Three days later and it was the day before Christmas Eve. Snow had begun to fall heavily on London, bringing much of the Muggle side to a standstill. It simply wasn't a society equipped to deal with severely adverse weather, so traffic hardly entered the city, people threw snowballs at each other in Piccadilly Circus, and the sprawling festive markets did a roaring trade, as the carpets of snow brought out the romantic in everyone.

Today was also the final chance that Hermione would have to buy Harry's Christmas present, but she still couldn't decide on what to get for him. For despite being more accustomed to present buying, this was the first time that she was gifting to a friend, herself. This was an entirely new scenario for the previously friendless witch, and she wanted to get it just right.

But the process was proving more difficult than Hermione had first imagined. None of her ideas seemed to satisfy her, or felt more suited to if she were buying for her own tastes rather than Harry's. She loved the many commonalities they shared, but a plethora of books, or a myriad of study aids, didn't strike her as the sort of present which would properly convey her affection. And she wanted that to be clear in whatever she did decide to give to him as his first ever Christmas present.

Though on that score, Hermione was at pains to not be too explicit, lest Harry got scared off and ran a mile from her … for that wouldn't do at all.

Because despite all the teasing, despite all her denials, Hermione knew for certain now that Harry Potter had claimed as his own some silly corner of her newly stirring heart. It was a part that would never belong to anyone else as long as Hermione lived, no matter what might happen in the future. It made the organ quiver and flutter just to think about it, to remember how her skin shivered when Harry's warm breath had whispered Merry Christmas into her ear, as they hugged after the Hogsmeade visit.

Indeed, she still tingled from the sensation … as sweet as sherbet, as cosy as rain on a cabin roof. She could easily grow addicted to it if she wasn't careful.

Which was why such care was needed on this present-buying expedition. Hermione had brought her mother along to give her some sage advice, travelling to Didcot railway station - which was as far as the car could safely go in the snow - where they would catch a special train into the Magical side of London.

"Are you sure we can get a train from here?" Catrin asked as they trudged up the icy stone steps to the platform. "This side of the station looks like it hasn't been used in years."

Hermione rolled her eyes, as she was prone to do when challenged. "Of course we can, Mother. This is a special platform, and it only looks abandoned to non-Magical eyes, so that other people wont come snooping about. Just give me a minute."

Then Hermione looked around. Seeing that they were quite alone in the lightly falling snow, the witch drew her wand and gave it a deft flick in a practiced manner. For a second or two, nothing happened. Undeterred, Hermione tried again with a little more force. This time, a scrawny youth stepped out from a doorway disguised as a disused information board a few steps away. He was bedecked in a uniform of gold and silver, with smart trousers, a blazer and his pock-marked face pink with cold beneath a gold and silver flat hat.

"Alright, alright, keep your hair on. What choo in such an hurry for, eh?"

"We'd like to catch the next train to London, if you ever decide to open the barrier for us, Stan," Hermione huffed impatiently.

"Oh, it's you, Hermy. Might have guessed. Choo going to London for?"

"You can guess that too, once we are on the train and far away," Hermione scythed. "And please don't call me Hermy, I've told you before that I don't like it."

"Not my fault I can't say your name prop'ly," Stan argued. "Should have been called sumfink easier. Like Sarah or Sally or sumfink."

"I rather like my daughter's name, thank you very much," Catrin cut in haughtily, narrowing her eyes.

"Oh, are you her Mam? Didn't mean no offence, or nuffink. Was just saying, like."

"And do you have a name?" Catrin asked.

"Stanley Shunpike … the Third. Or is it fourth? Can never remember," Stan replied, puffing out his chest. "Conductor and Guard for The Merlin Line in these parts."

"Merlin Line?" Catrin quirked, raising at eyebrow at Hermione.

"Oh, forgot you don't know, do you?" Stan crowed. "I remember Herm - your girl - saying she was Muggleborn. Come on through, then, and see the greatest train line in the country!"

