1998
June
She stirred, unsure what woke her until she felt the movement beside her, his panting loud in the dead of the night. Fingers already on her wand, she tried to calm her breathing and scanned the room for any threat but discovered none. That could only mean one thing.
"No….let her go… Hermione…" Harry's thrashing was getting worse and her heart clenched at the nightmare he was having.
"Harry," she sat up and began shaking him gently. "Wake up…it's just a dream…"
"No-no-no..Hermione…" he continued thrashing.
"Harry!" she shook him more firmly, dodging a flailing arm.
He sat up abruptly, vibrant green eyes pained as they flickered across every corner of the room before she was being held so tight she could barely breathe. She held him just as tight back, allowing him to feel her close, alive and whole.
"You're safe…we're both safe…" she whispered as she rubbed his back soothingly.
They have seen too much during the war, were forced to do things they were still coming to terms with weeks later. The funerals were done, the danger was over, and yet it still felt like the two of them against the world most days.
He didn't apologise. He didn't have to, it was plain as day in his eyes that he didn't mean to keep waking her night after night with his tossing and turning. And yet, he couldn't find it in himself to move.
Sixty-four days have passed since the final battle ended and Harry stood over Voldemort's dead body. The injured began healing, the funerals were arranged, and the parties began. Not for the two of them. Ron was grieving Fred's death with his family, and the bond they had shared for so long as the Golden Trio seemed more fractured than ever. To be honest, it didn't feel right even when he returned after Christmas to join them on the horcrux hunt again. It wasn't the same and it couldn't ever be because he didn't just leave, he abandoned them. And no matter how much they tried to involve him again, being alone in that tent for weeks had inadvertently changed them. It was for that reason that Hermione was living at Grimmauld place with Harry despite the clear disapproval of the Weasley family. It was why they found themselves sharing a bed in the old creaky house, wands under their pillows and huddled under thick duvet as they tried to get warm again.
It began as a necessity in a freezing cold tent, and turned out to be of more silent comfort than anything else during those dark days. When Ron rejoined them, they returned to their own beds, feeling the weight of Ron's jealousy anytime they behaved comfortably around each other. But now that it was just the two of them, they didn't need to pretend.
That they were fine.
That they could eat a full portion of food without feeling sick, their bodies so used to going hungry so often in the past year.
That the variety of options on what to do next wasn't utterly overwhelming.
And most of all, they could take the time to begin their road to recovery. Perhaps one day she won't have to see Harry's shoulders tense at any unexpected sound, poised and ready for an attack. Maybe a day will come when he could hug her and won't be able to count every single vertebrae on her back as she cried quietly into his shoulder, clutching the still healing cursed word on her forearm.
But that day wasn't today, so he pulled her into his arms and breathed in the scent of bergamot from her wild curls as he tried to find his peace once again.
July
He wiped over the pretty still picture and added it to the small patch of frames on the wall in the living room. Clearing out and remodelling the house had been an excellent idea. Finally managing to get Walburga Black off the wall was a no small feat, but with Winky's help, the house was looking little like its dreary old self. Old Kreature would have surely disapproved had he still been with them. Peeling, dusty wallpaper had been replaced with a fresh lick of cream paint, making the narrow hallway more airy and much more inviting. Long gone were the decapitated elf heads, the infestation of doxies, and all manner of dark objects that Mundungus didn't dare touch even in his thieving days. The third floor was completely converted to a large family library, once again reinstated with all the rare books from the Black family vaults at Hermione's behest.
They renovated most of the second floor but kept Sirius' side of the floor magically sealed off in his memory, keeping his room just as it was ever since he fell through the veil at the Ministry. Harry still sometimes ventured in to read from his collection or look through his records, trying to get a sense for the godfather he never really got a chance to get to know properly.
He claimed the master bedroom and was comforted to have Hermione in the rooms next to his, never far, though they still didn't seem to sleep well when apart on the rare occasion they slept in separate beds. But he was working on it, because he wanted her to get better and be happy. Because he didn't want to make her listen to him relive the torture she was subjected to. Out of all of them, her sacrifice had been the greatest - having been hunted, despised, tortured, and losing her parents to a muggle car crash in Australia without them ever knowing they had a daughter who loved them so much she erased herself from their memories.
They were both orphans of a war that took their families, their youth, and left them scared and weary.
"Dammit," he could hear her muttering as Hermione rounded the corner with the basket full of their washing. "I think it's time, you know," she mused, picking up one of his t-shirts which was barely being held together it was so old and thin.
"Are you sure it's not your laundering?" he teased, remembering the disaster of trying to launder clothing on the run.
She huffed and raised a brow. "Just because I can't cook doesn't mean I can't keep a home. Honestly, I think we just need new clothes. I don't think I own anything actually wearable at this point. And the awards are coming up, we'll need dressrobes-"
"I'm not going," his jaw tightened at the very mention of the Ministry monstrosity. A gala. They organised a bloody gala to award Order of Merlin. And of course the 'Golden Trio' had to attend to be paraded around like they were a freak show.
"Harry," she set the worn garment down and stepped closer, reaching out to squeeze his forearm, feeling the tense muscles beneath her touch, his grip on the photo frame threatening to break it.
He shook his head. "They can't force me to go. I don't want to. I can't just…it's not fair," he whispered the last words, allowing himself to be drawn into her arms. "It's not fair that they're not here," he breathed into her wild curls.
"I know…I wish they were here too. But if we attend this ball, hopefully they will leave us alone for a while," she suggested. "Besides, would you let me go by myself?" she asked with a teasing smile though her whiskey eyes were filled with fear at the very thought.
His arms tightened around her. "Never," he promised and allowed himself to soak up her comfort.
"Well, in that case…you'll need robes, or maybe a nice three piece suit? And I need something that actually fits," she pulled away, subconsciously tugging on the long sleeve covering up her forearm despite the summer heat.
Realising it would be the first time they ventured out of the house, he set his shoulders and decided that perhaps it was time to do just that. "Let's go muggle..a suit for me and a dress for you? You looked lovely at Bill and Fleur's wedding," he smiled at the memory.
"Thank you," she allowed herself a small smile before turning back to the washing basket and eying their wrecked wardrobes. "I think some jeans are in order as well…" she mused and headed up to get ready to head out.
