves Stinger and Avalanche against a division of the Sindicatos, a Venezuelan organized crime group, that was far too interested in wizarding relics for comfort.

It was nearly 00:35 when Harry, Peder, and Stinger remained unmoved, hidden among the florae of the tropical rainforest. Armando and Avalanche were scouting ahead at the target location. They had been gone for 15 minutes now, while Harry and his men waited for them to return with information. Harry could hear the scuttling of some creature nearby. He let the sound of flapping wings distract him for a bit, looking up at the tall looming trees covering the full moon. It should be around 4 am in London and in 36 hours he had promised to meet his friend Hermione Granger for Christmas. That was if they all managed to finish this mission in their predicted timeline.

"Someone's coming!" A voice spoke across him. It was Peder, garbed in a black stealth suit just like everybody else. The shadows of the darkness barely hiding the long scar on his left cheek. They all held their breaths in anticipation of getting caught but then relaxed when they realized it was Armando and Avalanche approaching.

"All clear. There's a shack 5 kilometers from here. No guards sighted." Armando spoke in a thick Venezuelan accent. Armando was a metamorphmagus in his fifties who preferred to wear his hair silvery-grey and tied back in a bun. His eyes were dark and his skin a deep red.

"Remember what we briefed. We're dealing with a muggle gang, so no magic, and absolutely no wand-waving until we've retrieved Memphis. We're going under the radar here, we don't need local authorities on our tails. Non-magical weapons only and we need total silence, so use daggers instead of guns. Don't kill unless necessary. I recommend you put them out of their consciousness instead. From the intel, they're mostly inexperienced members." Peder repeated instructions as he brought down his ski mask. Only his blue eyes, nose, and mouth were visible. The rest of the group followed his lead.

Harry unsheathed the Fairbairn–Sykes fighting knife attached to his left hip. It wasn't unusual for him to use muggle devices during missions. All of them were equally trained with magical and non-magical means, as per their MI6 statuses. Finally, they began moving forward with the scouts leading the way.

The rain had finally stopped but it had left the ground muddy and slimy. It didn't take long for them to reach the old and dilapidated-looking shack that didn't at all look lived in. Slowly they approached the site on guard in case anyone suddenly attacked. Peder nodded at Harry who kneeled by the door. Harry slowly and quietly opened the door, it creaked as it revealed to them the insides of the shack...

Empty. It was empty. The five of them went around the perimeter but there was nothing to be found. A simple Hominum Revelio would've been useful but they couldn't use their wands.

"This is a fucking dummy," Stinger spoke in his rough voice. He unmasked himself, revealing a square jaw and blond crew cut. "Your Intel was wrong," he complained to Armando in his usual gruff way.

Armando who was leaning against a tree sucked in from his cigarette then blew out, letting the gray smoke wafting in the air. "I've never been wrong," he answered.

"Looks like this is the first time, then, mate." Stinger spat.

Harry ignored the beginning of their quarrel as he took in and carefully analyzed the rest of the shack's surrounding area. There was a slight disfigurement in the clearing thirty meters away, like a track one would use all the time, it was deftly covered, but still quite obvious to Harry who was no stranger to living in hiding during the second wizarding war he'd been a pivotal part of at only eighteen. He snapped his fingers, calling their attention."Look!" he pointed at it and then started walking again, following the trail. It led them to a rat-hole beneath a Sumaumeira tree. "Peder and I will check this out while the three of you stay on the look-out. If we're not out in half an hour, go after us. I'll go first." He sheathed his knife back and took a small torch from his belt. The rat-hole was small enough to crawl through and it briefly brought back memories of the large tree in Little Whinging that he used to hide in as a boy. He placed the torch in between his mouth and began his descent. It was a good six meters of crawling before he reached a fork. Harry removed the torch from his mouth and beamed it towards the left and then the right.

"I'll go left." Peder nodded in agreement. They turned off their torches just in case and unsheathed their knives again. Harry continued, the dampness from the rain a while ago was making him cold and the ground underneath him was scratching on his uncovered skin. As he kept on, he could see faint shadows beyond as well as hear several voices, though the language to him was entirely foreign. He paused.

Suddenly, the cave grew so silent that Harry could hear his own breathing. An indistinct noise was heard several heartbeats later, followed by a loud explosion that roared through his ears and head. Harry felt the impact and pain of debris hitting him all over but he still held onto his knife as he felt himself sliding down. He landed forcefully into an even bigger cavernous area where he found Peder unconscious. Harry moved closer to check his colleague's pulse on his carotid, despite his own pain which apparently consisted of a sprained ankle. Still alive, he concluded after examining his partner.

Harry was about to pull Peder away when out of the corner of his eyes he saw two shadows looming in and about to attack. Quickly he clinched the first man off-balance, turned him around and placed a definite knee strike to the face. Harry could feel the crunch of the man's nose as it made contact with his right knee. The man crumpled to the ground before he could produce his Glock 22. Harry very easily disarmed him, taking the gun and unloading the magazine. Before Harry could turn to the other man, he felt a sharp pain in his left shoulder. The other opponent had lunged and stabbed him with his knife. Harry managed to ignore the pain and strike him. The man dodged him. Harry threw punches with great difficulty but held his ground as he heard more people on their way. They continued fighting until he gathered enough momentum and brought himself into a position that successfully landed an axe kick. He felt a pull on the back of his thigh as he did that and landed badly on the ground. It didn't take long for the rest to appear. Harry was on the verge of taking out his wand when the rest of his team arrived. It must've been half an hour already or maybe they'd heard the explosion. The skirmish continued. They managed to subdue the opposition before more lethal weapons were taken out and one by one their opponents were contained and tied up.

"Go and retrieve it. We'll handle this." Armando spoke to him while he and Stinger tied the hands of the unconscious men. On his right, Avalanche was trying to revive the unconscious Peder. Harry nodded to the metamorphmagus and with great difficulty, moved forward to the end of the tunnel. There were kerosene lanterns illuminating throughout the area, rendering the cave with a bright yellow glow and also a strong and intoxicating smell. As distanced himself from the others, on the way to retrieve the item that caused so much trouble, he couldn't help but be curious. Their superiors at MI6 had been infuriatingly vague on what this Memphis was exactly.

As Harry walked to the end, there was nothing there except for a large crate. He opened the cover, revealing giant slabs of jagged black stones that looked like incomplete pieces of each other, all with three different scripts, one of them clearly Egyptian hieroglyphs.

"Fantastic. Another bloody-arse stone..." He muttered in profound annoyance, finally taking his wand out and placing protective spells around the crate, preparing a portkey for their way out. Harry covered the crate again, feeling dizzy and all of the sudden overwhelmed as his adrenaline abandoned him, making way for exhaustion and throbbing pain all over.

