Ginny half smiled. "Well…" she heaved the greatest of great sighs, "I suppose so. I'll hang the mistletoe."

Harry chuckled. "I think I can help you with that…."

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Christmas Eve arrived cold and a little dark; clouds swept over the sky, covering it darkly. Due to this, at about ten in the morning it looked like evening, and stayed as such for a very long time… until four o' clock, when the guests began to arrive at the Burrow.

Harry and Ginny were the first to arrive. Harry was in stately green and black dress robes, and Ginny in a deep purple dress that swept across the floor delicately as she walked. Fred, George, and Angelina Johnson were next, each wearing their uniforms from Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes—Angelina asked Mrs. Weasley about something of other in the kitchen while Fred and George usurped the punch bowl from the courtyard for a few moments. It was replaced a minute later, looking an almost untraceable amount darker in hue.

Many, many people made their ways to the Burrow that evening for the get-together, all dressed up magnificently, all wishing one another a happy Christmas and congratulating Harry and Ginny. Draco showed up at Lupin's side, with a cane helping him around the yard; Fred immediately loosed a sprig of enchanted mistletoe on Malfoy, which trapped and held him until Padma Patil took pity on his state and swiftly kissed him to allow him to move from underneath the leafy creature.

Sirius and Hermione did not get to the party until about six o' clock. They Apparated about half a mile off and walked up the winding path to the house. Hermione's gloved arm was looped in Sirius's more powerful one, and they exchanged a few glances.

"Are you excited?" Hermione asked, just before they entered the Weasleys' yard. Sirius turned her to face him, and grinned right in her face. He brushed his lips against her forehead chastely.

"Yes. I don't want you to leave my side, alright? There are enough people in there to scare the insides out of me, and they'll all want to ask millions of questions about being dead and such." Sirius sighed, grinning. "I think I could handle that much better if you were there with me."

Hermione slowly smiled. She was flattered that he would like her, of all people, to stay by his side. Blushing a little, she said slowly, "Oh… alright."

Sirius offered Hermione his arm again, and she gracefully took it. They entered the warmth of the house.

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Spotting Sirius, Lupin broke away from all conversation and trotted over. He and Black hugged awkwardly, as Sirius did not remove Hermione's arm from his first; Lupin shook his head.

"I'd watch out if I were you, Sirius." Lupin said warningly, but smiled a little. "Lots of people want to hear your story. They keep trying to get it out of me."

Sirius half-smiled, as well. "Well, they're going to have to find out someday, right, Hermione?"

Hermione nodded, shrugging. "I'm sure they think so, in the least."

Lupin was not wrong; at that very moment, more than a few people had glanced over to those who had just entered, and were eyeing them with express interest. Soon, it seemed, all noise had ceased but for the live band—yet even that stopped momentarily, its members looking around the now-silent room.

Harry broke it; "Sirius!" He yelled, and ran up to his godfather. This time, Sirius did unhook his arm from Hermione's, to embrace his godson. Noise slowly filled the room once more, the music began again, and a handful of people made their ways to the new group gathered around Sirius and Hermione.

And, with one group, Sirius and Hermione told their tale, with a little help from Lupin. That group dispersed, the three of them made it across the room, where they sat, and were joined by Draco, Tonks, Harry, and Ginny. Another group formed around them very quickly, and, again, they told their story, this time with help from both Lupin and Malfoy. At the end of the telling, when Draco was wrapping it up by explaining how they had all landed in the hospital—to both groups, Hermione and Sirius had left out the part about opening the locked door in the Department of Mysteries—Sirius put his hand on Hermione's arm. This was the first time he had touched her since entering the house, and she jumped slightly at the coolness in his touch. She turned to look at him, and he whispered, so low it could scarce be heard, "I want to get out."

Hermione slowly smiled, and nodded untraceably. She leaned in to Lupin and whispered, "Sirius and I are going elsewhere. Cover for us, please." There was silence, and then she saw him nod slightly. She turned to Sirius just as Lupin began talking, and, somehow, the two were able to slip away, noticed only by Draco, Harry, and Ginny. Sirius's hand was clamped tightly around Hermione's as they left the house and went out into the garden in the Weasleys' back yard.

They passed couples—some dancing to the faint music inside, some engaging in other deeds. They passed the table topped with food and drink, and both grabbed a cup of punch and trotted onward; they had gone largely unnoticed by the people at the table, all of whom were chatting too amiably to truly care that an allegedly dead man and the only necromancer known to the world at that point had just stopped by where they were for refreshment.

