Christmas Dreams

Title: Christmas Wishes

Author: Jade Skywalker

Beta Readers: None at this time, will send to them and have them look it over. I will repost at that time.

Rating: PG-13 for mild language, peril, and adult themes.

Spoilers: Books 1-5

Summary: It’s seventh year, Hermione is looking back on her time at Hogwarts and all that has happened. Though her heart is filled with what she wishes would happen, what would come of her relationship with the one person in her life she loves the most, the one person she almost lost.

Warning: This story seems to have turned into a story where Ron isn’t exactly shining nicely. I didn’t start it out that way, it just worked. I personally have no problem with Ron, this story however, does. Another warning is the way this story is going to go, one of the characters will seem to receive a lot of training in a short amount of time, however, it’ll be explained (partly) later on.

Sequel: I honestly don’t know if the story is completed or not. I haven’t been able to figure out how to continue on with the story. However, it does seem to be a neutral place to stop for me to be able to get this out by midnight on the Twenty-Fourth of December. If you wish to have me write more, please feel free to tell me so, and please give some hints. If enough of you wish it, so be it.

A/N: I am still working on Destiny’s Ghost. My Beta’s and I are working on the next two chapters. There seems to be an order error. Not to worry, the story is still progressing, just a bit slowly. Thanks to both of my Beta’s, who help to keep me on track and to keep the story continuing on smoothly, and concisely; if it weren’t for the both of you, this story would be one long run on sentence.

In Memory Of

Michael Linden Brown

1969-2004

Christmas Wishes

Blinking the sleep from her tired eyes, Hermione Granger reluctantly glances over at her alarm clock, only to sigh in resignation. It’s five thirty in the morning, a Saturday morning at that, and here she is, unable to go back to sleep. Pushing the covers almost angrily off her, she slowly and begrudgingly begins her day.

As Hermione heads to the Head Girl’s bathroom, she wonders ideally if Harry is awake yet. At this thought an evil gleam forms in her eyes, as she decides awake or not, he will be, at least when she’s finished with him. With this wonderful thought in mind she turns the water on for her bath.

Sinking into the inviting warmth of the water, Hermione allows her mind to wander, only for her thoughts to focus on the past seven years of her life, here at Hogwarts. She is unable to stop the smile from forming on her face, when her thoughts inevitably seemed to settle on one person. The one person she learned of before stepping through the barrier that first day, and the one person she had never thought would affect her as much as he does. And to think, all he has to do is breathe.

Hermione’s mind focuses on the beautiful, impossible emerald color of her best friend’s eyes. Oh, how she loves his eyes. How she loves him and how she wishes he could, would love her back. Though she knows this to be impossible, she can’t help but dream and wish it were so.

With a bone weary sigh she reluctantly forces herself to get out of the warm water and into the frigid cold air of the castle. With a shiver she quickly wraps a towel around her. As she does this, her mind changes gears and her thoughts drift back to over a year ago, back to the summer before fifth year. She knows mentally that a year is only three-hundred-and-sixty-five-and-a-quarter days ago, but her heart feels as though many lifetimes have come and gone within those seemingly endless days.

Hermione slowly and methodically sets out her clothes she’s going to wear for the day with one hand while her other hand tries to dry her soaked hair. She can’t help but mentally cringe as her mind goes over memories of the summer before sixth year. She and Ron had started to date just before the beginning of their fifth year. In truth they had been more or less dating since she first arrived at Grimmauld Place. They had never told Harry about them. Ron insisted, no matter how much Hermione had pleaded with him. She had known Harry would feel betrayed by their secrecy, but Ron would not be swayed. She had known Harry would figure things out, if he hadn’t already had, and she feared his reaction to this knowledge.

~ BEGIN FLASHBACK~

It had been a very quiet summer, at least where Harry was concerned. Hermione had written him twice a week, receiving no reply. Had she not known he was reporting to the Order she would have been frantic with worry. Since she knew the Order was watching over him, she settled herself on just worrying about him.

One day it had finally come to a head, Hermione just couldn’t take the silence from Harry anymore. So she pulled out a piece of paper she hadn’t touched since the summer after first year. Harry’s phone number, the one he gave to both her and Ron just before leaving the platform. Gathering not only all of her courage, but her righteous temper, she determinedly dialed the number and waited with baited breath.

Hermione mentally counted the tones her ear received. “One, two, come on, three, please pick up, four, Harry answer the damn phone, five, where could he be, six, where is everybody, seven, guess I should call back later, eight, hanging up now, nine, come on Harry, ten,” Hermione slowly starts to remove the receiver from her ear, reluctant to quit.

As Hermione starts to pull the phone from her ear a barking voice sounds through the receiver. “Dursley residence, Vernon Dursley speaking,” Vernon Dursley recites over the connection.

“I need to speak to Harry Potter please,” Hermione asks diplomatically.

“Never heard of him,” Vernon says with venom in his voice.

“I know you have Mr. Dursley,” Hermione counters evenly.

“He’s not here,” Vernon spits out just before Hermione hears the phone being slammed down.

Hermione pulls the phone away from her ear to look at it incredulously, “Oh no he didn’t just hang up on me, how dare he,” she mutters only to quickly start to redial the number, her anger getting the better of her.

“Dursley residence, Vernon Dursley speaking,” Vernon’s voice spills through the receiver once again.

“I need to talk to Harry, or I’ll tell the man with the eye you won’t let him come to the phone,” Hermione threatens hoping it will work, that it’ll be enough.

