Hi guys!

I wasn't able to write yesterday, so I wrote an extra long update for you guys today!

I hope you're all doing fine. Thanks again for all the comments, reviews, et cetera. I don't have time to respond to all of them, but I read and appreciate all of them! :)

Love, Flora

Chapter 5: How Hermione drove Harry insane

Harry'd been late.

He hated being late, especially to important occasions like these, but the raids at his work had gotten more frequent. As Theodore Nott's web of infiltrators and henchmen began to unravel, Harry's hunts became a weekly occurrence, and the moment Harry hadn't been actively hunting he had been investigating leads or pressing suspects for information. The last couple of days, he had barely been able to squeeze an hour or four of sleep in each night, which made him tired and groggy and had given him eye bags that wouldn't feel misplaced on the face of a seventy year old lady. As Christmas was far approaching, Harry's Christmas cheer seemed to be very absent.

On the other hand, Harry had also been thankful for his work, as it had been a very welcoming distraction from the Christmas Ball and from his very un-brotherly interest in Hermione's lips. When he first heard that the dress code would require him to wear white tie, he had rented a black dress coat, white bow tie, wingtip collar and Piqué white waistcoat. In the shop he had felt very out of place when he tried it on - way too formal and constricting for his taste, but after all, he needed to please grandma. And Hermione, a voice had said in his head. You want to look good for her too. He'd ignored that voice.

Nicky had stepped in his office one evening to bring him dinner - as Harry had been working late for four days in a row and she wouldn't let him order the usual garbage from the Ministry's kitchen again - and she had been the one to suggest that he'd give Hermione a corsage.

'A what?' Harry asked, concerned.

'A corsage,' Nicky had chuckled. 'It's a flowery bracelet to give a woman at a formal dance. It's been getting big in the Wizarding World as well. Ron gave me an enchanted one when we were first invited to one of those business dances he has once a year. I thought it was so sweet! It's definitely a thing to impress people with, you'll be sure to make a statement.'

So, Harry had been to a muggle florist, and he felt himself fidgeting again when he apparated on a cool, winter evening at December 21st, near the steps of grandma's mansion - small white box with corsage in one hand, small red box with a gift for grandma in the other. He quickly pinned his flower on his coat and checked himself in a passing windows as he made his ways up the stairs quickly.

I look like a penguin, Harry thought. A very tired, very disheveled penguin. He made an attempt to make his hair a bit less unruly, but again, it wouldn't budge.

The party was in full swing already. The place was beautifully decorated, with enormous purple, silver and white Christmas ornaments, scattered all over the holly-covered walls. At least a dozen of Christmas Trees lit up the enormous ballroom, in addition to the crystal chandelier, who seemed to sparkle even brighter tonight than it had before. Harry had to dodge several waiters on his way to the crowd, who offered him champagne, other beverages and delicious looking tarts and appetizers.

It didn't take long for him to find Hermione, who was obviously being ridiculed by Philip and his gang of malicious cousins. It angered him, seeing her singled out like that, and he immediately decided that he was going to make quick work of this. Hermione stood in one of the corners of the room, wearing a beautiful, figure-hugging, night-blue dress, with a lace key-hole back and delicate cap-sleeves, trying to deflect any comment they made against her, until their eyes met and he saw her gaze change from annoyed and angry to a look of joy and relief. He strode towards her, as confidently as he could, making sure that his eyes would be on Hermione and Hermione only.

'Hi love,' he said, as if he always addressed her like that, ignoring the stares of Hermione's family members. Without thinking about it properly, he pulled her in for a small kiss, as if by greeting her, and he felt his stomach twist and twirl in a fit of unprecedented happiness. She smiled against his lips, appreciating the way he cut her cousin's accusations short by not uttering a single word.

'Any advancements towards the case?' she asked, quite loud, so others could hear where Harry had been.

'Yes, I've been checking out this new lead today,' Harry said truthfully. 'It took some legwork. I'm sorry for being late, you know how much I hate-...'

Hermione looked at her side, eyeing her mocking family-members, and to Harry's great delight, broke his statement off by closing the space between them for another quick kiss.

'I'm just really happy you're here now,' she said, with a sincere look in his eyes, fidgeting with his bow tie. 'And you look absolutely gorgeous, by the way.'