Wandsworth, London, England

Wee hours of Christmas Eve 2010

Harry's letter arrived on perhaps the last sunny day of the year, or so it felt that way as the cold, gloom and winter drizzles of December wedged their way into all of England shortly after. His letter had been mysteriously sitting there on top of her kitchen table, just as a few others before it had, bearing no postage stamps and not even properly sealed. What she saw, and it definitely spooked her once she entered, was a snowy owl with watchful eyes perched on the window above her sink. In all her years of Wandsworth living, hell, of living in England, Hermione Granger had never seen such a beautiful creature, much less poised so gracefully at her window as if waiting to be photographed or put on display. The owl blinked at Hermione and ruffled her wings nonchalantly. Hermione, out of fear of being murdered by a strange bird in her kitchen, like in a scene from Hitchcock's 'The Birds', grabbed the letter as fast as she could before ducking and rushing out of the room. Luckily she was alone at home and no one had been there to witness such an utterly ridiculous moment.

Hermione locked herself in her study, surrounded by granddad Ulysses Granger's old furniture, and finally exhaled, relaxing into the comfortable leather chair and unfolding what looked like old parchment. Harry and his strange yet wonderful ways...

Dear Moneypenny,

I apologize for taking so long in confirming, but Guyana was a difficult one (and no, I can't tell you why because it's top secret). I'll be in London on the 24th, as planned, and cannot wait to see you again. Hopefully, you haven't made other plans for Christmas!

Yours,

James

If Hermione was honest, she had mostly come to terms with the fact that Harry wouldn't make it this year, even though their Christmas meeting had been something they'd written to each other and planned extensively throughout the year. However, when Harry had told her about a last-minute mission in Guyana, at the very north of South America, in the middle of the Amazon rainforest, she had felt all her expectations and excitement crumble down.

Hermione was working on it, this pessimistic side of her personality, the one that always brought out her feelings of inadequacy and low self-esteem that plagued her since childhood. But now, reading his messy scrawl in a shade of ink that was almost the color of his eyes, Hermione was hopeful and happy again and also desperately aware of the fact that she hadn't prepared a thing for the holidays, not a tree, nor lights and decorations were set up. She found herself throwing his letter in one of her meticulously organized drawers and went straight down to the boxes in the cupboard under the stairs.

A bruised and battered Harry and Peder stood in front of an old and nonfunctional lift found in the abandoned underground Aldwych tube station. The station was closed down somewhere in the 90s and was sometimes used as a filming location and tourist sight. Despite this, it had been serving as the secret headquarters of MI6 and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement's joint special forces squad for nearly seven years now, which was about the time Harry had been in Her Majesty's Secret Service.

"Is this going to take any longer?" Peder complained, with his face free of the ski mask, the long red scar on his left cheek becoming clearer under the bright white lights. They were carrying the crate they had retrieved in Guyana, with Memphis safely inside.

"Just wait for the signal. It won't take much time. You know we have to stay clear from unsanctioned muggles." Harry replied, though he himself was impatient, not only because he had somewhere to be, but because the pain of his wounds were becoming too much.

"Bloody tourists." Peder muttered as they finally heard a low whistling noise coming from the lift shaft.

"Please hold your wands or badges out." A cool female voice finally announced. The two men put the crate down and did so. A red light beamed twice before turning blue.

"Recognised and confirmed. Welcome to Aldwych Underground HQ, Commander Kvistad code MGC-0014 and Commander Potter MGC-005." The voice continued as the apparently nonfunctional lift sprang to life, its grill door opening. Harry and Peder lifted the crate back and entered the old thing. Soon they began their descent to one of the platforms that had been converted into office space, desks, cabinets and computer screens scattered about, as well as the bustle of the HQ agents and secretariats that worked against the clock in order to enjoy the holidays.

When they finally arrived at their destination, the lift opened and revealed two figures busily discussing in front of a mass of cubicles. One of them, a lanky, sandy-haired man wearing thick rectangular frames, noticed them first.

"005," he smiled at Harry and shook his hand. "0014... Welcome back lads." He cheerfully greeted. Ezra Novak was one of the trusted muggle MI6 agents that ran their small but significant branch of British Intelligence.

"Morning, sir." Harry was the one who greeted back while Peder just nodded. They placed the crate in front of them.

"Ah, Commanders Potter and Kvistad, I knew you were the right men to get the job done quickly." Another man with a deep and hoarse baritone exclaimed as he approached and eyed their crate. He was older, dark-skinned and well-built and though he didn't look a day after forty, his salt and pepper hair betrayed him. He reminded Harry pleasantly of Kingsley Shacklebolt, what with the authority that so naturally emanated from him and his usual good spirits. "Brilliant timing, agents, I was positive you'd be here in time for the meeting."

"Head Auror Lazenby, sir." They greeted and saluted him.

Lazenby acknowledged them in return with a salute as well before he said, "Leave the crate here, I'll have another agent bring them up to the evidence room. Follow me, everyone is nearly here. The faster we finish this meeting, the faster we can start our Christmas holidays."

All of them were assigned seats on a rectangular table where in the middle stood an ancient-looking projector.

"Very well, agents, let's make this quick." Joanne Bardugo, one of the MI6 heads who was actually a squib announced. Joanne worked directly under M, the highest ranking official in MI6 and their boss. She was perhaps the actual equivalent of Eve Moneypenny from the films and books that Harry forced himself to consume after all that Hermione had rattled into his brain. Joanne wore a maroon red suit, her black bob haircut making her look younger than she actually was. "We don't want Agent Novak here missing his trip to St. Bart's with the missus, you know how grumpy he'll be if he doesn't get his annual tan." She referred to Ezra, which made everyone, even the always serious Peder laugh.

"Anyway, settle down and let's do this." She nodded at her secretary who waved his wand and started the presentation. "For three years now, we've been tracking down different international crime groups both magical and non-magical. They all seem to have one common denominator which involves illicit activities such as smuggling of ancient artifacts. Now, we don't have an actual confirmation of what this all means as we have retrieved only a few of them over the years and the Americans have also been on the lookout." The projector flashed out different images of stone relics, just like what Harry and Peder had retrieved, in different shapes and sizes. "We have a genius team of Historians, Archeologists, Forensics, Unspeakables, and anyone we could think of to try and make sense of what the connection of all of these is but we do know one thing: this whole thing leads to some greater purpose that even the different warring crime factions are laying down their arms and bad blood to fully cooperate… I've got Agent Novak here to give us a brief overview and timeline."

"Thanks, Jo." Ezra stood in the middle and started his discussion. "This started around 2007, an MI6 agent was tailing an unregistered truck coming from Bulgaria after a tip-off. The next we knew he was found dead three kilometers northeast of Winchcombe, Gloucestershire. The autopsy didn't reveal anything on the cause of death, he simply died from fright. We didn't know what it all meant until we got another report about the Hailes Abbey ruins, close to where his body was found. A section of the ruins had been found corrupted and a clean rectangular cut was taken from one of the arches. The British Ministry of Magic had contacted us by then through Commander Potter who had explained to us how our agent's death was connected to activities by Neo-Deatheaters. Fast-forward to four months later and we get a report from the Swedish Ministry of Magic about unusual breaking and entering at a billionaire's home where one of his prized collection pieces, an ancient rune tablet, was stolen. This time the crime was done by local biker crime gang and both non-magical and magical authorities had quickly traced them to a warehouse in Trondheim, Norway where both the rune tablets and Hailes Abbey stone section were found. Three years later and we have only retrieved seven of the possible fifteen artifacts. Each seven were retrieved from different parts of the world."

