The rest of the Christmas holiday period went by pretty quickly after that, flying by with more speed than Santa's sleigh after an injection of jet fuel.

On the one hand, this was something that Harry was pleased about. He had enjoyed spending Christmas with Sirius, albeit only after being coaxed from his self-imposed attic exile by Hermione, but he still viewed Hogwarts as home and felt more comfortable there. He missed it, and he looked forward to going back. Having Sirius as his legal guardian, a home where he was wanted and cared for, and the freedom to spend his time as he chose were still things that Harry was a long way from getting used to.

But it wasn't just the solitude, the hallowed halls of learning and the labyrinthine underworld of Hogwarts that Harry found himself yearning for on this impending return to school. There was another, perhaps even more potent, reason for the excited butterflies now taking flight in his belly, and this made him not only confused, but also a little bit concerned.

For he had never once looked forward to meeting up with a friend again, and the headiness of this prospect overshadowed absolutely everything else combined. Harry just wasn't sure he was equipped for the event.

He brought up these worries with Sirius and Remus Lupin, who had visited several times over the holidays, as he was packing on the eve of his return to Hogwarts. He'd been trying to build up the courage to have the discussion, but knew that he'd likely be teased to death as soon as he brought it up. He just hoped that Remus' more sensible nature would prove to be a drag factor for Sirius' teasing and relentless playfulness.

"What's up, Harry?" Remus asked as he cleaned out Hedwig's cage for the trip. "You look like you're a million miles away this evening."

"Yeah, kiddo, out with it," Sirius added. "It's not odd to see you this quiet, but this seems a different sort of silence tonight. You can't be that sorry to be leaving this splendid décor behind, surely?"

Sirius gestured around the living room, at the Doxy-infested curtains, the mounted elf-heads, and the coffee table that doubled as an actual working Ouija board.

"No, it's not that," Harry muttered.

"Though if you are feeling pangs for this grim old place," Sirius went on, with a knowing wink at Remus. "Just break into Snivellus Snape's room at Hogwarts ... it's probably just as warm and homely as anything you'll find around here!"

"Sirius," Remus admonished as Harry chanced a little smirk. "Don't give him ideas." He turned back to Harry. "What is on your mind? This is a safe space, you can tell us."

Harry sat down on the couch, a little frown crossing his face. "It's nothing, really. It's just that I am sad to be going back to school ... and that's weird in itself. I've spent every holiday time before this literally ticking off the days until I'm back on that train to Scotland. I made wall charts for it and everything. But this has been the first Christmas that I've actually enjoyed. It annoys me a bit that I've missed out on all this for so long."

Sirius sighed and looked over fondly. He crossed the room and squeezed Harry's shoulder.

"It won't do to be angry about the past," Sirius told him, in that gentle tone that he hid until moments like this. "But we've got all the time in the world to make up for it, don't we? You're stuck with me now, kid, and I'm going to do all I can to make your life as good and normal as it can be."

A lump formed in Harry's throat, trapping his words as they tried to get out. He had to swallow hard to speak without cracking.

"I don't think we can ever be normal," Harry managed to squeeze out. "Not that that's a bad thing. Normal is overrated."

"Well said," Remus grinned, folding Harry's spare cloak and packing it away.

"Is that what you're worried about?" Sirius asked. "Things being normal for you?"

Harry looked down again and fiddled with a loose thread on the armrest of the couch. "A bit. I mean, this Christmas was different for me. It's what I always imagined other people doing, but I doubted I ever would. I'm used to being in a world that's not like everyone else's, and I've found a way to get on in that. I'm just wondering if things will carry on going this way and if I'll be able to adapt."

"I'm not really sure what you're getting at," Sirius replied, looking slightly bemused.

Harry sat up straight. "Well, we've all had a skewered time of things, haven't we? I've been with the Dursleys, you were in jail, Remus was being a werewolf. It's hardly the most usual stuff, is it? But now we're together and things are getting better. So, what I'm wondering is, will that go on further still? Like, will you get married and stuff?"

"Not to each other!" Sirius hooted. "We're good friends, but not that good!"

"That's not what I meant, dunderhead!" Harry replied, exasperated. "But now we're talking about it ... why didn't either of you ever get married?"