"I don't know about this, they feel…tight?" Harry ventured as he turned this and the other way in front of the full-length mirror in an all-black suit that actually fitted as if tailored.
Unlike Harry, Hermione was not oblivious to the way the female cashier and the male shop attendant both enjoyed the view of his ass in the fitted trousers. She wasn't blind, Harry has grown into a handsome man, and she could appreciate the enigmatic pull of his intense eyes and powerful magic for the muggles.
"That's because you spent most of your time wearing clothes twice your size. Trust me Harry, you look great," she reassured him before stepping up closer to adjust the collar of his blazer. "I like the all black, and I think it will be fitting for the occasion," she said softly.
His gaze met hers in the mirror and she could see his insecurity replaced with determination. If they were to be paraded around, it would be at least on their own terms. "Thank you," he said, the words encompassing so much more than her opinion on his suit.
They've managed to slip unnoticed into the muggle world and spent the morning just walking up and down the many shops and boutiques, re-discovering what they've missed in their year on the run, and what they liked now that they had freedom to choose for themselves. He was sure that were it not for shrinking charms, their pile of bags would be taller than the both of them as they replaced every single item in their wardrobe from underwear and casual wear, to formal clothing and shoes. His personal favourite was seeing Hermione's eyes light up on a pair of the softest pyjamas he had ever felt in his life. Knowing she had a propensity for only wearing the top, he grabbed a pair that would fit his waist and offered to take the bottoms. Her smile was so brilliant the sales assistant had to blink.
It was just what they had needed, a day out to just be themselves and with each other without scrutiny or pressure. Outfits for the upcoming gala secured, they had some dinner in a little Italian corner restaurant, and popped into a shop that claimed to specialise in tea, stocking up on all of their favourites. The cupboard will surely be fit to bursting.
"One more?" Hermione asked and paused outside an opticians.
Harry looked insecure. "I don't think I can not wear these now," he admitted.
"I'm not suggesting you don't," she offered, squeezing his hand reassuringly to make him understand she wasn't trying to change him. "But it might be a good idea maybe to get your eyes checked and if you want to have the option to maybe get some contacts? Might come in handy for quidditch and working out," she suggested. "Besides, I think I might need reading glasses," she admitted with a sigh, giving into the inevitability that her long reading nights by minimal lighting might be starting to take a toll.
She felt an answering squeeze of his hand. "Alright then, I'll do mine if you do yours," he promised and they stepped in together.
He shuffled into the kitchen tiredly, hair sticking out in all directions as he let his nose guide him towards the smell of toast. "Morning…" he mumbled tiredly, reaching for the cafetière.
Hermione made a small noise of disgust and folded the Prophet up, tossing it onto the table next to his plate. "I hate that vile woman," she seethed and topped up her teacup, pushing her reading glasses up into the nest atop her head. It didn't take kindly to being wrestled into a neat up-do last night for the gala and was twice its usual size, most likely responding to her angry magical energy as well.
He rubbed his face tiredly before picking up the paper, snorting at the headline.
Golden Trio no more!
The Boy-Who-Lived and the Brightest Witch of Her Age in a row with former adoptive family
"Do they have nothing better to write about?" he asked.
"Oh they do. Next page," Hermione practically snarled before looking apologetic, not meaning to take it out on him.
He offered a small reassuring smile before turning to page 2, a number of photos taking up a large part of the page. Photo of their arrival, another of the awards being pinned to their chest, a photo of the two of them at the edge of the dance floor as they exchanged a few private words while watching the couples on the dancefloor, and finally a photo of them heading for the floo room as Harry's hand dropped to the small of her back as he guided her out of the room. His gaze flicked up to the headline with little surprise as the theme of the article was clear.
The end to a love triangle: Potter/Granger affair confirmed!
He snorted. "Affair? What affair?" he skimmed the article and shook his head.
Of course. It appeared that the gala was truly the last nail in the coffin of their relationship with the Weasley family as it was. It was a shame. Looking at the pictures from the night, he thought they perhaps appeared to be doing well to the eyes of someone who didn't know them. Better meals and somewhat more regular sleep were doing wonders and he had to admit the three piece suit was a good choice. Hermione has also looked lovely, wearing a black long sleeve dress that stopped just beneath her knees and had a pretty neckline that revealed her elegant shoulders and neck. It fitted her well and he was glad to see she was no longer quite as thin and as when they moved back to Grimmauld place.
He looked at the pictures again and realised it may be easy to assume they were a couple, a united front visually in matching colours, and arriving together. But they had no right to assume though that any promises were made or broken to the Weasley family. Ron had distanced himself straight after the battle, and last night was just another example of his jealousy at how close his two friends were. As much as it hurt, perhaps it was time to go their separate ways. Their friendship didn't feel whole anymore, and he respected Ron's need to be with his family. After all, Hermione was his family, and he liked it that way.
His gaze flicked to Ginny's face, her expression cold as she regarded the two of them from the next table as they talked closely in one of the photos. He tried to summon any feelings of longing or regret but all he found was relief that she was alive and well. Something changed within him that night of the final battle. Perhaps it was the fact that he died, or that they never had a chance to really discover and develop what was between them due to the war, but whatever feelings he left her with at the end of the sixth year before the horcrux hunt were no longer there. They made each other no promises and he had hoped the air was cleared between them as they exchanged a couple of letters in May once things settled. But looking at the photo now, he wondered whether it was the fact of whom he was close with that bothered Ginny, her gaze appearing to focus more so on Hermione than himself.
At one time the amount of accusations they both had to face for his close friendship with Hermione would have bothered him. Sometimes it felt like fourth year all over again. But not now, it didn't matter in the grand scheme of things and he wasn't about to let it bother him. To be honest, he had always loved Hermione but it wasn't a static kind of love. They both recognised they may not be friends in the standard way of the world but they didn't grow up in normal circumstances either. They were close, and he could see how that could be confusing people, but they didn't owe anyone an explanation as far as he was concerned.
"I'm sorry," Hermione sighed and stared into her mug morosely, brining him out of his contemplation.
"What for?" he asked, confused.
"You were right, we should have just stayed home and not give them fodder for..well, that," she pointed at the paper with disgust.
Harry shrugged. "You have nothing to be sorry for. Let them speculate, this will be old news in a week. And if it makes you feel better," he grinned, "I can always get you a new jar?" he suggested lightly.