“If you want to talk to the boy so much, you would talk to that man,” Vernon growls in response. “The boy is with him at the moment, after all,” he nearly shouts, the hatred evident in his voice.

“When Harry gets back,” Hermione says trying to cover her shock at this news. “Have him call me,” she asks.

“Are you the one, who is dating the redhead,” Vernon asks with an evil smile evident even in his voice, the boy after all, talks in his sleep. As he asks this Hermione’s heart falls from her chest to below her stomach. “Hermy, or whatever,” Vernon continues when he receives no response from the annoying girl. “If you are, don’t count on him calling you at all,” Vernon declares triumphantly and slams the phone down once again.

Hermione hears the man slam the phone, but only distantly. Her world may have just been destroyed with this one conversation. The only thought running through her mind being, “Harry knows, oh Merlin, Harry knows,” what she didn’t realize was the fact she actually said it out loud.

~END FLASHBACK~

Reaching up with her right hand, Hermione wipes away the tears that have started to fall as she remembered that day. Even to this day she cries almost inconsolably when she remembers that conversation. It took her mother nearly three hours just to stop the flood of tears, only for Hermione to have cried herself to sleep in her arms. Loosening her towel Hermione reflects on the fact that day was the beginning of when she realized it was the worst year of her life. Reaching out Hermione grasps her shirt and begins to dress, but her mind is anywhere but in the present. She is remembering the days following her conversation with Vernon Dursley.

When Hermione finally awoke from her cry induced sleep, she set things into action. She instantly wrote the Order, demanding to know what’s going on. She even wrote to Ron to tell him Harry knows of them dating. She even wrote another letter to Harry, begging forgiveness and trying to explain it wasn’t her idea to keep it secret, though she never sent this particular letter. She did send one asking for him to let her explain and not to hate her.

The next day Tonks arrived at her door step holding her last letter to Harry, handing it back to her, an action that broke Hermione’s heart. Tonks explained that Harry had to be relocated because he was no longer safe at the Dursley’s. Hermione begged to be told where it was, if she could go to him, only for Tonks to shake her head and tell her she didn’t even know where he had been taken, very few in the Order knows where he is or what is happening there. Hermione finally realized that Tonks honestly didn’t know and seemed very bothered by this fact. So knowing this, she asked one final question, “Will Harry be on the express.” To which Tonks honestly answered she didn’t know.

As it turned out, Harry wasn’t on the train that day. Ron had tried everything he could to keep Hermione from searching every compartment for Harry. That day the two of them got into a row, a bad one at that. Ron kept telling her they don’t need to look for Harry, Harry has the whole order with him, he doesn’t need them. It was then Hermione figured out what had happened. Ron had used her. Their fight more or less proved this.

~BEGIN FLASHBACK~

Hermione turns to look at her boyfriend of one year, “What do you mean we shouldn’t be looking for Harry,” she asks incredulously.

“I mean you are MY girlfriend not his,” Ron nearly shouts out in anger.

“I am his friend too,” Hermione counters.

“You are MY GIRLFRIEND, and girlfriends don’t go hanging out with other guys,” Ron growls out.

“He’s your friend,” Hermione says incredulous as to why they are fighting over their friend.

“No,” Ron says shaking his head, “he’s not, not when he tries to steal you away from me,” he finishes.

“RONALD WEASLEY, HARRY HASN’T BEEN TRYING TO DO ANYTHING.” Hermione shouts back at the redhead, furious with his accusation.

“Then leave him alone,” Ron demands.

“He’s my friend,” Hermione repeats.

“Him or me Hermione,” Ron points out.

“Why are you doing this,” Hermione demands in response.

“You know exactly why I’m doing this Hermy,” Ron says as he steps closer to her in the hallways of the express, trapping her between the outer wall and him.

“Don’t call me that,” Hermione repeats, “how many times do I have to tell you that,” she asks as she pushes him away from her.

“You are mine,” Ron says as he forces himself back onto her. “This year I won’t be taking no for an answer, you are mine,” he whispers in her ear as he brings up his hand to her chest.

Hermione’s eyes widen in shocked horror as she feels his hand move up her chest and to her breast, she pushes him away more forcefully, needing to get away from him. “Don’t touch me,” she shouts out, the fear evident in her voice.

“You’re my girlfriend,” Ron says trying to capture her again.

SLAP!

Hermione stares at the stunned boy before her, trying not to cringe at the pain in her hand. “I told you before, I am not that way,” she repeats in a deathly whisper. “If you want a whore for a girlfriend, I suggest you find someone else,” she grounds out hating this is how things have turned out. Hating this relationship has cost her more than she ever wanted to pay.

Ron’s mouth curves up into an evil smile, “I already have,” he states. “But I got what I wanted anyway,” he says evilly.

“What’s that,” a feminine voice asks from just behind Hermione, the anger evident in her voice.

“Harry will no longer have anything to do with you,” Ron says staring at Hermione, ignoring the presence of the other female.

“RONALD BILUS WEASLEY, I AM GOING TO TELL MOTHER WHAT YOU HAVE DONE,” Ginny Weasley shouts out as she draws her wand and points it at her brother.

“I finally had something he didn’t and now he can’t,” Ron says in a sing song voice. “Oh and Hermy, we’re over,” Ron says and then turns around to make his way to his new girlfriend, who just happens to be a Slytherin.