Hermione nodded a somewhat forced thanks as Stan bowed them through the magical barrier, nearly losing his hat in a sudden gust of wind. Catrin followed her daughter, and soon they were standing in an altogether different environment. Gone was the dank, abandoned platform with its weeds and detritus, replaced instead by a bright and active station, complete with a sparkling ticket booth, shiny rails which gleamed as they magically-repelled the snow, and a sprawling waiting room that looked warm and inviting beneath a swaying gold awning.

Hermione hurried her mother across to the ticket booth. "Two for London please. One Magical, one Muggle."

Catrin looked down with a raised eyebrow. "Why do they need to know that?"

"I know it's annoying, but it's just a formality," Hermione explained. "You won't get through all the other stations and barriers without the correct ticket. The Magical world is very paranoid when it comes to opening it's doors to the outside world. Come on, we don't want to miss the train. Excuse me, but when is the next one?"

The bored-looking witch in the ticket booth glanced up lazily at the tiny moving model of the train network next to her desk. "Service is running a bit behind today, what with all the last-minute shoppers and everything. Next one is due in … ooh, twelve seconds? The Department for Magical Transport apologises for the delay."

Catrin tried hard to muzzle a snort. If that was what they classed as a delay then maybe there was something to this world of wizards after all. Hermione quickly took out her little purple purse, paid four silver Sickles for the tickets, then guided her mother back to the platform to wait.

"If trains are so frequent, why have a waiting room?" Catrin mused out loud.

"Trainspotters? Artists? Who knows?" Hermione replied. "Ah, here we go."

And then, quite abruptly, a train was in the station. It didn't arrive as such, didn't thunder in as if powered by a spell. It was as if it were suddenly just there, starkly shimmering in gold and silver, as tangible as the brisk air had been just a second before. Catrin just blinked as she tried to take it in.

The train was three carriages long and Hermione ushered her mother aboard the nearest one as the doors opened. It was indistinguishable from standard Underground Tube stock, aside from the shining gold livery on the handrails and a seat moquette featuring a dragon, a unicorn and the house colours of Hogwarts. The classic roundel on the carriage doors was the same, the same lady voiced the tannoy announcements, and these trains were just as crowded as any on the world's oldest underground transit network.

Squeezing into a corner of the carriage, Hermione whipped out her shopping list and began to make a mental plan of action. Catrin busied herself by looking around, reading one of the overhead maps to track their journey, casting her eye over a poster for the latest Weird Sisters album (whoever they might be), and digesting information about an upcoming Celestina Warbeck concert at the Diagon Palladium, all the while trying to ignore the distracting moving signs which constantly warned Londoners to Mind The Gap.

Soon the train began to reach the outskirts of the Capital and locations that Catrin could recognise.. A voice came over the tannoy. "The next station is … Knightsbridge. Change here for Harrods Department Store and Paul Daniels Magical Toy Shop. This is a Merlin Line train to Immore Alley." Catrin watched out of the window as the train hurtled along, leaping past other trains and even shooting through crowded stations without a blip. Nobody seemed to notice them gunning past, but Hermione didn't seem too concerned, immersed as she now was in a copy of The Evening Standard, that had been left by another commuter.

"Er … honey?" Catrin began, cautiously. "How is it that nobody can see us going past, even though we are so close to them and so fast?"

Hermione barely looked up from the newspaper to answer.

"Well, Mum, it's that Muggles don't really notice magic unless they look really hard … and even then they will search for any explanation to try and disprove it. If they do spot anything, they dismiss it as a simple trick of the light, or the wind changing direction, or things like that. Some wizards even leave the magical world to become entertainers for the Muggles, just to see how far they can push the limits of Muggle disbelief."

"Really?" Catrin asked, fascinated now. "Anyone I might have heard of?"

"Oh yes, probably," Hermione replied, folding down the newspaper and turning to her mother. "There is a famous magician … I can't remember his name just now … in Las Vegas, and he regularly flies during his performances. He even walked through the Great Wall of China once. The Muggles all come out of his shows asking how does he do it? … and they will accept almost anything but the truth … which is that he actually does the things that they see with their own eyes. But they still don't believe it. Good luck to him, I say. He's made a fortune from a basic Levitation Charm … and I learnt how to do that in my first month at Hogwarts!"