Her amused unlady-like snort was vicious and glorious as ever. "Oh if she comes anywhere near me, she will wish she had been caught in a jar. I will not be so forgiving next time," she positively hissed.
He sat back in his chair and sipped at his coffee with a grin. "I like it when you get vicious first thing in the morning."
She shrugged and tossed the newspaper into the sink, casting a non-verbal incedio on the blasted thing, watching it burn to ashes. Good fucking riddance. "I'll remind you that you said that when that mood is aimed at you next," she grinned sharply. Not that it had the desired effect with her looking all rumpled in the tartan sleeping shirt and hair the size of Crookshanks himself.
"So what's the plan for today?" he asked.
"I'm glad you asked," she reached down under the table on the chair beside her and brought up a lovely treacle tart and two gifts wrapped in burgundy wrapping paper.
"Hermione, you didn't have to-" but she cut him off with a shake of her head.
"It's your eighteenth, of course we're celebrating. Happy birthday, Harry," she lit the candle and pushed the tart closer to him.
He looked at her over the flame and made a silent wish before blowing it out, much to her delight. "You have a plan, you have that face on," he pointed out.
"Of course, we'll have some company later on for your birthday dinner," she revealed, but saw he looked a bit hesitant. "Don't worry, not too many people. Just Bill and Fleur, the twins, Neville and Luna. We thought a dinner would be better than trying to do a surprise party with too many people," she reassured him.
"Thank you," he nodded with relief. "So, which one do I open first?" he asked.
"The bigger one," she grinned and sat back, watching him dig into the wrapping paper.
Inside was a beautiful black leather jacket, with hidden magical padding on the inside of the soft material for protection. He looked at her in confusion. "This is-"
Hermione nodded and ginned. "Now the second one," she pointed to the heavy envelope.
Harry picked up the butterknife by his plate and carefully opened it up, pulling the thick records enclosed out to inspect them. "But…when did you do this?" he asked.
"Last month or so. I know you've wanted one just like Sirius' but I couldn't get a flying one so a muggle motorbike will have to do," she grinned.
"Where is it?" he asked, picking out the keys from the envelope.
She nodded towards the backdoor and he was out of his seat before she had a chance to get up. She followed his dashing form to the garage at the back and watched the awe on his face as he took in the shiny Triumph Bonneville, or Bonnie as she'd been calling her.
"She's beautiful," he crouched down to touch the beautiful leather work of the seat and satchel. "Care for a ride?" he grinned widely.
"Not a chance, Harry James," she huffed, hands on the hips as her gaze narrowed at him. "And neither are you riding until you get your driving license. Your first lesson is next week," she grinned.
He got up and pulled her into a fierce hug. "Thank you…it means the world," he whispered.
Her arms wrapped around him just as tightly. "Promise me you'll be careful, with yourself and whatever lucky lady ends up on the back seat."
"Promise I'll be careful, with both of us once you change you mind about the ride," he grinned as he pulled away but wrapped an arm around her hip as they headed back inside the house.
"Good luck with that," she answered in a sing-song. Famous last words and all…
August
"They're here!" she shouted up the stairs and waited for the thundering sound of his swift descent on the stairs.
"I wonder how many Double Outstandings you got," he grinned.
"As if," she fixed their tea cups and carried them to the kitchen table. "They are very rare. Last one to get a Double Outstanding was Snape with his Potions N.E.W.T. in 1978," she pointed out.
"Swot," he winked fondly before picking up the envelope with his results and ripped into it decisively, ready to get his results.
They worked for two months to catch up on some of their key subjects and then took the option to sit their N.E.W.T.s with an independent examiner rather than going back to Hogwarts. It didn't feel right, especially not for Hermione who was turning 20 in just a month due to the use of time-turner. They needed their space more than anything, not being cooped up and stared at by a group of children.
"How did you do?" she asked curiously and grinned when he tilted the parchment for her to read. "Not to shabby at all!" she teased, seeing the three Os in DADA, COMC and Charms, and Es in Potions, History and Transfiguration.
"Well, someone wouldn't let me slack off this time," he grinned. "And I wanted to do well. I don't know if I still want to be an Auror, but I think I have a good chance in some interesting fields with these grades."
"Very responsible," she smiled and took a deep breath before tearing into her own, scanning the page. Nine Os and a Double O in Arithmancy, she was blown away.
"I said it before and I'll say it again. Hermione, you are brilliant, truly," he grinned widely and pulled her into an awkward little dance, making her laugh.
"We did it! Oh Merlin, I can go to University!" she beamed. "I mean, if they'll have me. Or maybe apprenticeship? I don't know!" she groaned and chewed on her bottom lip indecisively. "Oh Harry, I want to do so many things! How will I ever choose?"
"They would be mad not to have you," he thought about it for a moment before an idea came to him. "Why don't you speak to McGonnagal?" he suggested.
She looked surprised at the suggestion but then her eyes widened slightly. "But of course, she's the career advisor! And she knows me so well," she reasoned as she began walking towards the study to grab some fresh parchment and send the Headmistress a note.
Harry looked down at their results and grinned proudly, feeling a sense of new purpose. He was alive, he had a future. They both did, and it was time to start living it.
September
"I can't believe you did this," she looked around in absolute wonder, spinning on the spot like one of the heroines in a romantic film.
The Duomo was everything she thought it would be. Merlin, her head was still spinning from the whole morning spent traipsing around the Uffizzi. It was early autumn, nearly the end of tourist season, and Harry had surprised her with a birthday trip to Florence, something that has been on her new bucket list.
They created them after they got their results from N.E.W.T.s, deciding that if they were to really take steps and enjoy the freedom they fought so hard for, they might as well write down the things they would want to experience.
"I've never been outside of Britain, so I thought it was about time to remedy that," Harry grinned and handed her the small cup with what looked like the most delicious pistachio gelato.
"Thank you, it means the world," she smiled though she did looks a bit sad.
He reached down and squeezed her free hand supportively. "It's alright to miss your parents. At least they had their own adventure and got to make their dream come true," he encouraged.
She nodded fiercely, shoulders determined as she forced the tears gathering in her eyes away. "I'm ready to eat this gelato and see some Medici history. Coming?"
He nodded and they headed through the throng of late tourists, not even noticing that their hands were still clasped tightly for the rest of the day.
