England part 2

December 2010


Hermione, I'm a wizard.

She continued to look at him and waited for his cue to laugh and tell her that this was some elaborate prank. She had suddenly become deaf to everything as those words kept playing in her mind on loop, trying to make sense of it. There was no other logical explanation for whatever was happening right now. She roamed her eyes around her kitchen and blinked several times. Things were still moving on their own. The fucking frying pan was washing itself on the sink!

"Hermione?" She brought her attention back to Harry. He had lowered his hands and he seemed to have mimicked the way she was unconsciously fidgeting with her fingers. She remained speechless. Several questions and dozens of things swirled in her head that she actually felt a bit faint. She averted away from him who only looked concerned. Suddenly, the room felt stifling. She did what she had to do and left the kitchen. She made her way out of the backyard and breathed in the fresh winter air.

She continued to concentrate on her breathing and wondered if she should consider getting into meditation. Her nerves are frazzled and honestly, she wished she had cigarette right now even though she wasn't a smoker. She had always been logical and she had always believed in things as long as there was some scientific proof but what she had just seen and what he had just told her completely blew her beliefs and thought out of proportion. Things like that only happened in fiction, in books and in films. How could it possibly be real? Her cerebral cortex was still in the process of registering it. She knew that she could've been hallucinating or maybe she's just plain mental. Could Harry be someone imaginary? Did she actually meet him or is she suffering from some mental condition.

No. She shook her head. She tried to understand things again. Harry's real. Even her cousin Fabian had met him last year. She'd just panicked. Who wouldn't? It was something not to be taken lightly.

"Okay, Hermione. Go back inside. Let him explain." She muttered to herself once she felt like she'd calmed down. She readied herself. She wasn't going to jump to conclusions and so she got back inside her house to hear him out.

She encountered him at her living room as he was pacing. He stopped when he saw her.

"Hermione?" He repeated.

"I need you to explain." She finally said.

"Alright," He sounded relieved. "But I think you should take a seat and maybe have a drink." He led her to one of the sofas before he waved his hand. A second later, a bottle of whiskey and two glasses began to float in front of them. Her eyes widened and she had to steady herself despite being seated already. The whole magic think still unnerved her. She distracted herself and tried to read the label: Ogden's Old Firewhisky. What the bleeding hell is firewhisky?

"It's wizarding alcohol." He answered. She must've said it out loud. He poured out a bit for her inside the glass and handed it out. Thinking that it's probably like regular whiskey, she swallowed the content immediately. It immediately seared her throat and burned down to her insides. She felt like she could actually breathe out fire.

"Th-that was strong!" She coughed and gave him the glass back. She looked at him as he drank it like it was nothing.

"You get used to it." Was his only reply. "More?" She shook her head fervently.

He drank a bit more before he made the bottle and glasses disappear. She gaped, she didn't think she could still be more gobsmacked. She wished she took more from that firewhisky.

She cleared her throat and then looked at him seriously. "S-so...magic? It's real?"

He nodded then began, "There's a magical community and we're everywhere."

"So there are a lot of you here in Britain?"

"Yeah, a few thousand."

"How does it work exactly?" She pressed on with the questions.

"We have a Ministry and all that. Schools etc. Just like muggle society but of course we have to do things discreetly as it's the law. I'm not even supposed to tell you about our world since you're muggle and all–" He continued.

"Excuse me but what's a muggle?" She cut in.

"Non-magical folks." He answered.

"I see...so I'm a muggle then?" She said, her tone still quite not convinced.

"Hermione…" He moved closer. She was careful not to react just so that he wouldn't take things wrongly. She was honestly still going to give him a chance to explain and tell her things.

"I've been planning to tell you everything. I've never really wanted to hide it despite all the laws I'd be breaking. Getting to know you through the letters over the last year gave me more reasons in telling you. I still very much want to keep this unorthodox tradition for as long as we both wanted to but I felt that lying to you all the time wouldn't make things last long. I've been going over on how to tell you but it's just plain bad luck that you've walked into it by accident. I was a bit reckless." He said and looked down. She could see the turbulent emotions going through him. She brought her hand to his cheek and moved her head up so that they're now eye to eye.

"Tell me everything." She said softly and calmly despite the anxiety invading her entirety. Harry looked at her and nodded. He brought his left hand and swiped it over the messy bangs that covered his forehead. With his index finger, he pointed at the lightning bolt scar. He gave a huge intake of breath before he started his tale…

"I got this scar when my parents were killed by a Dark Wizard…"

...

Harry looked at her and knew that Hermione was still trying to absorb everything he'd told her. He thought Hermione might balk but her face drew complete attention and curiosity the entire time. The feeling of lightness eased through him after he shared his history with her, but there was still something else he needed to do.

"Hermione?" He spoke after a long silence, as they sat there facing each other on her sofa. "I want to show you something…" He stood up and Hermione silently followed him, not daring to say a word. She found it impossible to formulate any coherent words… So many questions floated in her mind, and also so many doubts and wonders. It was overwhelming and all just completely and utterly impossible. Yet, looking into Harry's eyes as she had been, her heart and intuition knew him to be speaking the truth.

Harry brought her to the small foyer of her house and helped her into her coat and scarf. Hermione slipped on her winter boots and a wool hat. Harry took both her hands and held them to his chest, "I want to take you somewhere but only with your permission."

"On your motorbike?" She replied weakly, still quite gobsmacked by his revelations. He shook his head in amusement.

"I'm afraid it's a bit far and I'll have to take you there via magic, I hope you don't mind." Hermione's eyes widened and he watched as her skin paled considerably.

"You don't mean flying on broomsticks do you?" Harry chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling in that infuriatingly charming way.

"Hmm, not this time, sorry. I can take you some other time if you want." He winked at her and Hermione's eyes widened even more if it was even possible.

"Oh, hell no! Absolutely no broomsticks! I can barely handle aeroplanes!" Harry snickered as he zipped up his leather jacket.

"We'll have to do something about your fear of heights, Granger. We can't have a world-renowned journalist/writer/adventurer afraid of flying," he teased. "But seriously, don't worry, we're apparating there… It's quicker." Harry moved closer and let go of her hands, holding out his arm instead. "Will you come with me?"

Hermione looked at him and hesitated for a moment. She wondered, not for the first time this evening whether she was going out of her mind. Still, she figured Harry deserved the benefit of the doubt. She linked her arm in his. "I'll go, Potter, but if I die I swear I'll come back to fucking haunt you." Harry's eyes twinkled with mirth at her rare use of a bad word.

"Don't let go of me for anything, Moneypenny, and fair warning, apparating is not exactly pleasant but I guarantee you it'll take us there easier." He said. "Do you trust me?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically. "Well, we've gotten this far, Harry… My God, I'm crazy..."

"Alright, crazy lady, let's go."

Suddenly, everything went black for Hermione. She didn't know exactly what was happening as she felt herself being pressed in all directions. There was an uncomfortable pressure on her skull and chest, the sort of thing one might feel when strapped and riding a roller coaster. Air went through her eardrums and she felt unable to breathe well. She held on to Harry tightly as she felt her stomach go into knots and nausea kick in. Just as Hermione was trying to brace for something longer, her body began to feel light and she felt her feet suddenly touch the ground. She let go of Harry accidentally when she felt her center of gravity shift. He was quick enough to catch her and pull her back up before she fell on the snow covered road. The nausea was still there, though to her relief it didn't to dissipate.

