Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of the associated characters.

Requested Pairing: Harmony/Harmione

~*MERRY CHRISTMAS*~

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3) Harmony (Harry/Hermione - School Age)

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"Are you absolutely sure about this, Hermione?" he asked for possibly the hundredth time in the last twenty minutes, much to the other Gryffindor's continuing frustration.

She huffed, gathered the last remnants of her patience, and slowly closed the large, dusty tome she'd borrowed out from the library over break. "Harry, for the very last time, it's FINE… my parents are positively thrilled at the idea of you spending Christmas with us, especially after the time they met the Dursleys…"

There was a momentary pause.

"Actually, they just about adopted you on the spot after twenty minutes in the presence of your insufferable uncle. I can't see why you haven't just jinxed him with something malicious and lingering, and run off to join the magical circus… I certainly would have!" she said vehemently, long wavy hair bouncing as she executed a sharp nod to punctuate the statement.

Harry clutched at his heart melodramatically, eyes wide behind the thick, black, wire frames as he flopped onto his back like a fish. "Did… did Miss Hermione 'We-Might-Get-Killed-or-Worse-Expelled!' Granger, just suggest I use not only magic on a muggle, but some sort of dark, retributive, probably illicit curse on my Uncle?" he stated over-incredulously, taking a nearby cushion to the face for his troubles.

"Oh, don't be so awful about it! Yes, alright… I'll admit that man makes me want to apparate him into a volcano, and that chubby cousin of yours too… so rude!" An indignant expression crossed her face, "He also tried to chat me up… at least, I assume that's what was happening… even with the Time-turner in third year I still never managed to slot in taking the Troll languages course."

This seemed to be a point of great sadness to the Brightest Witch of their Age, but Harry simply couldn't stop laughing at the wistfulness he saw in her eyes over the lost opportunity to learn how to fluently grunt and point.

Hermione sighed in exasperation and dropped her head onto the cover of the book she held, completely obscured by a wash of brilliant wavelets, and mumbling something about 'boys' and 'expanding horizons outside of flatulence charms', that he just KNEW was directed at him.

Before he could respond, a distraction in the form of a pyjama-clad Ron plonked down beside him on the floor; the opposite side to where Hermione was stretched out on the rug of the surprisingly-empty Gryffindor Common Room. Then again, this time of year a lot of students left early for various reasons, and even more were currently in the Hospital Wing for some new strain of flu that some unsupervised third-years accidentally created in Potions (rather than the 'Forgetful Elixir they were supposed to be brewing), that was apparently resistant to even the strongest of Madam Pomfrey's Pepper-Up Potions.

It was sort of surreal, actually.

Gryffindor Common Room was rarely ever quiet, muted at best; always full of bustling bodies, chatter and conversations, the scratch of quill on parchment and the slick twap of misappropriated Quaffle meeting the skin of someone's palms (or various other body parts, let's face it, not everyone has brilliant hand-eye co-ordination). But right now, it was almost devoid of life, a pair of Fourth years quietly reading a textbook at a corner table and a tiny little First Year who was blinking rapidly and avidly attempting not to fall asleep in her chair by the cheery fireplace, the room's only other occupants.

Completely unselfconscious after many years of living with a dozen or so other people who all regularly vied for parental attention just on value of being the loudest speaker at the time, Ron broke the stillness by turning to Harry and asking, "So, all ready to go then, eh, 'Chosen One'?"

Continuing on before Harry could even get a word out edgewise. "Mum sent an owl just before, said to make certain you have a warm top, and your jumper, oh and clean socks! There was a whole paragraph about undies and socks and all that… she's just concerned about you, it's your first real vacation I suppose, and Mum always wants to make certain all her boys are well-equipped to handle anything. Though how clean knickers will help if you come face-to-face with a another mountain troll, 'm not exactly sure…"

He shrugged noncommittally, "Ah well, suppose you can just shove 'em right on up his nose if you have to… worked a real treat last time, didn't it?"

Harry elbowed the red-head in the ribs awkwardly, for that reminder of something he'd rather forget, but beamed anyway… he sort-of owed that Mountain Troll (and in a weird, round-a-bout way, Quirrell himself) everything. Without it, he would never have become friends with Hermione… he'd probably not even have survived First Year without her (and Ron) helping him fight off Voldemort himself…

And even if he had, Second Year's basilisk could have killed him with a stare if she hadn't worked it out… never have rescued Sirius in Third, or survived the Tri-Wizard Tournament in Fourth…

Then again, the same thing could be said for Ron; without the other boy, Harry would be lost… he was as much an important fixture in his life as Hermione. Then again, he wasn't about to go sneaking about in the middle of the night to swap secret kisses with the admittedly-attractive redhead, silently praying that McGonagall didn't catch them out of bed…best mate or not. No, that illicit activity was reserved for one very special person in his life… and she was sprawled out by his left side, watching in amusement as these thoughts obviously flitted across his face… or possibly because she'd discovered a spell to read minds.

Anything was possible with Hermione. 'Impossible' was a cute way of saying she hadn't turned her full attention to the issue, just yet…

Clearing his throat, the Seeker made a great show of rolling his eyes and stretching, "YES, Ron, you can urgently owl your mother that I have packed a sufficient amount of clean undergarments and socks… and everything else I need for my Holiday with the Grangers."

