It had been a little over seven months since the war had ended. Seven months since the Battle at Hogwarts, and yet sometimes it felt as if no time had passed at all. On this day of celebrations, of family, he'd found himself exactly where he had been a year ago today – the graveyard in Godric's Hollow.
Harry flicked his wand at the area next to his parent's final resting place and the snow slowly melted. When the patch dried, he dropped to the ground beside them. He stared at the white marble tombstone, still shining in the darkness and frowned. He hadn't enjoyed his first visit here, whilst on the run from Voldemort—Riddle, and wasn't sure exactly why he had felt drawn to this place on this night.
After several moments of silence, he spoke. "Hi mum, dad." His voice came out in a croak and he cleared his throat before trying again. "It's been a year since my last visit. I'm not sure if you know or you're here or…" He trailed off, face flushing red in the pale moonlight. "He's gone. Finally and truly gone. He can't destroy any more young families."
He pressed his fingers to his mum's name on the tombstone, then his dad's, the cold marble sending a shiver down his spine. "Everyone celebrated the end of the war, just like last time, but I couldn't. Just like last time there were unacceptable losses for me. Dobby. Fred. Remus and Tonks." He swallowed thickly. "If they're with you, let them know that I'll take care of Teddy."
A burst of singing started in the church behind him and Harry jolted at the sound before looking back at the stone. He ran his hand through his hair, somehow making it look better than before. "It's Christmas Eve. Everyone is with family tonight. The Burrow doesn't feel like a home anymore, not for me. Merlin knows Privet Drive never was and Hogwarts.. Hogwarts will never be the same. Life goes on, I guess. Ginny and I… Well…" He ducked his head. "War changes people. And… I guess our relationship didn't feel right anymore. Maybe it never was. Then I watched Ron and Hermione struggle through their attempt at a relationship before they mutually broke it off after three weeks. They actually fought more than they did when they were just friends." He barked out a short laugh. "I didn't know that was even possible." The smile fell off his face. "At least they stayed friends, unlike me and Ginny. She wanted something I couldn't give her and—" He sighed heavily, pulling aimlessly at the dead grass that had lain under the melted snow. "Maybe a home and family isn't in the cards for me."
Another sound echoed through the air, this one he was more acquainted with than the caroling behind him. Harry leapt to his feet, his wand pointed steadily in the direction of the apparition. Moments later, his arm dropped to his side, only to return to wrap around the woman who had just collided with him as if shot by a cannon. He took a step back to keep from falling.
"Harry James Potter! I have been looking everywhere for you," Hermione scolded, her words muffled by his chest. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming here?" Her voice gentled. "You didn't need to do this alone."
Harry inhaled; her scent as familiar to him as his own. His eyes closed and he let himself just be in this moment, with her. His shoulders fell and as he exhaled ,he felt himself finally relax. "I didn't want to ruin anyone's holiday, Hermione," he said, his arms still holding her snugly to his chest. "Christmas is a time to be with family, not standing here in a frigid graveyard with me. "
She pulled back then; her beautiful brown eyes narrowed as she stared at him. "You listen to me right now, Harry Potter." Her finger jabbed into his chest with every angry word. "You. Are. My. Family. You have been ever since that troll in first year. It's too late for you, Potter. You're stuck with me."
Her words struck him like blows and warmth filled a hole in his chest that had been empty so long Harry hadn't even known it was there. He blinked rapidly, tugging her to him and clutching her firmly.
"I'll always be there for you, Harry. Until the end." Her voice cracked as she spoke and Harry pulled back again to look into her face.
"Are you crying?" he asked, his voice rising. He began to run his hands up and down her arms in an attempt to soothe her. "Please don't cry." Harry's heart raced as tears began to roll down her cheeks. A lead ball settled in his stomach and he flinched. "You know I'm terrible with tears, Hermione. Whatever I did, I'm sorry."
She chuckled then, cupping his cheek with one hand. "Calm down, Harry. These aren't bad tears, not really."
He frowned, tilting his head to the side. "There are good tears? " Hermione snickered at the expression on his face. As far as Harry was concerned, all tears were bad tears. "Why aren't you at the Burrow?" he asked, finally releasing her and sitting back down again near the tombstone.
"Why aren't you at the Burrow?" she parroted back at him.
"It's awkward." He grimaced at the thought of spending Christmas with an angry Ginny Weasley and a disappointed Molly.
"Same," Hermione replied, dropping to the ground next to him and learning her head onto his shoulder.
"Why?" he asked as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder without thought. "You and Ron are still friends."
He felt her nod her head at that. "We are. It's just that—" she hesitated.
"It's what?"
'Are you a Gryffindor or not?" she huffed under her breath, barely audible to Harry.