October
It began a week before Halloween. She would wake up to the sound of her door opening as he tiptoed into her room and climbed in on the left side of the bed. She would always make sure to open her eyes and check he was alright but they both knew he wasn't. So she would just turn to lay on her back and welcome him to curl into her arms. She carded her fingers through his messy tresses gently, hoping it would settle him though it rarely did.
On the night of All Hallows Eve, she decided to give up all pretences and just followed him into the master bedroom, allowing herself to be spooned into his solid form for his comfort. He held onto her tightly until she felt his breathing starting to smooth out, making sure he was settled before she tried to rest a while herself. She didn't even realise she was dreaming until she found herself in a forest.
Her pulse picked up a little, trying to find out where she was before she realise the smell was familiar. Verbena, and just over there by the tree line was a small path that she was sure led to the field with aconite. She was in the Forbidden forest, but why?
Before she could decide what to do, she found her feet leading her further into the trees. There appeared to be something white, hovering, perhaps a ghost?
A vague shape began taking form, slowly turning into a woman that looked somewhat familiar before she realised who she was actually standing before.
"Mrs. Potter?" she asked, her voice coming out as barely a whisper but in the dead of night in a silent forest, it almost echoed.
"Hermione Granger, we finally meet," she smiled warmly though looked a bit amused.
Hermione looked down and realised she was standing before Harry's mum in her knickers and baggy pyjama top. "Oh Merlin, this is embarrassing! This is.." she paused, and realised why it felt so discombobulating. "This is not a dream, technically. Is it?"
"Brightest Witch of Her Age indeed," Lily offered. "It is a dream of sorts but it is also not. I wanted to meet you to say-"
"No-no-no..HERMIONE!" she was startled out the dream when he called for her, throat hoarse, muscles tense and sweat beading on his forehead.
"Harry!" she shook his awake, watching the panic begin to leave his startled gaze as he curled up tighter into her arms.
"Shhhh Harry…it's alright…you're safe…we're both safe," she held him close and rocked him gently.
"I thought I lost you…when that chandelier dropped on you, I thought you were dead, and I couldn't breathe…" he admitted, reaching up to caress the scar on her collarbone where a particularly sharp wedge of glass left a memory. "I don't know if I could ever breathe without you…" he admitted in barely a whisper.
Her breath hitched for a moment but she only held him tighter in her arms. "Hey…none of that. I'm right here and not going anywhere…" she promised.
Thirty-two days.
That was how long she had gone without hearing his pleas for Bellatrix Lestrange to stop torturing her. She will have to reset that tally in the morning. And as she settled down for a disturbed night, she wondered whether the thin veil between the worlds was the reason why she was able to briefly see Lily Potter. And what was she about to say before they got interrupted? Hermione wondered if she would get the chance to find out….
November
"Okay, up the steps. Well..err..maybe let's take these off," he looked down at the tall heels on her feet. Maybe he should sit her down and take those off first before attempting to get her up the stairs.
"No, I want to dance more!" Hermione giggled and managed to dodge his supportive arm, dashing up the stairs precariously like a newborn Bambi.
He chased after her and nearly had her in his arms but she managed to stumble and twist, falling onto the first floor landing on her back gracelessly in a heap of giggles. It was the first time ever she's gotten this tipsy, but who could blame her? Bill's birthday started as a family affair at the Burrow that they didn't join as their relationship with the majority of the Weasley family was still very much broken. But they joined the small group of their friends for some clubbing and it had been a sight to behold when Fleur, Luna and Hermione got on the dance floor. Bill had grinned at his stunning wife who caught quite a few eyes in an elegant but cheeky jump-suit. Luna was cool as ever in silver disco leggings and a sequin top that matched to colour of her bottle cap earrings. And then there was Hermione.
He'd never seen her wear anything of the sort, her style usually simple and elegant. The short golden dress and tall platform heels were a new look and Harry realised he rather liked seeing her this carefree and sexy.
Sexy?
That thought halted him in his efforts to get another whiskey, and instead focused on sobering up. Since when did he think about Hermione as sexy? But as he kept watching her throughout the night, her warm heart, the way she interacted with all their friends, it all made sense. At one point she flopped into the seat beside him and wrestled her wild mane into a messy bun atop her head, her smile radiant, and he just knew. He knew his love for her was changing again.
"Harry! Join me on the floor!" she laughed, seeing his worried expression hovering over her.
"I don't think so. Come on, beautiful," he just scooped her up and carried her one more floor up towards her bedroom, enjoying her squeal of surprise and the way she held onto his shoulders tightly. "You'll be much more comfortable in bed in your pyjamas," he pointed out.
She rested her head against his shoulder. "You never call me beautiful," she hummed and allowed herself to be gently deposited on the bed.
"Well, you are," he knelt down and took her shoes off before rooting around in her dresser for one of her sleep shirts.
When he turned around, she had already wiggled out of her dress and was clumsily working on the clasp of her bra. He flicked his wand and spelled the top on her and her bra off, the garment landing neatly atop her dress on the chair.
She snuggled down into her pillows and smiled at him sleepily from her blanket cocoon, eyes smudged slightly but happiness clear in the whiskey depths of her gaze. "Thank you for taking care of me. Night, Harry…" she mumbled and was asleep in moments.
He watched her just for a moment, casting a gentle cleaning spell on her face to make her feel a bit more fresh and summoned a glass of water for her bedside for the morning before heading for his own bed. She took such good care of him, it felt good to be able to do so for her. He wondered whether she would ever see him the way he saw her, or if he would always be 'just Harry'.
December
December was her favourite month, right after September. September was the start of a new school year, her birthday, the first month of autumn, and all things pumpkin and cinnamon. December on he other hand had a smell to it. The air was cold and the snow began falling as the month progressed, bringing with it a crispness that one could almost taste on their tongue. Like taking a bite of sorbet that has been in the freezer for just a little bit too long. She smiled inwardly at the muggle analogy, though it was very much tinged with melancholy as it was something her mum used to berate her dad for.
She did this every bloody year. Everyone already had a gift. She knew because she kept a checklist and carefully budgeted her Christmas gifts. This year though, she wasn't getting anything for most of the Weasleys, so she decided to spend more money on Bill, Fleur, Luna and Neville who have all been such a support system in their lives. And then there was Harry.
