Christmas With The Family

It was on that Christmas Eve night that Hermione Granger found a new memory to cherish as one powerful enough to summon a patronus. The three most precious people in her life, in the same room, smiling, laughing and getting along.

The first triumph of the night had been when Harry made her dad laugh when he quipped about the Queen's speech. He won her dad over with his sense of humour and awareness of the world outside the magical bubble. The second had been how well Harry handled her parents' endless questions about the most banal things. He'd been bemused but gracious enough to humour them and answer questions she'd not even asked him herself. She felt embarrassed that she was learning things about him through their inquisition.

She hadn't known, for example, that he'd never been on a plane and didn't want to. She'd never known that her best friend was as claustrophobic as he was. She didn't know that he enjoyed flying because of the open space and freedom, not because of the thrill. She also learned that he enjoyed learning new things and challenging himself. Of course, her parents asked him when he last went to a dentist and he gave them a wry smile and asked if tonight counted. At that point, she knew he had charmed her mum.

"In my line of work, I meet new people all the time. Patients and peers alike from all over from all over the country." Her dad began to say, bringing Hermione back into the conversation. She started a little when her dad topped up her glass. She met his eye and he smiled, a small smile that communicated a lot.

He really likes Harry.

"I have this… quirk where I like to guess where people are from based on their accents."

Her mum immediately groaned, dropping her head into her hands.

"Richard, do you really have to do this?"

For the first time, Hermione felt a stirring of alarm. Her dad's innocent little game that he liked to play could cause Harry to bring up his monstrous relatives. Harry looked bemused, however, not at all uncomfortable at having his accent scrutinised.

"Oh… well. I'm not from anywhere interesting." Harry looked over to her and his brow furrowed a little, clearly spying her apprehensive look. "Has Hermione not told you? I'm-."

"No… no I want to guess." Her dad stopped him, giving him a grin. Harry's mouth shut and he sheepishly smiled. "Hmm… I would say South West. Maybe South London, but you don't strike me as a city boy."

Hermione started to find Harry's reactions the most fascinating thing. He could be incredibly expressive, especially around her when he was more open with his feelings. Yet he could also be subtle. His dynamics were…

Attractive. Very attractive.

"I'm not from London or a city, no." Harry said, playing along.

"Not Hampshire?" Richard asked. Harry shook his head.

"Ah! Closer to London. Somewhere in Surrey?"

"Huh, yeah. Surrey." Harry was clearly impressed as he smiled broadly. Hermione immediately squeezed his hand, bringing her attention to him. His eyes took on a soft look that she could never get tired of. He then looked back at her dad. "I grew up there. In Little Whinging. I went to school there and everything before coming to Hogwarts."

Her contented feeling dwindled as Harry brought up his muggle upbringing. She quickly shot her dad a warning look. Her mum noticed, of course, and was trying to subtly get her husband's attention. Her dad picked up the cues and proceeded more carefully.

"Ah, yes, Hermione's told us you're like her in that you didn't have a magical upbringing. So you went to a primary school?"

"I did," he said, nodding."I was getting ready to go to the local comprehensive before I found out I had magic."

Her dad then frowned, glancing over to Hermione. She stilled.

Oh no. I didn't tell them that Harry had been raised ignorant of magic!

"Oh? You didn't know that you were a wizard when you were growing up?"

Her alarm must have blazed off her in waves as Harry then squeezed her hand back and leaned towards her ear. He looked at her, amused at her reaction. She blinked, a little surprised.

"It's okay, Hermione. You know I don't explode whenever it comes up." He said quietly under his breath. Her cheeks flushed.

Have I been unfairly judging him? Harry's not the emotional tempest he was last year. He's matured a lot.

"No, I didn't. I likely found out the same way Hermione did - with a letter saying that I'd been accepted a place at Hogwarts. Though, I guess you didn't have as much a round-about way I did."

Harry then looked up at Hermione's parents, his own curiosity then stoked. He glanced at Hermione first, then to her dad.

"I bet it was a surprise… finding out that Hermione was down to attend a magical boarding school."

Hearing Harry's genuine interest in her own childhood put her fears to rest. Yet she still felt guilty that she misread Harry, expecting him to be overly sensitive about his past. Instead, he was patient and gracious with her parents. Infallibly polite. She didn't give him enough credit. Her fear of hurting his feelings had made her overprotective.

"We've always wanted the best for our special girl. I think we had a list of about fifteen potential schools," she said, causing her dad to laugh and roll his eyes. "Hermione made it into the paper when she got 100% in all her sixth year SATS exams. We were getting letters from a lot of schools for special children to receive the very best education." She smiled proudly at her daughter. "It turns out our child prodigy was more special than we thought."

Her focus on Harry distracted her for a moment before she realised that she was now the topic of the conversation. Her face flushed at once as they brought up her five minutes of fame as a little child genius. That was something that she'd never brought up with Harry. With anyone.

"Mum…" Hermione moaned, her face flushing.

"We were surprised, certainly." Her dad followed on, her parents falling into their double act routine. "But we were assured that the best place for her was with other children like her, at a school where she would be accepted and make friends. It was hard, of course, having to send our special girl to a Boarding school, but we knew that it was for the best."

