A/N: I got this idea reading the chapter titled "Christma on the Closed Ward" from OotP. Just my alternative to how Harry got over his bout of depression.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

- -

Chapter 1: To Care

Harry still felt dirty and contaminated. The feeling of being unclean, something dragged from the deepest depths of a grimy sewer would not go away. He could almost taste it on his tongue, and whenever he swallowed his throat felt salty and parched.

The recurring thought that he had been the snake that attacked Mr. Weasly would not go away, and he became more and more convinced that it had indeed been him. Nothing else made sense. He also regretted staying on Dumbledore's orders. Harry knew perfectly well that they were all worried about who he was going attack next; he wondered about that too. Would it be Mr. Weasly again? Or maybe Fred? Sirius? Ron? He just wanted to get away.

It angered Harry there was no other place to go; he was already in the highest, most secluded room Grimmauld Place had to offer, but it was no enough. How good it would be to just curl up and die, and rid everyone of their worries about him. He'd be better off in Privet Drive with his detestable uncle and aunt.

Harry didn't know how long he had been in the room, but he knew that he was hungry and thirsty. He kept falling asleep, and his dreams were always filled with that stark, stony corridor now, and bit by bit he ventured farther in. No one had been up to this secluded and far-away corner of Grimmauld Place to see him anyway, so it came as a surprise to him when someone pounded at the door to his room.

For a moment Harry considered opening the door to see who it was, but then put the thought out of his mind. He didn't want to see anyone. He changed his mind when he heard Hermione spoke from the other side of the door. "I know you're in there. Will you please come out? I want to talk to you."

Harry couldn't help himself, and leapt up from the makeshift cushion he had made out of old blankets. Pulling the door open he came face to face with Hermione. "What are you doing here?" He asked her. "I thought you were skiing with your mom and dad."

"Well to tell you the truth skiing's not really my thing," said Hermione. "So I've come for Christmas."

Harry couldn't find the words. Of all the people he expected to come up to his corner of the house, Hermione was not amongst them.

"We need to talk." said Hermione in softly, looking worriedly at him.

Harry was at once reminded of why he was in this place to begin with, and the dirty, unclean feeling that had filled his entire body and mind came rushing back. "I don't want to talk to anybody." He said roughly, and shut the door in her face, slumping down back onto his makeshift cushion.

Harry had not really expected Hermione to give up on that talk so easily, and sure enough, as soon as he had taken a seat she opened the door entered the little room, looking sternly down at him. "Really, Harry, we need to talk." said Hermione

"Yeah?" Harry almost snarled at her. What did she understand? "About how I almost killed Mr. Weasly? How any of you could be my next victim? How-" He couldn't go on; nausea welled up in his throat, and guilt and self-loathing rushed into him anew.

Hermione had taken a seat next to Harry when he was absorbed in his dark feelings, but he didn't mind; in felt comforting to be close to his best friend.

"It's not your fault." said Hermione quietly, looking at Harry.

They sat in silence, neither knowing what to say or wanting to. Harry just wanted her to go away, to let him be alone with his guilt and misery. Why wouldn't Hermione leave him alone?

"You know why I came back?" asked Hermione after a while, startling Harry. He had been thinking about snakes and dark corridors.

Harry shook his head. He didn't want to talk.

"I came back for you, Harry, for you." said Hermione, carefully not looking at him and biting her lower lip. She took a deep breath before going on. "When I got the owl that you were like this…well…I figured…thought…that you might need me. I just want to…"

Harry never got to find out what Hermione had meant to say. The next moment her arms had snaked themselves around his waist, and her head was resting softly on his shoulder. "Hermione," he asked. "Hermione?"

Hermione didn't reply, but just murmured something warmly into Harry's shoulder, something he did not quite catch.

And then the gears fell into place. All the hours Hermione had spent lecturing Ron and Harry about understanding women seemed to fall into place.

Harry had never thought about Hermione in a way the she seemed to think of him; in fact, he had always been too busy. If it wasn't homework it was either trying to kill people or thwarting Voldemort.

"Hermione…" He began, but found himself unable to go on as she squeezed tighter around his waist, pressing herself against him.

Harry had never looked at Hermione in ways a boy might look at a girl, nor had he thought of her in such ways, but now, with her snuggled against him, he couldn't help it. He couldn't help noticing how much nicer her hair was these days, how much nicer her smile was now that she had gotten her teeth fixed, and how appealing her brains were. And she was always there for him, even now, when she had been so far away she had still come for him.

Harry put his arm around her, pulling her close, and felt her relax and the tension leap out of her.

"I was so afraid," whispered Hermione. "That you would….that you would turn me away…oh Harry!"

Neither said anything after that, and it that was how Sirius found them. Apparently dinner was ready.

His spirits raised, his feelings better and elated, he went down to dinner with Hermione. She wrapped her fingers around his, and only released them a moment before entering the kitchen. Sitting down at the table he took a good look at Hermione, and couldn't help feel ashamed for noticing how beautiful she had become. His only excuse was that he had been so busy these past years, with Voldemort and Sirius.

Hermione smiled nervously at him, and he smiled back. Everyone seemed delighted that Harry was feeling better, and Mrs. Weasly thanked Hermione over and over for it.

Hermione didn't get a chance to talk to Harry alone until shortly before bedtime. He had ventured off to the bathroom, and she had hurried after him when she was sure no one was watching.

Harry was just about to close the bathroom door when Hermione came (almost skidding) around the corner. He didn't get a chance to get a word in before she had grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the bathroom into the adjacent room.

"Hermione, what are you…" he began, but Hermione had already wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug, and he found himself returning it without a second thought as to what he was doing. He didn't know how long they were hugging each other, but suddenly he felt something soft press against his neck, and realized that Hermione was kissing his neck.

He grabbed her shoulders and brought her face up; her eyes seemed glazed. The question was ready in his mind, but when he spoke, "Why are you doing this?" didn't come out. "For how long?" were the words that sprung from his mouth.

"Since last year," Hermione replied quietly. "Seeing you suffer so…god it tore me apart Harry, seeing you suffer so through all last year and doing so now too. I just want to…to make it better."

The words struck Harry deeply. It was no because he was The Boy Who Lived, but because she truly cared for his well being…she truly did…she…

Harry leaned down slightly and pressed his lips softly against Hermione's, and it was returned immediately. First it was soft, filled with care and compassion, but it soon grew to a lust filled kiss, raving with passion. For the longest time they were to themselves in that room, getting to know each other better in an hour than they had over five years of going to school with each other, and having the wildest adventures together.

Harry wasn't sure how they ended up in Hermione's room, and in some distant recess of his mind he wondered what they were going to do when Ginny came into the room to sleep, but that worry was soon faded away as Hermione pulled him into the bed, taking a rather pleasing position on top of him and assault his lips once again with her own.

The knowing smile Ginny sent Harry and Hermione as the entered the kitchen for breakfast was unnerving. Fortunately, it seemed that she was the only one who noticed that they entered holding hands. Harry wondered faintly how they were going to break the news to the others, but decided to put it off for another day as Mrs. Weasly put a plate of delicious looking toast before him. What he did know though, was that he no longer felt guilty, dirty, and miserable. He felt complete.