"I'd like to add that artifact seven was just delivered to us by Commanders Potter and Kvistad an hour ago. This was codenamed Memphis and earlier intelligence reported that Memphis could actually be one of the missing pieces of the Rosetta stone." Joanne exchanged glances with Ezra and took over again.

The image being projected now had all seven artifacts lined up together. All were of different sizes, incongruent, ancient, and each of them was carved with writings in several different scripts. Some stones had the same writing on them, of Egyptian Hieroglyphics and Ancient Greek, while the others had different. It all looked like mixed pieces from different jigsaw puzzles.

"Intelligence has been great for this operation. We are able to monitor and track unusual activities that usually lead to retrieval but despite that, we have barely scratched the surface. We have no concrete connection on why these groups, why anyone would want to collect old pieces of stone. I would really like to emphasize that after the holidays, we would have to redouble our efforts and find where all of these are leading to and who is behind all of this…"

The rest of the meeting went on for longer than Harry expected and he couldn't stop himself from glancing at his watch every few minutes. He hoped to leave earlier to deliver his godson Teddy's Christmas present before finally meeting with Hermione Granger again. He hoped she would receive the short letter he wrote to her and sent via owl, letting her know that he would indeed make it this year. Over the year they had written to each other on almost a monthly basis just for the fun of it and to of course make their Christmas plans. To say that Harry was excited was an understatement.

When the meeting finally adjourned, everyone had stood to wish everyone a happy holiday. Harry stood from his seat and winced. He had to bite his tongue in order not to swear in front of his superiors and colleagues. His sprained ankle had started throbbing and every bit of his body still ached. He wasn't able to have his wounds fully treated and he didn't trust himself nor Peder with the necessary healing spells since they were both perfectly rubbish at it. He would have to deal with it somehow as he didn't want to appear before Hermione or his godson a complete and utter mess.

"Potter," Lazenby called out as he was about to leave the room.

"Sir?" He walked towards the Head Auror instead.

"I know you've been approved vacation leave starting today but I'm afraid I'll have to make you one of the on-call Agents." Lazenby spoke.

"Excuse me, sir?" Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. He had to keep his temper in check since he didn't want to cause any insubordination.

"I'm sorry, lad, but something's just come up and it has to be one of your lot. You're one of the few qualified agents for the mission. We're still trying to confirm it though and we probably won't have anything until tomorrow or the next." His boss explained quickly. "Anyway, watch out for the owl when it's ready and confirmed. I should leave now or else the missus will send me a howler. Enjoy your holidays!"

Harry watched the Head Auror leave immediately before he joined Peder by one of the refreshment tables.

"What's he want?" Peder asked, holding a steaming mug of tea.

"I'm on call even though I'm supposed to be on bloody vacation leave." Harry received the tea being offered by one of the officers.

"Bad luck, mate. It's not like you have plans though?" Peder said.

"I actually have." Harry curtly replied.

"I thought you stopped attending those parties hosted by your ex's family."

"I did. I made plans with someone."

"You got a girlfriend and didn't bother to mention?" Peder put down his mug and looked at him curiously, a devilish smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"What? No. Doesn't have to be my girlfriend." Harry replied, looking a bit bothered and then he changed the subject. "How about you? What are you doing for Christmas?"

"Nothing. I don't celebrate it and I've volunteered for a shift. Lazenby was only too happy to accept my request and so wait for my owl later if something happens." He answered.

"You need to get a bloody life, Scarface." Harry shook his head in dismay, though it didn't surprise him. "Anyway, I gotta go. I'm meeting my godson first. Happy Christmas, mate!" He farewelled, grabbing a large package wrapped in Santa Claus paper and tied up with a bright red ribbon that had been in his locker.

It was past noon when Harry finally managed to emerge into London from work and the HQ. He opened his dark green umbrella in preparation for the December drizzles and trailed the streets of London. He walked the streets with some difficulty due to his busted ankle, but it was a short distance to the underground tube that would take him to the peaceful and posh borough of Islington.

As he entered the blue-line train he began to hear the cheery sound of carolers in the wagon, beating their drums and belting out 'God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen' in traditional Celtic style. He thought it both joyous and bewitching as he leaned back into his seat and closed his eyes, listening. Harry thought of how another year had passed him by as fast as lightning, with the difference that this time he was actually quite happy and looking forward to the future, even if he didn't know what it had in store for him. An image of Hermione laughing, cheeks rosy and curls wild around her face invaded his thoughts. He'd be seeing her again, his friend, the crazy person who made him feel carefree and on-edge all at once… The one person who managed to wedge herself through his barriers and set up shop for herself there. The mere thought of seeing her was exhilarating, and it scared the hell out of him.

In just one year of corresponding with Hermione he'd written her a total of seventeen letters and she had written him about twenty. Harry would be lying if he didn't admit that writing to her this year had been the sort of outlet he never knew he needed. He didn't feel silly writing about his fears and feelings to her, relaying his nightmares and his thoughts of each place of the globe that he visited. Of course there were still things he couldn't share, but it didn't mean that the desire to wasn't there; that inkling to share with her every little detail of who he was. Why he wanted to share all of this with her was beyond him. How could Hermione Granger who most certainly was not a witch bewitch him so?

His thoughts were interrupted by the speaker announcing his stop and Harry rushed out onto the platform with Teddy's gift in hand, his heart beating fast in his chest as the sound of 'Gloucestershire Wassail' floated away as the train departed.

Harry walked as fast as he could as the pain in his ankle intensified, it was sheer torture but he was counting on Andromeda Tonks' expert healing to fix things. He was just a few steps away from the doorstep of number 12 Grimmauld Place when the door flew open, a bright-pink haired little wizard running out of it to greet him, a huge smile on his face. Harry smiled as the boy crashed into him, though he couldn't help but wince from the impact.

"I knew you'd come!" Teddy exclaimed with excitement in his voice. "What took you so long, uncle Harry?"

"My boss was keeping me, Ted… The woes of grown-up life, I'm afraid." Teddy tugged on his godfather's hand pulling him inside their heavily warded house.

"Granny's almost finished with luncheon. You'll never guess what Cecilia did before we left school, Uncle Harry. She set fire to professor Longbottom's trousers!" Harry chuckled at Teddy's enthusiasm and his mention of the muggleborn girl who had become his godson's best friend.

"Ouch, poor Neville. What did you all do?"