Her embarrassment quickly changed. Her heart glowed as her dad gave her a loving look. Harry listened, his smile fond. Hermione glanced over and then saw for a very brief moment, a hint of something sad in his green eyes.

"I suppose it is for the best," he said softly, "but still, it must be hard on families to spend so much time apart."

Her heart twanged. Harry couldn't have made it any clearer. He was sympathetic, despite how he didn't have the same experience to draw from.

"So, what is the plan?" Her dad then said, clapping his hands, making Harry and Hermione jump. "We join in the festivities downstairs? Have a bite to eat?"

Hermione's focus went on her mum at once, seeing her worried look before she covered it up.

"I have to say, I'm curious about magic cuisine. Does it taste different?"

Both her parents suddenly reacted, changing the subject abruptly. Both of them shared a look and then glanced worriedly at Harry. Harry didn't appear to notice or mind. The sad look in his eyes was gone and he gave a wry chuckle.

"As far as I'm aware, it's the same as any other food." Harry said, smiling. "There's no magic bean stew or dragon steak." Her dad barked out a laugh. Hermione let out a breath. Harry scored some more points with his quick wit.

"That does make me a little disappointed. I was looking forward to frog-spawn salad and pixie pie." Her dad then commented. Harry then laughed.

Both men grinned at each other, an accord fused then. Hermione's heart fluttered at the sight of them getting along once more. She gazed at Harry, a light, overwhelming feeling inside her making it impossible to stop being so incredibly…

Incredibly what? What is this feeling?

Before she could explore the weightless sensation that made her desperate to shower Harry with praises (and kisses), her dad finished his drink and got up.

"Right, well, I'll just go get finished up and then… magical dinner it is."

Her mum did the same and Hermione caught her knowing look. She eyed Harry meaningfully and smiled. That look was all too knowing for her liking. Harry appeared a little bemused again as her parents excused themselves. Hermione realised at once then that they had noticed that she wanted to be alone with Harry and were giving her the room. Of course they noticed. They noticed everything.

Hermione edged closer to Harry just as he shifted towards her to do the same. turning so she could speak into his ear.

"I'm sorry about the inquisition." She squeezed his hand.

"Your parents are great, Hermione. Don't apologise."

"I know mum and dad were eager to get to know you, but I didn't expect them to interrogate you like that." She sighed. "I thought I covered everything so you didn't have to explain your life story to them."

He squeezed her hand back. "I figured as much and don't worry so much. No one's ever asked me such normal questions before. It's kinda refreshing." He looked at her, tilting his head to one side. "Speaking of which, it's also refreshing that they're interested in you. You know… interested in magic."

Hermione's face fell a bit and she sighed, leaning over to him. He was so wonderful. He really did see the good in everyone. She rested her head on his shoulder.

"They're interested in it because they're my parents, but it doesn't mean that they approve of it."

He frowned a little at that. "What do you mean?"

"They know about all the prejudices towards muggles and think wizards are bigoted because of it. They know… that muggleborns like me don't get equal treatment." She eyed the door to the master bedroom. "Just so you know. They really don't like the word 'muggle' or being called it. They see it as a slur."

He let out a breath and she saw him glance over to the door.

"Yeah, that's fair. Of course, they'd see how it is and be angry on your behalf." He pulled at his lip and sighed. "I guess what I'm trying to get at is that… well… my Aunt hated my mum for being a 'freak'. Your parents love you even though you have magic. They don't treat you… like it's your fault."

A low moan escaped her at his words and she at once drew him towards her. He smiled sadly at her.

"It's just nice to see for myself that you have a wonderful, loving family. I'm really happy for you." He then kissed her cheek, breathing out a sigh that gusted over her skin. She closed her eyes, relishing in how Harry was sharing his deeper feelings with her, letting her into his heart. She then did the same for him.

"I know… I know how lucky I am that I have them." She said softly. "And I know that it can't be easy for you to have it rubbed in your face."

He gave a soft chuckle.

"It's fine. Don't worry so much about me." He said. "The good outweighs the bad." She peeked out through her eyelashes, seeing that his green eyes had no hint of a lie. His happiness for her was genuine. She sighed and she gripped at his hand.

"I'm so scared for them. I'm trying to shield them as best I can but you know how our type can be around muggles. Either disgusted by them or fascinated like they're exotic creatures."

Harry then frowned. He shook his head, his face falling.

"While you can count on me to be respectful, the same can't really be said of all the people down in the pub. I'm not exactly inconspicuous. I'd be walking them right into the spotlight with me and… well… they are the first muggles in Hogsmeade since the 1940's."

She then bit her lip. She hated to admit that he was right. There was just no way the patrons of The Three Broomsticks would look the other way. Even if they didn't approach him, they would stare at him like they always did, no thought for his privacy. Harry winced, his gaze dropping. Her heart dropped at the look on his face and quickly pulled him towards her. She planted a kiss on his cheek, making him sigh sadly.

"It's going to be hard to maintain the illusion of normality if I'm having to shake hands every five seconds," he said quietly. "I'd rather not have this night… tainted with all that."