"Fascinating," Catrin replied with a nod.

Hermione and Catrin left the Merlin Line at Fizzick Alley station … as Hermione told her mother that Immore Alley was 'a bit dodgy' and left it at that … and emerged into the crisp air of late Winter London. Fizzick Alley was a fascinating street, a little bit like a magical sports village. There was a Gobstones Play Centre, little cafés full of angry Wizard's Chess sets eager to enter into battle, and a huge auditorium right in the middle of it all, that Hermione informed her mother was the Fizzick Duelling Arena, where this years' World Championships would be held just after Christmas.

"Do wizards actually duel then?" Catrin asked in astonishment. "They fight with magic?"

"Yes. Witches, too," Hermione replied. "The current world champion is a French witch, actually. She has the ability to use two wands, you know, one in each hand … very rare skill, and very useful for casting Shield Charms with one and offensive spells with the other."

"Is it dangerous?" Catrin queried. "Do people … die in these duels?"

"Athletic Duelling is highly regulated and only specialised sporting combat magic is permitted," Hermione explained. Then she sighed. "But competitors do get hurt, it's just the nature of the sport. Deaths are uncommon, but just like in Muggle sports - such as boxing - these things happen from time to time."

Catrin took a breath and asked the next question delicately. "Your friend, Harry … his parents? Could they duel? Did they know defensive magic?"

Hermione turned her eyes away to answer. "As soldiers in a magical war, I can only assume that they did. But there is no defence against the curse that killed them. It is unblockable … no-one has ever survived it."

"But wait … your Harry did."

Hermione blushed, though her cheeks were tinged pink already from the cold. "He is not my Harry, Mum. He's just Harry."

"Even so … are you telling me that no-one else, in history, has survived this curse except for Harry Potter?"

"Except for Harry Potter," Hermione mirrored in confirmation.

"Wow. I think I'm starting to understand why you find him so interesting," Catrin nodded. "A riddle like that is just begging to be understood …"

Hermione snapped her head up crossly. "There's more to Harry than some stupid curse, or the scar that it left him with. Much more, I'll have you know. I actually find that the least interesting thing about him now. So that's the last time we're going to talk about it."

Catrin accepted the rebuke and stayed silent. She would have to tread carefully where Harry Potter was concerned … she was quickly coming to see that he triggered something in Hermione that it might not be the best idea to stoke.

But then something happened to change Hermione's mood in an instant. As they turned onto the winding cobbles of Diagon Alley, a figure emerged from the crowd and stole Hermione's attention completely. She bounded over to him, quite forgetting the poor mother being left behind in her wake.

Catrin looked across the Alley and saw a well-dressed, ruggedly handsome man with wavy dark hair move to greet her excited daughter. If she hadn't already been in love, Catrin Granger might have found this dashing stranger quite breathtaking. He was brandishing a stylish walking cane, which he raised as a gesture of salute, and Hermione seemed very pleased to see him.

Catrin would quickly find out why.

"Ooh, is he here? Is he with you? I don't see him …"

Hermione's rapid little voice was as alight as a Christmas tree as she fired off these questions. Catrin reached her as Hermione looked around the handsome stranger, even standing on tip-toe to try and see over his shoulder and along the Alley behind him.

But she was out of luck.

"I'm afraid not, Miss Granger, you find me all alone today," came the reply. "I suspect you know how he dislikes crowds … and when he's with me we attract double the attention. He won't be seen in public with me unless he has no other choice. Or that special Cloak he inherited from his father. But enough about that … who is this lovely lady behind you?"

Hermione had almost forgotten that her mother was there. She turned now and pulled her close for the introduction. It seemed to be more for support than anything, as the abject disappointment searing through her body was about to cost Hermione her balance.