Hermione stands there with her hand over her mouth, the shock evident not only in that gesture, but the fact her whole body seems to be trembling beyond belief. Her legs weaken and she is no longer able to support her own weight, so she slides down the edge of the wall to sit on the floor, her eyes still fixed on the last place where she seen Ron. “What have I done,” she whispers as the tears start to come.

Ginny shakes her head in embarrassment, that rat is part of her blood, she would have never thought he’d do something like that. Though to be honest, she should have known. She used to fear him before coming to Hogwarts. Looking down at the form that is Hermione Granger; she knows, there is more repercussions to what just happened than she knows. Sighing, she makes her way over to her friend, helping the crying girl to the compartment where she, Luna, and Neville are sitting.

“Neville,” Ginny says as she settles Hermione down on the bench, “will you go and look for Harry,” she asks softly, wishing against wish, hoping against hope, that Harry is somewhere on the train. Though from what she heard over the summer, she knows better than to believe he is really here.

“Okay,” Neville says softly knowing better than to remain behind, though he already knows Harry isn’t on the train. With that he stands up and exits the compartment and makes the rounds, searching for someone who isn’t there.

~END FLASHBACK~

With a sigh her mind returns to the present once again. Hermione remembers that day very clearly. It was a day she had never wanted to live and she just couldn’t figure out how it could get much worse. Though she cursed herself when she told everyone her thoughts about that, the others in the compartment just looked at her sullenly as though knowing ahead of time what was about to come. Another sigh escapes her lips as her mind returns to the past, to that day.

~BEGIN FLASHBACK~

Ginny, Luna, Neville and Hermione make their way from the carriage to the Great Hall. As they entered, Hermione instantly looks around to see if she can find Harry. To her dismay she is unable to locate him, anywhere. Three of the group continues to the Gryffindor table as Luna goes over to the Ravenclaw table. “Where’s Harry,” Hermione whispers in question to Ginny as she watches Ron sitting down at the far end of the table from the three of them, the evil grin still plastered on his freckled face.

“I don’t know,” Neville whispers in answer.

Just then the first years enter the hall. For the first time in six years, Hermione doesn’t listen to what the hat said; she didn’t listen to the students being sorted. She just tried to find her friend; she needed to find Harry. It came as a surprise when the Great Hall suddenly turned silent, causing Hermione to look up at the aged Headmaster.

“Welcome to another year, I hope your heads are empty and ready to be filled with new knowledge. I must make a few, start of term announcements. The Dark Forest is forbidden to anyone who doesn’t want to die a most horrible death. For those who do, I still wouldn’t suggest going there,” Albus Dumbledore pauses slightly as some of the student’s chuckle at his words. “I will save the rest until after the feast, so dig in,” he says waving his hands slightly causing the food to instantly appear before them. After many gasps can be heard, Hermione realizes this year she finds nothing exciting about the feast.

“Where can he be,” Hermione mutters after looking around the Great Hall for the millionth time, her food left forgotten long before.

“I have an idea,” Ginny says softly, regretfully. “But it more than likely isn’t true,” she says instantly as Hermione turns around to look at her hopefully.

“Where,” Hermione asks just as softly.

“War,” Neville says from her other side.

Hermione turns to look at Neville with wide, horror filled eyes, “what,” she gasps out hoping she didn’t hear what she thought she heard.

“May I have your attention,” Professor Dumbledore asks as he stands up once again. The food instantly disappears from the tables as everyone looks up at the head table. “I have a few more small details to finish up and then I’ll let you all get to bed,” he says as he looks out over all the students within the Hall. For the first time in her life Hermione realizes the Headmaster has no twinkle in his eyes, and this does nothing to alleviate her fears about where Harry is. “We have a new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor,” he pauses here as some of the students start to chuckle at this. “Yes, it does seem this is a yearly occurrence,” he agrees with a nod of his head. “I have asked the Ministry for an Auror to be sent here to teach, in response we were sent two,” he says pointing to two people, “I’m pleased to introduce to you Nymphadora Tonks and Kingsley Shaklebolt,” he introduces them to the Great Hall.

Hermione blinks in surprise as she hadn’t noticed them there before, but she quickly recovers and starts clapping loudly in welcome to the two new Professors. Her eyes meet Tonks and Hermione instantly regrets this fact as she sees worry and anger in the Aurors eyes. Closing her eyes Hermione looks back to the Headmaster.

“I have one more thing to say and then I’ll let you go. As some of you have noticed, we are missing, one of our number,” Albus says softly but loud enough that his voice can be heard. “Harry Potter may not be coming to school this year,” he says and pauses as the room turns into whispers. His eyes meet that of the horrified Hermione Granger and he knows instantly she somehow has an idea of what he is about to say. Nodding his head once in agreement he continues, “Mr. Potter has been recruited for Military service; he is fighting against Voldemort and his supporters. We don’t know when he’ll return to our number, but Mr. Potter has promised to fulfill his destiny before he’d step foot within these walls again, no matter how long that may be,” he pauses as he picks up his goblet and raises it slightly. “Let’s raise our goblets to wish him and those with him luck and pray he returns to us,” he says and whispers softly, “soon.” With that he takes a drink from the goblet, as does most of the Hall, with the exception of the Slytherin table and Ron Weasley. Once done with his drink Albus raises his goblet toward the enchanted ceiling. “Be safe,” he whispers so only those near him can hear, “and come home soon,” he says and then finishes his drink

~END FLASHBACK~

As her mind returns to the present, Hermione finds herself on the edge of her bed, her legs tucked up into her chest. Her head buried between her knees and tears staining her skirt. Swiping at the tears once again, she unfolds herself from her position and stands up on shaky legs. “That day really wasn’t a good day,” she whispers as she looks down at her skirt, she shrugs as she decides to change it once again. Walking over to her closet she opens it and decides to forgo the skirt and grabs a pair of pants.