She nodded. "You're right. We can control things a lot easier in Hogwarts, make sure that the only people we engage with aren't bumbling fools, but we can't exactly tell the residents here to clear out so we can have a meal in peace."

Harry's mouth quirked up in the corner. "I don't know. I do have a bit of pull, you know." She smacked his arm lightly. He sobered though and looked over at the dining table. "Why don't we just eat up here instead? If that's here, then Rosmerta must be able to send food up."

She followed his gaze and then remembered that the suite had come with room service. While she was loath to make House Elves work for them any more than necessary, it was a better alternative. She was about to confirm that there was a much safer option when she heard the door behind them open. She was on her feet at once, startling Harry with her abruptness.

Facing her parents, she stopped them in their tracks.

"Mum, dad… a change of plans." She said at once. At their questioning gazes, she employed some quick thinking, then ploughed into a lie. "Harry rightly pointed out that it's going to be really busy down in the pub. It's going to be a struggle to hear each other over the noise so why don't we order something to eat here? It's perfectly cosy."

Her mum met her eyes and frowned, raising her brow. She always could tell when she was lying. Hermione could read the question in her gaze. Harry then stood up, coming to her side. She looked over to him, seeing his resolute expression. He shook his head a little at her and then stepped up to her parents.

"There's that and there's also… well… I'm pretty noticeable." He glanced over at Hermione over her shoulder. "We're used to it but it can get a bit much. I once had to shake hands with everyone in The Leaky Cauldron when I was eleven and that was before… well…" He stopped, his eyes betraying a hint of alarm. Hermione knew how the rest of that sentence was supposed to go.

Before I was the Chosen One.

"Let's just say that maybe a quiet affair is better than being seen in public with me." Harry finished instead. Hermione felt her heart soar with gratitude at the understanding her parents showed at once. They looked at each other, communicating silently. Her mum nodded in response to whatever thought her dad had and looked over to Harry. She gave him a kind look.

"It's very considerate of you to think of us, Harry." She said. Her smile then lit up. "And like Hermione said, it is very cosy in here. After all, tomorrow will be a busy day."

Hermione felt her relief being shared with Harry at their acceptance of the new plans. Her dad then charged off, refocused.

"Now, I believe there was a list for room service somewhere," he said as he went off to the kitchen. Harry squeezed her hand and then went off to help her dad, making the effort to help. As he did, her mum was on her in a flash.

"What did you tell him?" Her mum asked under her breath. "You didn't make this about us, did you?"

Hermione smiled guiltily. "A little, but it's only because we both don't want you and dad to have another bad experience. As much as I don't want to admit it, Harry's presence will attract attention."

Her mum sighed. "That poor young man. He has so much to deal with, doesn't he?"

She nodded. "He needs us to give him a break from it."

Harry and her dad returned. Her dad had found the menu and was leading a blushing Harry back into the room. Hermione let out a worried squeak. Harry only blushed like that if someone had given him a compliment.

Honestly, I leave dad alone with him for one moment!

"Shall we sit at the table?" Her mum suggested. They all agreed and they made their way to the dining table. Harry pulled her seat out for her, making her stop in surprise. He met her gaze, smiling mischievously. In the corner of her eye, she could see her dad smiling as well as if they had a private joke. A fierce desire to want to know what her dad had said to Harry flooded through her.

"This selection really isn't what I expected." Her mum remarked once she sat down, reading through the menu. Hermione frowned suspiciously at Harry, but then he blinked innocently and gestured to the seat. She sat down. He then joined her, taking the last seat. Harry peered down at the menu, looking a little worried for a second but then smoothed over his face.

"We are in the Highlands, darling. Clearly the meat choice is locally sourced."

Both she and Harry leaned in closer, alarmed at what 'local meat' might mean with the Forbidden Forest so close by. Thankfully, Harry's playful suggestion of 'dragon steak' didn't come true. Hermione was surprised herself when she read the choice. It was different from the food selection at the castle, not traditional homecooked meals like Shepards' Pie, roast dinners and bangers and mash. Instead there was venison stew, salmon en croute, roast pheasant and mushroom risotto.

"Hmm… I'm not sure if I should have venison." Harry remarked as he peered down at the list, reading it upside down. "Doesn't feel right eating a stag."

Hermione smiled, giving a small laugh. He caught her eye and smiled back. He leaned towards her ear.

"I have no idea what half this even is," Harry said in her ear quietly, "I… don't have a lot of experience with… um… this. My table manners are decent at least so I won't embarrass you."

She reached for his hand under the table. "Just have the same as me." She whispered back. His cheek dimpled and he nodded in response. If anyone knew what foods he liked, it would be the person who had sat with him for practically every meal during their years together as friends. She chose the salmon for them both, noticing Harry's relief. They made their orders on the menu itself, sending a request to a paired menu. Just as Hermione went to inspect exactly what charms had been used, Harry stood up.

"Going to use the… uh… facilities," he explained. Once he'd headed into the bathroom and locked the door, Hermione just knew her parents would use the moment to conspiratorially whisper something to her. She wasn't disappointed. Her mum practically pounced on her, grabbing her hand.

"Oh Starlet, he's such a treasure." She whispered when she reached her.

" What?"

Her dad nodded in agreement. "Sweetheart, he is besotted with you."

