Hi everyone!

Chapter 11 is up! Christmas is here and it's filled with snow and fluffyness, Yay :D! Have fun! Minor smut in the end, but not as explicit as mentioned in earlier chapters.

Thank you guys for sticking with me and reading, reviewing, commenting, kudoing, favoriting and following. I appreciate you all.

Love you!

Flora

Chapter 11: How Harry made Hermione burst into tears over her Christmas present and how Hermione helped Aunty Penelope snowball him in the face

When Hermione got downstairs that Christmas Morning, her mother was quick to take her aside to "set the table". She could hear by the tone of her voice that this was clearly not about Christmas breakfast and for a few moments she feared that she had miscast her Muffliato.

'So,' her mother said, after the usual "slept well?", "Merry Christmas, dear!" and some forgettable comment about the weather, 'do I need to see my optician a bit sooner than I anticipated, or are you and Harry pretending to be engaged a bit too convincingly?'

A preferred response would have been something along the lines of "My love-life is none of your business, mom" or "Indeed, Harry and I have decided to take our relationship to the next level" or even "Harry asked me to be his girlfriend yesterday evening and I couldn't have asked for a more thrilling start of our relationship", but grown-up Hermione decided not to show up that morning. Instead, Hermione turned beet red, and giggled.

Hermione never giggled. Giggling was about as non-Hermione-like as it could possible get. But still, here she was, acting like a bloody school girl. She blamed Harry's tongue for melting her brain to a non-functioning puddle.

Her mother watched her with pursed lips, stifling a broad smile and nodded.

'I see. Well, let me just say that I am thrilled for you. Harry is an absolute sweetheart and he obviously worships the ground you walk on. As he should be, might I add. He might be the first man that is actually worth of dating my smart, beautiful, heroic daughter.'

Hermione smiled humbly.

'He was actually very sweet about it, mom. He asked me to date him near the fireplace last night.'

That was not completely true, naturally, but she couldn't tell her what actually transpired there. Her mother smiled mysteriously.

'Your father and I were wondering why it took both of you so long to come upstairs. We heard some rumbling, then Harry got something out his coat and it was followed by a deafening silence. Too deafening, if you ask me. But that explains at least a part of it, I suppose.'

Hermione's redness, that had subsided a bit, returned in full force. She saw her mom smile victoriously while she rearranged the napkins.

'I think that's it, dear. Do you want me to tell your father or will you do that yourself?'

Breakfast went great. Her mother did not waste another word on what they had discussed earlier, but instead served roasted buns and feast bread. Harry helped Jerome making five poached eggs and served crispy bacon. Aunty Penelope amused them with a delightful story about how Uncle Geoffrey managed to lose his dentures on Christmas Day and it wasn't until the 30th of December before they were found - in the freezer.

After that, they decided it was time for presents. They sat around the tree, sharing gifts - she loved seeing the surprised look on Harry's face, as he received gifts from all family members, and a few extra ones for good measure. She knew Harry still wasn't used to getting presents. The moment Aunty Penelope gave him expensive cufflinks that had belonged to her late-husband, Harry stood up to hug her tightly and she saw him holding on to her a little longer than he normally would. Harry tried very hard to not show how touched he was when he sat down.

Hermione had given him two tickets for England's first qualification Quidditch game for the next World Cup. She'd clarified that she expected him to bring Ron or Ginny, because they would actually appreciate the game, but Harry said that he needed someone closer to him to withstand the horror that would probably be another nightmarish debacle for England's team. She knew it was another excuse for Harry to spend more time with her, but she appreciated the gesture a lot. Aunty Penelope did ask what "Quidditch" was, but Harry explained it was a sport he was quite fond of, and that was enough explanation for the old woman, who was munching down on Harry's cookies like it was no tomorrow.

Then she got a thick, bookshaped-like parcel from Harry. She usually got books from Harry, which she loved, because he had a very good hunch about what she actually liked.

'I hope you won't get mad,' Harry said, when she pulled on the big ribbon.

'Mad?' Hermione said, laughing. 'Why would I get mad at you? I'm sure you've chosen a very-...'

The wrapping came off. Hermione fell silent, and she held her breath. No. No, he had not.

'Harry, I can't-... You haven't-...' Her fingers dragged over the cover, tracing the lines of the Runes. It was the same book. It was the same book.

'What is it?' mom asked, concerned.

'Well, when Hermione and I were in Skopje last spring...'

Hermione felt herself rise up from the floor, like she was being controlled by someone else, and with the book tightly held against her chest, she left the room. She stood in front of the stairs, with labored breath, tears stinging in the corners of her eyes. He couldn't have. He couldn't have. Soon she heard footsteps - familiar footsteps, as she would recognize the rhythm of his step anytime.

'Harry, I can't accept this,' she heard herself say. 'It's too much. The whole reason why I decided against it, was because it cost a month's worth of my salary at the very least, and even then-...'

'Calm down,' he soothed, as he stood behind her. Hermione couldn't bear herself to turn around, but she held the book against her heart, as if it could protect her.

'Face me, Hermione. Please.'