Her mind starts to wander once again, “Stop,” she nearly shouts out in her empty room. “I don’t want to remember anymore,” she whispers knowing it’s no use. Dropping her new clothes on the chair beside the bed, she decides she might as well let the memories take their course.

Hermione’s mind instantly travels back to the days following the Welcoming Feast. It was the beginning of a year that was worse than she had ever thought possible. She and Ginny would spend day in and day out in the library. Both of them doing their best to stay away from Ron, though this proved to be unnecessary as he spent all his free time down in the Slytherin Commons room with Pansy Parkinson, doing things neither of them wanted to think about. It was during one of these sessions Hermione finally admitted to Ginny to having fallen in love with Harry over the years of their friendship.

Ginny just smiled at her and said, “I know.”

It soon became more unbearable as classes started. Every time she turned around she would try and search for Harry, only to come up empty. Her heart was breaking more every second. When she wasn’t studying, which she did a lot more of, she was writing letters to Harry, wondering how she could get them to him. It came to a point where she was desperate just to see his writing again that she went to talk with Professor Flitwick to see if he had any of Harry’s old assignments she could see. He smiled sadly and told her he didn’t.

The next day in transfiguration she was called to stay after class to talk to Professor McGonagall.

~BEGIN FLASHBACK~

“You wished to see me Professor,” Hermione asks as she stands in front of the aged Professor.

“How are you holding up, Hermione,” Professor McGonagall asks kindly. Filius had talked with her last night about Ms. Granger’s request.

At hearing this question, Hermione broke down in ways she never thought she could. She nearly collapsed right then and there in her grief. She told the Professor everything, from her jealously about Harry seeing Cho, even for as little as he did, to the pain she felt when she learned he was fighting in this war. She explained about her relationship with Ron and what he did on the train. She even confessed to feeling more than just simple friendship for Harry. Hermione exposed her heart and her soul, knowing the only thing that could make her better was no where to be seen. This thing she is talking about is in fact a person, a person she hasn’t seen or heard from since he walked away from them at King’s Cross Station at the end of last school year and here it is the middle of November; and far as she can tell she won’t be seeing him anytime soon. Hermione told her everything and more than she had ever thought about.

Minerva McGonagall listened to what she was being told with a kind ear, she listened and prompted her to continue when she seemed to hesitate with what she had been about to say. Minerva had seen the difference in Hermione take place throughout the course of the term. She didn’t fully understand the reasons, but she knew something more was going on then she knew. She had watched the confident and caring woman turn inward and try to refrain from even answering questions in class. Minerva watched as Hermione’s homework increased in length and decrease in compassion. Something Minerva had seen when Hermione was back in first year, back before the three became friends. She had wondered what had caused this drastic change in the woman before her, and now she knew. Once the story had finished, Minerva knew what she had to do. “I’ll talk to Albus and see if there’s not a way we can get those letters of yours to him,” she said softly to the still crying girl. Hermione’s head snaps up instantly and Minerva can see the hope in her eyes. “I can’t promise you anything, but I can try,” she instantly rushes to correct anything she may have alluded to.

“Thank you,” Hermione says before she flings herself at her Professor. “I’ll just go write another one, just in case it is possible,” she says excitedly before she all but runs out of the classroom and to her dorm, forget dinner, she had more important things to do.

Minerva watched her go with a soft smile and a shake of her head. If Albus denies this, two people will be hurting. Though she can't tell if she means Harry and Hermione, or Hermione and Albus, because if Albus denies this then Albus will suffer, and it will be by her own hands.

*****

It was two days later, two very long and torturous days later that Hermione was told to stay after class again. So with a heavy heart Hermione made her way back to her Professor, hoping for the best, but expecting the worse. “You wanted to see me Professor,” Hermione asks nervously.

Minerva smiles at the student before, knowing what they are about to do is the right thing, “the Headmaster would like to see you this evening Ms. Granger,” she says as she looks around the room as though wondering if something or someone was listening to what was being said.

Hermione got the hint and sighed softly in understanding, “Yes Professor, what time exactly,” she asks softly.

“Just after dinner is done,” Minerva says with a gentle smile. “He asks that you bring your reports with you,” she continues and smiles wider as Hermione’s eyes light up with excitement, with hope. “The password is earwax,” she finishes with a roll of her eyes.

“Thank you professor,” Hermione says refraining from hugging her professor once again.

“You may go now,” Minerva says with a slight laugh as she watches the child in front of her withhold her reactions.

“Yes Professor, thank you again Professor,” Hermione says as she dashes out of the room and back to her dorm to get ready for dinner. She wants to know the exact second she can see the Headmaster. Grabbing another piece of parchment and a quill she quickly writes another letter to Harry, hoping against hope he will read it, will read them all.

****

“Enter,” an aged voice calls as Hermione knocks on the door to his chamber door.

Hermione slowly pushes the door open, she has never been in the room before, she remembers what Harry had told her about it, but she herself has never been there. “Good evening sir,” she greets as she tries to swallow past the lump in her throat.

“Good evening Ms. Granger,” Albus says kindly as he points to a chair across from him near the fireplace and a good distance away from his desk.