Hermione put her hands over her face. "Shush. Harry's hearing is really good." She murmured in her hands. "What were you thinking, dad? Asking his allergies? And the last time he's seen a dentist? Really?"

He chuckled. "Professional curiosity I suppose?"

"What did you say to him in there?" She then asked, lowering her hands. Her dad's eyes glinted mischievously.

"I only told him that he's convinced me that wizards can be gentlemen."

"Oh my God …" She moaned, miserable.

Harry soon returned, refreshed. He halted only a single step when he saw them in discussion together. His smile was a little more forced when he rejoined. Hermione felt awful that he'd seen them so very obviously talking about him. And then when she went over what both her parents had said, her cheeks flamed.

A jug of water, glasses, plates and cutlery started to pop into existence. Her mum made small gasps of shock each time someone made its way to the table, sent via House Elf. Harry joined them. He reached for the water jug and started to fill their glasses. His eyes met Hermione's and he nervously smiled, filling up his glass last.

"Thank you," her mum said to Harry, smiling warmly at him. Harry settled back in his seat and the moment he did, their meals popped into existence.

"Now that is speedy service," her dad remarked. Hermione shared a look with Harry, both of them knowing that indentured slaves were responsible for such service.

"If this tastes as good as it smells, I'm sure this is going to be amazing." Her mum said. Both her parents then took up their cutlery and went to eat.

Hermione tucked in, trying to not stare too much at Harry. She could tell that he was putting in a lot of effort to eat with decorum. He didn't have to - his manners were miles better than a lot of the boys in the school. She'd picked up on them very early on when she noticed how he didn't speak with food in his mouth, nor did he eat until everyone had food in front of them. He used his cutlery correctly and laid them neatly on his plate when he was finished. The only other boy who had equally good manners was Neville. Both of them had come from strict homes and it showed.

"How is your meal, Harry?"

Harry's cutlery clattered as he was addressed. He emptied his mouth before looking up at Hermione's mum. He smiled softly.

"I… I'm enjoying it." He said carefully.

They lapsed into silence as they ate, a few comments making it through here and there. Harry still finished first despite him trying to eat slowly. He cleared his plate then, as he always did, arranged his cutlery neatly.

At that moment, a brilliant silvery light passed through the door of the suite. Her parents, having never seen a patronus before, jumped in shock and alarm. There was a loud clatter as her dad nearly knocked over his oak-matured mead. Her mum gasped hoarsely and then nearly choked on a piece of broccoli. Harry was up on his feet, putting a hand on her mum's shoulder.

"It's a message. A patronus… and I think it's for me." He assured her. She nodded, dabbing at her face with a napkin. The patronus then took its form, becoming a tabby cat. Harry let out a yelp of surprise when it sat on his lap. They both knew at once who the patronus belonged to, having assumed the animagus form of Professor McGonagall.

"The floo connection will close soon." Professor McGonagall's Scottish brogue resonated from her patronus. "Meet me at the same place where we arrived at ten."

The tabby patronus then dissolved into silvery mist. Harry's shoulders slumped. Hermione saw her mum check her watch.

"Oh that leaves us with an hour." She reported. "I suppose it does make sense that you have to get back home." She said, then corrected herself. "Back to the school, I mean."

Hermione picked up on the mistake and felt a surge of victory. It did feel like Harry was round their house, staying for a meal, due to go back to his own home. Like they were regular, normal people just living their lives, muggles, and Harry was the first boy she'd brought home.

"An hour is plenty of time for another drink, though." Her dad then said. He then took it upon himself to order them drinks. As he did, he gave her a knowing look that immediately reminded her of what he and her mum had both whispered to her behind Harry's back when he made use of the bathroom. Her cheeks flushed.

Of course, she knew Harry had feelings for her. They were in a relationship. She had intensely strong feelings for him too. But was Harry being that obvious?

His reaction to her surprise had been very genuine. He had cried. She had done something for him that had truly moved him to tears. Then there were the other things he said when they had a moment alone. His heart was on show and it was glowing with his love…

His love for her.

She sat in a daze as her dad ordered Harry some oak-matured mead as well as himself. She didn't notice when a glass of wine popped in front of her.

"I hope this was okay for you." Harry's awkward remark had her tumbling out of her shocked daze. "I'm not all that familiar with… doing things like this. Socialising I mean. I'm a bit awkward… despite being… um… well-known."

"You have nothing to worry about," her mum said at once. Her expression then softened and she gave Harry a caring look. "It must be so very hard." Her mum then said softly. "To be under the spotlight all the time."

Hermione snapped out of her daze at once. Alarm cracked through her as her mum breached the subject that she wanted desperately to avoid. They were eating in the suite to get away from the attention that dogged Harry. But Harry took it in his stead and he met her mum's gaze. He sighed quietly, contemplating for a moment. Hermione reached for his hand at once and he glanced sidealong at her. It was all she needed to confirm that he was alright and that her mum hadn't made things awkward.

"It is." He admitted softly. "It's why I value moments like these. Being away from it all."