"You alright?" Hermione heard him say as the pressure disappeared from her ears. She opened her eyes to them standing on a narrow cobblestone road covered with pristine white snow, in fact, snow was falling from the sky in a way that she hadn't seen since Vienna. Beyond stood a line of streetlights glowing and it looked to her like the very center of a typical quaint English village. Looking around she spotted many cottages along the road, colorful Christmas lights and wreaths decorating them.

"Where are we?" She asked Harry, who was already a few steps ahead. She shivered, it had only registered to her that the coat she was wearing wasn't appropriate enough for this kind of cold. Harry didn't miss her reaction and so he took out a wooden stick she was fairly certain was a magic wand. Hermione followed it with her eyes as Harry moved closer to her and waved it over them, muttering something she recognized as being Latin. Instantly, she felt warm.

He led her to the center of the village where Hermione could see an obelisk.

"What does it look like to you?" He asked. She examined the monument carefully. There were names engraved on it.

"It looks like a war memorial, my granddad's village had something similar..." She finally replied. Harry tapped his magic wand on the obelisk.

"This is my wand, in case you're wondering, I don't always need it though." He explained, noticing the way she stared at it. Hermione nodded at his explanation and was then distracted by the obelisk suddenly morphing into something else, the statue of a family to be exact. The family consisted of a man whose glasses and untidy hair were uncannily similar to Harry's and standing next to him a woman with long hair and a kind, beautiful face, a sleeping baby in her arms.

"The man looks like you," She noted.

"Come on," He went ahead again. She immediately followed him as he led her into the kissing gate of an ancient-looking graveyard. Nearby was a church where they could faintly hear a choir singing. She didn't dare say anything as they continued to pass by numerous snow-covered tombstones. It took a while before they finally stopped at a wide headstone which had three lines engraved. She stepped closer to read the first two:

James Potter, born 27 March 1960, died 31 October 1981

Lily Potter, born 30 January 1960, died 31 October 1981

Instantly, she made the connection with the memorial at the village center. "That was you? The baby on that statue?" She whispered. Harry now kneeled in front of the headstone and created a wreath of flowers using his wand, placing it in the middle of his parents' tombstone.

"We're at Godric's Hollow…" He said quietly. "I was born here."

"Oh, Harry…" She kneeled down beside him and took his hand in hers. She felt him tighten the hold, his thumb caressing the back of her hand gently.

"They were murdered here, Hermione, by Voldemort, that Dark Wizard I told you about. I come here to visit them from time to time and to remind myself. I know this is a bit depressing for the holidays but I wanted you to know this... Merlin, I want you to know everything about me, especially about my past. My past will always be a part of me, it will always haunt me. It's one of the reasons why I do the things that I do. I wasn't even 18 when I had to fight in a war. Hermione, I've already outlived my parents, they died so young... When you've seen the face of true evil, you just know that it doesn't easily vanish-it fucking lingers. I know I can't stop all the bad things in the world but I know I can at least prevent a lot of it. Some would say that risking my life seems ungrateful to my parents who died for me but I don't think of it that way. I believe that to truly honour them and their sacrifice I should at least contribute into making the world a better place."

Hermione listened to him as he poured out his heart, their hands still laced together. Harry always seemed so confident, so collected and so straightforward, a man of few words, but today he completely lowered his defenses for her, allowing Hermione to see the vulnerable Harry and all that was in his heart. Out of everything that happened tonight it was the thing that most astounded and moved her. Harry was one of a kind, and it had nothing to do with him being a wizard. Harry had a depth and sensitivity that Hermione felt matched her own, despite how different they were.

"I've told you everything, and I've shown you this... Hermione, I need to know." He let go of her hand and rubbed his hands over his face and then ran them through his hair, making it even messier. I need to know if you'll accept me in your life. I can't go on every year pretending to be half of who I am. You deserve the truth but I also deserve to know whether you'll accept who and what I am." He continued.

Her mind swirled and Hermione knew she was close to overanalyzing again. She looked at him. This entire magic thing was something straight out of a fantasy book and never in her life would she have thought it was all real. Yet, here they stood together and it was more than proven to her. She looked at him, truly looked at him. She saw fear and anxiety in his eyes, but also a longing that to her was like a punch in the gut. She turned her gaze to the snowy ground, biting her lower lip in apprehension.

"What happens if I can't do this? If I say no..." It was hard but she had to ask.

"Well, honestly, it would break my heart… And then I would have no choice. For your sake and mine I would have to erase all your memories of me and our time together." His voice went lower and turned hollow.

"All of it?" Her voice slightly shook.

"All of it."

Hermione shook her head. It was silly and stupid to even think about forgetting this man beside her, this man who had against all odds become one of her greatest friends, a man she held strong feelings for. Some of her best memories over the past few years involved Harry and they had only seen each other three times in person. Hermione wasn't always good with relationships, she barely had a group of close friends. She knew that people like Harry didn't often appear in her life. He was one of those people who were and always would be worth it.

Again Hermione thought of how everything was really a shock for her. From the moment she entered the kitchen with all those pots, spoons and knives moving around on their own, to the magic demonstrations Harry had performed and his own account of his life. Any other person in their right mind would've called the police! Hermione didn't want to lie and pretend that everything that he said and showed her made sense, but Harry brought her here. This was no ordinary place, this was probably the most personal place to him. Harry was offering Hermione himself, and since the day she met him it was all Hermione desired. This was a gesture that meant the world to her because she knew how difficult it was and how vulnerable it made him. Harry had trusted Hermione enough with the truth and it made her feel something strong, fiery, and utterly irresistible for him.

"Hermione?" Anxiety laced Harry's voice as he stood and offered her his hand to get up.

There was something in the way he looked at her, with a tinge of hope and doubt on his face that pulled at her heartstrings. Hermione felt her heart beat impossibly fast in her chest and her hands begin to sweat. She slowly placed her palm on his cheek, gently caressing him with her thumb. She watched as his breath hitched and Harry closed his eyes upon feeling her warm caress, almost melting into her touch. Hermione came even closer to him and went on the tip of her toes just so she could meet his height. She kissed him on the cheek then, the sheer electricity of the contact between her lips and his skin pulsing through her body. They both trembled from the sensation. Hermione brought her feet back on level ground and let her hands tug on the lapels of his jacket. Harry's bright green eyes opened wide, gazing at her hazily, until she watched those Emerald orbs stare at her lips and lean slowly in.

Hermione was never the kind of woman to beat around the bush, so she pulled Harry towards her by that leather jacket and crashed her lips against his, wrapping her arms around his neck and losing herself to her desire for this wonderful man. Harry kissed her with the same ardour, his lips smooth and tasting of sugar and cinnamon. His hand cupped her cheek while the other trailed its way inside her coat, feeling its way along her breast and sensuously sliding around her waist. Delicious goosebumps arose on her skin and Hermione pulled him even closer to her, burying her fingers through his messy raven locks, basking in the fact that she'd finally did it. Harry's tongue was needy and demanding, constantly challenging hers for the upperhand. His hand slid back up and he brushed his thumb over her breast before digging his fingers into her curls, his mouth leaving hers so that he could kiss a hot, wet trail down her neck. Hermione thought she might melt into him, her entire being in flames and wanting ever-more from him. Their kiss was sweet and full of desire for one another, a desire they'd been downplaying since the day they met.