"I think that's quite clear with me," Remus quipped. "My lycanthropy tends to deter witches from responding to my Witchfinder ad!"

"Witchfinder?" Harry queried.

"It's a dating service for single Magicals," Sirius grinned. "I had to remove myself from the system, you know, just to give other wizards a chance of finding a date!"

"You're such a goon," Harry frowned, shaking his head as Sirius barked out a deep laugh.

"But to answer your question, I never wanted to restrict myself to just one witch," Sirius went on eventually. "I have so much love to give ... so I want to give it out far and wide!"

"Plus, Sirius fell in love very early ... and no-one will ever replace that first love in his heart," Remus added, very seriously.

"You did?" Harry queried, turning an astonished gaze to his Godfather. "You never told me that! Who was it with?"

"Why ... it was with me!" Sirius crowed out in mirth. Harry simply closed his eyes and tutted lowly. "I'm in love with me. It's quite the vogue thing to be in a relationship with yourself, you know. And when I enjoy intimate time with any witch that I might meet, I don't mind cheating on myself either. It's a perfect situation."

"Do you not believe in that, then?" Harry asked. "Relying on someone else for your own happiness?"

"Reliance is a dangerous term to use," Remus cut in. "It suggests dependence, and that isn't healthy."

"Why not?" Harry frowned. "If being around someone else makes you happy ... and they are happy, too, when you are around them ... what's wrong with that?"

"I didn't suggest that there was anything wrong with it -"

"Yes, you did," Harry disagreed. "Dangerous, you called it."

"All I meant was that if you base your entire sense of self-worth on the opinions of others, or a single someone, then that isn't a healthy way to be," Remus clarified. "You need to happy within your own skin before anything else."

"And what if you are happy in your own skin, but being with someone else makes you even happier, or even happy in a different sort of way?" Harry pressed on. "People do it all the time. Why is that suddenly a bad thing?"

"Ah, I think I see where this is going," Sirius quirked smoothly. "Are we subtly, in a roundabout sort of way, talking about a certain Muggleborn witch that we all know, but have been largely banned from talking about?"

Harry snapped his eyes to Sirius as his pulse leapt up several notches. "No. I'm talking generally, that's all."

"Talking generally ... about a pleasant young witch that has brought a smile to your face," Remus observed, shrewdly. "One who has made you happy in a different sort of way? You smiling, by the way, is something that I don't remember seeing at all in the year that I taught you, Harry. There was a point, there, where I wondered if you were capable of the act at all!"

"Okay, say you're right," Harry retorted tartly. "Let's say - for argument's sake - that Hermione makes me smile. Why is that a bad thing? Why is it wrong if I rely on her to bring me smiles? If I'm smiling, I'm happy. How can that be wrong?"

Remus and Sirius exchanged a fond look.

"There's nothing wrong with that, nothing at all," Sirius replied. "In fact, it's something I'd encourage. We can never have enough of that sort of thing in our lives."

"And do you think you do the same to her?" Remus enquired. "Do you think you make her smile?"

Harry scrunched up his eyes. "I don't know. I've never thought about it before. I hope I do. She has a nice smile ... I'd like to think that I can cause her to use it sometimes. But now I'm worried. I don't want her to rely on me to be happy either, especially as you both seem to think that it's unhealthy. What if I don't know how to do it? What if I'm not up to the job? I'm not the nicest or friendliest person, you know. I wouldn't call myself kind or brave. I'm selfish and savage for the most part ... and I sort of like those things about me. They've served me well for years.

"But I don't know how else to be. I've never had a friend to make happy before, and I don't even know how to properly be a friend to anyone. Maybe I should just stop talking to her, I'm only bound to be a disappointment to her in the end, aren't I?"

"Ah! So this is the normal that you fear," Remus observed, sagely. "Is this what has been bothering you? You're worried about seeing Hermione again ... and being happy about it?"

"Kind of, yeah," Harry mumbled, bothering the loose thread again. "It's what I hear other people talk about on that first day back on the train, but I've never had it before. I don't know what I'm supposed to do with it."