"You certainly deserve a break away from it." Her dad said gently. Harry nodded and he looked down at his glass of mead. His eyes roved around as he thought, clearly in some sort of inward conflict. His brow furrowed. Yet then he resolved the conflict and he looked up, his gaze clear and sincere.

"It follows me wherever I go… except for in the mug-," Harry caught himself in time, "except for outside the magical world. This is where I belong and I can't… leave. I have nowhere to go. I have no home away from…from Hogwarts. Not anymore. There's nowhere I can just be a normal person, living my life." Harry then sighed and his face took on a sad, weary look. Apologetically, he glanced up at her parents. "Sorry. That really cast a downer, huh?" His gaze dipped, self-conscious. Hermione could practically feel the concern radiating from her mum.

"I'm so sorry you feel like that, Harry." Her mum said, her voice thick, clearly moved at his admission.

Harry appeared surprised. He let out a breath. His green eyes glittered, his hand flexing under Hermione's as he fully registered what her mum just said.

"I'm sorry too. Hermione told me that you know about… my situation." His voice lifted at the end of the sentence as if it was a question. He looked for the answer, eyes moving between her parents. Their understanding looks were answer enough. Harry dipped his chin down. "It means so much that you would give up your own family time for me. I'm… I'm really grateful." The glittering in his eyes spread to the corners where tears dewed.

Her dad had a huge heart. He was the true softy of the family. He was the one who needed the box of tissues when they went to the cinema together as a family. He sobbed his heart out when they went to see The Lion King, pretty much the whole way through the film. He encouraged Hermione to talk about her feelings. He was always ready to be an ear to listen to her frustrations. She spoke with him about inequality of her world, shared her fears that she wouldn't be taken seriously because of her age, gender and background.

It was him with tears in his eyes at Harry's heartfelt words. He reached out and patted Harry on the arm, respecting his boundaries yet showing him some contact to communicate that he cared. Harry responded, his lips parting in surprise when he saw that her dad was openly emotional.

"You're important to Hermione so you're important to us." Her dad said, meeting Hermione's eye for a second, but then he raised his glass of mead. He looked at Harry and toasted him. Harry looked a little confused for a moment.

Her mum then smiled, taking up her glass. Harry's eyes were wide as her parents toasted him.

A tear escaped from his eye and he quickly snapped up a hand, wiping it from under his glasses. His face then split into a huge smile, his green eyes gleaming with true happiness. He took his glass of mead in his free hand, bringing their joined hands out from under the table so their relationship was in full view.

When Harry then took a sip of his drink, his eyes lighting up as he consumed the sweet beverage, undimmed joy shining out from his face, Hermione filed away the scene. The unadulterated happiness on his face was the greatest gift anyone could have given her.

" Wow !" Harry gasped out, his lips smacking, tongue licking at the remnants of the drink on his lips. "This tastes amazing ."

"Just don't drink too much." She reminded him softly. "Don't forget who's talking you home."

Harry then laughed. Then the sound snuffled out of his nose as he lapsed into giggles. His eyes were sparkling with pure mirth.

"Well, you are the one responsible for me. If anyone is going to get into trouble, it'll be you." He said. She levelled him a daring look and snatched up her glass of wine, taking a large gulp.

"Maybe I need a break from being responsible."

"I think this is going to be the best Christmas I've ever had." He lifted his glass and grinned.

When his dimple deepened, Hermione couldn't contain it any more. She set her glass down and had his face in her hands. He let out a surprised 'eep' before she kissed him full on the lips.

Across from them, she heard her mum laugh.

Hermione, shocked, pulled her lips from Harry. Blood surged to her face as she realised that she lost her inhibitions completely and snogged Harry right in front of her parents. A pair of equally shocked green eyes were wide and staring at her.

"You win, Richard," her mum said, turning to her husband. "Damn it, I was so sure Harry would crack first."

Hermione and Harry turned to look at the adults. Both Miranda and Richard wore matching grins.

"I told you earlier." Her dad then said. To their surprise, he gave Harry a wink. "Young Harry here is a true gentleman."

Harry's face went bright red.

"Welcome to the family, Harry Potter." Richard Granger said and met Hermione's gaze. He smiled at her, the message loud and clear.

He's the one.

When she looked back to a very shell-shocked Harry, she knew her dad was right. He was the one.

And I love him too.

Cosy and content was Harry Potter's state of being when he woke up on Christmas Day. It was marvellously peaceful in the dormitory, the only sounds were the soft crackling of the wood-burner in the middle of the room and the distant birdsong from the forest. He nuzzled his face into his pillow, smiling to himself as he slipped out from his blissful dreams into a very comfortable bed. It took him a moment to work out why he was so happy.

He tested the end of the bed with a foot to confirm that it was indeed Christmas. The weight of something resting on top of his covers had him scrambling from his warm cocoon. He crawled like an oversized bug on his hands and knees over his bed to the pile of brightly wrapped up gifts. A swelling warmth inside him made him smile more broadly as he sat back on his squashy quilt. It wasn't the same feeling of previous Christmases. It hadn't started abruptly, either with a bark through the door of his cupboard or an excited shout from Ron or whoever was in the room with him. It was a peaceful beginning of what would turn out to be his favourite Christmas yet. One with the Grangers.

