Disclaimer: Still own nothing! Except plot. Which has probably been done before. Whatever.

A/N: Just a note—further apologies for OOC characters. :( I'm sorry. It's so hard to write previously made-up people accurately! You just can't predict what they'd do in every single situation, so I'll have to go with my instincts here. Don't hate me!

Wow. Aren't I the saintly little worker now? I'm updating so fast! I bet you're all impressed. You should be. Lol, I'm kidding, enjoy the third chapter of Winter Break. Oh, right – about the story: I've got the plot all planned out now. The story'll be fourteen chapters long plus an epilogue. That's one chapter for each day of winter break. Whaddya think? Review and let me know:) :kiss kiss: Love you all!

DAY 3

Harry yawned widely. Mmm, warmth. He didn't want to get up. Why should he get up, anyway? Hermione was sleeping in; Ron wasn't there...absolutely no reason at all to get up. No reason at all. No reason at all. No reason at all. No reason at all. Ooh, look at that scrumptious cupcake. Wasn't that odd, that it was hanging in midair? Maybe he should get it and eat it while still in bed. He bet it was nice and warm, right from the oven. Just look at all the icing on it. Probably homemade. Was food cooked by house-elves considered homemade? Maybe. Was he imagining the cupcake? It was likely. After all he was sooooooooooo nice and toasty warm, right from the oven. Wait—he wasn't from the oven, silly! He was flying on the back of his unicorn, of course. And look, there were stars in the sky. No—they were cupcakes! A whole sky full of cupcake stars.

Uh-oh. His unicorn had suddenly turned into a Crumple-Horned Snorgack! What was he to do? Now he was sitting on top of a fiery whirlwind—he supposed that was the Snorgack—but why didn't it have horns? How could a Crumple-Horned Snorgack be hornless? Maybe it was a Hornless Crumple-Horned Snorgack—but that made no sense. Of course it had horns; he was sitting on top of one. Ouch! That hurt. The crumpled horn was quite pointy, really.

"Go 'way...crumple horn snack...leave me 'lone...ow!" Harry mumbled, opening his eyes and looking blearily around. He pulled back the covers, put on his glasses and realized he'd been sleeping on top of his miniature Sneakoscope. Now how on earth had that gotten there? Oh well. He was awake now; he might as well get up.

What day was it? Monday, that was it. Only two more days until Christmas! How wonderful, Harry thought as he got dressed. He looked out the window—it was already bright out. Probably around nine or ten. There was no one else in the dormitory. He bet he'd missed breakfast.

When he walked downstairs to the common room, he found it crowded with people doing all manner of things. Seamus and Dean were talking with Lavender and Parvati on the couches. A bunch of first- and second-years were gathered around Neville and his newest exploding plant. A couple of seventh-years were trying to do homework and yelling at a group of fourth-years playing Exploding Snap. Ginny and Hermione were curled up in chairs before the fire, reading. Harry headed over to say hello.

As he reached them, Ginny glanced up at him. "Morning, Harry," she chirped, and went back to her book. Hermione looked up.

As she smiled at him, Harry, his mind on Seamus' lecture last night, examined himself, and was greatly surprised to find a small, itsy-bitsy, teeny-tiny glow of warmth in the pit of his stomach. It felt strange. He'd never felt a 'glow' before. Well—maybe a couple times when he was around Cho.

Wait.

Cho?

But that meant that that was the feeling that he'd gotten when he had a crush on Cho, during fourth and fifth year, and that meant that he was experiencing the same tingly little feeling in his stomach that was somewhat like having some butterflies loose and flapping around in there, and that meant that if he was now having the same feeling as he'd had with Cho, then he must have a crush, albeit a small one at this point, on whoever he was looking at or whoever he was thinking of or whoever was smiling at him with those big, chocolate brown eyes!

What?

Harry stumbled, tripped over an outstretched table leg that he swore wasn't there a second earlier and nearly fell over, saving himself by grabbing the arm of a comfy chair just in front of him. When he could see straight, he realized that it was Hermione's chair, and that her nose was about three inches away from his. He shoved himself away in a sudden panic, tripped over the same damned table leg, and, arms windmilling, fell over backwards onto the couch, conveniently landing on Dean's arm and earning himself an "Oi! Get off my arm!" Dean pushed him off and Harry lay on the couch, his legs dangling over the arm, staring blankly at the ceiling and asking himself, Why, why, why?

"Are you having a bad morning, Harry?" asked a female voice. He recognized that tone. He'd heard it all too many times before. It was the tone of a girl trying valiantly—and failing miserably—not to giggle out loud. His heart sank even lower when he realized that it was Hermione trying not to laugh at him and failing. Ugh.