"Enjoy it, I'd suggest," Remus offered. "Friendships are some of the most cherished and rewarding things in life. The healthiest ones enrich us so much ... I'd embrace this one, if I were you. You need someone to crack you out of your shell ... and Miss Granger has already gotten close to your heart. That much is obvious."

"It is?" Harry asked, feeling dazed.

"In the best way," Sirius agreed. "You've had so much bad in your life, Harry, but Hermione seems a source of such good. It's no wonder you're so looking forward to seeing her again tomorrow."

"I didn't say that," Harry argued.

"You didn't have to," Remus smiled knowingly. Harry felt a heat rise to his cheeks.

"But we haven't seen each other for nearly three weeks, and only written one letter to each other," Harry went on. "What if that means we aren't friends anymore?"

"Friendships don't work like that, Harry," Sirius smiled, fondly. "And from the little interaction that I've had with Hermione, I think it will take more than a bit of separation to stop her being your friend."

"And think of all you'll have to talk about tomorrow, having spent this time apart," Remus pointed out. "By the time you both tell all of your Christmas stories, you'll be halfway to Hogwarts."

"Oh, we wont be sharing a compartment," Harry told Remus, confidently. "Hermione will want to be with her other friends for the journey back to school."

"Well you can spend your time looking forward to when you take the train ride home in the Summer," Sirius quipped. "You won't recognise the place when you next come through the front door."

"I won't?" Harry asked, slightly suspicious. "Why not?"

"Remus and I have plans," Sirius quirked. "Can't say anymore just now, but you'll see."

"Hmm," Harry frowned. "I'm not sure whether I should be worried or not!"

Sirius barked out a laugh and Remus grinned over, too.

"Don't worry about it, Harry, it won't be anything dangerous!" Remus reassured him. "We're simply going to complete our renovations by then, that's all."

Sirius clicked his tongue. "Moony! I was hoping to let Harry squirm for a bit. You're no fun these days."

"And you're the wrong sort of fun, as always," Remus smirked.

After that, Harry's night was a restless one as he dissected the conversation. On the one hand, he wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea that Hermione might value herself, in any way, in terms of how he saw her, as that was all sorts of wrong in Harry's mind. Hermione was all sorts of lovely and good as she was, without any reference to him or anyone else.

But on the other hand, Harry wondered how much of Hermione's happiness might depend on him, or on their friendship, and of how much of it he could bring to her if he tried his hardest. For he very much wanted her to be happy, she deserved to be, and if Harry could help facilitate that then it was a responsibility he was keen to take ownership of.

Remus Lupin might not have agreed, but Harry cheerily accepted the positive influence that one person could have on another. After all, Harry valued his own days now mostly in terms of how much interaction he had with Hermione, and he felt a better person the more of her time he was blessed with. If that was a bad thing, so be it ... Harry would just have to be bad, and the rest of the world would simply have to deal with it.

As such, it was a very unsettled and impatient Harry Potter that got up the next day. He was a collision of conflicting emotions as he dressed for breakfast. He wanted to see Hermione, he didn't want to see Hermione, he wanted to talk to her again, write to her again, he wanted to run and hide in the Chamber of Secrets and pretend that he'd never met her at all.

It was all so bizarre.

Also bizarre was the fact that Harry was quietly hoping to have someone to share a train compartment with for the first time, too. His trips back to Hogwarts usually consisted of checking and organising his homework pieces, making last minute edits or additions, and generally talking to Hedwig, who was the only living thing permitted to share the space with him.

But this time, Harry would happily concede to company and be more chatty than he'd ever been on the old train, so long as his company was who he wanted, of course. He and Sirius made their way through the billowing blasts of smoke and steam as they strolled along the platform. They stopped at the very final carriage, which was old and battered and the least luxurious, so tended to be ignored by everyone who had a better choice. As such the compartments were empty and Harry was soon stowed away and aboard.

A quick goodbye to Sirius followed and within a few minutes the horn was blasting as the train pulled out of the station.

And Harry was still alone in his compartment.

Trying not to feel too wretched about his dashed hopes and the ache that they had borne in his chest, Harry decided that study was the best distraction. Feeling sorry for yourself for being a no-good, friendless loser would hardly be an excuse to explain away poor exam results. So Harry delved into his trunk, pulled out the first textbook he could find, and flicked to the page that he'd colour coded for his first test. But he'd barely even polished his glasses to read when the door to his compartment suddenly slid open.