She didn't move. Harry fidgeted behind her and finally spoke up.

'I mean this well, okay? I told you: if you can't stop thinking about it, buy it. And since you couldn't shut up about it, our entire trip, I did, because I don't care how much it costs-...'

'Harry,' she interceded, but he ignored her.

'You told me it's the only known version of this book that you've seen outside of a library. It's nowhere to be found in England, only outlines of it, and they don't cover the most important details. This scripture will help with your work, with our work, I actually think I did a great favor to our society by investing my money into buying this for you.'

'I don't care Harry - it's too much! It's too much. You have to return it, somehow.' She turned around and looked him in the eye.

'Fine,' Harry said, angrily. 'No problem. Let's just go the Department of Magical Transportation and bother them with making another portkey for us, so we can go back to Skopje's version of Diagon Alley and try to return a book that I've bought this spring. I'm not sure how Percy will handle it, but you know, since he's practically family, I'm sure he won't mind...'

'You bought it during our trip?' she asked, dumbfounded. 'I thought you had gotten it here somehow, by delivery or something... When? I didn't notice you buying it?'

'Yes, I bought it during the trip! As I said, if you can't stop blabbering about it, buy it. So when we returned to that store the last day, and you were still so obsessed with it - don't you remember? You nearly cried when you had to leave it behind, you were so devastated! So I made up some excuse to lead you to another part of the store and then I sneaked back and bought it. Because I wanted to make you happy.'

'But, Harry... I'm just... I'm just not...'

She couldn't bring herself to say it, but the fact that he had spend more than 175 galleons on a book, made no sense to her.

Not on a book, a voice inside her head said. He didn't spend that much on a book. He spend it on you.

'You're not what?' Harry asked, demanding. 'Hermione, you said so yourself, that even though it was much, it was actually really cheap for the value of the work. Didn't you?'

'I did, but...'

'And you said that it was an absolute work of art in pristine condition-...'

'I did, Harry...'

'I enchanted it so your parents and Aunty Penelope aren't able to read it, so don't worry about that either, okay? It's just... I'd hoped... Why don't you like it?'

She shivered.

'I can't believe you spend so much money on me, Harry. It feels really... Really...'

She couldn't finish her sentence, but Harry nodded and sighed.

'I thought so. Open it. I think you should read what I wrote on the inside.'

She opened the book, at the first page, and saw that Harry had scribbled something in with pencil.

"12-05-2003
Dear Hermione,
You are worth every knut.
I couldn't have done it without you,
your support and your kindness.
You help me so much more than you realize.
Thank you for everything.
Harry."

'You wrote this in Skopje already,' she said, tracing over the date.

'Yes. I contemplated on giving it for your birthday, but I always take you out for dinner and I thought that would kind of been an overkill...'

'You wrote in a book, that's probably over 500 years old, that's known for being an exceptionally rare edition, to tell me that I'm worth every knut.'

'Because you are,' Harry emphasized. 'And I hope you read it every time you open it up from now on, so it can actually sink in. I meant what I wrote, and I still mean it today. You are amazing, Hermione. I have no idea why you doubt yourself so much sometimes. Will you just let me spoil you, for once?'

Against her will, she felt tears building up in her eyes again, but this time they felt a lot more pleasant. Tears of joy, maybe? Tears of love - definitely.

'Thank you,' she whispered, softly, and as she leaned into him, she felt his arms around her and a firm kiss on her forehead.

'You stubborn, obstinate, insanely gorgeous idiot,' she heard him mumble. She chuckled, and he wiped away her tears, and then he brought his face to hers with a tender nudge of his finger and they kissed. They kissed lovingly, and longingly, and as their tongues slowly slumbered together, Hermione let out a satisfied sigh.

'Ah - everything seems to be alright then,' her dad's voice suddenly boomed through the hallway, clearing his throat. 'Just wanted to check if an upcoming marriage wasn't falling to ruin. If you've found each other's tonsils, would you please return to the Christmas tree, so we can unpack the last presents?'

'Dad!' Hermione said, shocked, but she heard Harry cackle.

'Of course, Mister Granger.'

'Call me Mister Granger once more instead of Jerome and I might just revoke my permission for your betrothal,' her father said, cheekily, and then he went back inside.

Harry and Hermione shared a look and then burst into laughter, before walking back into the lounge as well.

The rest of the day went great. After the presents, they decided to make a nice Christmas stroll around Aunty Penelope's property - they all went walking, except for Aunty Penelope, who asked Hermione to push her wheelchair - and it wasn't long before Harry and Jerome broke out into a snowball fight. Harry threw a lot better than her old father, but he didn't back down, and when her mother came to aid, Harry was positively pummeled with snow balls left and right. Hermione wanted to come to his rescue, but then Aunty Penelope pulled her aside and she agreed to make snowballs for her old aunt, so she could have her own go at throwing at Harry. For a 77-year old almost blind lady, she had an extremely strong arm. When Hermione made a substantial supply for her aunt, she threw herself in the line of fire with Harry, and they spend the next half hour defending a quickly erected fort. At the end they were all cold, with red-stained faces and snotty noses, but they laughed until their bellies were sore.