This was unlike any kiss Harry ever had… It wasn't the lust-filled kind of kisses he shared with Cho Chang in hidden corners of Hogwarts school; nor was it the wet and eager-type kisses he shared with Ginny that would lead them straight to bed, but that never quite got there in terms of perfection. Not that Harry wouldn't mind going straight to bed with Hermione, Merlin, he couldn't think of anything he'd want more. But it was more than that. Kissing Hermione felt like filling a hole of something that had been missing since Merlin knew when… He hadn't even noticed it was missing until now. Her kiss felt like coming home. It felt like a future, it felt like he was burning inside and might explode soon, but the flames didn't hurt one bit. Harry wanted more of her delicious and soft lips, he wanted more of her tongue… He wanted more of her vanilla scent and her softness. He wanted her out of that blasted coat and he wanted her in his arms always, even though it was impossible. He wanted her boldness and bluntness and sexiness and cozyness… all of it. Harry wanted Hermione Granger, pure and simple.

Neither one of them were sure of what was really happening. They had no need for explanations right then, there was no need to think of complications or repercussions. They were free, they could just let things be, let themselves feel, and taste and savour. And how utterly wonderful this was, being together.

When their oxygen was no longer enough, their lips parted and Harry leaned his forehead against hers, trying to regain his barings and find his composure. All of the sudden he was aware again of the cold weather that surrounded them and the beautiful sound of a choir singing Adeste Fideles coming from the old stone church.

He finally opened his eyes and those emerald greens bore into Hermione's very soul. It was static electricity that shot through her. She felt her face heat up with the way he looked at her, prompting her to nearly forget what she was meant to say. Her cheeks were a bright pink and it wasn't due to the cold. Harry smiled and her heart skipped a beat, the utter fool that she was. It was just the two of them and nothing else quite mattered. Hermione's curls were all over the place and her lips parted ever-so-slightly on their own accord; Harry's fingers brushed against her cheek as he tucked her curls behind her ear. She couldn't take her eyes away from his, or her mind away from the reality of what they had just done. When Hermione bit that bottom lip of hers Harry thought he might combust from the sheer desire to bite her lip himself… He was about to go in for another round when she leaned back and away from his lips. His eyes met with the amber-colored sharpness of her own. She knew what he was about to do again and smirked, the devilish and infuriating woman.

"Thank you, for telling me your story, for showing me what's in here…" She said, laying her hand over his heart. "Harry Potter, my favorite secret agent ever, I wish nothing more than to be a part of your life. If anything, you being magical is just the bloody cherry on top." She let out a laugh which to him made her look so alive and beautiful... He could hardly believe it. "I don't care if you have a wand, or if you fly on broomsticks. I mean, I do care, but it's not something that will ever make me want you less in my life. You're my friend and I like you, I-I don't just like you either, I also want you."

Hermione groaned and cursed herself internally for delivering such a terrible stumble of words, hoping that to him her answer would be just as clear as it was to her. Harry laughed, his eyes shining with a mixture of tears, relief and mirth. His eyes gazed upwards toward the sky and his heart continued to beat fast because of her… Hermione Granger might be the bloody death of him. She brushed a bit of his overgrown bangs from his eyes.

"Better forget it, James, you're stuck with little old me…" Harry cupped both her cheeks and shook his head, smiling like a fool. He was about to kiss that smile off her face when his stomach rumbled and her eyes widened, her smile turning into a fit of laughter. "Time to eat magical food now, Harry. Pop us back to my place!"

"Merlin, you're bossy."

"I'm bossy? Harry, your stomach just said it all."

Hermione watched in childlike wonder as with a swish and a wave of his wand Harry had all their food floating in the air from the kitchen, all of it still miraculously warm and fresh. Their small Christmas feast smelled delicious and Hermione eagerly sat on her favorite chair. Noticing the two candlesticks that were still unlit she jumped back off the chair with a huff.

"Let me get some matches…" She said. Before she could say 'light' Harry cheekily lit the candles with another wave of his wand. Hermione rolled her eyes at his showing off and sat back down. A bit more wand waving and soon soft gold and lavender lights began to dance above their table, looking almost like tiny fairies. Hermione couldn't shake just how romantic all of this was turning out to be. It made her nervous and fear began to blossom within... Hermione tried to ignore it, even if ignoring wasn't such a hard thing to do when she looked at Harry. She watched him as he'd pour them wine, delight in the food and smile so freely while chit-chatting about how the gravy was a special recipe he stole from his former mother-in-law, the best cook in the planet and how he was positive she'd love their dessert later on. Harry was different, more carefree, more relaxed, he seemed younger too, and it added even more to this day's whirlwind of surprises.

"You're awfully quiet. It's odd…" He finally told her, to which Hermione rolled her eyes at him as she took a sip of the Cabernet.

"Just taking it all in…" He hummed and nodded. "How's your ankle?"

"Now that you reminded me, it's kind of hurting, throbbing as fuck…" Hermione snickered at his dramatics and once again rolled her eyes. He smiled at her reaction. "I read your book you know, the one you dedicated to me. I thought it'd be terrible but it was actually quite nice, and surprisingly thrilling." Hermione's eyebrows arched, her eyes shining with humor and interest.

"What did you think of Zana and Marko?"

"So fucking hot. Is that how you like it?" Hermione choked and nearly spit out her wine as he asked her. Harry, incorrigible as he was, laughed soundly at Hermione's reaction. Her mind went straight to the more steamy passages of her book which told of a brief but torrid affair between two musicians whose lives were turned upside down with the Bosnian war in the 1990s. "I mean, that scene under the bridge…" He wiggled his eyebrows at her and her cheeks and neck turned a flaming red, "I could think of nothing else all day…"

"I've never shagged under a bridge but I don't think I'd oppose..." Hermione finally responded, haughtily. "And it was meant to be hot, you prat! That's what sells!"

"Is it how you like it though?" Hermione rolled her eyes, turning her head away in her embarrassment.

"Might be." Harry smiled victoriously and drank the rest of his own wine, his eyes never leaving hers.

"I wouldn't mind shagging under a bridge. Shouldn't be much different from shagging on the beach, just a bit more private perhaps, less space I imagine… Makes way for more interesting stuff." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I'm not shagging you Harry. Don't think too highly of yourself." Harry snickered.

"Wouldn't dare to, Moneypenny." He winked at her.

"Where's my dessert?" His eyes lit up at her question, though it abruptly put an end to the fun that was making her turn red with the topic of sex. It was a pleasant little page he'd stolen from her cousin Fabian's own little book.

"Ah, you'll love it. Desserts are kind of my specialty." Harry went back to the kitchen, waving his wand so that their leftovers, used plates and cutlery floated back into the kitchen to clean themselves.

When Harry returned he came with a tray full of the most delectable-looking apple strudels, as well as bowls, spoons and a tub of vanilla ice cream they'd bought, a surprisingly mutual favorite flavor.

"Oh, you didn't." Hermione's brown eyes sparkled and then her eyes met with his and he noticed it was because they were unshed tears. "God, I wanted these so bad I was prepared to fly again to Vienna…"

"Go on, ladies first." He urged her to grab a filling and he couldn't help but roll his own eyes when she piled eighty-percent of them on her plate… The sweet tooth of this woman. "... or baby dragons." She ignored his little quip.