"Well, after he started jumping about like a frog he rolled around on the grass and one of the Ravenclaws cast an aguamenti. Oh, it was too funny!" Harry laughed heartily imagining the scene, making a mental note to schedule a meeting at the pub with his mates once the holidays were over.

Harry followed his godson through the beautiful and polished ceramic tiles of number 12's foyer, with its dark and shiny wood-paneled walls and elegant crystal chandelier, no screeching evil paintings to be heard or dark brooding colors. Instead, at the opposite wall were a series of hooks with coats, jackets, bags and scarves hanging, as well as elegant heels along with leather boots and Teddy's own child footwear strewn about the floor. Harry smiled because more than ever he was certain he had made the right decision, Grimmauld had turned into a beautiful, colorful and light-filled home thanks to Teddy and Andromeda, and it was a lot more than he could have ever accomplished by himself. With that in mind, Harry hung his umbrella and coat and slipped off his boots, following an excited Teddy further inside the house.

Christmas music could be heard floating from the wireless set up in the corner of the living room and a large pine tree decorated in silver, gold and many other different ornaments were set up by the fireplace where stockings were hanging. It was all festive and bright, the scent of pine taking over the living room.

Harry took in the room surrounding him, with its tasteful floral wallpaper perfectly matching in pallette with the curtains, sofa and rug, but still feeling as cozy as any decent English home. He momentarily recalled the time when he learned after the war that Sirius Black's will dictated that his family estate be Harry's upon his death. However, Grimmauld had never been Harry's idea of home. Sure, it brought happy memories of his godfather, but little else. It was around that time that Harry gradually became closer to Andromeda Tonks through their mutual losses and their connection to the then baby Teddy. They slowly became family to one another and Andromeda, despite her serious and overly-poised demeanor proved to be a wonderful and witty friend. It was a no-brainer to Harry that number 12 should belong to her, Andromeda was after all a legitimate member of the Ancient House of Black, a house Harry felt he had no business dealing with after Sirius' passing. Over a decade had passed and his stance was still the same. As much as he'd grown to like Grimmauld, as much as it contained memories of Sirius and had become more livable with the years, his stance still hadn't changed-number 12 Grimmauld Place would never be his home like it was Teddy and Andromeda's, even if Harry technically had his own rooms here, that he rarely used.

Harry's eyes landed on the few picture frames on the mantelpiece, one of the late Nymphadora Tonks as a child with both her parents; another of Tonks with Remus and newborn baby Teddy; and another picture of Andromeda and the late Ted Tonks on their wedding day, faces smiling brightly as they exited the small stone chapel. Harry recalled Andie telling him only a few close friends from their school days and mostly Ted's family had attended. The only member of the Black family who had attended was Sirius, who as Andromeda told Harry, had walked her down the aisle, the other Blacks having shunned their daughter forever for having married a man of lower blood status. The last frame was new and showed Harry, Andromeda and Teddy smiling as the boy prepared to embark on the Hogwarts Express for the first time, taken the past September.

"So, what's it like being a Hufflepuff, Ted?"

"I quite like it, though contrary to popular belief not all Hufflepuffs are good at Herbology. I for one am rubbish at it…" the boy trailed off as he threw himself into the soft cushions of the sofa. "I'm quite liking muggle studies though, and transfiguration… But I suppose that when one is able to practically transform oneself completely it isn't difficult to understand the concept." Harry smiled, impressed as always with Teddy's eloquence and vocabulary that seemed quite promiscuous for his age. He blamed it on Andromeda and her Pureblood society ways, something even she who was a rebel at heart and in life still could not shake.

"And how was your flying lesson? You didn't seem too pleased in your last owl…" Teddy rolled his eyes, the color of his irises changed to match Harry's, just as his hair color, as he always unintentionally did when with his godfather.

"Not too good at that either… I think I prefer my feet planted on the ground, uncle Harry. Sorry to disappoint…"

"You never disappoint, Ted." Harry ruffled the boy's raven hair. "Have you been visiting old Hagrid for me?" Teddy's face lit up as he nodded.

"His biscuits are rock-hard as you said, but he's a softy, isn't he?" Harry chuckled and nodded. "I took Cecilia with me to visit him before I came home… He's running around worried because Buckbeak found himself a mate. He's afraid of losing him."

"And what do you think about that?" Teddy shrugged.

"I think even Hippogriffs should be allowed to love."

"Ever the sensible one, Ted." Harry looked at his eleven-year-old godson with pride. He imagined this is what parents felt about their children and Teddy was just about to him.

"Is that Harry Potter's voice I hear, Edward?" Came the feminine voice from the blue-painted double-doors that lead to the dining room.

"The one and only!" Harry hollered back with a grin.

"You're the one all right, boy, but not at all the only." She said taking in Teddy's visage as she came around wearing an elegant dark-green cashmere sweater, a leather skirt, stockings and ankle boots. Andromeda had always been elegant and was prone to shopping sprees, quite preferring muggle fashion over the stuffy robes reserved for most women her age in the wizarding world. Her dark curls were pinned back, a few silver ones framing her face in a way that was quite attractive.

Andromeda Tonks' resemblance was quite uncannily similar to Bellatrix Lestrange's and at first it had taken Harry aback. Sometimes Andie would turn around and he'd swear it was the vicious witch who was right-hand woman to the Dark Lord. They'd been the bane of Harry's existence until he'd somehow managed to defeat Lord Voldemort at the end of the war. It was years later that Harry learned from Andromeda herself, in a moment of rare vulnerability that she herself had difficulty looking at herself in the mirror at times, hating the fact that she resembled her late older sister too, because Bellatrix had been the very witch who took her only daughter's life.

"Edward, love, go wash up, will you?" She urged, patting her grandson's shoulder. She then turned to Harry with that sharp green-gray gaze of hers, as if scanning him with an x-ray vision he was positive she didn't possess but nevertheless was uncanny. "Uncle Harry will help me in the kitchen in the meantime."

"Yes, Granny…" The boy complained, waving at Harry as he dragged himself dramatically towards the staircase that led up to their rooms.

Andromeda waited until Teddy disappeared before shaking her head and motioning for Harry to follow her.

"What happened this time that you're completely falling apart?" She exaggerated, looking at him up and down with a kind of distaste that was uniquely hers, sarcasm rolling off her tongue.

"Classified, sorry…" Andie huffed and opened the cabinet that stored her potions supplies and vials of healing concoctions that she always kept in hand knowing that during almost every visit Harry would be in need of patching up.

"So, it's your first time in England for Christmas in two years, will I be seeing you at the Weasley's?" Harry shook his head as Andromeda helped him out of his bloodied undershirt. The contact of the fabric against the deep gash in his shoulder stung hard, making him wince.

"Not this year I won't…" Andie pursed her lips, eyebrows raising ever so slightly as she nodded, her dark eyes sharp as they bore into his.

"Not because of Weaslette?" Harry rolled his eyes at her nickname for Ginny, one that Andie adopted after hearing her nephew Draco use it once.

