A few days before Christmas Holiday was due to begin, Harry was sneaking down from his dorm for his morning rendezvous. Even knowing it was just in his head, he could already smell the coffee that would be waiting for him with the resident Potions Master on the front steps. And this morning he could use the coffee, since he and Neville had had their second fight the night before. This one had been started by his boyfriend, who was angry that Harry had agreed to spend the day in Hogsmeade with Hermione, who he hadn't had much opportunity to spend time with since he'd begun receiving his extra workload from Achesan. Neville's argument was that Harry hadn't spent much time with him, either, and he refused to listen when Harry pointed out that they studied together almost every evening in their dorm. Neville's response was that it 'wasn't the same' because they didn't talk. Had Harry been just a little more impulsive, he'd have mentioned the fact that Snape never complained about their companionable silence whenever he joined Harry in the Restricted Section. He had not said this, tempted as he was, and had refused to cancel his arrangement with his best friend. Hermione had solved the issue when she invited Neville to join them. Harry had not been happy about this addition which would no doubt dampen his time with his friend, but he had eventually agreed just to end the argument.

As Harry tip-toed through the Common Room, a flicker of movement by the fireplace caught his eye. He turned, certain he'd been caught sneaking out, to find his best friend curled in a chair by the dark, cold fireplace, a book slipping out of her lax hands. He smiled endearingly and walked over.

"Hermione," He whispered. The witch didn't stir, and he touched her shoulder. "Rabbit!"

The girl started slightly and opened her eyes groggily. "I'm awake," She claimed.

Harry chuckled and took the book from her hands. "Go to bed, 'Mione." He marked her page and set it on the low table beside her chair.

"Time is it?" She mumbled, yawning.

"Early. You've still got a couple hours before breakfast. Now go crawl into bed, or you and I will be spending our day 'out' as a day 'in'," Harry said, pulling her from the chair.

Hermione nodded, her head flopping on her neck loosely, and turned towards the stairs to her dorm. Harry watched her as she trudged over and maneuvered the first few steps as if she'd never been on stairs before. When she finally managed the last few steps and disappeared into her dorm room, Harry turned to leave. Snape was still waiting for him.

-Break-

The morning in Hogsmeade had gone about as well as Harry had expected. Neville spent the first while they were in the village clinging to his hand and prattling on, much as he'd done on the last couple of trips. Unexpectedly, Hermione had spent the morning encouraging him, asking questions about Herbology that led to endless explanations. It had left Harry feeling very much like a trapped third wheel, Neville clinging to his hand on one side and Hermione linked with his elbow on the other. By the time they paused for lunch, Harry was immensely grateful for his other friends, who joined them in the Three Broomsticks. Ginny distracted Neville easily, and Harry was finally allowed some peace as he ate without being asked his opinion or thoughts about anything.

"So, where were you last night?" Lavender asked Hermione. "I noticed your bed was empty almost the whole night."

The intelligent witch blushed. "I fell asleep in the Common Room. Harry found me and sent me to bed a couple hours before breakfast." Harry froze as brown eyes turned on him. "Actually, what were you doing up before the sun?"

Harry cleared his throat and pretended not to notice the sliver of guilt as he recalled warm fingers wrapped around his own, so very different from the clammy grasp that now held them. It had been almost a month since he and Snape had added this new and confusing aspect to their walks. It changed, day-to-day, which of them initiated the contact, but this morning it had been him who folded their hands together. He pointedly didn't look at his boyfriend, who was blessedly oblivious, as a blush suffused his cheeks.

"I had a nightmare," He excused lightly. It was a lie he knew all of his friends would believe. "I couldn't get back to sleep, so I decided to spend the time studying. It beat staring up at my canopy for hours."

"I'm sorry, Harry," Hermione said sympathetically. She touched the back of his unoccupied hand warmly.

The others offered their own commiseration over his continued struggle with the shadows of the war. Then Seamus drew Neville's attention to the conversation.

"Are you sure you weren't going to meet your secret lover, Har-bear?"

Harry very maturely made a face at the Scotsman.

"S'not even funny," Neville mumbled, pouting, from Harry's side.

The Wizarding Savior squeezed the slippery palm lying against his reassuringly. He ignored a second needle-point stab of guilt as it wedged into his heart. At that moment, several teachers walked into the tavern, Snape among them. Harry surreptitiously caught the black gaze before they both looked away, letting their attentions be drawn from one another. Why should he feel guilt? It wasn't as if he'd done anything wrong. It was just a form of comfort, a source of warmth in the frigid winter air. It was…such a small thing.

When Neville leaned over to kiss Harry's cheek before leaving with Ginny to help her find an appropriate plant for her dorm, the Wizarding Savior allowed it. After they were gone, though, Harry guiltily swiped his palm on his pants and covertly wiped the kiss from his cheek under the guise of wiping his face with his napkin. When he caught black eyes staring at him from across the crowded pub, he felt an even sharper dig to his chest that he didn't fully understand, but that he found much harder to ignore.