She sighed as she waited at the end of the counter for her hot chocolate. When they were younger, gifts were so simple - sweets, a couple of nice quills, broom care kit. And her gifts from Harry were equally simple - a book she mentioned she wanted, new writing set or inks, her favourite liquorice… It used to be simple, because they were friends, they were at school, and most years they spend Christmas apart because she was travelling with her parents and Harry either stayed at home or went to stay with the Weasleys.
Then there was last year's Christmas, and Harry was still unable to even talk about it. They could have died, she told him several times she didn't like the situation, but he didn't listen and it nearly cost them dearly. But that Christmas Eve was also the first time Harry was actually able to visit his parents' grave, and later told her that it meant the world to him that she thoughtfully created a beautiful wreath for their graves. Perhaps they should visit again this year, if Harry wanted. They would no longer have to hide, and they could visit earlier in the afternoon, bring an actual wreath instead of just a transfigured one.
"Hot chocolate for Harriet," one of the baristas called her fake name and she picked up her cup, heading back out into muggle London.
Her thoughts returned to planning their first real Christmas in freedom as she made her way down Oxford Street. Yes, that would be nice. Have a peaceful Christmas at home, visit the cemetery in Godric's Hollow, and light a candle for her parents. Their bodies were willed to be donated to science or for organ transplant if possible. Any other remains were cremated and she never even got to have their ashes. Perhaps she should find one of the local cemeteries and have at least a wall plaque put up for them that she could visit.
Sipping on her drink she slipped into one of smaller side alleys and tried to gather her thoughts. This year she wanted to give Harry something special. A gift with true meaning. They've been through so much in the last year, and she knew her feelings for him only continued to grow. From a dear friend to a man she loved and suspected a part of her would always be in love with as well. They survived a crisis together but it was the past few months of recovery that really showed her his true nature. The love and care he showed his dearest, the little things he did for her without ever mentioning it, the way he just understood her on a level no one ever had, and likely no one would. They saw each other in pain, in laughter, in joy, and through horrors, and this year she would honour that bond with something truly special. Something…something to say 'I love you' without saying 'I love you'.
Oh this was just bloody hopeless. She strode past another display window when she suddenly halted and walked back a couple of steps to look closer.
Watches of all shapes and sizes, wristwatches and pocket ones alike.
She knew Harry received Fabian Prewett's pocket watch on his 17th in kindness from the Weasleys, and while it held sentimental value for the story it told, he never wore it. Most wizards still had a watch of some sort, either passed down as an heirloom or one for the wrist for the more modern wizards.
Hermione could remember when she got both her watches. The first one was just as she started at Hogwarts, a small wristwatch with brown leather straps that lasted her well into her teens. And right before she obliviated her parents, she received a beautiful vintage Tag Heuer chronograph wristwatch with delicate dark brown leather straps from them as a sign of her maturity. It was beautiful, but even months later, she still couldn't bring herself to wear it. Perhaps she would put it on in the new year and see it as a precious memory instead of a painful one in the coming weeks.
She knew he didn't believe in baubles but perhaps a watch that wasn't just a watch would be something special, something made and gifted just for him, as part of his new beginning. With her mind made up, she headed back for magical London to do some research and get a book on time pieces…
"Hello Harry," the greeting surprised him as he turned around and spotted Luna.
"Hey Luna, Christmas shopping as well?" he asked, nodding to the rather full tote bag on her arm.
She smiled that sweet dreamy smile of hers in response. "Of course, Neville is preparing the yule log this year, and dad is finally feeling strong enough to join in a bit of celebration with us. We'll be back at home in Ottery St Catchpole if you'd like to drop by on Boxing Day?" she suggested.
"I'll check in with Hermione, but I'm sure we'd love to," he smiled broadly. There was something about Luna that always put him in easy, that's why he found her so cool ever since fifth year.
She looked at him curiously, head tilted slightly.
"What is it? Do I have some sugar on my still?" he asked and wiped his mouth and cheek a bit self-consciously, the flavour of the rhubarb jam donut still on his tongue.
She shook her head and offered that distant, knowing smile of hers. "You know, the wrackspurts are really not helping you clear you mind when it's already fuzzy with thoughts about Hermione. Does she not make you think positive enough thoughts to dispel them?"
Momentarily stunned to silence, he stood there with his mouth opening soundlessly like a bloody fish. "Uhm..not i's not…I mean sure but..uhm"
Luna's smile just widened. "You know you should tell her that you love her. It's not like she doesn't love you back. Oh, look," she suddenly turned to point at the shop across the street. "What lovely bracelets. It's a shame the one Hermione got from her mum with the pretty blue topaz got destroyed at the Ministry. I remember she was very fond of it and was sad to let it go," she mused. "Did you know they can infuse jewellery with protective magic? Just like my necklace," she smiled and rubbed it with her thumb fondly, clearly a gift from her father by its unique appearance. "Maybe I should get one for Neville. Not with a pretty blue stone though, he would suit green or yellow much more," she beamed. "I have to go now, we're having dinner in a bit. Give my love to Hermione and see you on Boxing Day," she leaned in and kissed his cheek lightly before she was off into the crowd.
Harry stood rooted on the spot for a long moment and just blinked, trying to recover from the whirlwind that was Luna Lovegood. He didn't even realise his feet carried him across the street until he stood in front of the magical jewellers and browsed the display. There were jewels of all shapes and sizes set into rings, bracelets and pendants. He pointedly ignored the locket section, thinking it would be a long time before either of them could think of a locket without thinking of horcruxes.
That's when he spotted it. Perfect.
He was leaving the shop fifteen minutes later with a smile, pulling the hood further down into his face to avoid the reporters.
"Oh no, Harry-" she tried to get his help but he was already there, catching the falling teacup with his seeker reflexes before it could even kiss the floor. "Thank you," she sighed in relief. "They're never quite the same once you repair them and that's Luna's favourite when she comes to visit," she smiled.
"Speaking of Luna, I actually saw her last week when I popped into Diagon Alley for the special fertiliser for Neville," he smiled as picked up the dishtowel, starting on the drying as she continued to wash their dinner dishes.
Some things they both preferred to do by hand when they could. Ron never understood that and always grumbled when they lived in the tent and tried to limit their magic use by doing things in a more simple, muggle fashion. But they no longer had to have the excuse of limiting magic. They did some things this way because they could, and wanted to. Together.