'Don't lie. I look like I haven't slept in ages.'

'I said: you look absolutely gorgeous,' she repeated, teasingly. 'Don't contradict your fiancee, mister Potter.'

'I wouldn't dare to,' he said, with a knowingly smile. 'Also: I've got you a present.'

He gave her the white box and when she lifted the lid, she couldn't help but gasp and then sweetly smile at him.

'Oh Harry, that's so kind of you!'

'Nicky gave me the idea,' he explained honestly. 'Let me help you with that.'

Harry was pleased to see that the flowery bracelet, with one red rose and several blue berries and white flowers, matched her outfit perfectly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lydia scolding Philip for not being as considerate and he decided to lay it on thick.

'Now everyone knows we're here together,' Harry said, feeling weirdly proud when he said those words, loud enough for anyone to catch on. 'No one's going to snatch you away from me tonight, my soon-to-be-bride, no matter how amazing you look. And you do, by the way. You look absolutely breathtaking.'

He hadn't expected the next kiss to be such a fiery one, but Hermione had thrown herself into his arms and clashed her crimson red lips against his in a matter of seconds. Slightly taken aback by her, he caught her embrace and quickly melted against her mouth. He felt shaky and wonderful and victorious, all at the same time, and she tasted of champagne and strawberry cake. He never wanted this kiss to end - he never wanted to stop feeling whatever he felt right now. This was pure bliss, pure, unequivocal bliss, and he wanted to savor every lasting moment of it.

He internally debated whether to make their tongues touch, ever so slightly, but immediately after the thought crossed his mind, he punished himself for it. Aside from it being really inappropriate to french openly at a public event - now that he thought about it, him and Hermione going at it like this would probably already be considered very impolite - it wouldn't be necessary to seal the deal on their engagement-ploy. It was just something he wanted in that moment, to be even closer to her, but he wasn't going to be selfish and give in to his own delusions. With a meaningful sigh he let go of her lips, also being spurred on by one of Hermione's cousins, who snidely commented on them to "get a room". Well, at least they had succeeded in making them feel uncomfortable.

Hermione looked very flustered and very pleased with herself at the same time and Harry grinned at her. Purely platonic, he had to remind himself, as he appreciated the redness of her face and the shyness of her smile. We're just successfully pretending to be very much in love, remember? She's still your best friend!

Thank you, she mouthed to him, as Harry winked and turned his attention to her family-members, for the first time that night. A small group, of three boys and three girls, all looked at him sullenly.

'Merry Christmas,' he said, with a cheeky grin, and he saw a few of them grit their teeth as he lead Hermione through the crowd, on their way to give their gift to grandma.

'That was brilliant,' Hermione said, clearly impressed. 'You are really good at making them seethe. I know you promised you'd be good, but still. This is some pro-level at being annoying.'

'Thank you. I can't see why they keep singling you out like that, though. They're grown-ups, for Merlin's sake.'

'Because I'm new to the family, and I'm frightening the shit out of them,' she explained. 'They're not used to being contradicted or anything like that. I probably should have shut my mouth the first few times they came at me, they would have lost interest by now, but you know how I am.'

'You can't keep it in,' Harry nodded, laughing. 'I'm glad you don't, you know. Bullies like them should be stopped at some point. Are your parents here as well?'

'Uh-huh,' Hermione nodded. 'They're probably in the lounge, though, just like grandma. You know, comfortable seats and sofa's to rest those poor old legs...'

Hermione was right. As they left the ballroom and entered the lounge, Harry saw that they had transferred the lounge into a conversation space for the people who had danced enough or weren't that keen on dancing to begin with. Even more waiters and maids were attending to every guest's needs, refilling glasses and plates as the people kept talking with their conversation partners. Harry and Hermione first went to see grandma Eugenia, who was over the moon to see them, and complimented them on their outfits. She took a moment to very openly display her fondness of their corsages, commenting on it loudly and drawing attention to the pair, making them feel awkward. As she had enjoyed the glass swan so much, Harry and Hermione had decided to gift her a small glass stag and otter for Christmas. Eugenia had no idea why Harry and Hermione shared a look when they gave her the gift, but she was absolutely pleased and told them it would look marvelously on her mantelpiece, alongside her other glass sculptures. They talked for a bit, discussing their work and her health and the beautiful decorations, and when other guests came along they saw a great opportunity to sneak off and join Jerome and Isabelle, who were seated next to Aunty Penelope.