"Have you seen a toad? Neville's lost one," the newcomer announced in a somewhat bossy voice. Then her tone changed entirely as she saw who she was talking to. "Oh ... hello, Harry!"

Her slightly breathy accent caused Harry's own breathing to stick in his throat. There was also a thing that she did while shyly tucking her hair behind her ear, but that was so unbearably cute and adorable that Harry couldn't deal with it.

"Er ... um ... hi Hermione," Harry stuttered. "Sorry, I haven't seen a toad. I'll keep a look out for it, though, or do you need help finding it."

"No, it's fine, Trevor will turn up," said a round-faced boy who appeared in the doorway. "He's always bouncing off whenever he can, but he'll be back. I just worry that he'll get trodden on in the early excitement of heading back to school."

"The toad's yours?" Harry asked, putting down his book and standing up. The boy nodded that it was. "You're Neville Longbottom, aren't you?"

Neville looked stunned, as if he'd stepped on something sharp. "I am. I didn't think you knew who I was."

"I know," said Harry, quietly. He looked intently at Neville. "I just want to say ... about your parents ... I'm sorry for you for that."

Neville looked as if he didn't know how to be, his face a mix of angry frown and curious expression. "How ... how do you know about that? About them?"

"Please don't be upset," Harry began. "It's only because my Godfather gave me some things that belonged to my parents. There were bunches of letters there, photos too. Our mothers were best friends, did you know that?"

"N-no. I didn't know that," Neville muttered, his voice small.

"They were pregnant at the same time, with us," Harry explained. "Went to all the pre-natal classes and check-ups together. They were literally in adjacent beds when they went into labour in the delivery rooms at St. Mungo's. When you were born first, your Mum waited until mine had given birth to me and was ready to go home before she left, even though it meant extra days in the maternity ward. That's how close they were."

"Wow," Neville hushed. "My Nan never told me any of that, of how everything was so close."

"If things hadn't gone so badly, we could have been very close, you and me," Harry went on, sadly. "We'd probably have grown up together, been friends. Hermione says you're a good person, honourable and brave. I think I'd have liked to be friends with someone like that."

Hermione beamed at him, her eyes moist and shiny. Harry found that he couldn't look directly at her, so he focused on Neville instead.

"What happened to your Mum and Dad ... in many ways, it's worse than what happened to mine," Harry muttered, bitterly. "To have to live with that, to see what happened to them ... I don't think I could stand it, if it were me. You must be as tough as granite, Neville Longbottom."

Neville looked like he wanted to cry, but they would have been proud tears. He seemed to be standing a little taller, a little stouter, and his chest was puffed out and heaving with emotion. He didn't seem capable of speech, but he tried anyway in a croaky voice.

"Did your Godfather ... did he tell you how it happened? My parents, I mean?"

Harry closed his eyes and nodded solemnly.

Neville swallowed hard. "And who did it?"

Harry nodded again.

"Did he tell you why?"

A third nod came from Harry's head, this one very small.

"Well could you tell me? Because that's never been explained to me," Neville asked in hope.

"The truth is pretty horrific," Harry replied, bracingly. "I don't know you well enough to burden you with the whole of it. All you need to know is that we were both victims of the Dark Wizard Voldemort and his twisted ideas, and that both sets of our parents suffered in the resistance against him. They were heroes, your Mum and Dad ... and, like mine, they made the ultimate sacrifice in the course of trying to protect us. My parents were murdered ... but in some ways that's easier than what they did to yours. I have nothing but respect for you and how you cope with it, Neville Longbottom."

Neville's lip quivered. There were tears poking at the corners of his eyes. "You're a good person, Harry Potter. If anyone tries to say otherwise, they'll have me to deal with."

Harry inclined his head in a thankful manner. Flicking a look at Hermione, he saw such a fond and deeply emotional expression flowing back at him that it was impossible to keep his gaze on her. Instead, he turned and sat down, reaching for his book again. He heard Neville move away, no doubt resuming the search for his toad. Hermione didn't leave with him.

"Are you all alone in here?" Hermione asked, gently.

Harry nodded. "People have learned not to ask to share, even if everywhere else is full."