Harry watched as she took her first bite and her eyes closed in delight, the tip of her tongue cleaning the powdered sugar from her lips. There was still some at the corner of her lips. Harry was reminded of their time in Paris and their visit to the Portuguese pastry shop next door to her cousin's flat. He was able to recall just how much he'd wanted to clean that powdered sugar off her lips with a kiss or the soft graze of his finger… Harry leaned forward and boldly cupped her cheek. Hermione's eyes widened and then she held her breath as he surprised her by kissing the powdered sugar off the corner of her mouth, his lips brushing against hers. Hermione pulled him by his sweater collar before he could move away and kissed him with almost all the fire she had inside. Their noses brushed against one another and with a softer, more delicate kiss they parted. Her eyes were dark with desire and Harry was certain his were too.

"So, Moneypenny, how are my strudels?" He watched as her eyes landed on his mouth.

"Delicious."

"Brilliant."

It was just after midnight when Harry followed Hermione up the stairs for the first time. The hall was painted white and had delicately ornate crown-mouldings and wooden details that Harry could tell were cherished details of this one hundred-something old house. The hall boasted a small but quite lovely stain-glass chandelier that reflected pinks, greens and blues onto the surfaces of the walls when Hermione turned it on. These walls, just like her living area downstairs were covered with paintings, travel memorabilia and framed pictures of different sizes. Harry's eyes took in the many images of Hermione through the years. He recognized her posing with her cousin Fabian in a few, while in others she was with a couple who Harry assumed were her parents, she was quite the spitting-image of her mother. It was when Hermione pointed him to the door of her office and his bedroom for the night that Harry came across the black and white picture that instantly became his favorite. In it Hermione looked straight into the camera, laughing beautifully, her eyes shining. Her front teeth were a little too big just as she and Fabian had described to him in Paris, and freckles powdered the bridge of her nose. Hermione's wild curls that Harry loved were just the same, perhaps a bit bushier and she wore a crown of flowers with ribbons on her head.

"How old were you here?" He asked, unable to hide his tender smile, tracing one of the ribbons with his finger.

"Nine years old, I think. That photo was taken at my aunt Calliope's third wedding, you know, Fabian's mum." Harry nodded. "My dad took it with my granddad's old camera, I actually have it somewhere in my office… I was laughing because Fabian set one of the bridesmaid's dresses on fire with a candlestick, she ran around in circles and then jumped into the pond." Hermione laughed with a twinkle in her eyes. "Fabian did it but the idea was mine,"

"I always knew you had a bit of evil in you." Hermione tucked a curl behind her own ear.

"I did it because I caught her kissing my aunt's husband that very evening… As you can imagine that marriage didn't last too long. It was quite a shame, aunt Calla never quite got over it, he was the only one she ever truly liked."

"Got quite what she deserved then… I can't help but wonder what you had in store for the groom though…" Hermione snickered, her eyes meeting his with an unmistakable sadness.

"Oh, my cousin managed to do something equally distasteful, don't worry." Harry watched as she bit her bottom lip nervously before heading for a tall blue glass-paned cabinet that held towels and bed linens to retrieve the things he would need for the night.

"Who was it?" Harry asked her suddenly, which prompted Hermione to immediately turn around and look at him funny, her brows furrowed in confusion. "Who was it who broke your heart just like that arse broke your aunt's?"

Hermione was shocked at his question for a moment and even hesitated before answering him, that sadness still there in her eyes.

"A parade of arses to be honest… Not that I've been with that many anyway, I mean, relationship-wise. Contrary to popular belief I do have an active sex life. I'm not that repulsive..."

"For me it's only ever been Ginny, in terms of girlfriend and relationships… Of course I'm no hermit either." Hermione laughed and elbowed him, making him welp in faux-pain.

"You don't fool me, Harry Potter. I bet you've got a long list of lovers around the world…"

"Your imagination is a scary place, Moneypenny." Hermione laughed, knowing her thoughts were the exact truth, judging by his traitorous smile.

"Right…" She finally opened the door to her office and motioned for him to go in first. "The bath is the door to your left and my room is that door across the hall… In case you need anything."

"A quick shag maybe?" She hit him again.

"You may be magical Harry Potter but you're nothing special." He chuckled, as he always did when successfully getting to her. Harry glanced at the vintage clock sitting on her desk that showed it was half-past midnight, and just like that he tried to muster his Gryffindor courage. Opening his entire life to people, even to Hermione who he came to trust implicitly didn't come easy.

"Moneypenny, I know we agreed to spend Christmas just the two of us, but in the spirit of actually being in Britain this year, there's someone I'm due to visit tomorrow. I told you about her, my aunt Petunia…"

"Oh." Was Hermione's response as she set his bath towel on the guest bed she had set up for him in her office. Harry rolled his eyes at her typical monosyllabic response, it always drove him crazy.

"Come on, Hermione, just say whatever is floating around in that giant brain of yours already." She sighed heavily and turned to look at him.

"I didn't know you were both on speaking terms… Didn't she treat you like rubbish all your life?" Harry shut his eyes and scrunched up his nose in a show of pain before nodding, as he leaned back against her dark wooden desk.

"It's complicated…"

"I don't know Harry, sounds awfully like Stockholm's syndrome…" She replied. Harry, catching on to her teasing rolled up a random newspaper page abandoned over her desk and threw the ball at her. She glared at him as it painlessly hit her arm and rolled her eyes.

"Things got better after my uncle died."

"Ah, so auntie dearest decided to be nice after her toad of a husband wasn't around anymore?" He could tell she was serious now, and annoyed in a way he never imagined she would be. "I don't understand, to be honest. From all that you've told me about your childhood and life with them, they were extremely shitty people with you Harry, cruel even. What kind of warm-blooded creature is capable of treating an innocent child so badly? I don't even know her personally and I despise her already…"

"Hermione…" He tried to cut in, but it was no use interrupting her passionate monologues, especially when she paced around the room as she was doing.

"I despise her because of how much I like and cherish you, Harry. I don't know if you catch my drift. I can't fathom why she was so cruel to you, you're her nephew for crying out loud!"

"Come with me." Hermione's head immediately shot up as he said it, her eyes going wide. "I'd feel much better about visiting my aunt for Christmas brunch if you came along with me, and I want you to see the place I grew up. Please…" Hermione sighed deeply and massaged her temple. Quite honestly, she would rather do far more pleasant things on Christmas day than visiting Harry's abusive aunt in Surrey… Like catching up on her reading or snogging Harry silly for instance. Hermione's eyes locked with his hoping he'd change his mind. To her utter regret, his eyes managed to convey just how much he wanted to visit his aunt and just how much he also wanted Hermione to accompany him. They were the very definition of puppy-dog, and Hermione detested him for it.

Nevertheless, seeing all that anticipation in his eyes made Hermione remember that it didn't matter the amount of years that passed. Abused children, in one way or another, would always have an irrational need to be accepted and one day loved by their abuser, even if all history existed to prove it probably never would happen. This wasn't Harry Potter the confident Secret agent or victorious wizard before her, silently pleading, but the skinny little boy he once described to her as being, running off and hiding within the roots of a park tree, hoping to find safety and a home.

Harry somehow read right through her and before Hermione could properly find words he was smiling.

"I knew you'd come around to it."

"If things get too messed up I'll drag you away from there, you crazy prat." Her lips were set in a frown and her arms crossed over her chest making her look absolutely lovely to him.

"So you're my savior now?" Hermione rolled her eyes at his poking fun at her and huffed. Within seconds however, she relaxed her shoulders and entire stance. A smile spread across her face as she saw how relieved and happy Harry became, a twinkle in his eyes.

