Hermione couldn't remember having such a pleasant Christmas in a long time. Her Mum and Dad had flown in from Portugal bringing gifts and looking more tan than ever. They would stay in their usual bedroom, left just as they left it months ago. They'd gone to bed over an hour ago, with Harry insisting everything was fine and he and Hermione could manage cleaning up without them.

Cleaning up had taken a few handy spells and flicks of the wand, the truly deliciously tricky part had been shagging Harry in the pantry without making too much clatter and noise.

Turns out the quiet, goody-two-shoe ones are the wildest in the bedroom department. Harry wasn't at all complaining.

He found he loved just lounging with her on the bed or sofa, talking or watching something on the telly. They laughed quite a bit together and it turned out Hermione did have a sense of humor.

He had his moments of worry, however. He worried that this was just a fluke and that once the honeymoon phase passed they'd drift apart. It was a complicated mess being this intimate with one's best friend.

Hermione was a beautiful woman, someone who had wonderfully grown into herself. She was confident and always the smartest person in a room. Her voice was levelled and elegant sounding, without being posh. He found out she sang Elton John songs in the shower, and every morning her hair looked like a tornado had happened on her head at night.

He loved her scent and the way she rubbed on cream before bed every night, smelling of fresh Dove soap, her skin delightfully cool.

He found himself wondering how their babies might look, the horrible mess of hair they'd be destined to inherit. He thought of their future daughter hating them in her teenage years, not even a hundred bottles of sleakeazy's sufficing to settle the do. He got a good laugh out of that one.

Harry wanted all of that with Hermione. Watching episodes of True Crime together until death did them part.

It was all quite overwhelming how love could sneak up on you. Worm its wicked way up one's heart and just catch one by surprise. For nineteen years he'd known Hermione Granger, but there was still so much to discover about her. And he wanted to discover and he wanted more than anything to build a life with her.

Hermione carried a sleeping Teddy upstairs to the guest room where Andromeda was already fast asleep. Neville and Hannah had left just after midnight. It was around three now. Teddy had wanted to see if his Santa Claus trap worked. The poor lad. He'd passed out on the sofa just ten minutes later.

This was his family, this was all he ever wanted. It felt unreal how seamlessly they'd slipped into this mould. Turns out it all depends on the right person after all.

"Harry…" He heard her whisper once she came back down dressed in her snowflake pajamas, carrying the puppy in her arms.

They were both exhausted.

"Yeah?"

"Are we really doing this?" He knew exactly what she meant. He could see the anticipation in her eyes and the same worry he felt himself.

"I think it's obvious that I love you, that I've fallen in love with you."

"Who is it obvious to?"

"I'd hope you…"

She sighed. "I've a confession to make…"

"What?"

"I've fancied you for years now. Never thought moving in together would do the trick though." She laughed suddenly, her cheeks turning pink.

" Oh , well, I think it was mostly your sex goddess moves…"

" Sex goddess moves?" She laughed out loud at this and Harry was just happy to watch, "I love you, you twat."

"Hermione, I love you and your twat."