The month after Ron and Luna's wedding was December, and Harry was left to look after Pigwidgeon while the couple spent their honeymoon in warmer climates. Harry felt frazzled enough dealing with a kneazle and an owl, but another into the mix was beginning to go too far.

"Pig, for the love of Christ- calm down!" Harry cried as he tried to concentrate on his paperwork. The owl still hooted merrily despite the coverlet over the cage.

"Need to check for tranquilizers next time I'm at Eeylops…" he mumbled under his breath.

"You'll do no such thing, Harry!" came a laugh from the doorway. Hermione entered the room with a steaming cup of tea in hand and her cheeks rosy from the cold air outside. Her nose and bits of her hair were wet from melted snowflakes, and she crossed over to Pigwidegon to let him out of the cage.

"He just needs some company, an understanding ear maybe," she said gently as she coached the tiny grey owl onto her shoulder. Pig twittered momentarily, and fluffed his feathers in content as Hermione leaned against Harry's desk.

"Better not let Hedwig see you; she just now started to like you," said Harry while trying to hide a smile.

Hermione raised her eyebrows, "Somehow I don't think Hedwig is the type to hold petty grudges. What's it this time?" she asked, gesturing to his papers. "Did Griphook finally find out it was us that destroyed the Lestrange's vault?"

Harry sighed, "No…he'd probably be impressed though. No, this is just traveling stuff; I have to arrange a few portkey's, and their different for every country…unbelievably boring is all. Finish your Christmas shopping already?"

She nodded, "Yup, I need to get packing as well. I figured I'd take the train this year. I miss taking it." Hermione absently petted Pigwidgeon and stared at the snow falling outside.

"Wait- you leave tomorrow?" Harry asked, suddenly snapping himself out of his stare. "I thought-"

Hermione held a finger up to her lips and gestured to the sleeping owl on her shoulder. She returned him to his cage and spoke quietly to Harry, "My aunt is coming to stay with my parents, and they wanted me to be there as a surprise…is that okay?"

"Yeah, I just…" Just what? he thought immediately. Just wanted to spend the holidays with you? That's pretty selfish Potter, said a voice eerily like his late potion master. Harry was rooted to his chair and was very aware that Hermione was looking at him curiously.

Desperate to break the silence, Hermione set down her tea and said in a small voice, "Will you see me off tomorrow?"

"Of course, Hermione," he replied in the same small voice. It suddenly occurred to him that their quiet conversation now no longer had any reason to keep Pig from waking up. It was the mere notion that they were quiet…for the fear of missing what the other might say.

Hermione gave him a small smile and then stood; brushing her hand over the top of his head in a gesture that she had done once so many years ago. Harry was happy to find that it still had the same affect on him, and he relaxed into his chair as he heard her moving about in her room, packing for the trip the next day.

Getting to King's Cross was a task however, as the snow from the night before nearly shut down the traffic in the city. Harry and Hermione had decided to ditch the surprisingly late Knight Bus for apparition, and they arrived in a back alleyway, just a block away from the station. The two trudged through the snow, and Hermione unconsciously took Harry's hand as they stepped over black ice on the walkways.

The two were strangely quiet, which only seemed to be amplified by the fact that no other people were about at six in the morning. Harry was dealing with the tightening feeling in his chest that had afflicted him since last night. It certainly didn't help that Hermione was leading him through with a warm hand, or the fact that he noticed how much brighter her eyes became in contrast to the snow. It was a feeling that he didn't even know if it was right to acknowledge. But there it was, settling itself around his heart, and now Hermione was leaving.

"Don't let Crookshanks get the best of you," she said as they entered the main hall of the station, "You'll need to clip is claws once a week if you don't want holes in that couch. And Neville mentioned that you only need to feed the Flutterby bush-"

"Hermione," he said with an amused look. "I'll manage." Unfortunately, the last bit came out horribly unconvincing.

They stopped next to the train, and Hermione set down her possessions. Harry felt as if he were trying to perform some smaller form of legillimency as he stared at her; she was busying herself by fixing her scarf, but he knew that she was stalling for time. She sighed and looked up at him, "Is there something you want to tell me, Harry?"

Seconds ticked by as he stared at her. Did she know? Would she even want to hear it? Hermione didn't break eye contact, and Harry didn't want to let her down, especially with the wrong idea. He swallowed thickly, "Y-yes… but now isn't the best time."

Hermione's features softened, and she gave little thought to the need of hugging him with all of her strength. "A letter Harry, put it in a letter," she said quietly as she released him from her gripping hug and kissed his cheek.