"I may be personally delusional in that regard, yes." Harry laughed as he fell onto the bed.

"You're absolutely brilliant, Moneypenny." She threw his pillow at him and turned around to leave the room.

"Tell me something I don't know, James." Before Hermione shut the bedroom door behind her she seemed to remember something and popped her head back in. "Merry Christmas by the way…"

"Not even a Christmas goodnight kiss?" Harry smiled mischievously, wiggling his eyebrows at her as he unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a toned chest that both wowed and disconcerted her, not that she would ever admit it.

"NO!" Hermione said loudly, glaring at him before almost slamming the door behind her. Harry's smile went from ear to ear as he recalled the reddening of her cheeks, and all the other delicious and utterly unexpected kisses they'd exchanged all through the evening.

Number 4 Privet Drive was quite different from the house of his childhood these days, in fact, quite different even from the way it was during Harry's last visit a year ago. For one, his aunt had taken to gardening a lot more since Uncle Vernon's passing and the front lawn now boasted a lovely pear tree, though the winter rendered it leafless and what Harry knew were a miscellanea of pots and flower planters. The front door was no longer brown like all of the houses on the street, but instead was painted a fire-engine red and was currently decorated with a Christmas wreath with a ribbon that read 'Happy Christmas' in golden glitter.

Harry was acutely aware of Hermione's tension beside him and Harry couldn't tell to what extent she was nervous about meeting his aunt the 'childhood abuser' or if it was due to meeting his family period. Either way, it was a large step to take in such a short period of friendship, especially now that they were stepping onto this strange and wobbly tightrope which marked the limits between the friendship part and that other part which should-not-be-named, but that represented so much more.

Harry and Hermione shared a look and he took her hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly. She smoothed her coat and the elegant black skirt she wore under it and nodded for him to go ahead and ring the doorbell. It was 10 on the dot.

Harry raised his finger to ring the buzzer, but the door flew open before he got the chance. There stood aunt Petunia dressed in what could be considered her personal version of the 'nines', in a plaid skirt with stockings underneath, a pristine white shirt and a deep-red cardigan over it. There was a lovely floral pin attached to her cardigan and teardrop-shaped pearl earrings hung from her ears. Aunt Petunia's hair had gone completely gray and to be honest it quite suited her as she wore them in perfectly coiffed curls that were probably inspired by 1950s hairstyles.

"Hello, aunt Petunia…" Harry greeted with a shy smile, waving at her. "I hope you don't mind that I brought a friend." Petunia's hazel-eyes scanned Hermione practically from head to toe.

"Haven't I seen you on BBC channel 4?" Hermione looked at her in surprise before nodding.

"I present documentaries for them, yes…" Aunt Petunia simply hummed at Hermione before motioning for them to come inside.

They instantly passed the staircase and Hermione's eyes cleverly darted towards the cupboard door. She gasped discreetly upon seeing it, especially as she realized just how small and cramped it was. Her eyes met with Harry's and she took his hand, squeezing it. He nodded, confirming her suspicions and shrugged.

Their small exchange didn't go unnoticed by Petunia Dursley who frowned deeply as she realized what it was all about. Her nephew's 'friend' knew about it then, all the dreadful things she had done to Harry along with Vernon and Dudley during those years, how they always mistreated and excluded him, as if he was a piece of rubbish instead of an actual member of their family. She felt the familiar knotting and somersaulting of her stomach, as shame lodged in.

"Boy, grab the teacups won't you? The good ones…" Harry nodded and before he set out to do as told Hermione whispered to him with a humor-filled smile:

"Is your aunt's fashion icon The Queen?" Harry snickered and chuckled silently before Hermione turned forward and followed Petunia into the sitting area where a large tree was set up and looking quite nice, several perfectly-wrapped packages laid underneath.

"Forgive me, I didn't catch your name…" Petunia trailed off, motioning for Hermione to sit on the sofa while she sat on her favorite floral armchair.

"Hermione Granger. It's a pleasure to meet you ma'am." Petunia set her lips in an impossibly thin line, her eyes sharp like a hawk's.

"I shall have to excuse the fact that my nephew brought someone home without consulting me, although the fact that it is a somewoman makes it quite forgivable, you see, it is the first time." Petunia actually smiled, as strange-looking as it was, when Harry came in carrying a tray with her prized German porcelain set, a teapot smelling of Earl Grey, sugar cubes and a small pitcher of warmed milk. Harry set the tray on the coffee table and took his seat on the sofa, a respectable arm's length distance from Hermione, which quite made her want to laugh.

"Uh, how's Dudley, aunt Pet?" She glared at him for the use of the nickname, though deep down she didn't mind it. It was what Harry called her as a baby, when he couldn't fully say her name.

"He's spending Christmas in Wales this year with his wife's family. Did you know I'll be a granny in the spring?" Harry looked at her with genuine surprise and shook his head.

"Congratulations are in order then…" Hermione complimented as Petunia busied herself pouring each of their cups like any proper host. Petunia and Harry immediately shared a look that Hermione noticed wasn't quite the happy-filled look one would have expected, instead, it was one of worry.

"I suppose…" Petunia finally answered with a smile as weak as Harry's tea. "Boy!" She exclaimed a bit too loudly, "there's a gift for you under the tree."

"Oh, brilliant then, because I also have something to give you." He said enthusiastically, much more at least than Hermione or anyone who knew Harry would expect. It was a welcome change of subject, as Harry could feel the tension in his aunt's visage. He was sensitive enough to feel his aunt's fear of welcoming someone new into the family, not because she didn't want to be a grandmother, as anything coming from her Dudders had her love and affection, but because of the risk of that new someone being unique like Harry and his late mother. Harry would never be able to comprehend his aunt's hatred of magic but he understood her unspoken fears somehow.

Aunt Petunia set down her teacup on its saucer and rose from her armchair, scanning the gifts under the tree before her eyes settled on a rather large box with green wrapping-paper that had a pattern of candy canes and a large red bow. She handed it to Harry, mumbling out a barely intelligible 'Merry Christmas'. The older woman glanced momentarily at Hermione, her cheeks blushing upon catching sight of Hermione's genuinely surprised reaction.

"I hope you like it." She said, bashfully looking away as Harry began to unwrap it, careful to not rip the paper open in the way he knew his aunt hated because it littered the floor. "They're awfully hard to come by these days, it's just like one my father had…"

The large box revealed a beautiful portable record-player that could be closed into a case that resembled a small leather travel luggage or briefcase. Harry found that he was actually pleased with it.

"A vitrola! How lovely." Hermione said with a smile. "Harry, do you still have those records you mentioned?" He paused for a moment before nodding, his eyes locking with Petunia's, her hands clasped together over her lap, anxious about his reaction and not quite used to being so nice to him, although it was something they'd been slowly working on the past decade. This year, after her scare with breast cancer and convinced death would finally come for her she decided to turn things around in her life. So for once Petunia really put effort into pleasing her nephew.

"It's wonderful, thank you…" Even Petunia couldn't hide just how happy she was for giving her nephew something he actually liked for once, as much as she tried to hide her feelings by straightening her skirt and busying herself with the tea servicing. Harry retrieved a small gift bag from under the tree that he'd miraculously slipped there upon arrival and handed it to his aunt.