Hermione sits down nervously, “Thank you,” she says as she readjusts her skirt properly.

“Professor McGonagall told me of your request,” Albus says getting to the point of their meeting.

Hermione swallows again, “Yes sir,” she says in a voice that is barely a whisper.

“Why do you wish to write to Mr. Potter,” Albus asks as he eyes her form appraisingly.

“I miss him,” Hermione answers instantly and honestly.

“Why now Ms. Granger,” Albus asks as he sits back in his chair and brings his hands up to his face as he continues to watch her. “Why did you wait until now to ask,” he asks again when she doesn’t answer.

Hermione looks up at the Headmaster with tears in her eyes and streaks down her cheek, “I was afraid he’d hate me,” she admits honestly. The Headmaster tilts his head in question to this answer and Hermione closes her eyes momentarily and then launches into telling the same tale she’d told Professor McGonagall. “And that’s what happened sir,” Hermione finally finishes as she swipes once again at her tears.

“I see,” Albus says as he stands up from his chair and walks to his desk and picks up a small box. He walks back to his chair and sits back down. “Did you bring the letters with you,” he asks softly. Hermione nods once and reaches into her bag and removes the large bundle of letters she has written. Albus sees this and can’t help but smile at them. “You may place them within this box and I will send them to Harry,” he instructs as he hands over the box.

“You’re going to send them,” Hermione squeaks out in question.

Albus laughs softly, “All you ever had to do was ask,” he says as he watches her stuff the letters into the box he had given her. He sobers up and looks at her intently, “I feel I must tell you he might not be able to write back and if he is, it will be sporadic at best,” he warns her.

Hermione pauses as she thinks about this, “I don’t mind,” she says and then continues. “I mean, I want him to write back and all, but I,” she pauses not knowing how to explain what she’s thinking, what’s she’s feeling.

“Want to at least have some kind of connection to him,” Albus finishes for her. Hermione nods her head in agreement and hands the little box back to the Headmaster. “You may bring letters for Harry to me every Friday, if he has any I’ll have them for you then,” he explains. “Fawkes,” he calls softly and the Phoenix flies over to his outstretched arm. “Take this to Harry,” he says softly as he ties the box to his leg. With that done the Phoenix takes flight, only to disappear in flames a moment later.

“Thank you,” Hermione says as she stares at where the bird had been a moment before.

“It is I who should thank you Ms. Granger,” Albus says as he sits back in his chair. Hermione turns to look at him in question. “Harry has been wondering what he’s done to upset you so,” he says in answer to her unasked question.

Before she can respond to his words a knock resounds through the room only for the door to open a moment later and Severus Snape to walk into the room. His eyes settle on her, “Leave,” he says bitingly. Hermione knows better than to stay when he uses that tone of voice. So she quickly left.

****

The conversation happened a week ago today, and for that week Hermione had found herself more confused and terrified than she had ever been in her life. What exactly did the Headmaster mean when he said that Harry had wondered what he’d done to upset her? More importantly her mind has been focusing on whether or not Harry would read her letters, if he could or would write back to her, and if he did what would he say? So the whole week has been spent on worrying about what she will learn on Friday.

Hermione also wrote many letters to Harry, two to six letters a day. She explained to him how scared she was he hated her, how she feared him not reading her letters, how she feared he wouldn’t write back to her and how much she missed him. In one letter she detailed everything she missed about him. From the way his hair stood up at all odd directions to the fact he likes to tease her about how little she eats when she’s reading a book she can’t put down. She told him everything that happened in every class. To sum it up, she told him everything.

This brings us to now, as she stands looking at the gargoyle, knowing in a few moments she will receive her answers and that her new bundle of letters will be on their way to him. “Ear,” she pauses as she clears her throat.

“It’s going to be okay,” Ginny says standing beside her. “If he can, he’ll write. You’ll see,” she says soothingly.

Hermione turns to look at her and Ginny is surprised by the fear she can see within those brown depths, “What if he hates me,” she questions almost pleadingly.

“This is Harry we’re talking about here,” Neville points out. “He can’t hate anyone but Malfoy,” he pauses and then continues. “Though I don’t even think he hates him just what he does,” he clarifies.

“Earwax,” Ginny says and then pushes the shaking Hermione onto the staircase. “We’ll be here,” she calls up the stairs.

Hermione reluctantly makes her way, slowly, to the door and knocks softer than a fly running into it. “Enter,” the aged voice calls out, the amusement clear in his voice.

Hermione opens the door and makes her way over to the Headmaster and the Deputy Headmistress. Clearing her throat again she pulls out the new bundle of letters for Harry, “I have them sir,” she says as she hands them over to him. “Thank you,” she says and quickly turns around to head out the door.

“Ms. Granger,” Minerva calls out knowing Hermione isn’t going to ask if she got anything from Harry or not. Hermione turns around slowly and looks at her Professor. Minerva picks up a small box from the edge of the desk and with a gentle turn of her wrist, “catch,” she says as the object sails through the air towards a stunned Hermione.

Hermione reacts at the last second, but soon enough to catch the box that now lies in her hands. She looks up at the other two in the room. “He wrote,” She pauses as her voice cracks slightly, “he wrote me,” she asks incredulously.

“It seems as much,” Minerva answer softly hoping things will turn out for the best.

Hermione smiles brightly at them, “Thank you, thank you very much,” she proclaims happily and all but flies out of the room so she can read them.