"And what are you doing?" Hermione queried.

"Studying," Harry replied without looking up.

"Already?" Hermione quipped. She sounded impressed. "What are you reading?"

"Alchemy," Harry told her. "Professor Abraham promised us a test on the first week back, so I need to be ready. She is bound to make it difficult. I was reading about toads, funnily enough, before you came in. The toad is a term that usually refers to the prima materia during the fermentation stage. However, a famous poem attributed to the English alchemist George Ripley describes the entire Opus in terms of the experiences of a toad."

"The prima meteria?" Hermione queried, as much to herself as Harry. "The first matter, the subject of the alchemical work? The thing searched for, then worked on, by the Red King and White Queen to be transmuted to perfection and the Philosopher's Stone by their union?"

"I see I'm not the only one who's been doing some reading!" Harry grinned.

"No. I've been reading. Be right back."

And then she was gone. Feeling confused, Harry lifted his book again, but it was back down five minutes later. Hermione had returned, and this time she was dragging her heavy Hogwarts case with her. Crookshanks soon trotted in after her and jumped up onto the seat next to Harry.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked.

"Joining you, or joining with you," Hermione quirked. "I am supposed to be your White Queen, after all!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Don't you start with all that silliness. It's just allegory, I'm not sure I believe much of it."

"Oh, I agree ... sort of," Hermione replied in a semi-playful voice. "But I quite like the idea of being a White Queen. And searching for a toad ... the prima materia ... brought me to a Red King. It brought me to you."

"It's a stretch to look at it like that," Harry argued, though his cheeks were flushing.

"Not really," Hermione disagreed. "I've been looking for you everywhere. Even back on the platform. I wanted to share a compartment with you, but I'd almost given up hope of finding you on board. I didn't think anyone ever came down to this carriage apart, from to use the toilet at the far end. It's a bit smelly in here, don't you think?"

She wrinkled her nose at the aroma floating past the compartment.

"It's quiet in these compartments, and I cast a spell to mask the pungency," Harry explained. "If you close the door, it will soon kick in."

"Let me get my case stowed first, then I will," Hermione replied.

"Do you need a hand with it?"

"I can manage."

"I know ... but would you like a hand?"

"Yes, please."

Grinning, Harry stood again. Between them, Hermione's case was soon nestled cosily next to Harry's in the rack over their heads. Hedwig barked from her cage. She didn't like to be ignored.

"Don't pay her any mind," Harry told Hermione in an off-handed way. "She's just miffed that I wont let her fly ahead to show the train the way. She won't accept that they know how to get there without help. She's such a diva."

"But such a pretty one," Hermione laughed.

"Don't feed her ego," Harry quipped. "It's bad enough as it is."

Hedwig barked at him crossly. Hermione went to close the compartment door but found the way soon blocked by three newcomers. She narrowed her eyes at them all.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"You're not leaving us with the Weasley clan," Lavender insisted. "They're planning to set off firecrackers every time we cross a county border! It'll be chaos in there."

"They also said that Lee Jordan is bringing a giant tarantula to them later," Parvati added. "No thank you!"

"But isn't Ron terrified of spiders?" Hermione asked with a frown.

"Yeah, but they are looking forward to seeing how scared he will be of the tarantula," Fay explained. "It's really cruel, I think. Hello, Harry."

"Hello," Harry replied, shyly.

"Before you all storm in here, I think you should ask Harry if you can share his compartment," Hermione insisted in her firmest and bossiest tone.

"Did you ask him if you could?" Lavender quirked.

"Well, no, but ..."

"Where you go, we go," Parvati added. "We come as a set, you know."

"Since when!?"

"So, Harry, how was your Christmas?" Fay asked as they all sat down. Hermione was in a seat next to him, so he found he could tolerate the intrusion of the others quite cheerily, especially as Hermione was sat so close he could feel her thigh against his. He felt oddly protected by her proximity to him.

"It was alright," Harry replied, blithely. "My Godfather didn't try to kill anyone this year, so that was a bonus."

Fay laughed nervously, but Hermione choked out a far more confident guffaw.

"That was good of him," she tinkled. "Christmas is far better without attempted murder, I find."