"I remembered you lost your favorite necklace that time and when I saw these I just knew they should be yours." Petunia opened the square black-velveted box from inside the bag and carefully opened it. When her eyes fell upon the beautiful long string of pearls her eyes suddenly glistened. Petunia was completely silent for a long time as she ran her fingers through the exquisite beads, only they weren't beads but genuine. She had never before gotten genuine pearls before, they simply were something her Vernon could never afford, not that he would have the sensitivity to know she would very much like them anyway.

"Do you want to try them on?" Harry asked. Aunt Petunia nodded and got up, heading for the powder room to put them on in front of the mirror.

"You gave her pearls?" Hermione whispered into his ear, astonished.

"It was that or a gift card to Marks & Spencer." He whispered back, "I know it's weird but we've been making an effort… She's all the family I have." Hermione looked at Harry with fondness, linking her arm with his and moving closer, resting her head against his shoulder.

When Petunia returned from the bathroom she had the pearl necklace around her neck in three loops. It complemented her style of clothing very well. Though she wasn't one to smile, Harry could tell from the way his aunt played with the beads that she liked it.

"Oh, they suit you perfectly, Mrs. Dursley." Hermione complimented, as she ended the last of her tea.

Petunia wasn't blind to the affection her nephew seemed to have for the young woman. It was in the way Harry looked at her and in the arms-length distance they'd put between them which seemed awfully deliberate. It was as though they wished Petunia would get the opposite idea of what they truly were to one another, not lovers, just friends. But even Petunia had been young once and felt the overwhelming feelings of love and attraction. She too had once sat in a living room similar to this one in front of her parents, introducing them to a boyfriend who shouldn't yet be a boyfriend. Butterflies in her stomach and all sorts of painfully insecure thoughts floating in her mind. Petunia's short-lived romance with Peter Elliot seemed a lifetime away, like it was rather the pages of a good heart-wrenching novel rather than real life. No, Petunia's real life had been Vernon Dursley and it had been with him that she shared all those years of her life.

"So, how long have the two of you been together?" She asked, keeping a straight face while internally amused by their utterly disconcerted expressions.

"Oh, no, Mrs. Dursley, we're just friends. We met in Vienna a few years ago and have been in contact since."

"Vienna, now?" Harry nodded. Petunia raised her brow curiously, a smile curving the edges of her rose-painted lips. "Oh, like that lovely movie 'Before Sunrise', have you seen it?" She noticed how a blush crept onto Hermione's cheek and internally rejoiced. Of course she'd watched it and new exactly what Petunia was implying. "I wonder, have you lot ever stumbled upon each other in Paris?" Harry's face lit up with surprise.

"Last Christmas actually. How'd you know?" He asked her, so innocently Hermione wished to smack him. Petunia shrugged, her eyes never leaving Hermione's, who in turn wished she could simply disappear out of embarrassment.

"It's how the movies go… What's your next stop, Greece?"

"No clue, actually. We'll figure it out eventually…" Harry replied, completely oblivious. Aunt Petunia's response was a simple and far too self-satisfied hum.

"Boy, it's ten already. Help me set up the table for our brunch." As if on automatic Harry promptly got up from his cozy seat on the sofa and signalled for Hermione to stay put before following his aunt into the kitchen yet again.

"What do you need taken, Aunt Pet?"

"Harry," she began, which immediately sparked his attention as his aunt rarely called him by his name, "what kind of witch works making television documentaries for the BBC? And why haven't I seen her sporting a wand?" She motioned to the onr in the back of his jeans pocket. As his aunt crossed her arms over her chest Harry knew she wasn't trying to be funny… or pleasant, not that she ever was anyway.

"That's because she's not a witch, Aunt Petunia. She's a muggle just like you." Petunia inhaled deeply, a frown setting on her face, her eyebrows furrowing out of worry. "I told her recently of what I am and all that happened."

"All of it?" She asked and Harry responded with a nod. Petunia's thoughts went back to when they first arrived nearly an hour ago, how Hermione seemed particularly troubled by the cupboard under the stairs. Petunia felt the somersaulting of guilt and unpleasantness in her stomach and she didn't like it one bit. She'd learned with time that keeping young boys in cupboards under the stairs was neither a good or particularly normal thing to do, in fact, it was abominable. Despite it all, there was nothing Petunia could do about it and she didn't have the power to go back in time. "In that case, Harry, be careful, for your sake and hers." Petunia's thoughts once again this evening went back to her first love, Peter Elliot. "Love is a complicated thing and magic has a terrible way of dividing people."

"We're just friends, Aunt Petunia." She looked at him in that no-nonsense way of hers and rolled her eyes which to Harry was quite comical, he even laughed.

"You keep fooling yourself like that, boy. The both of you." She gave him a large tray full of delicious pastries, sweets and custards, "to the table with these and then come back to fetch some decent tea. Frankly, Boy! Thirty-years old and still can't make a decent pot." Harry went back into the dining room laughing and Hermione who'd been curiously scanning the family pictures on the mantle looked at him questioningly.

A few minutes later they were all seated around the dining room table while Aunt Petunia recited a small prayer, they were never a very religious family, but it was Christmas, so it should be done. Once Amens were echoed around the table Aunt Petunia motioned for them to serve themselves. Both Harry and Hermione appreciated her generous little banquet as Aunt Petunia had definitely outdone herself this year, almost as if she'd been guessing her nephew would bring someone special along.

"So, miss Hermione Granger, do tell me a bit about yourself." Petunia requested as she poured a splash of milk into each of their teas. Hermione refrained from making a bit of a face, as unlike just about all British people she hated milk in her tea. When she looked up her eyes met with Harry's who had a knowing smile on his face. She instantly recalled their time in Paris last year and how he accused her of being 'un-English' for it.

"Well, what is there to say… I'm thirty-one, only daughter of a duo of dentists, I've written three novels, other than that two strictly academic books… I'm Oxford educated, which Harry says makes me snobby, only I'm not." She faux-pinched him and he chuckled in return, "And I've been producing and presenting documentaries both for the BBC and independently for years now. I don't just present though, there's a lot of research and preparation that comes before filming a programme and I'm primarily in charge of that."

"Quite impressive." Aunt Petunia complimented and Harry could tell that she was being genuine. He'd always known his aunt to be quite fond of her documentaries, it was a way to make up for not following through with higher education, his aunt's way to quench a bit of her thirst for knowledge, something he learned she had much in common with his late mother.

"Hermione's granny was a famous movie star, Aunt Pet." Petunia's eyes widened in surprise as she looked on to Hermione for confirmation. "Tell her…"

"Uh, yes. My maternal grandmother was Cynthia Bell… She was very famous up until the seventies."

"I'm familiar with her films, yes. My mother Violet was a seamstress and loved copying her dress styles that we'd see on the magazines…"

"That's brilliant, she must have been very good at her craft to be able to reproduce entire outfits just by looking at a picture…" Hermione complimented and Petunia beamed.

"My mother was probably the best in London. She had a tiny atelier in Kensington overlooking the gardens which she and father managed to rent at a miraculously underpriced rate. Obviously we lived in Tottenham, which you know, was everything but glamorous… My mother made mine and my sister Lily's wedding gowns, I still have mine hanging in the closet."

Hermione shot one look in Harry's direction and caught him with eyes glistening with tears. She figured his aunt had never before talked to him about his grandparents. Hermione took his hand under the table and squeezed it reassuringly. In turn, Harry laced their fingers together, caressing the back of her hand with his thumb.