Harry greeted Isabelle and Jerome, and they looked absolutely pleased to see him.

'Aunty Penelope!' Harry smiled, and he shook her wrinkled hand. She wore a creme-colored dress, with little shimmers, and a big, interesting looking hat.

'Oh my dear boy, I was worried you had forgotten the party!'

'I wouldn't dare to,' he assured her. 'I'm sorry I missed the beginning, but I got caught up at work.'

'Confidential?' Aunty Penelope asked, looking curious. Harry laughed and gave her a conspiring look.

'Very.'

'Well, you are doing our great country an absolute favor, my boy,' she decided. 'Hermione must be incredibly proud of you.'

'I am,' she said, as they both sat down on two adorned poufs. 'But not just now. I have been proud of him ever since I met him.'

She squeezed his upper leg with her hand and looked at him sweetly. He knew this wasn't pretend and had to hide the redness that was suddenly stinging his cheeks.

'Ohh,' Aunty Penelope said, with a dreamy look on her face, 'I remember when old Geoffrey used to be so sweet to me... It didn't last longer than a few months after the wedding, of course, but you know, that's what happens when you're stupid enough to get married...'

She grinned, as she saw Hermione's shocked face.

'I thought Uncle Geoffrey was very sweet to you.'

'I am joking, dear,' she said, with a mischievous glint in her eye. Harry chuckled. He loved Aunty Penelope's sense of humor.

'I'm just messing with you. He was the purest soul I have had the good fortune to meet, and I was lucky enough that he decided to fall in love with me. God knows I never deserved that man. The most extraordinary thing was that he became even more sweet when he started to lose his mind. The old fool couldn't remember left from right, but he always remembered me after I'd given him a kiss. "Dear Nelly!" he would say - always. Even on his deathbed. He was a giant sweetheart.'

'That sounds incredible,' Harry said, smiling. 'I wish I could have met him.'

'Oh, he would have loved the both of you,' she said smiling. 'My Geoffrey came from a very common family. My father didn't agree at first, you know. It was quite the scandal when he courted me, back in the day. But then he enlisted in the army and got back with enough ribbons to decorate an entire house, so father had to agree. And of course he saw how much he doted on me.'

Harry and Hermione spent the next hour at Aunty Penelope's side, reminiscing about her past. Harry was absolutely fascinated by her. He had never had a familiar connection with an older person, having both of his biological grandparents die before he could remember them. Uncle Vernon's parents had moved to Malibu after retirement, and lived a careless life until they passed and were buried there. He remembered Dudley had done everything in his power to take the most bit of advantage of the situation, feigning intense grief, both by begging for extra toys and making sure he got treated more lenient at school. Harry had been forced to stay with Mrs. Fig for five days while his uncle, aunt and nephew flew there to attend the sermon. He had been 9 years old, and he quite clearly remembered fantasizing about how it would be like to have grandparents. He imagined them to be kind, funny, and baking lots and lots of cookies. While Aunty Penelope was currently not baking anything, she did portray the first of those features quite heavily, and Harry noticed he grew fonder and fonder of her by the minute.

'-... So, then our father comes in, and Geoffrey tries to hide behind the curtain, but obviously to no avail! Oh, I can still remember his face. It got me grounded for at least a month, but at that moment, I didn't care.'

Harry, Hermione and her parents laughed at the story, envisioning how that would have played out. Harry noticed Hermione had took is hand in her own, and had started to lazily stroke it with her thumb. It felt very soothing and he gave her a warm smile.

'I've never heard you tell that story,' Isabelle commented. 'That's wonderful, Aunt.'

'It's because no one ever wants to listen,' the old lady said. 'They either treat you like a child or a lunatic. Everyone does that, when you get older. Especially when you're a wealthy older woman - they'd try to crawl up your backside if they could, let me tell you that, but they never actually listen.'

Harry gave the older woman a sympathetic look. He could relate to a certain extent. Since the war he had met a lot of new people, bust most of them were only interested in his nickname, or how it would further their careers. It had been hard to not be able to confide in anyone outside of the friends and acquaintances he had established before the end of the war.