As Hermione runs down the turning stairs she realizes that for the first time since she called the Dursley’s she’s smiling. She pauses only long enough to smile at the two people who are waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. She had told them about not only her feelings for the raven-haired boy, but of the meeting she had a week ago. They had declared they would go with her for support. “You coming,” she questions as she starts to walk away from the gargoyle, her eyes fixed upon the box in her hands.

“I gather he wrote,” Ginny asks as the two of them caught up with her.

“It seems,” Hermione says softly.

“No,” Neville says catching the tone in her voice. “Don’t you dare start worrying again,” he says as he shakes his head at the fact they just went through this and now they have to do this once again.

Hermione pauses in her steps, “What if he hates me,” she questions softly the tears surfacing once again.

“You won’t know until you read them,” Ginny points out.

“I can’t,” Hermione cries.

Ginny pulls the box from the clutches of her hand and opens it, Neville quickly grabs Hermione from trying to snatch the box back. “NO,” Hermione cries out, she doesn’t want to hear the hate within the letters. The hate she so deserves.

Ginny pulls the top letter out of the box and opens it. Clearing her throat she begins to read.

Hermione

Wow, I was really beginning to worry there. I had actually feared you would never write to me again. I wondered if you were ashamed of me for fighting, for being in this war. It’s been the longest time without hearing from anyone I know.

It is so good to hear from you again. Though I have yet to be able to read your letters, I just decided to write this quick note before Fawkes has to return to Hogwarts. I included my own letters from the past couple of months, I know they are a bit old, but I didn’t want you to think I hadn’t been thinking of you.

I miss you. I miss everyone.

Please don’t hate me for fighting, but its something I have to do. I’ll understand if you don’t understand this, and I’ll understand if you refuse to talk with me further because I am part of his war. I need you to trust me when I say I have my reasons. Please don’t hate me; I don’t think I could survive with that knowledge.

I better get going the battalion is moving out and if I want this letter to get to you on Friday. I’ll write during the next week. I hope to hear from you soon.

Thanks for writing, even if you really didn’t want to.

Love

Harry

Ginny folds the letter back up and places it back into the envelope, she then reaches up and wipes her own tears from her eyes. She looks over at the now, very still Hermione, she had stopped resisting Neville’s hold long ago. “That’s the Harry I know,” Ginny says with a soft smile as she places the letter back into the box and hands the box back to Hermione.

“He doesn’t hate me,” Hermione whispers as she takes the box gently into her hands.

“Looks like he fears you hate him,” Neville points out.

“That git,” Hermione huffs, “as if I could ever hate him,” she says still staring at the box, thus missing the looks of humor on the other two’s faces.

“Do you think we could write him next week,” Neville asks.

Hermione looks up at this request. “I don’t see why not, but, I’ll ask,” she says with a thankful smile on her face.

“Good,” Ginny says, “I need to talk to my big brother, since my biological one is unworthy,” she says honestly which causes the three of them to laugh.

Christmas Wishes Part Two

****

Hermione was glad it was a Friday night; therefore she didn’t have to worry about getting up early in the morning. With this thought in mind she made her way to the girl’s dorms and closed herself within the sanctuary of her bed. Placing a pile of parchment to one side so she could make notes of things to respond to and the box she placed directly in front of her, she then took out the letter Ginny had read earlier and with a gentle smile on her face. Reaching over for the parchment she made a note to talk to him about fearing her hating him. As she was writing she realized he more than already got the idea from her own letters. She decided then to just answer his letters and she continued as she normally did. She smiled as she realized she is having a long distance relationship with Harry, though granted, not in the way she’d really like to. Turning back to the box she pulls out another letter and gently opens it.

Hermione

It’s been a week and a half since I last saw you at King’s Cross. I know this will sound lame and all, but I miss you already. I know you haven’t been completely honest with me, but I understand you not wanting me to know you and Ron were dating. It hurts to know you, like everyone else this year, has kept me in the dark. But I also know I would be dead without you.

So from here on out I will try not refer to you or Ron dating, I just wanted to let you know that I know. I have known since I arrived at Sirius’s place. I nearly walked in on the two of you.

Anyway, how are you feeling? Has your injury healed? I hope it has, I still can’t believe I almost lost you. I can’t seem to get that day out of my mind, I keep seeing you get hit, I keep seeing Sirius dieing and I know all of it is my fault. I am so sorry I didn’t listen to you more. I normally do better than that. I hope to have the chance to in the future.

I would like to apologize for so many things, but I don’t even know where to begin. I know that for you to be my friend is a danger to your health, I know that just knowing me, puts your life into more danger than if we had never met.

I know I should wish we never met, but I can’t.

Is that selfish of me?

Is it selfish of me to need you as my friend, to need you near me? Is it selfish to pull you closer when I should be pushing you away?

I know what you’re thinking, I don’t usually write like this. I don’t usually put so much personal information into my letters. I also know you more than likely will never get this.

The Dursley’s didn’t take well to what happened at the station. They’ve taken Hedwig away and they watch as I write the letter to the Order. I can’t send mail and I can’t get mail. It hurts to watch as Hedwig is forced to hand him letters from you and to know I will never get to see what they say.

I also know I will never tell you about that, or about what happens here. I am too embarrassed to admit my life is being run by adults.

I better go; I think I hear Uncle Vernon coming.

Love

Harry

*****

Hermione

I know it’s been awhile since I was last able to write. The fact of the matter is, I am no longer at the Dursley’s, but I’m not at Snuffles place either. I can’t tell you where I am at the moment. I find it difficult to write without telling you everything. And I mean everything. I can partly understand what you went through last summer. At least that is, when it concerned writing me, anyway.

