Hermione and Harry were sitting in a tent in the middle of nowhere. They had been hunting Voldemort's horcruxes for a while now, making little progress. It was the New Year's Eve, the most depressing one they had ever experienced. As the handles on Hermione's watch moved past midnight, they toasted each other with water conjured from their wands.
"Happy New Year, Hermiome," Harry said.
"Same, Harry."
Neither of them felt like celebrating, for the war they fought seemed never-ending but the mere fact they were still there, able to wish each other a happier future, gave them hope and power to continue with their quest. One day, they shall succeed.