"Did you pick up some custard as well?" she asked.
"Of course, I popped out to muggle London afterwards. It's in the fridge, the one with vanilla bits that you like," he smiled.
"Thank you," she beamed. "Anyway, you bumped into Luna? How is she?" she asked.
"She's well, asked if we would come to visit her, Neville and Xenophilius on boxing Day actually."
"Really? Is he well enough to celebrate?" she asked carefully, always feeling terrible for the injuries Luna's father suffered during the war. He was a gentle soul that only even cared about his daughter's wellbeing and happiness. To see him so broken last May was heartbreaking.
Harry nodded and took the plate from her hand. "She said that he was feeling well enough to spend the whole season with her and Neville, so I hope so. What do you think?"
"I would love to see them," she agreed. "Obviously we'll send the gifts ahead but we can always bring something else on the day. Which reminds me, we never really finalised our plans for Christmas and it's only a couple of weeks away. I was thinking we could…make our own traditions this year?" she proposed gently as she shut off the water and leaned her hip against the sink as she dried her hands.
"Just the two of us?" he asked as he put the plate away and turned to look at her properly. She looked lovely in the kitchen light, her riotous curls piled atop her head and eyes bright. "I would like that very much," he said softly.
Hermione tried to hide the flutter inside her chest at those words and the soft look in his vivid green gaze that was so focus on her and her alone. How could she not have fallen in love with the man he became?
"Well then, planning while we have pudding in the living room by the fire?" she offered.
"You go sit down and get your list. I know you have one," he teased fondly.
"Oh you," she smacked his arm lightly with the dish towel before heading toward the living room to do just that.
"I don't know," she stepped back, hands on the hips as she contemplated the stupid thing. "No, I don't think that will work," she sighed.
They had rooted around the attic to see if there was any Black family Christmas heirlooms or items preserved that they could put up to honour the holidays. Sadly, whoever placed the everlasting preservation charm on the family Christmas tree was a blithering idiot. The poor thing looked like it would lose half of the already decimated needle count if the breeze caught it.
"Yeah, that's…sad," Harry rubbed the back of his neck with a sigh. "And I tried to go through some of the glass decorations and nearly got hexed. I don't think they're…suitable for us," he said in a roundabout way.
Hermione ignored the flutter caused by the word 'us' and instead frowned deeply. She knew what he meant, there was a good likelihood that even Christmas decorations were cursed to jinx muggleborns. The way pureblood bigotry permeated the House of Black was some sadistic fuckery.
"So that's a no too. Well, we have two options - hit the muggle markets or find a place where we can get a live tree and a shop for magical decorations," she proposed.
Harry shrunk the whole mess into one box and sent it into the bin, a quick cleaning charm taking care of the dust bunnies and fallen pine needles. "I vote for the muggle outdoor market. We can see if they sell live trees there and then pop into one of the local shops to find decorations that we like. Plus, I've always wanted to make some decorations as well," he admitted. "Dudley made some at school and brought them home to be added to the tree every year."
Hermione beamed. "That would be a lovely! I used to make paper chains with my dad at our dining table, mum would always bring us dark hot chocolate, a little decadence they indulged in from time to time. And we baked gingerbread biscuits with little cut out string holes so we could add them to the tree as well. I always snatched a few for myself," she admitted.
"Then let's do that. Pick our tree, a few decorations, and the rest we make our own," he agreed and they dashed upstairs to change before heading out.
It took them three hours but the effort was well worth it. The 6'3" tree stood in the corner of the living room, simple gold decorations glistening in the firelight and reflecting hues of red from the flames into the room. She was proud of their efforts as she wiped the sweat from her brow, gratefully accepting a hot cup of tea. "I think it's a great start," she beamed.
"Sure is," he grinned, one hand in the pocket of his jeans as he casually leaned against the door frame. "So, what's next? Paper chains or gingerbreads?" he asked.
"Depends, do we have glue and paper?" she asked with a grin.
"As if I would forget to buy them. I value my life, thank you," he smiled sweetly.
She raised an unimpressed brow at the jibe before twirling the handle of her wand, seeing his posture straighten out a bit at the gesture. "Is that so?"
"Er…I mean…anything for you," he inched back before dashing around the corner, swearing when he spilled some hot tea over his hand.
Her responding cackle was just a smidge on the vengeful side perhaps…
The snow crunched under their feet a little as they walked slowly from the edge of the village towards the familiar cemetery. Though their last memory of walking through Godric's Hollow were of war and fighting, this time they came just as the sun began setting on Christmas Eve and it truly felt much different.
The streets were deserted, the door to the small local church were just closing for a mass, and their walk was nice and silent. Just as last time, Hermione held onto his forearm closely as they walked towards the cemetery, bundled up against the sharp cold settling over them.
"Are you ready?" she asked softly as they approached the gate.
He nodded and opened the old metal gate with a creak, holding it open for her. She stepped in and realised she did forget to bring something after all. "Can you give me a moment?" she asked. "I will catch up to you," she promised and handed him the beautiful live wreath they decorated this morning.
He nodded and took a deep breath before walking towards the graves of his parents. Knowing where they were resting and being prepared to see them was a much different experience this time. He looked around to make sure they were alone before waving his hand, his magic needing no conduit for the simple cleaning spell that tidied the simple pale stone.
He set the wreath down, leaning it against the headstone and just stood there quietly, wondering where to begin. The last time he saw them, he was preparing to die. This time, they wouldn't perhaps be here, but he could still talk to them because his mother's sacrifice really was worth it. He was here and alive, all thanks to them.
"I didn't really know what to say last time I was here," he admitted softly, "but I'm glad we're all still alive and I can try again this year. I don't know if I would have made it that night without you, but I did, and we did it. He's gone. I just wish you, Padfoot and Moony were still here to see it."
He felt her presence before he caught the sight of her beside him, and offered her his arm, gladly lending some of his body heat to her against the icy breeze. "Mum, dad, you remember Hermione," he felt the need to introduce her again for some reason. Perhaps because he wanted them to know her more than just his friend but someone so crucial to his life. "I wouldn't be here without her today either," he admitted.