They reached the farthest bench in the garden, miraculously unoccupied, and sat at it. Wordlessly, Sirius slid Hermione's wand from its position tucked in the sash that wound around Hermione's waist. He waved it at the bushes around them, and the slowly, ethereally wound to surround the sturdy stone bench. He sighed and put the wand back in its proper holster, grinning at Hermione in doing so.

"That was close," she said simply.

"Thanks a lot. I really needed to get away from all that." Sirius remarked, smiling a smile filled with so much warmth that it did not matter that the two of them were outside, at night, during December. Hermione felt his warmth pass over her, and wondered briefly if he had cast some warmth spell on her, or if it was merely his presence to which she could attribute thanks. She leaned in slightly, and even her back, the small patches naked between the ribbon laces, crept into the warmth.

"I noticed. You looked a little stressed out."

"It's just that… some of those people, I'd think didn't deserve to know our story." Sirius said thoughtfully, taking his cup of punch to his lips and sipping it. He looked at it quickly, raised his eyebrows, but set it down gingerly on the stone bench once more. Hermione notice that, this time, it was not between them, instead on Sirius's other side. Hermione quickly took a sip of her own, barely noticing the flavor, and then moved it so that there was no longer anything between the two heat-emanating bodies. Sirius looked over at her and smiled, beckoning her to scoot closer to him on the bench. She did so, hesitantly, and felt his arm wrap suavely around her waist, to rest on the stone at the opposite side. Ever so gently, Hermione's left cheek pressed against Sirius's shoulder, and her head nuzzled into his neck. He leaned his head against it.

Hermione, having quite forgotten what it was Sirius had said, but feeling a need for some sort of remark, merely added a probing, "Hmm…." Sirius opened his mouth to speak, and Hermione relished the way she could feel him talking, discern the mechanics of his jaw and cheekbone lightly moving against the top of her head.

"After all, we worked hard for that story. They should just take what they read in the papers, shouldn't they?"

"Papers?" Hermione asked, eyebrows raised, and Sirius laughed.

"I heard one of them mention that we were featured in the Daily Prophet. Front page, I do believe, although I shudder to think what picture of me they scrounged up. None of the ones dating near my death at all are very flattering…."

Hermione chuckled. "Nonsense. They're all flattering."

"How can you say that, who saw me ripe from Azkaban?" Sirius asked, tone not altogether cold. "I must have looked ghastly then. I was pale and sunken with matted hair all over…."

"True, but you've always had a kind of photographic charm." Hermione laughed. "I haven't seen a photograph of you I didn't think was—" her voice stopped functioning, stopping her from continuing. Any other man, she attempted to rationalize, she could him he was handsome. Why was it so difficult to one who was so obviously handsome, who, by no matter of doubt in the world had already figured it out for himself? No matter how the logical part of her brain scolded, she could not continue speaking.

"Charming? Dashing?" Sirius offered humorously, giving her a comforting squeeze. Hermione realized that she must have twitched, and blushed, grateful for the early winter darkness which had already fallen fully.

"Adorable." Hermione concluded, the specious part of her which had prevented conclusion before allowing at least that much to slip past.

Sirius looked at her, and she was sorry for the warmth of his cheek against the top of her head. She pulled away slightly to look him in the eyes. They were dark, serious eyes; Hermione shivered, suddenly a little cold. A smile, however, warmed Sirius's face, although something told Hermione that the smile was not entirely true to its owner.

"Adorable… I don't think I like the chime of that one. Maybe 'radiant', 'brilliant' even, I'd accept. I don't want to be a little boy, though."

"And I don't want to be a little girl." Hermione blurted out, before she had the sense to stop herself. One of her great fears—Sirius's face lit with the telling of it, and his lips parted ever so slightly.

"I… I don't see you as a little girl." He insisted, and Hermione, mortified, pressed her face back into his shoulder; he wrenched it away, pinning her once more with that look. It was intense, far more so than anything Hermione's mottled brain could remember. Her thoughts, in fact, chased themselves round and round the same things. He doesn't see you as a little girl. God, look at those eyes! I love the way he looks at me. I wish he could… but no! I don't love him! I can't possibly want him, not like this. Our bodies are so hot… and… he doesn't see you as a little girl…. She could hardly move, let alone allow her eyes to wander from his. She was aware of everywhere he looked at her; when his eyes searched hers, she knew just what they were finding. She saw his gaze move to her lips, and slowly, in a way Hermione could only describe as serious, fully Sirius, up to her eyes once more.