"Sorry," he muttered to Dean, turning red. Dean nodded at him and continued talking to Seamus. Harry pulled himself up into a sitting position and looked tiredly at the two girls who were staring and biting their lips, shoulders quivering. "Oh, shut up," he snapped crossly, which set them both off. Harry rolled his eyes at the hooting fifteen- and sixteen-year-olds and decided that what the hell, he might as well laugh it off.

"So, you call this sleeping in, Hermione?" he asked when she'd regained control of herself (Ginny was another matter). "It's only, what, nine o' clock?"

"Actually, it's twelve forty-five, Mister Sleepyhead. You're practically the last one down," she retorted. "You really do need to get that watch fixed. It's been almost two years since it broke."

"Yeah...well..." Harry shrugged. "Can't be bothered, I guess. Plus I have no Muggle money. The last time I got some from the Dursleys was when they sent me fifty pence for Christmas, d'you remember?"

"Yes! What's another gift they've given you—a tissue?"

Harry chuckled. "I think it was used, too." This sent Hermione and Ginny into giggles again. "Lessee...er...one time it was a toothpick...before Hogwarts they gave me an old sock once..." Harry grinned as the girls laughed. He liked making people laugh. And her laugh was so nice, all happy and laughter-full...her eyes sparkled pleasantly when she laughed, had he ever noticed that before...?

They sparkled!

Harry shook his head violently. He had to stop thinking these things. It was absolutely, utterly absurd. Abnormal! Why on earth was he even saying it in his head? Thank Merlin he hadn't started muttering them out loud...if he did that, he just might have to throw himself out the window into the snowdrifts four stories below. He'd cover himself with the cold white powder and hide. Two nights ago she'd been covered in snow, too. Where did that thought come from? This was absolutely unheard of, abrupt and absurd! Nothing like this had ever happened to him before, and it was verily freaking him out!

That was it. He would stop thinking about her altogether. No thoughts of her at ALL. If he started to, he'd catch himself in the act and stop right then and there. He'd have to find some way to distract himself, though. It would be pretty damn difficult not to think of her while she was sitting two feet away from him, giggling at the odd, spaced-out look on his face.

"Er...what?"

Hermione and Ginny both giggled at that, and Ginny waved her hand in front of his face. "Hello-o-o? Anyone alive in there? I asked you if you'd ever gotten an apple core for a present."

"Oh—no. But I did get a slice of grapefruit once; Dudley wouldn't finish his."

Both girls laughed again. Her shoulders shook, eyes twinkling with mirth, golden brown curls bouncing. She was like a candy: right in front of him, beautiful, unattainable. Now he was writing poetry—

NO!

"So, either of you hungry? I'm going to go have some lunch, if you don't mind," said Ginny when she had finished chuckling. Hermione glanced at her.

"You've already eaten."

"I'm hungry again, then!" Ginny grinned, and got to her feet, stretching. "You coming? Harry?" she asked when Hermione shook her head.

"No tha—actually, sure, why not?" Harry said, changing his mind halfway through his sentence and rising to his feet. He had to get out of this room. Her presence was making him crazy, and food would be a welcome distraction. The fact that he was suddenly, inexplicably starving contributed to the fact as well. Ginny smiled.

"See you later, Hermione!" she chirped, and waltzed out through the portrait hole. Harry's ears felt hot as he glanced down at his female best friend, who smiled up at him.

"Bye," she said, and went back to her book.

Harry swallowed and mumbled "Bye," and then hurried off after Ginny. Behind him, Hermione watched him go with a bemused expression on her face, then shook her head and started reading again.

Harry caught up with Ginny in the hall outside the portrait hole, and fell into step beside her. "So...how're you this morning?" he asked after a few seconds of silence.

"Good! It's the third day of winter break, how could anyone be anything less than happy? The morning's clear, the sun is shining, birds are singing, the snow is—"

"What birds?"

Ginny laughed and slapped his arm playfully. "Harry! Why aren't you in a good mood?"

"I am. I just—nothing. Nothing! Why would anything be the matter? Haha...ha...ahem, yes. Anyway, are you sure food will still be in the Great Hall?"

"D'you think they don't remember lazy slugabeds like you?" Ginny asked with a wink, and Harry rolled his eyes. They made their way to the Great Hall in good time, and sat down together at the long Gryffindor table, each loading some pancakes onto their plates, Ginny drizzling hers generously with syrup. They chatted away easily for about half an hour, then Ginny went back upstairs while Harry took this opportunity to go outside alone and think.