"This is my Mum, Catrin Granger," Hermione replied, nudging the woman front and centre. "Mum, this Mister Sirius Black … he's Harry's Godfather and legal Guardian. Harry lives with him now."

Catrin couldn't help the look of surprise which crossed her expression. This man, Sirius Black, just didn't seem -

"- the parental type? I can see what you're thinking," Sirius barked out as a laugh. "Don't worry, I'm not offended. I never imagined that I'd ever be a parent either, but I'm trying."

"Harry is happy to be living with you, I can tell you that much," Hermione offered, supportively.

"Is he? I'm not so sure about that actually," Sirius replied, doubtingly. "In fact, I rather think I'm doing a pretty awful job at being a surrogate parent at the moment."

"I'm sure that isn't true," Catrin commented. "Being a parent for the first time is always hard … and I understand you have to deal with some very challenging circumstances. I don't envy you that task."

"Why do you think you're doing so badly, if you don't mind my asking?" Hermione piped up, somewhat brazenly. Her mother hissed to chasten her, but Sirius didn't seem to mind the question.

"I just don't know what I'm doing wrong," he began, snatching up two glasses of hot mead from a street vendor as he passed. Sirius handed one to Catrin, then smirked at Hermione and her affronted, hand-on-hip stance when she didn't get one. "Alcohol is not for children. This is an adult treat."

"Quite," Catrin agreed, clinking her glass against Sirius' as he gestured to her. "Go on, Mister Black."

"Please call me Sirius … I'm nowhere near civilised enough to be addressed so formally," Sirius chuckled. "And as far as Harry goes, well, I just cant seem to get him to come out and socialise. He just sticks to his bedroom, or the tiny attic at the top of the house, mostly. He says he's doing homework, but he must have finished all of that by now, the amount of time he spends on it. He eats with us, then hurries away as soon as he washes up. And he always washes up, I cant get him to leave the chores to me or my house-elf. It's a hangover from, you know, his upbringing."

There was a look of sorrowful understanding exchanged between Hermione and Sirius, one Catrin was shrewd enough to read meant don't pry. So she didn't, even though she was dying to ask a dozen more questions about it. So she tried a different tack, one that might alleviate the dark mood threatening to ruin her daughter's day.

"Perhaps my Hermione could help with that," Catrin suggested.

Both Sirius and Hermione looked over at once, before chorusing in union, "How so?"

The three of them chuckled a moment, then Catrin explained her intention.

"Well, I can only infer that Harry living with you is something new Mister … Sirius," Catrin began. "That's as much as I need to know for now. It sounds to me as if he might be having trouble adjusting to a new environment."

"I surmised the same," Sirius nodded. "But everything I've tried to do about it has failed. He doesn't want to go out, doesn't want to listen to the Wireless, doesn't want to play any of my silly games. I'm afraid I'm rather lost at what to try next. He'll barely even talk to me, and I'm stumped at what to say in the silence."

"Sounds to me that what you really need is someone who truly knows Harry. Someone like that can get him to open up. He might not be comfortable with you just yet … but if he had his best friend to talk to … someone he's been writing to intimately for months … "

Hermione's eyes lit up as understanding dawned. Sirius grasped the meaning, too, and looked down warmly at the girl in front of him.

"I'd really appreciate it if you would try," Sirius began. "You see, he sent me here to buy your Christmas present, Hermione … but I don't know you any better than I know Harry, truth be told. Maybe you could go to our house and try to fetch him … then you can tell him what to get you for Christmas, as he didn't have much of a clue either!"

Hermione laughed deeply at that. "I'd certainly be willing to try. I didn't think I'd see Harry over the Christmas break, and I'd really like to now the chance has come. Can I, Mum? Can I go and get Harry?"

Hermione was looking up at her so expectantly that Catrin couldn't have denied the request even if hadn't been her idea in the first place. In any case, Catrin suspected that Hermione would have ignored her had she refused anyway. 'No' simply wasn't an answer in this case.

"Of course you may go," Catrin replied. "But on one condition."