Harry closed his eyes and rocked back, dwelling on the previous night. Pleasant feelings stirred up as he thought of the wonderful, yet too few, hours he'd spent in The Three Broomsticks.

Of course, there had been some bittersweet moments. Try as he might, it was always hard for him to not feel sad whenever he was around a happy family. The feelings never faded from when he was a little boy, watching his aunt plaster kisses on Dudley's cheeks while the only touches he received were swats on his behind and clips around the earhole. They remained imbedded inside him when he first stayed at The Burrow, seeing properly for the first time how parents should treat the children in their care. No spoiling ungrateful children, encouraging their bullying. For all the difficulties they faced, the Weasleys never deprived their children of their needs. They made do with what little they had.

His loss was such a part of who he was; he had long since learned how to adapt and appreciate what he did have. So he did the same while in the company of Hermione and her parents. He relished in how much they clearly loved their daughter, instead focusing on how happy he was for Hermione that she had support at home.

What he could never have expected was for them to start to show him the same support. For as much as he was very fond and grateful towards Mr and Mrs Weasley, none of them had ever tried to make an effort to get to know him. They assumed they knew all about him because his life history was public knowledge. They knew that he was grieving, yet hadn't stepped in to console him or offer condolences. He supposed that as he was his friend's parents, they didn't feel comfortable stepping in to give another child parental support. He never shared with them his true feelings out of fear that they would treat him differently. They were Order members, they knew he was destined to fight Voldemort. If he shared with them how lonely he felt and scared, he would just show them that the one they pinned their hopes on was a vulnerable human just like everyone else.

But to Miranda and Richard, he was a sixteen-year-old boy with heaps of trauma and a lot on his shoulders. They were sympathetic. He felt no judgement from them whatsoever when he dropped his guard and shared his feelings more openly than he would ever with Mr and Mrs Weasley.

Their kind words stayed with him. The gesture of them welcoming him to their family touched him so very deeply. He had clung onto that moment while he lay in bed, holding it in his mind until the pleasant sleepiness the mead had bestowed upon him tugged into a deep sleep. Their assurances that they would be at the castle for Christmas dinner had filled him with such joy. All he ever wanted was to spend Christmas with his family. The Mirror of Erised had shown him such. While he could never has his own parents, joining his girlfriend's parents for the festivities filled the void well enough.

Only a day ago, he had been dreading Christmas Day, spending the day with the yawning absence in his life. He dreaded the morning when he would wake up alone and miserable. He would be starting a Christmas like the ones in the cupboard.

Instead, he was full of joy and hope for the first time in what felt like years. The trials and tribulations of his life were on standby. In this moment, he could enjoy living and form new memories that would make him fight for more like them in the future.

He went back to considering his presents. His pile was always a lot more modest than the other boys in the Dormitory. Yet he noticed that it was larger than usual. He reached for the first one, smiling as he recognising Hagrid's clumsy wrapping and his scrawl on the label.

To Harry,

Merry Christmas,

Hagrid

He opened the present, smiling as he unearthed a pair of soft wooly gloves. He knew why Hagrid had gotten him gloves specifically. When he had gone down to his house the first day alone after the rest of the school went home for Christmas, he'd helped Hagrid with his bowtruckles until his fingers were white with the cold. Hagrid had told him off for not bringing gloves. Harry told him that his gloves were too small for him.

Next he opened his present from Fred and George which was of course some new Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes merchandise. He tentatively put the box in his trunk, eyeing the rest of the pile. He wondered if Mrs Weasley received his letter well and the presents he sent along with it. He had every suspicion that she would have been beside herself. His eyes then found the usual bulging package that looked very much like her wrapping. He sighed and continued with the rest, deciding to deal with that problem last.

Ginny's present included some seeker goggles that could adjust to match his glasses strength. He had some new socks from Dobby and miniature foe glass from Neville.

Hermione's gift was absent. She had told him that she was going to give it to him in person so she could see his face when he opened it. At the thought, Harry looked over to his dresser where the extra gift he had got for her was waiting. He thought he would have to wait for January to give it to her. He bit on his lip nervously.

What if she doesn't like it?

Pushing his nerves down, he wondered if it had been a good idea to tell her that he'd gotten her something else as well as what he'd sent a week ago to the mail service. He had also sent off Ron's gift along with the other Weasley's. He had got him the heater pair of Keeper gloves before their falling out. He chose to be the better person and send away his present.

Only one present was left. He drew in a deep breath and picked up the bulky, squishy parcel. A letter was attached. He pulled it off and opened it, taking a deep breath, and opened it. It wasn't from Mrs Weasley.

Dear Harry,

I apologise that I have to get involved in personal business, but I feel that as a parent, it's my duty when you are without a parental figure of your own.

We first assumed, Molly and I, that the discord between you, Ron and Hermione was because the inevitable had happened. The moment we had you and Hermione both at our home for the summer before the Quidditch World Cup, we knew. We've raised seven children and lived our own lives. We knew that puberty was going to make things complicated and messy. It was bound to happen and it did.