She squeezed his arm and leaned her head against his shoulder as she did last time. "It's nice to meet you again, Mr and Mrs Potter," she replied and reached into her pocket. "We made a little fairy light for you, now that the days are so dark," she set the small glass orb with a little orange flame charmed to flicker indefinitely inside to light the way.
She offered it to Harry but he shook his head, it was her magic and her offering, so she knelt down and placed it on a spot between their names by the wreath. They watched it flicker for a moment before she accepted Harry's hand and he helped her up to stand beside him again. This time, he didn't let go, just squeezed her soft gloved hand, grounded by the responding pressure on his palm.
"We'll come and visit soon again. Merry Christmas," he added, Hermione echoing his yuletide wishes before they headed back out.
That was when he noticed what had held her up - the graves of all the Peverell brothers have been cleaned and a small wreath was left on the grave of Ignotus who had been so instrumental in guiding their understanding of the Deathly Hallows.
"You're amazing, you know that right?" he asked softly.
Hermione hummed. "It didn't feel right to come here and not do…something," she admitted. "I'm freezing though, how about some hot chocolate?" she asked.
"Sounds like a plan," he agreed and apparated them back to the house.
The night fell quickly after that and their baking efforts exhausted them both so they found their way to their own beds once again, hoping that the nightmares that have stayed away for the past couple of weeks would stay away for another night.
She was just settling into sleep, that comfortable space where you are floating before deeper sleep takes you, but instead she felt lucid and once again standing a forest.
Verbena again. This time she knew what to do and walked down to the grouping of trees that she last saw her dream visitor. A vague shape began taking form once again and soon she was standing before the very woman whose grave they had visited a few scant hours ago.
"Mrs. Potter," she greeted again, glad to be at least wearing her two piece tartan pyjamas that covered much more than the last time they had met like this.
"Please, do call me Lily. And you won't mind if I call you Hermione?"she asked, stepping closer in a smooth ethereal movement that she had seen many a spirit make before.
Hermione nodded in agreement, feeling her pulse slow down. It was strange to be sleeping yet aware, but she suspected there was a reason she was once again meeting the woman, as they were interrupted by Harry's nightmares the last time this happened.
"I'm sorry about last time, it wasn't the best time-" she began apologising but Lily raised her hand to silence the unnecessary apologies.
"I know, and I would much rather be interrupted and have you be there for my son than here. I know he's sleeping soundly tonight, and it's in great part thanks to you," she acknowledged.
Hermione twisted her hands a little nervously at the praise, feeling a bit wrong footed in front of the woman. "I don't…he's doing better, healing by himself. We made it out alive and missed so much, I just want to support him to be happy," she tried to explain, not wanting Lily to get the wrong idea.
Lily tilted her head contemplatively though her smile only widened. "I dare say you don't give yourself enough credit, and neither does the world at large. We have been watching over both of you over the years, and I can safely say my son wouldn't be alive or the man he is today without your help, support and love. And I can tell he can't imagine his life without you. He has that look in his eyes…the same James had as our magic and souls were bound on our wedding day," she admitted.
Hermione's eyes widened at her words. "Surely not, he's never been interested in me…well, like THAT. I'm just…Hermione," she shrugged.
"Oh I think we both know that's not true. The Potter men can be a bit slow but I promise he will find his words at some point," she grinned fondly, thinking of her own husband. "Either way, I can tell you love him just as much, and we heard your Christmas wishes when you came to visit our resting place today," her smile remained but tone shifted to a more serious note. "The little light you left behind means so much to us as those who have been forced into darkness. It is through your kindness and unconditional love for our son that we know he is in good hands, and were we still with you, we would welcome you into our family with open arms as a daughter or our son's best friend either way," she smiled widely.
Hermione blinked, trying to suppress the moisture gathering in her eyes. Despite not being of this earth anymore, Lily Potter has made her feel more welcome and include than anyone had in a long time. "Thank you, that means the world to me," she whispered, voice hoarse with emotion.
"I wish I could embrace you but even this kind of magic has its limitations," Lily looked regretful but stepped closer nonetheless. "Promise me you will keep looking after our Harry?"
Hermione nodded fiercely. "Always," she promised.
"Thank you, and know that we are never too far. We'll always watch over you both," Lily promised in return. "Now, it's time for you to get some real sleep. Perhaps we'll see you soon again, at Godric Hollow," she suggested, taking a few steps away from her.
Hermione nodded her thanks as the forest around her began to fade.
She opened her eyes suddenly, realising she was back at Grimmauld Place and the tears in her eyes were still very much present. She didn't know how it was possible, but somehow she managed to get a blessing from Lily Potter. She snuggled down into her blankets and drifted off again, the feeling of longing for Lily's words to come true wedged in her chest.
It appeared she wasn't the only one who couldn't sleep properly though. I was barely five o'clock in the morning on Christmas Day and they met in front of the fire with steaming mugs of tea.
"I wish they could be here with us, but I'm glad I have this time with you," Harry admitted, looking rumpled in his thick pyjama pants and thin t-shirt that has tightened ver the past few weeks around his filled in frame.
She slipped her arm through his and leaned her head against his shoulder as she did last night at the cemetery. "I'm glad we are having some time for ourselves. There is a tradition in the muggle world, where you set the Christmas lunch table with seats for those who can't join us," she explained gently. "I know it would be far too many if we tried to do that for all, but I think it would be nice to maybe do that for your parents and the Marauders?"
Harry thought about it for a moment and nodded. "I would like that, thank you. But first," he pulled away slightly, only to reach for his wand and summon his present for her, "time for gifts."
Hermione summoned the gift she had for him as well and handed it over, curious to see that they were about the same size. "Do you want me to.." she motioned at the package and he nodded for her to go first.
She gently tore through the simple gold foil wrapping and discovered a square jewellery box. "Harry…" she wasn't sure what to say, trying to understand what this meant.
Harry fidgeted slightly. "I was reminded of something you had and was broken, so I wanted to get you something to remind you of our new beginning," he admitted.
She opened the top of the box and found inside a beautiful white gold torc bracelet with delicate vine engravings similar to those on her wand, and a single blue topaz set in the middle. "Oh Harry…this is…" she caressed the engravings, mesmerised by the incredible craftsmanship. "It's beautiful, but it's far too much-"
"It's less than you deserve," he interrupted. "For always being my friend, never leaving me when I needed you..for being brilliant as you are," he admitted. "It's infused with protective magic, will ward of any lighter spells and prevent you from absorbing any topical potions. The brochure is under the cushion if you want to read it-"
He stopped talking at her chuckle. "I thought I was the one with a tendency for rambling," she said with amusement before taking the bangle out and offering it to him. "It's the most thoughtful gift I've ever received. I'll feel safer wearing it," she admitted softly. "Put it on me?"