"Ginny and I are over, there was no bad blood during easter when I visited…"

"That you know of, kid." Andromeda quipped. "With the ladies daft idiots like you can never really tell."

"Hey!" She laughed at his little show of outrage.

"What about Christmas girl?"

"Woman."

"Hmm, yes, Christmas muggle woman." She eyed him knowingly, the corners of her lips curving upwards, before she nearly made Harry faint as she poured curing ointments over his open wound. It stung like crazy as he tried to contain his scream. Andie looked totally unfazed by his reaction and soon Harry felt his shoulder wound become dormant, before it dried and began to close in a matter of seconds. "Will you be seeing her this year?" His chest heaved from the pain still as his brain registered her question.

"After I leave your humble abode…"

"Be careful, and wise Harry, though I'm fairly sure that's not the forte of a Gryffindor…" She trailed off. She motioned for him to lie down on the cool surface of her granite countertop so that she could examine his ankle, which was swollen and different shades of blue and purple by now. She passively moved it in and out, which caused him to wince. Andromeda made a face and Harry knew it wouldn't be such an easy fix. "How bloody long have you been walking on a fucking cracked ankle, Potter?"

"Twenty-four hours maybe?" Andie pursed her lips.

"Twenty-four hours?! The swelling still looks bad, it's a wonder you're still able to walk and I'm no healer so I'm not so sure if there's any further damage… I have this potion, just enough to relieve the pain and hopefully help with the swelling. Drink this…" Before Harry could say a word Andromeda was pushing a vial towards his lips. He opened his mouth and let her pour the contents in as if he were a young child, in a way, indulging her. The potion left a nauseating bitter taste on his tongue and the texture felt as though he'd swallowed grease. Andie ran to the fridge and poured orange juice in a glass before Harry could wretch from disgust. "Have your ankle checked by a professional later and I don't recommend kissing your muggle in the next few hours… Or you might risk her never wanting to kiss you again," Andie teased mercilessly.

"We're friends Andie, I'm not exactly planning to sweep her off her feet and kiss her."

"You're the one who mentioned sweeping, love." She chuckled. "But what is it about this muggle woman that's so special? I mean, you're sacrificing Christmas with your surrogate family for being alone with her on Christmas! Have you thought about that, Harry?" He was silent for a long time. "Because I can't help but think this is much more than just friendship but you're just too thick-headed to acknowledge it. She's a muggle, and therefore so completely removed from your reality as a wizard. Merlin, she most likely thinks magic is just a thing of fairy tales! Is it only friendship? Is she your way of escaping your status as Wizard-Who-Conquered? Or maybe, just maybe, could you be in love?"

"It's not escaping."

"Than what about the other two options?"

"I don't know…"

"I've one last question, Harry…"

"Yes?"

"Lover or just friend, don't you think she deserves to know the real you with all it entails?"

"I'd be breaking the law…" Andromeda shrugged.

"Wouldn't be the first time and we both know it."

Before Harry could say anything else Teddy came running into the kitchen, his hair damp and in his dress clothes, ready for the Weasley Christmas Eve party.

"Don't you look handsome!" Andie complimented as she helped Harry roll down his trousers and performed a cleaning charm over his clothes, making them look and smell freshly laundered. Andie was a pro at Charms and for a long time Harry and Professor McGonagall both had been trying to sign her on as a Hogwarts professor, to replace Filius Flitwick who'd been long planning his retirement, but Andie was hopeless and insisted she was unsure of leaving her boring job at the Ministry of Magic.

"Thank you Granny! Uncle Harry, can we go on a ride on your motorbike? Please, please, please!"

"I thought you didn't like flying?"

"But I like the speed, and it doesn't need to be flying!" Harry and Andie shared a look and she nodded her approval.

"Don't get my boy killed Potter!" She warned and Teddy jumped up and down, cheering, his hair switching from color to color in his show of excitement.

Sometime after the war, Harry had gone through all the things he'd inherited from Sirius to see which of them could still be of use. Surprisingly, Sirius's motorbike was still in pristine condition thanks to Hagrid who had become its caretaker. The bike was one of the few remaining British-made 1970 Royal Enfield Interceptor. When he received it almost a decade ago its vertical twin engines were still very strong and functional but he had made it a hobby over the years to modify it with the help of a Muggleborn mechanic in Brixton. Now the bike looked as good as when it first was bought, and could very well be a contender for one of those garage shows. Harry had been keeping the bike inside Grimmauld Place's small garden shed and would give it a spin from time to time. He had a vague idea that his godson had been wanting to ride on it ever since the summer when Harry had taken him on his first few rides.

"Ready Ted?" He handed a matching junior-sized black helmet to his godson who eagerly placed it on his head. Harry was now garbed in his motor riding gear of leather jacket, boots, and gloves.

"Don't go too fast, Harry. Double check on the charms." Andromeda warned. "And Edward, do be careful! Hold on to your Uncle Harry especially when he speeds up."

"I will, Granny, don't worry!" Teddy exclaimed as he now placed himself behind his godfather who had already started the motorbike.

"He'll be back in one piece!" Harry announced before they sped off. He used a longer route than the last time just so that he could have more good quality time with his godson.

He loved hearing Teddy's scream of delight every time he sped up or made a crazy turn. The ride and the view of passing streets with their townhouses full of fairy-lights and Christmas decorations distracted him for a bit. The current pain in his ankle was nothing compared to the heart-thumping anxiety he felt for later. His short conversation with Andromeda replayed in his head, though he tried his best to concentrate on the ride with his godson. His heart knew there was truth to Andie's words, not the ones that implied he and Hermione were romantic, no those were preposterous, but the ones that meant being one-hundred percent transparent with his friend about who he was and the magic that had always coursed through his veins. As he heard another of Teddy's delight-filled screams he forced himself to shake off the matter for now. Eyes on the road, Potter.

Thirty minutes later, Harry was parking his bike in front of number 12. Immediately Andromeda came out to greet them, still wearing her reading glasses, a book in hand. He returned Teddy to her safe and sound as guaranteed, the boy's vestibular sense filled from the ride. Teddy leaped from the motorbike wearing the widest of grins, his knees a bit wobbly and his hair still raven-colored due to Harry's presence. The eleven-year-old began to hyperactively chat with his grandmother, the adrenaline rush still coursing through him.

"I suppose it's time I go, will turn dark soon." He told them, knowing that they were probably late for Mrs. Weasley's Christmas party at the Burrow, he too had best be on his way to Hermione's.

"Thanks for the ride, Uncle Harry, and for my present! Merry Christmas!" Teddy moved back towards him to give him a hug.

"Merry Christmas, Ted. I'll see you again soon." He ruffled his godson's hair lovingly.

"You'll be off to meet with her then, Harry?" Andromeda inquired. Harry noticed a little something in the tone of her voice. Slytherins...

"You say it like it's a bad thing, Andie… We're just friends." He moved towards her.