Harry grinned at her. "I'll be sure to pass on your commendation."

"You do that."

Hermione smiled and started to adjust Hedwig's new letter pouch, where she was perched on her other side. Crookshanks stretched and settled in Harry's lap, purring at the scratches it earned him behind his ears. Lavender looked over at the scene opposite her.

"Um, Hermione ... why has your cat got a Ravenclaw collar on?"

"It was a gift from Harry," Hermione explained. "I think it suits him."

"Yes, but it's a Ravenclaw collar."

"And?"

"And ... we are Gryffindors," Lavender reminded her. "Or have you forgotten that?"

"So what? We'll just see it as promoting inter-house unity," Hermione twittered back calmly. "Besides, we match now, Crooksie and me ... as I have Harry's Ravenclaw scarf on under my coat. See?"

She then pulled out part of it to illustrate her point. Lavender and Parvati gasped, looked at each other, swooned a bit, then looked warmly at Harry, who stared out at the passing scenery and contemplated opening the window, as it had gotten very hot in here all of a sudden.

"So, are you two planning on seeing each other much this term?" Parvati asked as the train rolled on.

"That's really none of your business," Hermione scythed. Harry grinned to himself at her protectiveness, but he turned politely back to the conversation.

"We'll probably continue writing to each other more than that," Harry replied. "Less ammunition for the gossips that way."

"What do you write about in those letters, anyway?" Lavender asked, almost indecently keen. "I bet it must be juicy. I think I'd run out of normal things to say, if it were me."

Harry quirked a playful glance at Hermione. "Oh, you know, we profess our undying love for each other, discuss how many babies we are going to have, debate about which method of baby-making we're going to try next -"

Lavender and Parvati gasped at each other, deliciously scandalised.

"We also make lists of potential places to live, discuss if we are going to be cat or dog people - don't worry, Crooksie, we are definitely cat-people," Hermione took over, taking up the game. "Then we plan our next rendezvous around Hogwarts, where we can have rabid and passionate snog-sessions. You know, that sort of thing."

"Do you really!" Lavender squeaked.

"And have you really done all that stuff!?" Parvati hooted in addition.

"No!" Harry and Hermione chorused together with matching laughs.

"Then why did you say that you had?" Parvati demanded with a frown.

"Just to show you how absurd you all are!" Hermione cried. "Absurd for thinking that two people can't simply be friends without any other silliness going on. Some of us still think with our heads, you know, not the contents of our underwear."

"Well said," Harry agreed, but for a millisecond his brain hitched on the notion of the contents, and nature, of Hermione's underwear, and the guilt rendered him mute at a stroke. He found himself unable to add anything more to the conversation, or any subsequent conversation, for at least an hour. So he simply sat in silence as the girls discussed their varied and lively Christmasses between them.

It was seasonally dark by the time they reached Hogsmeade station. Lavender had drifted off to sleep and was jerked away, babbling incoherently, by the screech of the train's brakes as they came to a halt. Hedwig was getting restless after such a long captivity, so Harry released her from her cage as soon as they were into the cool air of the night. Then he turned and began to make his way towards the fleet of carriages waiting to shuttle the students up to the school.

But Hermione reached out and pulled him to a stop. "Harry ... do you fancy walking back to Hogwarts?"

"Walking?" Harry asked, uncertainly. "It's a good half hour stroll from here, you do know that?"

"Yes, and that's why I want to take it," Hermione nodded, her cheeks bright and tinged pink from the cold. She had flakes of snow in her hair, Harry oddly noticed. "I don't feel like we've had a proper chance to talk. When I said I wanted to share a compartment on the train, that wasn't exactly what I had in mind."

She jerked her head to the left, where her dorm mates were waiting for them, Lavender still yawning widely.

"No, it wasn't how I pictured it either," Harry smirked. "Alright, I don't mind walking if you want to. But we should tell someone that that's what we're doing."

"Wait here," Hermione chimed. "Be right back."

Then she scurried back over to her friends, engaged them in swift but deep conversation, made them giggle suggestively with whatever she told them, then scuttled back to Harry and bounced on her heels in her eagerness for them to go.

"All sorted," Hermione beamed.

"Never you mind!" Hermione teased. "Girl stuff. Come on, let's go."