The Order figured something was wrong at the Dursley’s and came rushing to my rescue. I say a little to late, don’t’ you. I mean I had eleven years of their treatment unhindered. No one came to my rescue then, did they?

Anyway, I have just been offered to receive advanced training. I know you would be jealous of that. Me, I get to learn something. Imagine that. Anyway, I accepted on one condition, no one is to learn why.

I shouldn’t have written that last part. But I will leave out what type of why it is I am referring to. So in the morning I will begin an accelerated, (very much accelerated) Auror training. Then once I pass the courses I might be trained further. But we’ll see about that later.

I better go, it’s late and I have a feeling Moody is going to wake me very early in the morning.

Love

Harry

*****

Hermione

Training has been very difficult, so has not hearing from anyone. I understand Ron, but… I am about finished with my Auror training. I even surprised Moody this morning. Moony has been here with me the whole time. I think I would have gone insane had he not been here.

Have you gotten your OWL Scores yet? I bet you aced them. Oh, alright, passed them. What can I say; it’s the Muggle in me, or whatever. Than again it is three in the morning so what I have to say isn’t exactly understandable to my brain, so I highly doubt you understand my ramblings.

I got mine awhile ago. I passed a few and failed none. Well, maybe history and divination. Not that that is too surprising really. At least I passed POTIONS. Yep that’s right folks, I got an O…

Not that you will know that or care.

I miss you

Love

Harry

****

Hermione

I have just agreed to something that will make you hate me. I know you will say there is nothing that can make that happen. But I know better than that. I know since I couldn’t be trusted with your trust. I know that you would never agree to what I have. I know you hate such things and thus you will hate me.

I guess it’s just as well you haven’t written me any.

I have just agreed to join the Military.

Hardest decision of my life to make, I even asked for time to think it over. And I did Hermione, I thought about it good and hard. I honestly did. I even made out charts, like you do. I put all the things that would stop me from doing it and all the things that explained why I should. You would have been proud of it.

As you can already tell, the reasons I should, have vastly out done the reasons I shouldn’t. To top it off, I have just added another thing to the stupid list about me people seem to love to keep. I am now the youngest person to ever enter into not only the military, but into any conflict and be paid for it. That’s right, I have a job. A job I know you won’t approve of. It was this thought alone that may have swayed me to not doing what I am.

I am sorry Hermione. I don’t mean to disappoint you anymore than I already have.

Sorry

Love

Harry

****

Hermione

I have just been assigned to my battalion, and let me tell you, it feels weird. When I agreed to join the ranks of the magical military I did not, in my life, expect to become a Commanding officer of a battalion. I now have over three hundred people who have to do as I tell them.

And it scares the hell out of me.

How can I lead these people when I don’t even know what’s going on? How can I lead people when I can’t even lead myself? How can I protect them from the dangers they are about to partake of? How can I be someone they trust enough not to question? How can I do this alone?

From looking at my calendar, I realize today is the First of September. If my calculations are correct, today is the day you will learn of my ultimate betrayal of your beliefs. I am sorry. I am so very sorry. I do not mean to hurt you.

I imagine you sitting beside Ron, holding hands, now that you don’t have to hide it from me. You might look around once or twice, wondering if I missed the train, again! But you would never expect what you are about to hear.

When Professor Dumbledore asked if he could announce my location to the school, well, not my location, just my occupation, I guess. I asked him why? Why bother telling people who honestly don’t care about, about me?

His response was something about giving the students hope for the future. I thought about this good and hard, I finally agreed because I knew this was the best way to tell you of my location without having to tell you.

I have often had nightmares about your reaction to Professor Dumbledore announcing what I’ve done. I can tell you this; I hope none of them were even remotely true. I just hope you didn’t do something you would regret in your disappointment in me.

I was to have been your friend and yet here I was off in some stupid war that I shouldn’t have gotten into. I should be preparing for NEWTs not fighting someone else’s battle.

Am I close?

Do you tell everyone of your disappointment in me? Did you tell everyone we were no longer able to be friends because I will become a murderer? Did you tell everyone that I was a failure and you regretted spending the past six years with me?

I will understand if you did.

At times I find myself wishing I were there, that I was sitting on the train heading to Hogwarts, heading home. Then I close my eyes and remember that night in the Department of Mysteries and I remember everything that happened afterwards. I reopen my eyes and I see the people surrounding me, the people who are now looking at me with hope in their own eyes. Hope that I will keep them alive.

I don’t want to be here, I honestly don’t.

I just know I am the only one who can. I could sit here and wish this fate on someone else, on one other person, but I can’t do that. I could never do that. It is best that this happened to me. It is for the best I was the one chosen. It is all for the best. I can’t just sit and wait for something to happen. You know I can’t.

So I grab my wand and my weapons of death and murder and strap them to me, I hide my fear, I hide my heart and I step out into the cold night air and calmly look over the masses of people waiting for their orders, waiting for me to be the Hero they were trained I was.

I raise my hand, sword raised high and I tell them the only reason this war is worth fighting. I tell them the reasons that tipped the scale for me to join. I tell them the truth.