"Just looking out for you and who knows…" She hugged him. "Happy Christmas and may the rest of your holidays be wonderful."

"Thank you and Merry Christmas yourself!" He returned her hug then waved at them one more time before climbing back on his motorbike to start his journey to Hermione's place in Wandsworth… A good thirty minutes away. Why she decided to live in such a boring borough of London was beyond him. But the name was quite clever though…

Hermione was carrying a box of Christmas decorations to the living room when she heard a loud rumbling noise outside her front door. Mind you, living on Putney Bridge road across from the park meant she got quite some noise from cars all day, but this particular ridiculously loud noise was something of a higher order. She put the box down and proceeded to satisfy her curiosity. The sound, it turned out, was coming from a black Harley Davidson-like motorbike that parked in front of her house as she opened her bright blue door. Its rider had a man's build and wore an admittedly cool leather jacket. It looked quite sexy if she were being honest but that wasn't the point. Whoever that person was, he was creating a ruckus with that machine, and in front of her home of all bloody places. Silence was a precious commodity for writers these days and she would defend her grounds with all she had. Hermione marched out annoyed, ready to reprimand the rider for unlawfully parking.

"Oi! You're trespassing!" She shout out but the engine was too loud. "Turn that bloody thing off!"

Hermione approached the rider just as he cut off the engine. She stopped midway as the rider proceeded to take his helmet off. She gazed at him as though everything happened in slow motion, watching something in slow motion as he unmasked himself. Hermione felt her heart skip a beat as she took in the familiar face of Harry James Potter. And then she felt herself stupidly swoon.

Harry's hair looked a bit longer than last time, it was layered and stuck all over the place and he had a bit of stubble on his face. His whole get up with the leather jacket, boots, and motorbike made him look like a grunge/indie Rockstar. He smiled and waved while she remained stuck on the ground unable to illicit a response after being so captivated by the way he looked over there. If only there was some light breeze to complete the effect. She suddenly felt like one of those lovesick fools she used to scoff at.

"Hermione," She hadn't heard his voice in over a year and there was a husky quality to it that shot right through her. She moved closer to him. Hermione wanted to look away from him but bit her lip instead, hoping he wouldn't be able to read her reaction. She was fully resigned to the fact that he wasn't coming but damn it, here he was. Harry was actually here and with a goddamn motorbike that made him look like the stereotypical bad boy that fathers didn't want their daughters to date.

"Are you alright?" He asked.

"What?" She looked at him. He looked tired, like he hadn't been sleeping well.

"You look a bit flustered...anything wrong?" He placed a gloved hand on her cheek.

"Nothing… just that a tiny part of me thought you wouldn't come." She averted her gaze.

"Didn't you get my last letter?" He asked, confused.

"I did. I'm just being silly, aren't I?" She shook her head and gave him a soft smile. "So, a motorbike, huh? Does it shoot out lasers, Mr. Bond?" She gestured at it, teasing.

He winked. "Wouldn't you like to know, Moneypenny." Slowly, he got himself out with great difficulty. The potions from a while ago wasn't enough and bits of pain wracked his body. He hoped she didn't notice.

"I like your bike…it's very...cool...is this a Harley Davidson?" She admired the bike. It was black and very sleek. "Haven't really seen these around."

"It's a Royal Enfield. I inherited this old model from my godfather and made a few modifications." He proudly said.

"Picked up girls with this?" She asked.

"Maybe a few." He smirked.

"You know what they usually say about boys with flashy toys?" She lined the handlebars with her index finger.

"What?" He eyed her.

"That they're compensating for something," She teased.

"I'm not compensating for anything." He scoffed.

"Really?" She pressed.

"Do you want proof?" His voice had gone huskier and she didn't realise how she'd unknowingly moved closer to him again until she felt the heat that emanated from him.

"Um…" She lost her train of thoughts and started chewing on her lower lips.

Harry swallowed dry at the vision of her, sharp brown eyes gazing directly into his, her light-brown curls still as shiny, beautiful and wild as he remembered. The sky was darkening around them and the air getting cooler. Hermione was wearing a pair of jeans that looked a bit worn, but hugged her legs in all the right places and a pretty ivory-colored sweater that didn't seem warm enough for all this time standing outside. There was nothing much to the way she dressed, Hermione screamed cozy and normal, but in that moment Harry thought her the most alluring creature in existence, and he hated himself for it. He felt an inexplicable urge to kiss her, ardently, though he knew better not to ruin their friendship.

Merlin, what was going on with him? Harry had to step away to regain a bit of his sanity but managed to stumble on his sprained ankle instead. He crumbled to the ground, clutched on the bad ankle, and then yelped as his body screamed in pain.

"Harry!" Hermione immediately kneeled down. "Are you alright? Let's get you in!" She slung her arm around his and helped him up. Slowly she led him into the warmth of her house.

"Stay still," Hermione commanded as she placed a pillow under his sprained ankle. She opened a fresh roll of elastic bandage and began to snugly wrap the affected area making sure there weren't any bad folds or creases and just enough for compression. She then placed an ice pack on top then handed him a glass of water and a tablet. "Take this. It's naproxen sodium, should help with the swelling and pain."

He took it without any protest. "Thanks."

Hermione frowned in that way of hers, eyebrows furrowed as she looked at him.

"Field work accident?" Harry shrugged. "How was Guyana?"

"Hot and stuffy… It is December you know, summer there. And it rains a lot." Harry's eyes wandered away from her and took in the decor of her living room. The black iron-cast fireplace was lit and casting its golden warmth throughout the room. Hermione's sofa, which he sat upon was a cream color and heaven to sit on, piles of colorful pillows and cushions decorating it, no doubt collected from her travels. She had floor to ceiling shelves painted a very faint blue that were overflowing with books, picture frames and memorabilia and framed pictures and paintings on the walls that breathed life and color into the room. A large Moroccan rug covered the sofa area, below it were wooden floorboards reminiscent of the time her house was first built, over a century ago… But for London that was normal.

"Are those baskets over there from Indonesia?" Hermione turned to look and smiled.

"They are! Have you been?" Harry nodded, leaning back into the cushions. "I was there five years ago on holiday with Fabian. He and that horrible snake send their love by the way…" Harry chuckled at the memory of their time in Paris with her oddball cousin, he even missed it.

"Likewise. Anyway, I like your house, it looks like you…" Hermione knit her brows slightly confused at his comment. She liked her house, but never thought of it as particularly reflecting who she was as a person. "It's warm and though you have all these books and travel things that would otherwise make me think you're all that, it's cozy and unassuming… It's just like you."

"Thank you for saying I'm cozy and unassuming Harry. Let me just go over there and cry my eyes out because that's just what a woman wants to hear. Our granny's are supposed to be cozy, a warm pair of socks are supposed to be cozy; a nice heavy duvet or a teddy bear perhaps… No one wants bloody cozy when it comes to women."