Clashing over girls and hormones is something that's part of growing up. It's a confusing time. Arguments between friends are also natural. Yet in this case, I had to step in. I never expected my son to act as he has. Harry, I am so very sorry. I got out of my son why you really haven't come to stay with us this Christmas. I cannot tell you how horrified I was when he told me what he said to you. There is no excuse for it and I'm truly ashamed that such things were said from the mouth of my own son.

While it is true that Ron is the reason why you were introduced to our family, he isn't the reason why you are a part of it. You have a place in all our hearts. Molly and I care very deeply for you and all we only wish that we can give you the love and support that you've been deprived of through no fault of your own. We chose to accept you into our family because we have come to love you like you are one of us.

You are under a tremendous amount of stress with the eyes of the world on you. We want to give you sanctuary away from the burdens of your difficult situation and not be another source of distress. If you wish to spend your holiday in a home where you feel safe, we respect that choice. We would like to see you, just me and Molly. We are so very worried about you.

I hope we can arrange something. Until then, Merry Christmas and always remember that we are here for you.

Arthur

Wiping his face on his pyjama sleeve, Harry put the letter down. His heart was aching fiercely, making it a challenge to breathe properly. He was making strange hiccup sounds as he tried to not cry, even though it didn't matter if he did with no one watching him. He pushed his hands over his eyes, heaving in a deep breath.

He folded the letter carefully and put it to the side. Blowing out the breath, lips fluttering as he did, he opened his Weasley parcel of homemade goods. He gathered the new jumper in his arms and hugged it to his chest.

"Thank you," he whispered, gripping the knitted jumper that he could see had a golden snitch worked into it. The rest of the present included mince pies and fudge. He nibbled at one of the pies and vanished the wrapping paper from his bed with his wand. He frowned for a moment, a stirring of anxiety taking over his thoughts. The absence of anything from Remus worried him. He knew from Dumbledore that he was undercover so sending presents might not be the best move. He hadn't heard from him since his Birthday.

Guilt poked through his thoughts then. He was the last of his parents' friends, the last link he had to them. He could have tried to reach out to him before he went into deep cover. At least had one chat with him about their shared loss.

Harry sighed and checked the time. It was only just past nine. With the Grangers arriving at the school at twelve, he had the whole morning to himself. He didn't want to spend the time moping in bed. He gathered his gifts and placed them in his trunk. Then off he went to prepare himself for the day.

While in the shower, his thoughts went to the letter that Arthur had written once more. He found it more touching that it had been him to reach out rather than the more overbearing Weasley matriarch. He remembered how after the incident with the Ton Tongue Toffee, Mr Weasley's anger had been a lot more intimidating than the explosive shouting matches of Molly when she was set off. He had to be very upset with Ron indeed to step in as he had done. His disappointment had oozed from the parchment.

Harry suppressed a shiver as his mind traitorously replayed the words that had Arthur so ashamed with his son.

Pathetic loner.

He lathered shampoo into his thick black hair as the hurt stabbed into him again. The pain was muted now that he knew the words had no truth to them. He wasn't a loner… and he wasn't pathetic.

Leech.

Bubbly soap rinsed out of his hair, the warm water doing more than draining away the shampoo. The pain was ebbing out of him too. He wasn't a leech either. The Weasleys took him in because they chose to. He never asked for their charity and if he knew it wasn't a point of pride, he would pay for his room and board. And as for Hermione, he knew he hadn't been friends with her the whole time to prop up his grades. He didn't expect her to fight his battles, far from it. He wanted her as far from his battles as possible. The thought of her being hurt because of him sent off a whine in his brain. He was back there in the Department of Mysteries, frozen solid as he knelt over her motionless body. Breathing beyond him, thinking a momentous effort, as he thought Hermione was gone forever.

His heart gave a lurch at the memory. He rested a hand over his chest, breathing deeply. Water splashed all around him.

He wasn't a parasite. If he was, why would he risk his life several times over for those he loved? Why would he view their suffering as a torment far worse than being made to suffer himself? Why did his mind force him to relive Cedric's murder over and over in his nightmares if he only cared about using people as human shields to protect himself?

Turning off the water, he stepped out of the cubicle, deep in thought.

Ron's opinions of him were so similar to the Dursleys and he knew how wrong they were. Perhaps that was why they hurt so much. His best friend and his only living family thought the worst of him. And they were wrong.

He knew he would never have an apology from a Dursley. To admit that they were wrong would go against everything they built their world upon. He was the abnormal one, the threat to their oh-so-important reputation of normality. The black sheep of the family who they despised. He had long since come to terms that they would never change their ways.

He wouldn't wait with bated breath for an apology from Ron, either. Frankly, he didn't think he could ever accept one. There was saying hurtful things in the heat of the moment, but it had been too personal, too methodical, to be a spontaneous splurge of vitriol. Ron had to have been sitting on it for a while. His insecurities turned feral and hostile as Harry got more and more attention, leaving him deeper in his shadow.

That wasn't someone he could trust.

Harry reached the sinks, towel wrapped around his hips as he picked up his wand from where he'd left it. He cast a drying charm on the mirror to clear the condensation. His sodden reflection looked back at him. He looked into his own eyes, staring at himself. It was rare for him to be able to look at himself for a long period of time.