It was almost nightfall when they left Aunt Petunia's, a pyrex full of delicious leftovers to take home. Harry had shrunk it and stored the dish in the pocket of his coat. They walked past the identical row of houses in Privet Drive and onto the main street. Colorful Christmas lights were hung on each house, some more enthusiastically decorated than others. As they continued on their way, quietly, they reached a large park and soon Hermione halted at his side. They had walked probably three or four blocks already.

"Is this the park, Harry? With the tree you would hide in?" Harry nodded.

"It's gone now, apparently the roots were rotten and they cut it down around the time I was fourteen."

"Seeing your aunt it's hard to imagine her so abusive, not that I'm doubting you or anything…"

"I know what you mean. A lot has changed in the last ten years… I don't know if it was my uncle's dying or her aging and rethinking things. I think she's learned to despise magic less… It's why she never was fond of me, I'll never fully comprehend why."

They sat hand in hand on a wooden park bench and Harry seemed lost in his thoughts for a good amount of time. It was barely four in the afternoon, but the winter season was already covering everything with darkness.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Do you have a fear of heights?" He asked.

She took a second before answering."Uhm, I'm fine with aeroplanes or Ferris wheels, the latter gives me a bit of anxiety though." Harry snickered. She was most definitely afraid of heights.

"Splendid then," He gave her a grin and she knew he was up to no good. "It's Christmas Hermione, let's go see the lights." He stood up and pulled her along with him, retrieving his wand from inside his jacket pocket. "Accio broom!" Hermione's expression changed to one of horror.

"Oh, no, no, no. Not bloody likely! As if it's not bad enough you're a wizard now you have to ride a stereotypical fucking broomstick!" Harry's smile was wide and full of mischief.

"Wait… it's coming!" He answered excitedly. She wondered for just a second what it was until she heard a whooshing sound. A second later a shiny, polished broom swerved and stopped in front of them. She blinked several times as Harry took the broom and leaned it against himself.

"Where did that come from?" She moved closer and inspected. She made out the words written on its wooden handle: Firebolt. It looked a bit old but very well-maintained. She wasn't knowledgeable with different types of woods but she knew it was made of the highest quality.

She looked back at Harry. "Please, please tell me this isn't why you asked me if I'm afraid of heights."

He broke into a grin again, which made her feel warmer than she already was but she shook her head.

"No! No bloody way!" Being on an aeroplane was alright because she's ridden on them so many times and the Ferris wheel was frightful enough but at least her feet were on an even surface. But a broom? And not just any ordinary broom, a flying broom! Hermione imagined how it would be like up in the air with her legs dangerously dangling. A tiny slip could easily cause a freefall. She felt the anxiety creep inside her. There was no way she'd be flying on a broom.

"Come on, Hermione. It'll be fun. I promise." He persuaded.

"It's not safe! I could fall to my death. No one wants to see splattered human remains on Christmas no less!" She argued dramatically, eliciting a laugh from him.

"It's safe. I swear you'll be alright. I've done this countless of times. We'll start slow. I'm a good flyer. Did you know I was the youngest Quidditch player in Hogwarts in over a century? I got countless offers to play professionally, I'm more than good." Harry countered far too smugly for comfort at the last bits. Hermione rolled her eyes at him, knowing that as a Leo he couldn't for the life of him avoid bragging. He let go of the broom and let it hover at a reasonable height.

"What's Quidditch?" She still cannot fathom riding on a broom.

"The best sport in the Wizarding World. I'll tell you about it some other time." He answered. "So, what do you say, Hermione? Come fly with me?" There was a glint in his eyes. His question made her thoughts wander to the lovely Frank Sinatra song and she wondered if he'd referenced it.

"I don't know, Harry…"

"Come on, Moneypenny! Please?" He implored making good use of those beautiful green eyes of his. Hermione felt her resolve falter and she knew she was a goner, she couldn't say no. Harry had cast his magic spell on her already and Hermione was wise enough to know that she was doomed.

"Alright, but if I die I'll come back to haunt you!" Harry smiled at her in that way that nearly made her melt. She barely registered it as he took hold of his broom. He jumped on it and it hovered higher. He showed her a couple of fast moves.

"You bloody braggart!" She muttered as he moved towards her.

"Just showing you a few skills." He winked. "Come on, it'll be just like riding a motorbike only it's going up instead of straight forward, and no loud deafening motor sounds."

"I don't enjoy riding motorbikes…" She bit her lip and shook her head as she finally rode on the broom behind him.

"You seemed to like mine just fine."

"It wasn't the motorbike I liked, you git." Harry chuckled.

"Just hold on tight." He instructed and she followed accordingly, wrapping her arms around his midsection.

"Ready?" He glanced back at her.

"I'm closing my eyes!" She did so and heard him laugh. Slowly, Hermione felt her feet leave the ground as the broom rose higher. She held onto him tightly. Without any verbal warning, the broom lifted off. It wasn't too fast but it was certainly fast. She felt almost as if she were riding a roller coaster. Her stomach flipped a few times while Harry did a few short bursts of speed and several turns. Air pressure started to block her hearing. She felt something cold and misty and thought that they must have gone through a cloud. She was still too afraid to open her eyes, her heart thumped madly in her chest and Harry could feel the very beat of it through his jacket, glued as she was against his back.

Despite the fear and anxiety going through her, Hermione couldn't help but appreciate being this close to him. If it weren't for the actual flying, she would have no qualms being close to him like this until forever. She mentally cursed herself for thinking sappy adolescent thoughts.

"Hermione?" He asked as they slowed down. The pressure in her ears were gone.

"Hmm?"

"Are you okay back there?" She felt him turn left.

"I haven't died yet so I suppose so." She answered.

"Open your eyes, Moneypenny..." He requested. "You'll love the view."

Hermione sighed deeply and then slowly gathered the courage to open her eyes. She gasped loudly once she did. At first she felt her stomach drop and her head spin. They were further from the ground than she anticipated. But then she heard Harry telling her to breathe slowly, inhale and exhale and once she did a few times she found that she actually calmed down and grasped her nerves. And then she noticed it all, and gasped once again, though this time out of sheer astonishment instead of fear. From up here the world felt small, almost unreachable, beautiful under the darkness and shiny lights, the sinuous curves of the river Thames below them. She felt something well up in her chest, it was beautiful and fantastic both, she'd never before dreamt of seeing London this way and quite honestly it took her breath away. Harry began slowly descending and the buildings gradually became closer. Soon Hermione found herself in awe of the beautiful view, the thousands of colorful Christmas lights below and the view of the busy streets. How she wished she had brought her camera along! She'd love to keep a physical memory of this view and wondered if anything could ever top it.

"Beautiful right?" Harry's question broke through her thoughts. He craned his neck at her.

"It is, Harry. Thank you. Never in my life did I ever think I'd experience something like this. Even though flying scares me shitless!" She didn't realize she was out of breath until she spoke again.

"I reckon we can look over for a few more minutes then head home?" He asked. It didn't escape Hermione how he referred to her little house in Wandsworth as home.

Hermione leaned forward to rest her cheeks on his shoulder and tightened the embrace. "I'm fine with that but anything longer and I'm afraid I'll faint and fall!"

"Don't worry, Moneypenny, I'm here to catch you." She rolled her eyes at his cheesy reply. Her heart beating rapidly no longer due to their flying, but due to all that she felt for this incredible man.

...