"You mean in a romantic sense?"

"And sexual." Harry chuckled at her annoyance. "You just reiterated how much I need a makeover, Fabian's been pestering me about it for years…"

"I don't think you need a makeover, I think you need to find yourself a decent mirror. I've told you this before, you're beautiful Hermione…" He looked upwards to the ceiling as he said this, his cheeks slightly flushing as he wasn't usually this forward unless a snog or a shag were in order. As he looked away Harry missed the fact that Hermione stared at him as if he'd grown a second head, although his words were quite touching. "You haven't got any Christmas decorations up, what's wrong with you? It's Christmas Eve!"

Hermione was thankful for the change of subject as she risked pouncing on Harry and kissing him silly, with no means for him to escape what with his busted ankle.

"I was hoping you'd help me…" She trailed off. "It's not the same doing these things alone."

"Well, do you have a tree?" Hermione went out of the room for a moment and returned with a large box that contained a large plastic Christmas tree that was almost two meters in height. She assembled it with ease though he offered to help and placed it by the front window, to the side of the fireplace.

"Now, the tree is up, so the first thing is to put on the strings of lights. I'll do it considering you're a cripple until the meds fully kick in." Harry chuckled. "Meanwhile, untangle these if you don't mind." She dropped a box of stringed lights on his lap. "They're for outside."

"Yes ma'am." Hermione popped in some Christmas music in her record player and they worked in companionable silence for at least twenty minutes. Without Hermione noticing, Harry pulled out his wand and muttered a spell for the lights to untangle, when he was already at his wit's end. He hid it back in his jacket pocket. "I'm finished and also no longer such a cripple. I think I might go set these up outside."

"Oh, I'll help you." Harry waved her off.

"No, don't worry. It'll just be a minute, finish the pretty ribbons." Hermione watched as he limped his way outside again and went back to work. Just one Frank Sinatra Christmas tune passed before he returned, which felt awfully soon to her. "Come see the lights, Moneypenny." She followed him out and saw his handiwork. He'd put lights around the large window and around the door. To Hermione's surprise there was even a beautiful natural wreath on her door that she didn't remember getting. It was tastefully decorated with red and glittery gold ribbons and little branches with holly, making it contrast beautifully against the Lapis-blue color of her door. "Do you like it?"

Hermione nodded, hugging him, which nearly made him lose his balance. He couldn't help but gently pull her face up by the chin, their eyes meeting. He tucked a few stray curls behind her ear and admired the shimmering of unshed tears in her eyes.

"It's our third Christmas Eve together… Do you realize?" She whispered.

"Only this time I'll hopefully stay long enough for the presents." She smiled brightly. "How far do you live from the river?"

"Haha, I know how to swim Harry, you won't be able to kill me that easily." He chuckled at her humor.

"Could we go for a walk? Maybe get some things from Sainsbury's before it closes on our way back?"

"Are you up for it?" She asked him, pointing at his ankle, Harry nodded. "Let me get my coat and purse." She rushed inside and in less than two minutes was locking her front door. Hermione slipped on a cream-colored coat that was beautiful and elegant and somehow brought out her hair in the night. He missed the red coat he'd come to be familiar with in Vienna and later Paris, but this one made her look almost like a movie character. For safe measure he buried his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket.

They walked side by side on the path along Wandsworth park gates, passing the rows of terraced houses that were identical in build and style to Hermione's. The cars passing on the street and the golden glow cast upon them by the light posts were lovely.

And then, suddenly it began to rain. Just a few droplets here and there, that soon gradually multiplied. Harry found himself transfiguring the keys of his motorbike that were in his pocket into one of those compact umbrellas.

"Oh, no…" He heard her say, checking her purse for an umbrella. Harry pulled his out, opening it to her surprise. It was bright red, such as the one Hermione used the first day they met in that crowded café in Austria.

"What was it you said back in Vienna? You'd think that because you're English you'd carry an umbrella always…"

"Well, I'm a terrible Englishwoman then because I always forget them." With one hand Harry pulled her closer to him by the waist so the umbrella could protect her as well. He muttered a charm under his breath for no raindrops to get her wet. His arm traveled upwards and wrapped around her shoulders. It was awfully intimate for the two of them to be like this, but it was actually quite nice. "Be careful James, neighbors might get the wrong idea…" She teased, although she did take a slight bit of advantage herself by wrapping an arm around his backside for comfort.

"Not all wrong ideas are bad…" He mused as they finally reached the river Thames, Putney bridge that lent its name to Hermione's street crossing over it. There were light decorations on the lamp posts along the river and very few people walked along, most people more concerned with last minute shopping and getting home for family celebrations. "Speaking of, let's do that game again…"

"What game?"

"You know, the one we did in that tram in Vienna," before Hermione had time to either agree or disagree Harry began, "have you ever kept a secret that you thought might kill you, just because there was one person you felt you needed to tell it to?" Hermione stopped walking and looked at him, the rain still falling around them.

"I already know you're a secret agent, Harry." He rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Just answer my question, Moneypenny."

If Hermione was perfectly honest with herself, there was a secret. It was one that she'd been keeping since perhaps Vienna, a secret that at the same time she didn't want to keep and didn't want to be feeling. But she did, it was impossibly beyond her control, had been since day one, and the control-freak that she was abhorred it.

"I do have a secret, and it is difficult to keep, but I fear not keeping it would be much worse. Maybe I'm a bit of a coward…"

"What, did you kill someone in a fit of bossy-pants nerves?" He suddenly teased and she couldn't help but roll her eyes.

"No, Harry…" She chided, her eyes piercing straight into his. "Though I kind of want to kill you now." He laughed, whole-heartedly. "My turn now. Do you have a licence to kill?" Harry looked at her with that mesmerizing Emerald gaze of his and Hermione thought her legs were spaghetti for a moment. There was a dark shadow that took over his eyes and his face, his shoulders tensed.

"I never wanted to…" He responded, and that was all she needed to hear. "Labour or Conservative?" Hermione laughed soundly at his next one.

"Oh, I'm a Labour girl all the way. Totally and completely…"

"Hmm, pegged you wrong then…" She raised an eyebrow at him, questioningly. "You have a posh name, studied at Oxford and had a movie star for a grandmother." Hermione shrugged.

"I guess I'm full of surprises…" She felt the weather getting even colder and snuggled into his side. Again Harry wrapped his arm around her shoulders. It was the sweetest of sensations, especially as he became acutely aware of her delicious vanilla scent. "Tits or bottoms?" Hermione asked making Harry almost choke on his own saliva as he heard her question, cheeks going a bright shade of red. He looked at Hermione up and down while she just laughed in that loud and boisterous way of hers that to him was pure gorgeous. Winking at her he responded:

"Tits, all the way."

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Yours seem quite nice…" Hermione smacked him on the chest and he chuckled. "Beatles or Spice Girls?" Hermione smiled at his question.