'Now, unto other things. Say, what are your plans for Christmas, dear? Are you and Harry planning something festive?'

They looked at each other.

'Eh-... Well, of course, we wanted to visit Jerome and Isabelle,' Harry said, thinking of the logical response of that question. 'And usually, on Boxing Day, we have a bit get-together at our friend's parents house. It's a huge event: he has six siblings, and the oldest have started their own families now, so it's really crowded, but it's fun. Other than that: we don't. Right, Hermione?'

Hermione nodded.

'I probably have to work the day of Christmas Eve. You too?'

'I always have to work,' Harry chuckled. 'Most of the time when I've planned something else. What are your plans, Aunty Penelope?'

The woman looked bravely and hopefully at them, before she opened her mouth.

'I was actually... Hoping the four of you wanted to join me for Christmas Eve and the beginning of Christmas Day. It has been so long since I've had some nice company and I have plenty of room for you to spend the night. Now of course, I can imagine that you'd rather spend a quiet evening alone, the both of you, but... Well, it would make it possible for the four of you to be together, and it would mean the world to me, as my own children always celebrate Christmas skiing in France, and over the last couple of years I've missed company so much-...'

'I would love to, Aunty Penelope,' Harry replied immediately. He blurted it out before he had even looked at Hermione or her parents and felt like he overstepped directly.

'I mean, unless Hermione would like to-...'

'Of course,' she said, without hesitation. 'We would be honored to celebrate Christmas at your place, Aunty.'

'We'll be there too!' Jerome said, enthusiastically. 'It's been ages since I've celebrated Christmas with more people than just me and Isabelle. I'm looking forward to it!'

Harry had seen quite a lot of expressions on Aunty Penelope's face, but never this expression - one of pure gratefulness and joy.

'Really? Oh, that would be fantastic!'

She clasped Harry's hand and he thought he saw her lip quivering of emotion, but only briefly.

'Now,' she said, regaining her former devil-may-care attitude, 'I won't be having anything as silly as this. No big, fancy dresses. And I won't allow for that wretched boy of a Philip to come near my house, let alone stay the night!'

'Glad to hear that,' Hermione said. 'Wouldn't want to ruin Christmas by committing a family tragedy.'

They discussed details for a bit, but then Hermione dragged him back to the ballroom, where they secured a secretive spot near the exit to share a dance. As he placed her hand on her lower back and guided her to a soft sway on the music (he didn't have any experience with any other dances - of all the talents he had, dancing had never been one of them!), she laid her head against his shoulder, to whisper in his ear.

'You're sure, Harry? It's easy to pretend for an evening like this, but for maybe even 24 hours...'

'I'm sure we'll manage,' he whispered back. 'I'm sorry for agreeing so soon, though. I should have-...'

'You've never had a family, apart from the Weasleys,' she nodded. 'I know. I see the connection you have with her. It's actually really sweet. I just hope we don't ever have to break her heart by telling her that we are in fact not going to marry... Oh well. We can pretend for as long as none of us gets a relationship, at which point we'll convince everyone that we've parted on friendly terms. She'll understand, hopefully.'

'That sounds like a solid plan,' Harry sighed. 'But until then, let's just enjoy tonight. This is actually a really nice party, apart from the cousin and the snobbishness. I mean, the drinks, and the food-...'

'I've already had enough champagne,' Hermione joked. 'Three, four flutes? I don't even remember. So you're right. Let's enjoy ourselves. Let's be young, for Merlin's sake.'

'Yes please,' Harry said, liking the feeling of Hermione pressed so closely against him. They danced like that in silence, for a moment, as the smell of Hermione's hair made him smile. He didn't know whether it was the alcohol - it probably was, Harry had had enough thanks to those amazing waitresses - but Hermione seemed to emit a soft glow. She looked absolutely beautiful and he felt more than privileged to be able to hold her against his chest.

'If you see a waiter, you should try the strawberry shortcake,' Hermione suggested, after a moment of silence. 'It's absolutely delicious. I tried it earlier tonight.'

'So I noticed,' Harry chuckled. They shared a look, and Harry could have sworn his heart skipped a beat, but then they were interrupted by a tap on the shoulder.