Back in the house, her dad made them hot cocoa and Hermione put on her new cozy slippers, that she had gotten from her mom. They passed the time with board games and singing carols, until Harry and Jerome disappeared into the kitchen to prepare dinner. When they finally all sat at the table for dinner, they pulled Christmas Crackers, put on their silly paper hats and read the corny jokes aloud. They dined for hours and hours, sharing anecdotes and small talk, and when Hermione and her mom began with the dishes, it was nearly midnight.

Aunty Penelope went to bed, thanking them thoroughly for an unforgettable day, and they promised they'd still have breakfast together before they'd leave. Hermione came into the living room, finding her dad and Harry having an intense conversation about Quidditch. They spend another thirty minutes talking, but they were both getting tired, and Hermione was determined to still make good on her promise from that morning, so she announced that she and Harry would go upstairs as well.

'So, dad gave you the talk?' she asked, after silencing and locking the room with her wand. Harry grinned.

'I thought he would. I remember Ron being scared out of his wits when he'd had the talk, so I was prepared for something extremely frightening, but he didn't. He just extended his hand to me, said that he was very glad to welcome me into the family and that he trusted me to treat you well, which I promised him I would. That's it.'

'Really?'

'Yep. And he asked if I wanted to stop snogging you in his presence, as you still are "his baby-girl".'

'And what did you reply to that?' she said, with a smirk.

'That I agreed to that, only if he stopped walking in on us.'

They both chuckled and sat down on the bed. It didn't take long for them to abandon their clothes, kissing each other frantically, and Harry pinned Hermione down to eat her out again. Hermione didn't protest as he brought her to her climax twice, and her senses tingled with satisfaction when Harry finally allowed her to touch him. She was careful, curious, cautious, caring. He was nervous, she sensed - he tended to be a lot more nervous when the attention was on him and not on her. She reminded herself to ask him why that was, but not now, not in the spur of the moment. She made a few mistakes: pulling on his foreskin a bit too enthusiastically, which made him wince, and when she first touched his balls, he yelped when she gave them a squeeze.

'Oh, I'm so sorry! Are they sensitive?' she asked, apologetically.

'They're my balls, for Merlin's sake, of course they're sensitive,' Harry teased with a grimace, and he managed to laugh when he saw Hermione's worried face.

'It's fine, Hermione. Really. You're eager, I don't mind that.'

'I didn't know they were that sensitive, you know.'

'Toques exist for a reason,' Harry added, but then he kissed her lustfully. 'You were doing a very good job, though. Please don't stop.'

Hermione decided that getting Harry off was one of her favorite things to do. She loved looking at his expression when she pleasured him, she loved the little sounds she could have him make - moans, pouts, grunts. She loved the feeling of his member in her hand, the pulsating thickness, it felt so alien and still so arousing - it fascinated her immensely and when she found a steady rhythm that Harry really seemed to like, she made a mental note to research on different ways to pleasure a man. She wanted to become as good at this as she possibly could be.

Harry came with a shudder and an intense groan, that filled her body with butterflies. As it was too sensitive to touch him after his orgasm, he told her to let go of him gently, and then they kissed until their lips were sore. Hermione was fulfilled with intense joy and satisfaction when they went to brush their teeth, and then they got into the bed together and snuggled close for warmth.

'I think that was a very good first day as a couple,' Harry said, kissing her knuckles. His emerald eyes were glowing so lovingly, and Hermione reveled in the closeness they felt. It was such a complete, such an overwhelmingly happy feeling...

'I agree,' Hermione sighed, slowly stroking his chest. 'Can't we spend an eternity in this moment? I wouldn't mind.'

'Me neither.'

He kissed her temple, she laid her head on his chest, and she listened to the beating of his heart.

'We need to talk about tomorrow though,' Harry said, waking Hermione up, as she had been dozing off a bit. 'About the Weasley's. What are we going to do? Shall we tell them that we're dating?'

'I think it would be wise to keep it a secret for just a little while,' Hermione decided. 'We need to figure out how this works. It's a very recent development and... Well... You know how they can be, no matter how well-meant the gesture is...'

'I agree,' Harry said. 'Don't get me wrong: I want to tell literally everyone that I've managed to pull my head out of my arse, but let's do that in a few weeks, maybe. Just enjoy it for ourselves first.'

Hermione nodded, shut down the lamp on the nightstand. She gave Harry a goodnight-kiss and hugged him again.

'I also want to wake up early tomorrow to help modify Aunty Penelope's kitchen,' Harry hesitated, his voice filling the dark. 'We can tell her that we've worked on it all night. She's as deaf as a post, she wouldn't have heard it anyway, and it would give her an opportunity to cook again. She's missed that so much... Do you think that's a good idea, Hermione?'

'I think that's really sweet,' Hermione smiled against him. 'That's a great idea, Harry.'

'Okay. I love you, Hermione. Goodnight.'

She told him she loved him too, and when he weaved the fingers on his hand around hers, Hermione fell asleep with a smile still playing on her face.