Once again, he was trapped in a feeling that was not unlike a petrifying jinx. Harry could only watch through wide eyes as she grabbed up her tiny suitcase, adjust her wool cap and clamor towards the train. Only when he realized that she was about to disappear from sight were his muscles able to move again. Maybe now was the perfect time and was letting it go by-

"Hermione!"

She immediately popped her head out from one of the nearby windows and gave him a grin. The whistle of the train blasted and knocked out any words that were about to come out of his mouth.

"I'll tell Mum and Dad hello for you!" she called back and waved. Hermione tucked herself back into the compartment as the train picked up speed, and Harry suddenly found himself feeling quite lonely in the huge crowd of King's Cross.

The days following were merry with snow and Weasley family company. Hermione had been gone for five days so far, and Harry had shirked away from any form of parchment that was in his flat. He had found himself unconsciously looking down the hallway back towards the guest room that she usually stayed at, and even missed the smell of her tea that she brewed to relax after work. His ears would imagine the sound of her turning a page in the study, and he would stop abruptly before going around a corner, instinctively bracing himself for impact as Hermione usually hurried around in the morning before heading off to the Ministry.

Harry had visited the Burrow on the afternoon of the third day, unable to trust himself in keeping busy. He only realized too late that Molly would never allow him to work in her own house, and Harry found he had more than enough time on his hands, even with Ron badgering him every twenty minutes for a pickup game of Quidditch or chess.

Three days, Harry thought morosely. I have to do something. He thudded his head against the counter he was sitting at, a cold cup of tea forgotten next to him. That was how Ron had found him minutes later.

"Woah, mate. You feeling alright?" asked Ron. He puffed a lock of hair out of his eyes and bypassed the dishes in the sink that Mrs. Weasley asked him to do the night before.

"Not really," came Harry's muffled reply.

"Have anything to do with Hermione?" asked Ron thoughtfully as he sat down across from Harry.

Harry's forehead shot up from the table and peered at Ron; the wood indentations making his forehead appear much older as he furrowed his brow at him. "Ugh. Am I that obvious?"

Ron picked his teeth and looked his friend over, "Not really. I've just only noticed it yesterday. Whenever Mum mentions Hermione or her work, you tense and end up staring out the window for hours."

Harry mulled over Hermione's words as he imagined that he could see the steam from the train in the distance:

A letter, put it in a letter.

But why on earth a letter? How impersonal! And especially with all of the emotions that he was feeling; that he needed to tell Hermione before the boiling point was reached. Before she found out in some un-intended way, or that an obstacle came up…

Harry figured it amazing that she hadn't taken up with other wizards in the dating world. She was a scholar, an author, and a prominent figure in the Ministry on the controversial implementation of elfish welfare regulations. He had also seen quite a few suitors waiting around in the Ministry atrium for the end of her shift. It was that when he knew he was feeling something different…

One year prior…

It was noon in the Ministry, and Harry was finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel with international talks concerning goblin trade. He had accepted an apprenticeship with Bill at Gringotts, and his respect within the business skyrocketed. Soon, only the investors with the Ministry wished to work with Harry Potter, which was satisfactory for the goblins as it kept a profitable barrier between the clients and the bankroll.

Harry had been abroad for two weeks, being fed lavish food and praises that were beginning to be uncomfortably sick to his stomach. It paid off in the end however; Harry was able to garner a new investor to Hermione's department, who was quite keen on the newest developments on elfish promotion. He knew he would have his ear chewed off by Griphook, the head accountant, over the low interest that Harry had promised the client. He figured it was worth it; to Hermione's campaign and the look on her face when she found out. He couldn't wait to get back to tell Hermione the news, as well as reveling in her good company.

He had sent Hedwig that morning with the news, and was now waiting with baited breath as the lift doors began to discharge more and more employees. The lobby began to crowd and soon Harry began to wonder if he could find Hermione in such a place, until his eye was caught by a group of men wearing Auror cloaks and unnaturally slicked-back hair.

"'Mione! There you are! I wanted to introduce you to Austin, remember?" came a charming voice that carried, and obviously thrived for attention.

Harry cringed at the nickname, and tried to peer over the cluster of heads as he saw Hermione's wild mane of hair. One of them must have cracked a joke, as they began laughing and jostling each other, and Harry caught a glimpse of Hermione juggling her bags and rolling her eyes.