"Name it."

"You must introduce him to me. I simply have to meet this boy of yours, now that I know about him and what he means to you."

Hermione blushed deeply again. "Mother, again, he is not mine. But alright … though only if Harry is okay with it. If he isn't, then I wont."

"Fair enough," Catrin conceded. "But how will you get there?"

Hermione turned to Sirius. "Is your home on the Floo Network?"

"Yes, it is," Sirius confirmed. "But you'll need to know the address. It is -"

"- I know the address," Hermione cut across bashfully. Sirius cocked an amused eyebrow at learning that information, but Hermione ploughed on undeterred. "And I promised Harry once that I'd keep all his secrets. I think this one definitely counts, so let's not say it out loud. I wont be long."

Then Hermione hurried off towards the nearest Floo fire she could find, set to task on her mission.

Catrin turned to Sirius with a smirk. "Kids, eh?"

"You're telling me!" Sirius laughed back. "Can I interest you in a cup of coffee, or something stronger if you'd prefer? Seems you can tell me more about this letter-writing business than I've been able to wheedle out of my Godson yet!"

"Sounds delightful," Catrin agreed. "Though in exchange you must explain to me how Tooth Flossing Stringmints work … I'd make a fortune if I could patent that for my Dental Practice!"

Harry looked up in surprise as there was an unexpected knock at the door to the attic room. His look was one of suspicion, too, for Sirius had hardly left and couldn't possibly have been back so soon. The fact that he was soon turned Harry's mood sour, as the present he'd sent his Godfather to buy must have been thoughtless, throwaway or some other kind of crass.

But Harry's demeanour soon changed as a very unexpected voice floated through the door to him.

"Will you open up please, Harry? I know you're in there."

Harry leapt up and yanked open the door in genuine surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Charming way to greet your friend, that is!" Hermione laughed. "Try something like 'nice to see you' next time."

"Well of course it's nice to see you, it's just the last thing I was expecting," Harry mumbled, as Hermione stepped past him and shed her thick Winter coat. She still had snow in her hair and her cheeks were tinged pink from the cold. Harry was momentarily tempted to pick a snow fleck from Hermione's curly locks, but he pulled his hand back sharply as though stung by the thought. "Did … did you come straight up here?"

"Yes I did," Hermione confirmed. "Wow. Sirius said this was a small attic, but I reckon you could fit a Hippogriff in here …"

Hermione looked around, critically regarding the space, as if looking for somewhere to store an errant Hippogriff should she ever need to. Harry was still confused, though.

"Sirius? As in my Godfather?"

"Do we know any other Siriuses?" Hermione grinned.

"No, thank Merlin," Harry snorted back. "One is quite enough for this lifetime. When did you see him then?"

"Not long ago. We bumped into him on Diagon Alley," Hermione explained. "We being my Mum and I. We were about to do some last minute Christmas shopping when we came across Sirius, and he told us you were holing yourself away here and being a right grouch."

"He did, did he? Git," Harry scythed.

"Not in so many words, but he did send me to try and cheer you up," Hermione replied, brightly. "Don't know what he thought I could do, but …"

Hermione was suddenly overcome with a bothersome sense of shyness. Harry seemed to be struggling with a similar burden, so they couldn't look at each other for a few pregnant moments. Like a true Gryffindor, Hermione braved the gauntlet of conversation first.

"Oh, I almost forgot," she began, hitching a playful grin onto her face. "I brought you a Christmas tree, as I was sure you didn't have one up here."

"You … what?"

Harry had to stifle a laugh as Hermione fished around in her pocket a moment, then took out a pine cone and offered it eagerly to him.

"It needs a bauble or two, maybe a teensy star for the top … but I think it'll Christmas Tree-up quite nicely!"

"Hermione …"

"Dont worry, Harry, I'll help you decorate it," she offered brightly. "Do you have any tinsel up here? Any streamers? Find me a little pot, will you?"