Then she threaded her arm around Harry's elbow and led him from the station. It was a good few minutes into the walk before Harry realised that Hermione hadn't let go. He looked down at where she was still holding him.

"You can stop guiding me if you want," Harry quirked. "I know the way from here!"

"Do I have to?" Hermione asked, gently. "My hand's nice and warm where it is."

"Well, I wouldn't want you to get cold," Harry replied, sniffily, as they walked on together in a companionable, but not entirely comfortable, silence. After a while, Harry spoke again. "I see you are wearing your Christmas present. I'm glad."

"I haven't taken it off."

"It looks good on you. I hope you find it useful."

"It's the most beautiful thing I've ever owned, the most thoughtful thing that anyone has ever given me. The other girls are so jealous I can't tell you."

"Oh, I hope they don't resent you for having it, or me for giving it."

"Hang them if either is true," Hermione scoffed. "They just wish they had one of their own."

"What? A bracelet?"

"No. Someone who cares enough to give them a gift like this. They wish they had a you. if they are jealous of me, it's for that."

Harry blushed in the cold night. "Oh."

They walked on, saying nothing for a few minutes. It was Hermione who broke the strange tension that had risen between them.

"Did you mean what you said in your last letter?" she asked, painfully cautious in here tone.

"Which part?" Harry quizzed.

"When I told you about the nature of the next Task of the Triwizard," Hermione explained. "About what the Champions have to put at risk. You said ... you said that ..."

"What did I say?" Harry asked. "I can't remember."

"You know full well!" Hermione laughed, admonishing Harry for teasing her. She took a gulpful of the freezing Scottish air. Her voice took on a gossamer-soft lilt when she spoke next. "You said that, if you were a Champion, they'd probably take me ... because I'm the best thing in your life."

"Well ... you are," Harry told her simply, as she held his elbow a bit tighter. "I never realised how much I wanted a best friend until I had one. Now I can't imagine my life without one. Without you, specifically. I couldn't have designed a better one for me."

"Me too," Hermione agreed, eagerly. "About you, I mean. It's weird that we never got on before, considering we are so compatible now. I blame myself, for being such a stubborn cow!"

Harry laughed at that. "I was hardly much better with all my bad moods and everything! But I'm happy to blame you too, if you want to take all the responsibility!"

Hermione tutted lightly. "I think we'll share it, shall we? You didn't want to talk, and I wanted to talk too much."

"That's fair," Harry conceded. He looked over carefully. "Is that all you wanted to know, if I meant what I said about the Task? Is that why we are walking up to Hogwarts in the snow? I get the feeling there's more to it, something you aren't telling me."

Hermione glanced up shrewdly, her eyes twinkling. "There is, and I want to talk to you about it, but I'm not brave enough tonight. I just felt like walking, and I wanted your company. So here we are."

"Brave?" Harry asked, confused. "What would you need to be brave to tell me?"

"This!" Hermione cried with a laugh. "You know how you're not ready to tell me about your early childhood? Well, I'm not ready to tell you about this. But I promise, when I work out how, I'll tell you right away."

"Okay, that's cryptic," Harry frowned. "I'm not sure if I should be worried or not."

"Probably," Hermione replied, grimly. "But we'll see when I eventually get round to telling you. It could be a friendship breaker."

"Then I'm definitely worried," Harry grimaced. "Is it really that bad?"

"Good and bad are relative things," Hermione told him, evasively. "Where this fits in, only time will tell."

"And when will you tell?"

"When the time is right ... and not a second before."

"So you're just going to leave me hanging? I have to guess what this is?"

"Pretty much."

"You're quite evil, really," Harry quirked. "I'd never have guessed."

"I'm a witch, Harry," Hermione shrugged, playfully. "We're all one-part angel and one-part danger. What did you really expect?"

"Not that as a definition of you!" Harry hooted. "But I think it sort of fits. I like that it sort of fits."

Hermione smiled up. "Good. That's a good sign. And there's another one."

Then she pointed up at the Hogwarts crest that adorned the centre of the high gates that marked the entrance to the school grounds.

"Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus," Harry read as they passed beneath the wrought-iron arch. "Don't tickle a sleeping dragon. It's good advice, but what the hell has that got to do with a school or education?"