In spite of the situation, Harry grinned. Hermione could handle a pack of greenhorn Aurors single-handedly, if not wandlessly.

"Was that before or after you were recounting your single-handed and daring apprehension of Demetrious Darrow?" came her steady voice from behind the men.

"Oi! Single-handed?!" crowed a few of the Aurors. "So it was you that pulled Darrow off of yourself once he got the better of your piss-poor incarcerous jinx?!" A squabble of insults and pointing fingers broke out within the group and Hermione neatly stepped around them with a satisfied smirk on her face.

She was only a few steps away when she finally noticed him; "Harry!"

Years of practice prepared Harry for the lunging hugs that Hermione was famous for, and it was with a welcoming smile that he easily scooped her up. Her bags banged painfully into his side, but the feeling was immediately washed out by the warmth that spread through him. Hermione's hugs held a great deal of emotion in them; excitement, worry, protectiveness, and as Harry was starting to feel the past few years; love. It was a wonderful feeling for him to realize that he understood her hugs, and everything in them. They had become enjoyable with time, and there were quite a few days when he realized he craved one. He supposed that this was the real reason why he had done this for her.

Hermione pulled back from his shoulder and stood close; positively glowing despite the distance between them. "I got your message! Did you really? Augustine Fellows is going to fund the entire elvish enrichment campaign?! I couldn't believe it! I was going to write and tell you but Hedwig took off and I had to finish up my report before 2 pm and… what?"

Harry's smile had grown bigger and bigger until he was chuckling at her excited tirade. The crowd in the atrium was starting to thicken and more than a few people were staring at the famous witch and wizard, not to mention the glowering Aurors who had finally ended their argument. Neither Harry nor Hermione saw the pointing fingers cast in their direction.

"You," he said simply. "I missed you. Missed this." Something had broken in his eyes though, and for a moment Harry felt that he had said too much.

"I'm glad your back, Harry," Hermione said with a wonderful laugh and a bright smile lit up her features. "Let's get something to drink; you can tell me all about the trip."

She broke away and took his hand, pulling him through a throng of reporters to a designated disapparition room. They had wiled away the evening at the Three Broomsticks, drinking butterbeers and predicting the success of Hermione's department with the new funding.

"Well, you're better than me mate. Took me forever to realize that I was in love with Luna. I hope you figure it out, because I don't really care for this new you. It's all brooding and such." Ron gave his friend a cheeky grin and went about cleaning the dishes and picking up after the evening's meal. Harry contemplated his memories of his best friend while watching Ron charm the cutlery into a drawer, and did indeed see the connection. The only problem seemed to be that he was terrified of telling her anything.

It was hard slipping out of the Burrow that night, but Harry needed to return to his flat to think. He was surprised to see Crookshanks eagerly awaiting him in the study, and even more so when he watched the enormous cat flounce over to the Christmas tree where a large package was waiting.

"Oh 'Shanks, you didn't have to," he said to the cat absently. Harry walked over to the tree that he had picked out with Hermione, and brushed away some dry needles from the top of the box. A letter was attached:

Harry,

Sorry, but I couldn't wait! I wanted you to have this for the season, since it's only going to get colder. Dobby helped me with the sewing; he said I should put it on the sleeve, but I told him you kept it closer.

Happy Christmas

Hermione

Harry was momentarily confused, but when he tore the wrapping he saw a thick woolen pea coat. It was black in color, and he could tell by the buttons that it was standard navy issue. He put it on immediately. Turning to Crookshanks who was sitting on the couch, Harry tugged on the sleeves. "What do you think?"

The half-kneazle blinked slowly and began to wash his paws, looking wholly uninterested.

Harry rolled his eyes and adjusted the front flaps of the coat. It was then he noticed a red patch; the size of a galleon and the shape of a heart on the inner lapel. Even though it was stitched, he could recognize Hermione's handwriting: HJP

He stood quite still for a moment as he looked at the patch. The Christmas tree twinkled merrily in the dark flat as Crookshanks purred on the couch.

His thought's of Hermione started to kick in again...she had sensed he was going to tell her something important, emotionally important…and she knew him better than anyone else. She knew Harry was pants with speaking out his feelings, and what else was better than writing down everything? The only part he really had to overcome was sending it to her. He gave a grim smile at her logic.

It's not that easy though, Hermione. But for you I'll try.

Harry sat down at his desk and pulled out a bit of parchment; but this time he wasn't keeping his heart close to him. His heart poured through his arm in the form of ink, and it was terrifying.