'Well, seems like you lovebirds have picked the right spot,' one of Hermione's uncles chuckled. The man had a big, busy mustache, like a walrus, and flowing, grey hair, that he had tied in a neat bun. He was so large, that the buttons on his waistcoat seemed to tighten against his chest with every breath he took. Poor buttons. Harry noticed his thick, wurst-like finger point to something above their heads, and by the looks on the Uncle's face, he wasn't sure if he wanted to look, but he feared that he had no choice. Turning their heads, they both noticed a beautiful bush of mistletoe, dangling from between the holy decorations.

'You know what that means, right?'

'Thank you, Uncle Leonard,' Hermione smiled trough her teeth, as he let out a roaring laugh.

'Don't worry, don't worry, I'll give you two some privacy!'

As he scuttled away, Hermione gulped.

'He's single,' she said. 'He doesn't mean harm, but he can be a bit overbearing sometimes.'

'Ah,' Harry replied, throat suddenly dry, as he kept eyeing the mistletoe. 'Right.'

It was weird, as they had no clear audience this time, but they knew that Uncle Leonard had to be watching somewhere.

'Is it okay?' Harry whispered, putting a stray hair back behind her ear. Hermione didn't wait to reply, but brought her face to him slowly, slowly, slowly, until finally, their lips met.

Harry pulled her closer to him, stroking her exposed back through the keyhole in the dress, placing his other hand on her middle. Their lips kept colliding, slower, slower, until their pace was almost lazily. Harry felt positively drunk - it was like his intestines were on fire. As their lips met, and met, and met yet again, he suddenly felt Hermione opening her mouth every so slightly, and very carefully, he felt her tongue touching his. It was a brief moment, it probably didn't even last a second, but Harry felt lightning shooting through his veins and his grasp on her body increase. He tilted his head again, to kiss her deeper, a fire rising inside of him that wasn't extinguishable, and he felt his tongue searching for hers, finding it, and reveling in her taste. It was heaven, and so much more. She sighed against him, grasping his hair and neck, their lips attached like they had fused together. She tasted like alcohol, so much alcohol, but he wanted to taste more of her. He needed to taste more of her. He felt her move against him and suddenly, there was that friction of his bodily reaction against her small frame, and it was all too much. Not here, he thought. Not like this. You'd promised yourself! What are you doing?!

He felt her breaking off the kiss at the same time, staring at him. Oh no! He coughed, feeling panic rise to his throat, and then he noticed that now they had attracted an audience. A few very smug looking uncles, and Merlin no, Hermione's father, looked at Harry with looks varying from utter amusement to outright embarrassment.

'Sorry,' Harry muttered, pointing upwards. 'Mistletoe. Alcohol.'

He left the ballroom, Hermione closely behind him, as the men laughed.

'I am so, so so so sooo sorry,' he started to sputter, as soon as they were out of earshot of any bystander. 'I didn't mean to-...'

'No, I'm sorry,' Hermione emphasized. 'It's the alcohol. It just felt so good and... I just wanted...'

She shook her head, causing a few loose strands of hair to fall across her face.

'Never again, okay? Never again.'

'Never again,' Harry repeated. 'We won't let this ruin what we have.'

'We won't,' Hermione agreed. 'We won't. We can't.'

'We can't,' Harry said. 'We... can't...'

But as he spoke those final words, he felt the words sink in his body, as bricks of lead, pulling him down. He tried to force a smile, and feigned a yawn.

'I should probably, you know-...'

'Of course,' Hermione nodded. 'Too much work. Sleep. Stress. I get it.'

'I could stay and accompany you and-...'

'It's better,' she said. 'It's better if I just go with mom and dad. We'll be going anytime now, anyways. It's an early day for me too, tomorrow.'

They were standing just a feet apart, but Harry had never felt so much distance between him and Hermione. He waved at her - pathetic! - told her to say that he had been called away for work, and disapparated.

It had been a long time since Harry had felt so dreadful. What a mix of emotions - first the excitement, then the lust, then the utter disappointment. She must have felt him through his trousers, Harry realized, absolutely horrified. That's why she broke off the kiss...

Harry felt the urge to cry, but he didn't. Instead, he took off his clothes, throwing them angrily across the room, and retreated to take a punishing shower, that would sting his skin with a coldness that would force him back to reality. It didn't matter how much tired he was, he surely knew he would not be able to sleep that night.