When they stumbled into Hermione's house in Wandsworth they were obviously a little high on the flying adrenaline. This Christmas had proven more emotional than either of them expected to be. Harry followed her lead in removing his winter attire and hanging it all on the tasteful hooks by the blue front door. His skin tingled from the cold air outside, though if he was honest, it was much more because of how she'd held on to him closely as they flew on his old firebolt. Even outside he'd been able to feel the delicious scent of her shampoo a lovely blend of vanilla and chamomile, though Hermione's scent was unique and completely her own.

"I think I fancy some tea…" She mumbled out, passing straight by him, oddly faster than necessary, a heavy, inebriating tension suddenly surrounding them that hadn't been there before. Harry felt his pulse quicken and what he discovered as he followed Hermione into the kitchen was that he yearned much more from her than furtive glances, touches and stolen kisses.

She'd put the kettle on already and had her back to him, rummaging in the cabinet for her tin of tea bags. He stood directly behind her, less than an arm's length and he was certain Hermione could feel the heat and energy emanating from him as he gradually moved closer. His fingers gently played with a loose curl, tucking it behind her ear. He watched as she slightly shivered, goosebumps rising on her skin. His heart beat crazy fast in his chest and he was certain that after this nothing would ever be the same again between them.

"Harry?" She whispered, as though she were out of breath. A question loomed in the air as he stood behind her, his body mere centimeters from her own. His fingers grazed up and down the length of her arms, dressed as she was in just a maroon top that she'd worn beneath her sweater, now hanging on the back of a chair. Harry smiled to himself as he felt her shiver from his touch, his warm breath taunting her in a way that Hermione thought her heart might jump out of her chest. She barely registered it when Harry pressed a soft and gentle kiss on her neck, right below her earlobe. He once more took in the deliciously intoxicating blend of perfume and shampoo, delighting in the taste of the delicate skin against his lips, and also in the way she sighed deeply, holding on to the kitchen counter for support.

His hands took a firm hold of her arms. He kissed her on the neck again, and then a little bit lower, and then upwards along her jaw until she threw her head back, eyes closed out of sheer pleasure. Harry spun her around, pulling her hard against him, his fingers knotting into her hair at the base of her neck. With her eyes still closed she bit her bottom lip and released it, her darkened eyes opening and gazing into his. And then she smiled at him, so tender and yet so full of passion. "I dare you to kiss me…" she whispered, taunting him like a siren.

And Harry did, delicately at first, until the electrifying heat of their desire and lust for one another intensified, their tongues and touches becoming ever more urgent and frenzied. Harry released his hold on her arms and in return Hermione wrapped them around his neck, her fingers diving into his dark, silky locks, tugging at them and pulling him even closer to her at the same time. His hands slithered around her waist, under her top. Hermione felt her skin turning on fire, wishing nothing more than for his firm hands and fingers to explore and roam over every little inch of her being.

"Are you sure you didn't put a spell on me, Moneypenny?" He whispered in her ear, as his fingers buried themselves within her curls, releasing them from the pencil that held them up, letting them cascade around her shoulders like a golden-brown halo.

"I happen to think it's the other way around, James…" He kissed her more ardently then and she returned in kind. Hermione wanted more and more to feel his taste, her skin against his skin, capture each moan, sigh and whimper and store it in her memory.

Harry had never felt so vulnerable and yet so good, so entirely himself than with this woman. And he wanted her, body and soul, had wanted her for a long time now. So he allowed her to lead him to her bedroom, in between the best of kisses, until they fell onto her heavenly bed and engaged in heavenly, sensual rounds of the most delicious sex.

...

Harry woke up so suddenly that for a moment he forgot where he was. He felt slightly disoriented and his vision was blurred. He reached out with his right hand seeking glasses but instead felt something soft and warm. Quickly he summoned them and came to the astonishing realization that was in Hermione's room, laying next to her on the bed and just hours ago they'd been making love.

He looked at her, a mass of brown curls sprawled over her pillow. Her bare back was to him, facing the window from where the yellowy streetlamp's light shone through, casting a golden light over the otherwise dark room. She was snoring slightly, in the way he had known her to do in Paris, peacefully sleeping. He pulled the covers over her, protecting her from the cold. She was beautiful, utterly beautiful. He felt that he could look at her like this for hours, memorize her, count every little freckle, kiss down the lovely curve of her back. Harry would be lying if he said he'd never imagine this happening, Merlin knew he'd imagined it too often for comfort… But nothing compared to the reality of kissing her, their bodies fully entwined, taking in every little sigh and moan of pleasure, until she came undone as she straddled him, his name falling frantically from her lips. Hermione Granger was a whirlwind of a lover, and a whirlwind in bed.

A sudden ache enveloped him. Harry couldn't remember the last time he experienced this, waking up next to someone he cared deeply about and simply taking the time to admire them. He didn't think he'd ever felt anything like what he felt for Hermione tonight, or quite honestly since the day they spent together in Vienna. His past relationships definitely didn't compare, and though he had no hard times finding lovers everywhere he traveled, they certainly didn't have this level of care and love.

His mind reeled as he thought of all that had happened in the past 48 hours, the rollercoaster of emotions that this Christmas had been and how much relief he felt from finally telling Hermione the truth about himself, about who he was. Her acceptance of him lifted an enormous burden off his shoulders and he appreciated her even more for it. A car engine starting outside interrupted his thoughts. Harry sighed and looked at the time on the little blue alarm clock on her nightstand which read half-past four in the morning, which explained why everything outside was still cast in darkness, from what he could see through the windows. Harry desperately wished to go back to sleep but it eluded him. He didn't know what made him wake up so suddenly, especially when hours of sleep were such a rare commodity these days.

Maybe it was an internal false alarm. He hadn't felt this secure, this warm, and this happy in many years. Perhaps a part of him simply felt a bit weary of things, after all, all the secrecy that his position as an agent entailed and all the dangerous missions he participated in didn't necessarily equate to a good night's sleep. Harry knew he was overthinking and hoped to shake the worry off for once in his life and just live in the moment.

But things rarely came easy to him and just as he was about to take his glasses off and go back to sleep with his arm draped around Hermione, burying his nose in her soft vanilla-scented hair, a silvery mist began to appear in front of him until it fully formed into a fox.

The fox opened its mouth and the familiar voice of his fellow agent and friend, Peder, followed.

"005, there's been an emergency. I've alerted everyone else but you're the closest. I need you here at HQ now! It's a code red!"

Harry's eyes widened at the urgency in Peder's tone of voice. It sounded uncharacteristically desperate and distressed. His agent's reflexes were stronger and Harry found himself immediately jumping out of bed, careful not to wake Hermione. He put on his clothes and shoes in a haste while the Fox patronus repeated Peder's message for the third and last time. Hermione still lay oblivious, in the land of dreams. He hated to be leaving her, but hoped to return as soon as he could.

"Expecto Patronum!" Harry's own stag patronus pranced from his wand. "Tell Peder that I'm coming and keep a look-out," he told it and the silver stag wisped away. Harry then double-checked himself, making sure he got everything intact. He cursed at whatever was cutting his holiday short, especially right after all that had happened between him and Hermione.

He tucked his wand inside his coat and then turned around to look at her again, still fast asleep. He didn't wish to disturb her peace, so he crouched down and tucked a stray curl behind her ear, his fingertips brushing against the soft and cool skin of her cheek. With a heavy heart, Harry leaned down to kiss her gently on the forehead, before leaving the bedroom and disapparating.

He didn't think to leave her a note.


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