Stuffing his hands into his pockets and not bothering to go get a jacket – the day was cool, but not cold—Harry wandered out the front doors and allowed his feet to take him wherever they wished. After a few minutes he found himself looking up at the Whomping Willow, its gnarly and knotted branches looking very stiff and heavy under layers of snow, icicles hanging from underneath them. His eyes began to sting from the cold. He remembered the time he'd first laid eyes on the huge tree—just before his second school year started, he and Ron had flown Ron's father's turquoise Ford Anglia into it and nearly got stuck in the branches before the tree decided to dump them out on their ends.

Harry sniffed—he must have caught that cold from Neville. His eyes stung even worse. He blinked rapidly, trying to get moisture into them.

In his third year, he, Ron and Hermione had gone into the secret passage underneath its roots and learned the reality of his parents' death. They had also discovered Harry's godfather, Sirius Black, there. Sirius soon became the closest thing to a father that Harry had ever had. Always there for him, helping him through hard times, giving him advice whenever he needed it, always sticking up for him, a solid presence that Harry had come to count on over the two years that followed. At the end of fifth year, Sirius had been murdered by Bellatrix Lestrange, his own cousin, a Death Eater.

Harry's eyes stung so badly he had to rub them with his hands. The cold was suddenly so unbearable.

Standing here, remembering the first time he saw Sirius, remembering the fight in the Shrieking Shack with Remus Lupin, Snape, himself, Sirius, Ron and Hermione; standing right here, at the foot of where it all began...and to know now that it was all over, that Sirius would never see daylight again, that he had died in a room with no windows...to know that he was not coming back again...

Harry looked up and realized he was kneeling on the ground, sunk into the snow, not feeling the cold at all. He stared at the ground, unblinking, letting the inexplicable tears slide out of his eyes and fall slowly down his cheeks, leaving freezing trails of cold on his skin. He didn't know how long he sat there in the snow, remembering; tear after slow, reluctant tear coursing down his face.

A hand on his shoulder made him jump. "Are you all right?"

Harry blinked twice, then rubbed his face furiously on his sleeve and looked around at the speaker. Of course, it couldn't be anyone else that found him like this, sitting in the snow, the most vulnerable he'd felt in years.

Hermione's kind, worried brown eyes looked down at him, warmth emanating from her hand and spreading into his shoulder, making him realize just how cold he actually was. No words were needed. She sank down beside him, not caring about getting cold or wet, and hesitantly put her arms around him. Despite his current mood, Harry felt the jump of butterflies in his stomach as she did so. He ignored the feeling and let her hold him, staring back at the ground again. They must have sat there for at least half an hour, for all he knew, her arms around him, holding him against her, neither of them saying a word. He bit his lip constantly, knowing that if he let his guard down he would start crying silently again, and that would not do. He should be happy, the silly clod that he was; he was alone with her, after all, and she was hugging him, and she was nice and warm, and she smelled good, like vanilla and strawberries—

Stoppit!

He was doing it again! How did it happen? It just snuck up on him until he was sitting in a daze, thinking about her and her scent and NO! He had to snap himself out of it somehow. He had to say something to break the silence because if he didn't he'd just keep on daydreaming about her and the butterflies would flutter about annoyingly and his head would implode on itself from stress—

"You okay now?"

Harry mentally whacked himself in the forehead and looked at Hermione. He nodded, not trusting his voice. She smiled and got to her feet, brushed off the snow and offered him a hand up, which he took. "Thanks," he croaked finally, and then swallowed. She smiled warmly and hugged him again. He put his arms around her and looked up. It had just started to snow. When she pulled away they walked back to the castle together in peaceful silence, catching snowflakes on their tongues.

"There you are! I've been looking for you two for ages," exclaimed Ginny, coming over to them as they entered through the portrait hole. "Hermione, you have to read this book! I just finished it and it was such a good read, omigod you simply must try it!"

"Okay, okay!" Hermione laughed and took the book from the younger girl as Harry went to sit in front of the fire and warm up. "Listen, can I talk to you?"

"Sure," said Ginny, and the two went up the stairs to the girls' dorms, leaving Harry on the couch, contemplating the cold and his supposed crush on Hermione which of course, did not exist. Seamus had filled his head with silly ideas last night when he was muddled and sleepy, and so of course today he would be all confused. It made sense when you thought about it properly.

The day passed quietly from then on. A few rounds of Exploding Snap with Seamus and Dean weren't out of the question. He played wizard's chess with Neville. Anything to get his mind off of her. Not that his mind was on her. Which it wasn't. He wasn't thinking about her at all. Not one little bit. And as he wasn't thinking about her, she couldn't distract him from anything. Not one little—

"Damn!"

He'd lost the game.