He took it from her silently as she pushed the sleeves of her henley up to her elbows and inadvertently revealed the ugly slur carved into her beautiful skin. She realised her error and went to offer him the other hand but he stopped her and pulled the arm closer, thumb gently caressing the cursed letters. Without thought, he leaned down and kissed the inside of her wrist before placing the bracelet on, watching it resize slightly to her thin arm.
She held her breath at the tender gesture, heart hammering against her ribcage wildly as her very magic pulsed with delight at the protective magic that radiated from the warm metal. She lifted her head, at a loss with how she could possibly express what this meant to her when he surged forward and kissed her a bit too eagerly, knocking their teeth together for a second.
"I'm sorry," he pulled away, cheeks flushing slightly with embarrassment.
She touched her lips in surprise before recalling Lily Potter's words. 'The Potter men can be a bit slow but I promise he will find his words at some point'. She didn't need anymore words when he looked at her like that though.
"I should…" he began standing up, too unnerved by her silence, when she took his hand and pulled him back down.
He looked on as she cupped his cheek and pulled him into another kiss, softer but just as fierce in the meaning it was trying to convey. She loved him beyond words, first as a friend for many years, and over the last year especially as her confidant, her forever companion, the man she couldn't imagine living without.
He couldn't hold back anymore and pulled her astride his lap, deepening the kiss when she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and her lips parted under his onslaught. This was nothing like it ever felt before. He didn't have much experience but he knew this was what it was supposed to feel like, this burning need to hold her, love her, get to know her body like he felt he already knew her mind and heart.
The sofa was too constrictive so Harry held her securely and moved them down on the soft rug in front of the fire, wanting to see her pleasure bathed in the ruby and gold of the flickering fire. She tugged on his t-shirt, wanting to feel his skin close to hers, their undressing hindered as they got distracted with kisses or latching onto every new piece of skin revealed. They've seen each other's bodies many times, never fully nude but the landscape of Harry's scarred shoulders and the long scar licking at her collarbone courtesy of Dolohov were familiar despite being rediscovered with newly heated touch.
He finally managed to fumble her bra off and tugged her knickers down impatiently, mouth going dry at the sight of the damp patch on the soft grey cotton. She really wanted him. Her back arched as she grasped at the rug above her for something to hold onto against the onslaught of pleasure when his lips attached themselves to her rosy nipples, his gaze mesmerised the movement of her body beneath him.
He wanted to take his time and to make her feel good, his lips heading lower with a destination in mind. She stopped him however and pulled him back up to greedily kiss him, pushing at his boxers to free his length of the soft cotton. "I need you inside me," she whispered urgently.
"We can take our time," he offered, wanting their first time to be everything it was supposed to be.
"Next time," she promised with a soft, impatient smile. "I just..need to feel you close," she admitted.
Unable to resist her request, he kissed her deeply and settled between her soft thighs, the feeling of rightness thumping in his chest as she cradled him with her hips and ran a hand through his messy hair, making him groan in pleasure as she scratched his scalp lightly. His hands roamed her slender body and curves, thumb tenderly caressing the puckered scar on her chest next to her small perky breasts as he kissed her deeply.
She gasped into their kiss then the head of his length nudged her clit, making her shudder in pleasure. Gods she was soaking and he felt so good. She knew they weren't each other's first but it's been a while for them both and she was growing impatient to feel him. Reaching down to align their bodies, she rubbed her hips against his length and looked him straight in the eyes, so vibrant and deep green as he met her halfway and filled her deeply with an eager thrust.
Their magical cores surged towards each other as their bodies connected, and for a moment it felt like their breath was forced out of them and they could truly feel each other. Hermione's eyes widened as she noticed the golden shimmer of their twined magic around them.
"Pura corda….Harry…we're…" she panted, holding into him tightly.
"Pure hearts, we're…soulmates. I can feel you…" he said in wonder, feeling her pleasure, her love, the need to hold her closer and make her his own.
She held onto him tightly as he began moving inside her, their hips finding their rhythm as their bodies met and their magic twined, humming around their joined bodies. She knew they wouldn't last long, already feeling the telltale tightening in her belly. "I'm close.." she panted, slipping a hand between their bodies to flicked her clit in time with his trusts.
"Fuck..me too.." Harry panted as his hand tightened in her riotous curls, leaning down to kiss her, tasting the salt form the heat on her upper lip.
It felt like they were building, the air humming and shimmering, their bodies winding up tightly until he felt her suddenly clench around his length in pleasure, arching into his body as her frame was wracked with shudders. He codling hold back anymore, gripping her tightly to his body as his thrusts grew uneven and he spilling inside her with a deep groan.
As they clutched each other close while their bodies cooled down, the magic around them thrummed and settled back inside their magical cords, twined and holding a piece of each other within their own heart.
"That was…" she tried to find words but couldn't if she tried. Pura Corda was old magick, something only occurred when the magic, minds and hearts fo two people were so close, so balancing to each other that they were true soulmates. With their coupling tonight, they were inadvertently bound to each other with magic predating marriage. They were bonded, and would be for the rest of their lives. "Is this too much? Too fast?" she asked worriedly.
Harry spent years being a pawn of war, between Voldemort poisoning his mind and Dumbledore paying a shady game of chess, she didn't want him to feel like was being tied down by another forced bond.
Harry was silent for a moment before pulling her closer into his chest. "No. I will always belong to you, whether we are always happy or need a break from each other on occasion. I don't think I can imagine ever sharing myself like this with anyone else," he admitted.
"I love you, Harry," she whispered, her heart warm the place where his heart beat strongly beneath solid ribcage.
"I love you too…" he whispered, pulling her into another kiss, one of promise and affection beyond words. They didn't need them, they had each other. "I think Christmas will be my favourite time of the year from now on," he grinned after a moment.
Hermione chuckled at the cheek and pulled him into another kiss, secretly agreeing with him. No gift could mean more to her than getting the man she loved for all times as her Christmas wish come true.
Fin.