"Hermione …"

"Might be a little small for lights … and even tiny candles would definitely cause a fire hazard …"

"Hermione! Please! Stop being silly."

Hermione crossed the room to him purposefully, taking each of his forearms in one of her hands. She stood close, so close that Harry could see her pupils dilating. His heart felt like he'd missed a step on the stairs as he watched them watching him.

"I'm just trying to lighten your mood," Hermione offered gently. She took a fraction of a step closer. "Sirius thinks you are really unhappy here."

"I'm not unhappy," Harry argued. His throat was aridly dry. How odd. "I'm fine."

"Sirius thinks he's being a bad parent."

"He doesn't think that, does he?"

"Sounds like you haven't given him much encouragement, hiding yourself away like this."

"I'm not hiding," Harry protested. "It's just that … it's just …"

"I know what it is," Hermione soothed, her voice gossamer-soft. "This is all new and you don't know how to be. It's weird for you to be … wanted. You don't know what to do with that, or how to act. You're not sure what being happy at Christmas looks like for you."

Harry felt a fierce rush of emotion for Hermione in that instant that threatened his balance a moment. What had he done to deserve her unwavering support and understanding? Not just in this, but in everything? He felt so unworthy of her care and affection, but so covetous of it all the same.

Hermione wasn't done yet, though. "And after all those bad years, even though you wont tell me about them yet, part of you probably doesn't think happiness is meant for you, and you don't know how to be now that you have it. And you probably feel guilty for being happy for the first Christmas since … well, the one before … you know, your parents.

"But I'm here to tell you that you are allowed to be happy, Harry Potter. If you need someone to give you permission, I'm giving it to you. If my friendship is worth anything to you, then accept that."

Harry closed his eyes and took a heaving breath, letting some of his guilt go with the exhale. It wasn't all of it, but he felt a million times better already. He didn't think that Hermione could have brought him a better Christmas present than herself and her calming influence.

"How do you know all this stuff?" Harry muttered in something like awe. "There's no book for that. I'd have known about it by now … because trust me, I've looked."

"I'm not the brightest witch in Gryffindor for nothing," Hermione smiled back. "There's more to that title than books and cleverness, you know."

"Still think it's overrated," Harry teased. Hermione laughed softly in reply. It was musical, her laugh. Harry hadn't noticed that before. But then he frowned as a thought occurred to him. "But, Hermione … why did Sirius ask you to come to me? How did he know it was you I needed?"

Hermione edged an inch closer and turned her eyes down nervously. Quick as a flash, her tongue darted out and moistened her lips, or had Harry just imagined that? His mouth went even drier at the thought.

"He's a funny man, your Godfather," Hermione began in a hushed voice. "But I think he has good paternal instincts. And by that I mean he listened to a wise woman … in this case, my Mother! She suspected you wouldn't open up to Sirius, but also knew that, if I came, you'd let me get close."

Harry blinked and tried to bring his ragged breathing under control. Hermione slid closer still, as if to illustrate her point. Harry was powerless to stop her, or the rapid tattoo that his heart was beating out beneath his ribcage.

"S-seems she was right," Harry stuttered. "And what do you intend to do?"

Hermione smiled up, blindingly pretty. "I'm going to show you how to enjoy Christmas … and Christmas begins with family."

Then she stepped away before she gave into the searing urge to do something reckless. She collected her coat and turned back to Harry, still smiling too much for Harry to be able to look her in the face.

"So let's go and join ours," Hermione went on. "My Mum is just dying to meet you, and who knows how much mischief Sirius will get her into if they are left alone too much longer!"

Then she tentatively held out her hand, which was shaking slightly. Harry stood and slid his digits in between hers, marvelling at how cool and smooth her skin was. It was just like at the Yule Ball … and Harry worried that he'd never tire of the feeling against his own flesh, and would definitely miss the sensation when it was gone.

"Alright. I'll come. But do you promise to look after me?" Harry asked in semi-tease.

"Always," Hermione replied calmly, without even an inflection of deceit.

And with that, she led them from the attic room.