Hermione poked the redhead with her ink-stained quill-tip, causing Ron to yelp indignantly and swat it away from the hand-knitted maroon jumper adorned with a golden 'R'; he was fiercely protective of it this year after the one gifted two Christmases ago was mauled by some incredibly aggressive SnapDragons in Herbology last year. She smirked, kicking her legs back and forth in the air, like small children tend to do when lying on the floor…

"You can always come with us, you know… it's not an exclusive 'Harry-only' invitation, my parents love you too. Wouldn't it be fun to spend Christmas with us in an exotic place that wasn't Egypt, for once?" she prodded, eyes wide and earnest. They'd asked him more than once, but at first Ron had waved off the offers… then laughed maniacally after that, and finally settled for politely declining their offers with rolled eyes.

"You know I'd love to Hermione, and Mum said it would be fine… but there's not a merperson's chance in a net, that I want to get stuck halfway around the world in a tiny cabin, watching you two make trauma-inducing googly-eyes at one another for two months. So, thanks… but no, not this time… maybe next year, somewhere with side open spaces I can run screaming across when you two start with the pet-names…" a shudder rippled through Ron at the words, like he'd just seen something rather traumatic; or imagined it.

"Well," he said, getting up in a surprisingly fluid motion given the gangly limbs they were, all three, sporting at this point in time. "I'm going to bed… and I think McGonagall's gonna come a little early tonight, she was really tetchy in Transfiguration today, she's tired… which means she'll be by in about ten minutes. Goodnight… see you at breakfast."

He trudged away silently, pausing only to push the First-Year student dozing dangerously close to the edge of the armchair she was curled up on, more firmly back in place upon the item of furniture, and then continued towards the stairs, confident in the knowledge that McGonagall would sort her out later.

When Harry turned back to Hermione, noting the heavy white flakes falling dimly outside the darkened window behind her head, she was mid-yawn and trying to cover it with an ink-blotted hand. He laughed softly, "Well, I don't know about you… but I'm all packed and ready for tomorrow, so maybe we should call it a night. Wouldn't want to have to have your parents carry us off the train because we fell asleep or something equally as silly…"

The Grangers would be meeting them on Platform 9 & ¾ tomorrow night, alongside the Weasleys who would be awaiting their home-bound brood. Harry felt a little guilty he and Hermione weren't spending Christmas with them this year, but Mrs Weasley had told him at school break (when the idea for the over-Christmas trip was originally proposed by Hermione's smiling parents) not to be silly, that this was a chance to explore the world and he should take it!

And reminded him that there was always next year…

…while simultaneously eyeing the pair of them in a way that said she was mentally measuring both he and Hermione for their Christmas Jumpers -which was good, he'd grown several inches too big for last year's one, at this point.

Hermione carefully packed away the parchment, quill, ink-bottle and ancient tome she'd been reading and copying out various little notes from; standing up slowly, stretching every inch of stiffness from her body as best she could.

He followed suit, more slowly because, as it turned out… his left foot had fallen asleep; leaving the great and much-vaunted Harry Potter hopping about jiggling it mid-air until the pins-and-needles sensation of re-awakening allowed him to finally put weight on it again. He snapped back to full awareness to realise that he'd been softly singing, '…left foot out, you put your left foot in and shake it all about…' much to the wide-eyed surprised of the half-awake, studying fourth-years still at the corner table.

"Very dignified," Hermione smiled, much amused by his antics; holding off going to bed momentarily as she awaited her goodnight kiss from her apparently hokey-pokey mad boyfriend.

He quickly pressed a chaste kiss to her lips and proceeded to make as dignified an exit from the room as physically possible, given he'd just been re-enacting a muggle children's song and dance that had been ingrained in him sometime in preschool. Harry would make up for it tomorrow, maybe ask the House Elves to make her something special for breakfast or something (they refused to let him do cooking after what is only whisperingly referred to as 'the Valentines Day Incident)… for now, the soft brush of her fingers against his as they stood at the bases of both staircases, was enough.

They turned simultaneously and retreated towards respective dormitories for sleep, knowing the following day would be full of travel, excitement and not a little tiring for the intrepid teens.

One thing he knew for certain, as he entered his dorm room on silent feet trying not to wake the already-slumbering Ron (the only other inhabitant left in the small room at this time of year), laying his glasses on the bedside table and sliding under the red-themed covers… not a moment too soon.

McGonagall's footsteps could be heard echoing up the flight of stairs to their dorm, on her nightly head-count rounds…

Surprisingly, he found his mind full of images and excitement about the upcoming holiday, already lulling him to sleep…

How had he not noticed being this tired before?

Harry wondered, yawning softly and curling into a little ball of warmth under the covers as Ron mumbled something about 'chocolate' and 'no Fred, not the Flying monkeys'. The creaking bed springs echoing like fireworks in the silence as he turned over somewhere to Harry's right in the sudden darkness… the only illumination a sliver of waning moonlight through a snow-covered window.

By the time Professor McGonagall had cracked open the door, he was already asleep…

THE END

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You guys would tell me if it seemed stupid or excessively cheesy, right?

Another one down, more to come.

[I did mean to pot this last night, but apparently the servers went down, 503 error and all that joy.]

~*SailorSilvanesti/Phoenix Fire*~