Hermione was not sure if they had grown any closer; she led herself to believe so, but she could not be sure. At any rate, nothing became of any movement, real or imagined, because, at that moment, there was the clearing of a throat from outside the circle of hedges, and Hermione jumped at the sound. Sirius shut his eyes, face growing almost the appearance of that of a man who had allowed an opportunity to slip from him; Hermione filed this away for deeper pondering at a later date. She instead turned, at the same time as Sirius, to see whose head it was that was appearing, peering at them from over the bushes.

In the dim light, Hermione could see Draco's pointed, haughty features, and a phantom of a smile on his face. "Interesting gardening techniques Mrs. Weasley employs, aren't these?" He asked, and he made an arm movement as if waving a wand. The hedges shrank back to their original placements.

"What—" Sirius began, his voice a little rough. He cleared it, and began again. "What're you doing out here, Malfoy?"

Draco gave an innocent grin. "I was just sent to get you. What are you doing out here, Black?"

Sirius raised his eyebrows, but did not respond. Hermione coughed slightly and said, still blushing and a little on edge from the surprise Draco had given her, "Who needs us in there?"

"The Minister," Draco added, grin fading to a grimace. "He just dropped by—without an invite, I'll add—and started asking about the two of you, seeing if he could speak with you personally. I think, since he's already getting the story from Arthur, he won't have to ask you about it. Basically, you," Draco nodded at Hermione, "make an appearance, and you," here, he nodded at Sirius, "prove to him you're alive. That should satiate his curiosity… and I hope he does leave soon. Harry's practically steaming out the ears that he showed up, I think he's ready to throw the cad off his feet if he does or says anything over the line. And that's the kind of trouble the Boy Wonder ought to avoid so shortly after he's been married." Draco sighed into the night, breath visible in the chilly air.

"Minister?" Sirius asked blankly. He vaguely remembered Hermione telling him about a new Minister… he could not remember the name, however. "Who was that, again?"

"Man in the big chair." Draco laughed, speaking slowly as if Sirius could not understand him. "Rules the Wizarding world of Britain. Surely you've heard of him, at least…."

Hermione scowled at Draco. "Very, very funny, Malfoy." She turned to Sirius. "His name is Rufus Scrimgeour, and he's tried to take all the credit for the demise of Voldemort. It's a ridiculous ploy, really, but tons of people believe him… that his military force swept the floor with the Death Eaters, rather than the Order of the Phoenix."

Sirius clamped his jaw tight. "Ah. I see. It's coming back to me a bit. And… isn't Harry angry about this?"

"Oh yes, very." Draco offered. "Boiling mad. But there's not much he can do about it, is there? I mean, Scrimgeour's the Minister of Magic. Even Harry Potter couldn't stand up against him without at least getting his wrist slapped." There was more than a hint of dry sarcasm inlaid in the sentence, and Hermioen shot Draco another award-winning scowl.

"Not entirely," Hermione answered with a sigh. "Not about taking the limelight off himself. He didn't really want the fame, anyway. But he did get very angry when he heard how Scrimgeour was trying to take credit away from the Order."

"And we've got to go consort with this man?" Sirius asked, eyebrows raised. Hermione took a scant second to admire the charm in the wrinkle of his brow. She bit her cheek to keep from smiling, clenched her fist to keep from reaching out her long, nimble fingers and running them along the slight creases this caused.

"I'm afraid so. He could come up with plenty of bogus charges to throw on Hermione's head if he's insulted by either of you—breaking and entering, illegal misuse of Ministry title." Draco said plainly, gesticulating slightly with his hands. "Oh, and make I'd make it snappy. Too much longer with them in the same house, and Potter—probably with all the young Weasley crew at his side—will have torn of the old bloke's head, lit it on fire, and begun singing Christmas carols. Not that I'd mind." Draco added as an afterthought. "Just don't call me to vouch for Potter's character at the trial—we're not exactly bosom buddies yet, you know."

Hermione and Sirius had long since ceased listening. They were exchanging a silent mental conversation, each building up the strength of the other, and, fortified, they stood. "Ready whenever you are, dearest." Sirius said, once more proffering his arm to Hermione. Blushing at the term, Hermione gingerly took it.

"Of course I'm ready."

The two, followed by a huffily annoyed Draco, made their way back into the Burrow.

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AN: And a Merry Christmas/Happy Hannukah/Happy Kwanzaa to all of you! And, if you're atheist... hey, at least it's snowing! Nah, jkjk. Hope you enjoyed, I typed like mad all Christmas Eve to get the up today. I hope you like your present, and there'll be even MORE up soon! XD