He brought a finger up to brush against the dark hair on his upper lip. It was a recent issue after his sudden growth spurt aged him in more ways than one. He lamented that his unruly hair issue also extended to the hair on his body as well as his head. He was the only boy in the Dorm that had noticeable chest hair and he needed to shave more and more regularly. He took his shaving kit from his washbag, staring down at it. Sirius had given it to him last Christmas. He'd joined him in the bathroom one day that holiday, one of few moments they had spent together. Sirius taught him to shave as Harry had no one to show him.

The grief pangs were coming thick and fast. They were a hazard Harry was used to, but it was a rawer loss. He rode out the pain, staring at his hairy lip, forcing himself to not cry.

Back under control, he followed the steps Sirius told him. He brushed on the magic foam that smelled like cedarwood. He then took up the razor and carefully shaved away his patches of hair that needed tidying up. It was getting more and more out of control. Sirius had warned him that Potters were known for their rapid hair growth. The magically regrowing hair of his childhood years suddenly made sense.

Harry rinsed off his face, washing off the excess foam. He looked back up at the mirror, relieved that he hadn't cut himself. He towelled himself off and finished the rest of his morning ritual. Teeth brushed, hair combed and body towelled dry, he got dressed. He chose to dress a little more smartly than he usually would for Christmas Day at Hogwarts. Normally, he'd sport his latest Weasley jumper and be at one with his fellow woolly jumper wearers. As they were absent, he decided on a pair of his uniform trousers, the dress shirt he'd received with his dress robes, and one of the robes he bought from Gladrags during the last Hogsmeade trip. He put on the owl cufflinks Dumbledore gave him, smiling to himself. He liked them a lot.

The robe he'd picked out had been specifically to wear for Christmas. He knew Hermione would find his choice amusing.

Stepping into his school shoes, he then finished his ensemble with his glasses. He chewed on his lip as he looked over himself in the mirror. His hair was a lost cause without some of the miracle hair wax Dean used to tame it.

Stowing his wand into his robe pocket, he left the bathroom. He headed back to his bed, taking the Invisibility Cloak where he left it out for easy reach in case he was ambushed in the night. He stuck the Cloak into the inside pocket of his robe that was charmed with an Undetectable Extension charm. Something that Dumbledore had stepped in to do to all his robes so he could have his Cloak on his person at all times.

Finally, he reached for the brightly wrapped gift waiting on the dresser. He gripped it in his hands, smiling to himself. He stuffed the gift in the same pocket as his Cloak. All set, Harry left the Dorm and swept down the staircase in maroon robes that he'd bought out of a spite as it was Ron's most loathed colour.

The moment he took a step into the Common Room, he knew something was wrong. First off, the fire was healthy crackling in the hearth which made no sense as he was the only occupant. Then there was the sense that he couldn't shake, a feeling that someone was close by. His hand was reaching for his wand as he stepped into the room, wary despite knowing only those with the password could enter. As he came within reach of the larger twin-seats in front of the fireplace, he jolted to such an abrupt halt, he nearly lost his balance.

A mass was curled up on the sofa that he, Ron and Hermione always picked when they had the chance. Their favourite spot. A mass tucked under a worn-out travelling cloak that was patched in several places. Harry knew that cloak. He hoarsely gasped in surprise and staggered a step towards the impossible heap on the sofa in the Gryffindor Common Room.

"R-Remus?" He called out.

His voice brought the heap to life. The cloak was thrown back, revealing a very dishevelled man with greying brown hair stuck up in different directions. Harry approached, his jaw hanging down as he stared at Remus Lupin. It was more than obvious that the man had been fast asleep on the sofa under his cloak, still fully dressed. He threw the cloak he was using as a blanket over the back of the sofa and shook himself awake. When his hazel eyes met Harry's, he gave him a wolfish grin.

"Don't worry. It's not the first time I've spent the night on this seat." He said, then yawned and stretched his arms. Harry blinked several times to confirm that Remus Lupin was indeed in the Gryffindor Common room with him.

"W-what?" Harry managed to get out. Remus pushed himself off the sofa and approached him. He looked Harry up and down, his expression lighting up. At once, he was right there, still dishevelled but awake.

"I arrived at midnight," Remus said softly. "Albus told me the password but I didn't want to wake you and give you the fright of your life. It's perfectly comfortable down here."

Harry was staring at him, blinking. Remus's smile turned sad and he tilted his head to one side.

"I went to The Burrow, thinking that you would be there. I heard what happened and I came straight here." His smile then fell. He carefully reached a hand towards his shoulder, hovering before placing it down. "Molly and Arthur are very worried about you. I am too."

Tears sprung into Harry's eyes before he could breath. He closed the distance between them, not caring that Remus smelled musty. He initiated a hug, moving into the man's space and brought his arms around him. Remus had gone still.

"Merry Christmas, Moony." He breathed into the man's shoulder. Remus gasped and his arms sprung to life moving from loose and uncertain to determined and purposeful. He brought his arms around Harry and they had their very first hug. A long time coming.

Remus then startled him, kissing the top of his head in the centre of his crown of messy black locks.

"Merry Christmas, Prongs Junior."

It turned out that Remus Lupin didn't need to wrap his Christmas present… unless a patched travelling cloak counted.