"Though I'm partial to Baby Spice, I much prefer the Beatles. 'Blackbird' is my favorite song. What's yours?"

"I actually quite like Simon and Garfunkel and Cat Stevens… My aunt gave me a box with some of my mum's old things after I moved out, she had some records inside. It's always changing but I think my favorite is 'Bridge Over Troubled Water'."

"Oh, that's a beautiful one, if sad…"

"I-I went through a very dark period of time in my late teens, when I heard this song it felt… It's as though it described my feelings entirely. I never before had such a connection to music." Harry looked at the large storefront with 'Sainsbury' in bright orange on the other side of the street, and then asked her: "So, what's on the menu tonight? Hopefully no English pudding, I'm probably the only English person who hates it…"

"No English pudding!" She said with a smile, "Which is a relief because I also despise it. I'm not such a brilliant cook though…"

"Ah, then allow me, Miss Granger."

Hermione's kitchen was a symphony of clanging pots and pans. Harry had purposely made the area off limits to Hermione as he was using magic to help things speed up. He also didn't want to move around too much as he felt his ankle go tender again after their walk. After he placed the lemon-rosemary chicken in the oven and set the timer, he couldn't help but go back to his conversation with Andromeda. He knew that Hermione deserved to know the truth about him. After all, they'd been getting to know each other over the course of the year via letters and this was the third Christmas they were spending together. Whatever their future would be like, whether their friendship would be something deeper or more there should always be complete honesty. He knew that secrets were always going to be a part of him, especially with his career choice but this, the fact that he was a wizard was something he really couldn't hide anymore. Harry didn't want to pretend around her anymore. In the early parts of his younger life he'd been denied the truth about his history and it only gave him more conviction about finally telling her but… There would always be a 'but'.

There would always be a hesitancy to tell her the truth about himself because first of all, Hermione was a muggle and the laws governing Magical Britain weren't exactly up to date. Harry never got the chance to look it up properly but he had a vague idea from Arthur Weasley and from his muggleborn colleagues that it wouldn't be easy on him or Hermione. The legal issues weren't his main concern however. In truth, his troubles were mainly his own anxiety over the matter. Harry had thought long and hard of the 'what ifs'. He feared the aftermath of finally telling Hermione the truth. He feared that she might not take it very well and that she would be totally opposed to being involved with him once she found out he was a Wizard. Harry remembered that small dread he felt in Vienna when he was supposed to erase her memories. He knew that if she really took it all badly he would have to obliviate her and be gone from her life completely. He didn't want that. In such a short period of time Hermione Granger had become far too important to him. The heartbreak of losing her friendship would just be as painful and as traumatizing as when he had lost people during the war. Harry took a deep breath and tried to clear his mind. No matter what happened, Hermione was his friend, hell, she had rapidly become one of his closest friends, he knew that post-poning the truth would only be torture to him and also knew for a fact that if it took him too long, then she might not forgive him for his mistrust. Harry finally decided it was time to tell her.

Harry's attention went back to the task of cooking their Christmas dinner. He realized that he'd forgotten to add a bit more pepper to one of the pots on the stove. He held out his right hand and the pepper mill swiftly zoomed towards his hand. He was about to start adding the seasoning in when he heard a sharp intake of breath behind him, and with it all air depart his lungs. His shoulders tensed and his heart quickened knowing that he'd been caught.

Hermione was in her living room, unable to continue reading the book she held, though it had been on her to-read list for a long time and had everything to be delightful and engrossing to read. She was admittedly a bit annoyed when Harry kicked her out of her own kitchen. How dare he do that! There was simply nothing else to do with all the decorations up the tree, the table set with Hermione's finest special occasion dining and silverware. The act of cooking was originally supposed to take her mind away from overanalyzing everything, like these little feelings and wants that had been taking over her mind and senses since Harry's arrival.

In all honesty, a small part of her brain panicked when she came to the realization that this Christmas setting was much more personal than their last two. This was her home. Harry was in her kitchen, earlier he'd been sprawled on her sofa, remarking on all her books, talking about the places they'd both seen and ventured to. Everything about this Christmas was Hermione simply opening herself up to him, deep down hoping that it would finally convince him to share a bit of himself too. She'd always known there was something mysterious to him but never really wanted to say it out loud. There had always been a strong feeling on her side that Harry was holding back on something, and she wasn't a fool, it had nothing to do with the whole Secret Agent business. It was something else and she felt like that bit of awkwardness between them would continue to be there if she didn't do something about it. Hermione didn't want full-on force him, though she wanted to at least try. Knowing that she wouldn't be able to read another word from the book, she closed it, dropping it next to her on the sofa. She took a deep breath in and marched herself towards the kitchen from where suddenly noises were audible. Whatever Harry was doing in there sounded busy and hopefully it didn't mean a disaster.

When Hermione finally entered, Harry's back was to her. He was busy looking at the oven. A loud clang caught her attention and she glanced toward the stove area where the pans were simmering and bubbling something that smelled good. A wooden spoon stirred by itself on one of them, the contents of the pan looking like gravy. On the counter was something that looked like dessert and on top of it was a floating mesh strainer that sifted confectioner's sugar on top of it.

Wait. Hermione blinked her eyes several times, then looked at the stove and then at the dessert across the kitchen from it. Suddenly, she was aware of her entire kitchen and how everything seemed to be moving on its own. It felt like something out of Mary Poppins. She looked at Harry who held out his hand where a pepper mill swooped in. Her eyes grew wider and she felt herself gasp. She felt herself freeze, never having seen anything like this outside of a movie screen. The pepper mill fell to the floor loudly and Harry finally turned around, looking mortified, his Emerald-eyes wide and looking every bit like a deer caught in the headlights. She looked around her kitchen again as everything continued to move on its own.

"Hermione," Harry stepped forward and she automatically stepped backward. He flinched at her reaction. "I-I can explain…"

"Bloody hell, Harry, am I dreaming? Am I on heavy drugs?" She finally spoke. "What the ruddy hell is going on, Harry? Why the fuck is a wooden spoon stirring gravy on its own? Why did that pepper mill float towards you? Why do I feel like I'm in Mary Poppins or Matilda or whatever fucking movie? Is this some kind of prank? Don't tell me you're going to burst into a song number!" She felt her thoughts swirl as she began to pace the kitchen floors. She waited for him to burst out laughing and say this was a joke because her brain was currently failing to give her any logical explanations.

He sighed as he moved closer towards her. "I was going to tell you, Hermione."

"Tell me what, Harry?" She glanced at the pan on the stove as it started sautéing onions while a floating bottle of olive oil drizzled itself over it. It was unbelievable, everything was completely and utterly unbelievable.

"Remember the secret I mentioned earlier?" She looked back at him again and then nodded. Harry came closer, taking hold of both her shoulders, their eyes locking.

"You mustn't tell a soul about what I'm about to tell you…" He paused to give another deep breath before looking at her straight in the eye and saying:

"Hermione, I'm a wizard."


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