"Maybe it's guidance against rebellion," Hermione suggested with a snicker. "The sleeping dragon could mean the dormant intelligence of youth that could overthrow the archaic order of things. Maybe the motto advises against it!"

"Yeah! That would certainly explain why so many of our teachers are completely bloody useless!" Harry chortled. "They don't want to give us the tools to rise up against them!"

"I can see you being a rebellion leader," Hermione mused. "I think you've got it in you to be a rabble-rouser!"

"I'm not sure if that's a compliment or not!" Harry laughed. "But I'll take it as one!"

"And you can take this too," Hermione cooed as she brought Harry to a stop just before they came under the lights of the Entrance Hall.

Then she stepped in, wrapped her arms around Harry's waist, and drew him close.

"What's this for?" Harry breathed dumbly.

"I promised you I'd give you a cuddle for New Year's," Hermione explained. "And this is my first chance. But it's not a proper cuddle yet."

"Yet? When will it be, then?"

"When you put your arms around me, too."

Compliantly, but with a dozen degrees of uncertainty, Harry snaked his arms up and around Hermione's shoulders until his hands met under the sweep of her hair. Tiny movements brought her closer, so close that the lingering scent of Hermione's shampoo invaded Harry's nostrils, as she turned her head to rest against his neck.

"There. That's better," Hermione crooned. "I've been waiting for this ever since we parted on Diagon Alley, and then again when I found your carriage today. Bloody train ... why couldn't it go faster?"

"And this is ... normal? Between friends, I mean?" Harry asked doubtfully, his voice muffled by Hermione's dense locks. "It's alright that we're doing this?"

"Do you think it's alright?"

"Well ... yeah."

"And so do I. So it is."

"And when will I know when to let go?"

"We'll let go at the same time," Hermione suggested. "On the count of three. One ... two ... three."

But neither of them moved an inch.

"You didn't let go," Harry hushed.

"Neither did you," Hermione pointed out.

"Oh yeah ..."

"Ahem, ahem."

That made Harry and Hermione fly apart. It was the pointed cough of Professor McGonagall.

"And just where do you two think you have been?" McGonagall demanded.

"Please, Professor, it was my fault," Hermione begged, throwing herself at the mercy of her Head of House. "I felt ever so stuffy after all those hours on the train, and I just felt like getting some fresh air. Harry offered to keep me company."

"Is this true, Mr Potter?" McGonagall asked, turning her sparkling eyes on Harry.

"Pretty much," Harry shrugged. "But I wanted some fresh air, too. Hermione was good enough to offer to protect me for the walk back."

Hermione clucked her tongue and slapped Harry's arm in jest. Professor McGonagall grinned at them. At least, Harry thought that the strained grimace was the strict Deputy Headmistress' version of a grin.

"Well, as you are both in one piece there's no harm done," McGonagall went on. "Come on now, with the both of you. Get inside and get some food in you before bed. That is if you are both quite done with ... whatever it was you were just doing."

"I think we're done," Harry grinned, shyly.

"For now," Hermione agreed in near whisper.

"Very well, now hurry along inside before you catch a cold," McGonagall ordered. "Oh, and Miss Granger, once you've eaten please come to see me in my office. I understand the Headmaster has prepped you for this?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Hermione nodded solemnly.

Harry looked over in alarm, hissing lowly as soon as McGonagall re-entered the castle.

"What the hell is that all about?" Harry demanded. "What can they want with you?"

"Don't fret, I'll explain it all," Hermione promised. "The organisers of the Triwizard Tournament need some help with the Second Task, that's all. My contribution to the Yule Ball and other festivities did not go unnoticed, so my assistance has been personally requested for the next stage of the Tournament. It's fine, trust me. It might be even something you can help me with, so we could get to spend more time together."

Harry's mood lightened at the prospect. "Okay, that's not such a bad thing then. When were you going to tell me about this?"

"I didn't get a chance, really," Hermione tried to excuse herself. "But I'll tell you what's happening as soon as I know more. It's okay, honest. Just keep an eye out for my first letter of the term ... it'll be an interesting one!"

Then she gave his arm one last squeeze, and hurried off in the direction of the Gryffindor table.