What could she be afraid to tell him? "What is it Hermione?" he prodded. "You can tell me anything. You know that."
She blew out a long, slow breath, the steam clouding the air around them. "It's awkward at the Burrow because…" She sighed again before grasping onto her fleeting courage with both hands and spit out the words. "Because it's hard to be around Ginny and Mrs. Weasley as they still mourn the end of your relationship while I'm happy it's over."
Harry lurched backward at her words. How could she feel that way? Hermione had never been cruel… His thoughts flickered to Rita Skeeter, Marietta Edgecombe and Umbridge. Ok, she'd never been cruel to him. Why wouldn't she want him to be happy in a relationship? He tried to catch her eye but she stared off into the distance, avoiding even the slightest glance in his direction.
He placed his hand on her face and gently turned it to his own. Emerald eyes met chocolate brown and that strange warmth filled his chest again. "Why, Hermione?"
"I love you." Her eyes filled. "Yes, as a friend, but definitely not as a brother. And maybe, maybe as something more too." She wiped at her face with the back of her hand. "I understand if you don't feel the same way. I mean, you're you and I'm me." She gestured between the two of them as if some great chasm divided them, still refusing to meet his eyes. "But I had to tell you."
"Now," she said as she pushed to her feet. "I'm going to wait by the gate. When you're done here, we'll go back to Grimmauld Place and celebrate our own Christmas."
Images of a quiet Christmas with Hermione coursed through his mind. Number Twelve still wasn't home, not with Sirius gone, but he had lightened the place up in the past few months. They could decorate a tree tonight; currently the presents he had bought were just sitting on a table waiting to be delivered. A glass or more of elf wine and time with his best friend could be exactly what he needed. As he continued to ponder this, something clicked inside of him.
He opened his mouth and she held a finger to his lips. "Take your time. I'm in no hurry. Both here and with that news I just dropped on you. No matter what, we'll always be best friends."
Harry made a face at her and she winced. "What?" she asked, trembling a bit.
"Oh. Am I allowed to talk now?" he asked with a grin.
She huffed. "Yes, you are allowed to talk."
"I'm done here," he said then, raising a finger to her lips this time before she could even try to respond. "And I don't need to think about your news either."
Her face fell, the glow disappearing from her eyes, which now stared at him like a prisoner hoping for a pardon, but expecting none. "I understand." She turned and started to walk toward the gate.
"I can't even make my own decisions now?" he asked, hauling her back to him. Resting his hands on her shoulders, he looked deep into her expressive eyes, finally seeing the love, hope and fear shimmering in them.
"It's always been you, too, Hermione. I was just too much of a berk to notice. I still don't know what you meant by 'I'm me and you're you', but I don't think it matters. I'll try to be worthy of you."
Tears freely rolled down Hermione's cheeks now, but the fear had cleared her eyes and the grin on her face brought one to his own. He cupped her face in his hands and swiped at the droplets with his thumbs.
She held onto his hands and laughed through the tears. "I was worried I wasn't good enough for you, Harry Potter."
He threw back his head and roared with laughter. "Silly, Hermione. It's you who'd always been at my side. You, who had my best interests in mind, even when I didn't."
"That darn broom," she muttered and he laughed again.
"Yes, that broom." He turned serious for a moment. "I think that's why things didn't work with Cho or Ginny. They weren't you."
Hermione launched herself at Harry, who dropped his hands from her face to catch her around the waist. Their lips collided, tentative at first, but quickly becoming desperate and demanding. Harry's breath hitched at the taste of her, one hand moving from her waist and into the riot of curls on her head, pulling her even closer to him. When his tongue touched hers, she moaned softly into his mouth. He was surrounded by the scent of her; her fruity shampoo, the sweet fragrance of the vanilla lotion on her skin and something more, something pure Hermione. This. This was everything he'd been missing. He really was an idiot.
The kiss could have lasted minutes or hours for all he knew. When they finally parted, he rested his forehead on hers, their breaths coming out in little puffs of white fog. The church had gone dark; the services long over and the night was quiet around them.
"I'll leave you to say goodbye to your parents," Hermione said, pulling herself from his arms reluctantly. She turned and headed towards the gate leaving Harry alone with his thoughts.
He turned back to the tombstone almost sheepishly as he thought back to his comments before Hermione's arrival. "I guess I do have a family here after all. Thanks mum, dad, for everything. I'll be back." He looked toward the gate where Hermione stood in the distance, arms wrapped around herself and a grin on her face. "Happy Christmas," he whispered.
He turned away, the snow crunching under his boots as he headed toward the gate—and His Hermione. He grinned then, picking up his pace so he could have her in his arms again. Happy Christmas indeed.