Let’s fight not for ourselves, for if that was all we were here for, then it wouldn’t be worth it. Let’s fight not to save the world, for there are way too many people on the surface of the earth to save. Instead let’s fight for something worth fighting for. Let’s fight to save our families and friends. Let’s fight so those we love won’t have to fight. We must fight to keep others innocent; fight to keep others from having to come here as we have. We must fight to keep our families innocent. And as we fight, keep our honor, don’t become like the enemy. We are but a few, we are but human, but damned if we’re going to turn evil. Fight for honor and truth. Fight for freedom and justice. For none of this will matter if we lose sight of what is good, what is pure. Fight for love. Fight for the future.

I then lower my sword and place it back on my waste; I bow slightly to the gathered group. And I tell them of our orders; I tell them how I expect them to behave, to act, to conduct themselves. I tell what will happen if I learn they have violated these few rules. I then tell them to go to bed for in the morning our turn in the war is about to begin.

I release them, leading them to believe I know what I’m doing. I watch as they return to their quarters. I wait until the last soldier is gone. I wait until I am alone once again. I quietly turn and return to my own quarters, where I promptly throw up.

Some leader I am.

As I pray to the porcelain god, I think of all the things I will have to put these men and women through. I think of how many of them will have to die because of some stupid mistake on my part. I think; how can we fight the future when it’s also the past.

And for the first time in nearly eleven years I cry.

How can a, nobody, like me expect to lead anyone?

I curl up on my bed, tears still flowing and the only thing I can think of at that moment is how much I need one of your hugs. And with the thought that I will never receive one again, I slowly drift off to sleep.

How can anyone look to me as a leader; when all I want to do, is hide.

I’m so sorry for writing this and I know you more than likely will never want to hear from me again. Especially now that you know I am in the war.

I am so sorry Hermione, so sorry for everything and more than you can ever know.

Love

Harry

****

Hermione

I know it’s been awhile since I was last able to write. A lot of things have been happening. The battalion is in the thick of the war, and I do mean thick of it. All has been going well, at least that is, until today.

I have just finished writing a letter to the family of a soldier who died in battle. It was the hardest thing I have ever had to do. I knew this soldier. I know every soldier. He has two kids; one’s to start school next year. He’s so proud of her. The other has yet to show any signs at all of magic, but he didn’t care, he was his child and that is all that mattered. He was far braver a man then I could ever be. He died to save a villager from being murdered. I have requested that he receive a metal for his honor. Then again I think everyone in this group should be honored for all they have done.

In a few minutes I will head to his quarters to collect his belongings so I can send them to his wife as well. I am not looking forward to it. How can I walk through camp acting as though one of our own hasn’t fallen? I thought that at dinner I should do as Professor Dumbledore did for Cedric. It was strange, but I felt it was appropriate for what happened. I just hope they are just as understanding.

I have asked for the soldiers to write to his family as well. I told them it wasn’t an order and it didn’t have to be long or anything, just some good memories we could pass on to his family. I also told them if they didn’t want to, it was alright. I have placed a special box in the chow hall, any who writes can drop their letters there and I won’t look. I’ll just send them along.

I hope they don’t hate me. I didn’t know about the village being a hotspot. I didn’t know. And I should have.

I have failed you again today.

I am sorry

Love

Harry

****

Hermione

Today we were forced to do something I tried to talk my superiors out of. They wouldn’t listen. We had to obey our orders. I almost punched Fudge or I nearly killed him. But if my troops were to head into battle, I wasn’t about to let them go without me there beside them.

Therefore we walked right into a trap.

I tried all I could to prepare for this encounter, I really did. I even made special Portkeys (had to look up the spell) for them to carry. If they felt they were to be attacked, die, they were to use them and get out. I made enough for all but one. I had no time. I couldn’t make one more and then get up in the morning and make the march. I was okay with this though.

My second in command got really pissed at me when he noticed I wasn’t wearing a Portkey as well. I told him I wasn’t planning to die today and that I would be fine. It was an interesting fight, but amusing as well. He refused to wear his too.

Damn fool.

Anyway, we were ambushed and the battalion fought honorable against impossible odds. We held our ground, we didn’t retreat, we didn’t give in and more importantly we didn’t die.

That’s right, not one of the battalion died.

There were some serious close calls, and they used the Portkeys and all, but they will survive. I will be signing the release forms for three people today. I’m okay with this, for though they are injured, they are alive and still can function in their former jobs. They have my respect and my thanks.

I am proud of how they handled today. I am proud to call them comrades, I am proud to know them. They make this company what it is, they are what makes everything go smoothly when it could all fall apart. They did well today and we won a major battle. The enemy was forced to retreat and they lost valuable land.

It was a bad day with good out comes.

I am just relieved no one died.

Thank you for the idea though.

Love

Harry

****

Hermione

I know I should stop writing to you and all. I know you will not want anything to do with me once this is all over. If this ever ends, that is. The truth is I need to write to someone. I am a sixteen year old surrounded by people who are at least six years older than I am. I am surrounded by people who look at me as one of their own, as though I am their age. And sometimes, I guess I am. However, sometimes I can’t get past the fact I should be sitting in a class writing down whatever Professor McGonagall is saying, or trying not to talk back when Snape says something nasty.

I am sixteen years old and I am in command of two battalions now. How in Merlin’s name is this possible? I haven’t even passed my NEWTs yet and here I am commanding six hundred people and they are not questioning me. I just tell them to do something and they do and this scares me. I am not perfect; I’m not even a prefect.

The other day I was eating in the chow hall, I was sitting in my normal spot, when this snobbish looking dude just storms into the hall. He demands to know where the Commanding officer is and why he isn’t at his table.

I have a table?

Anyway, he thought me the lowest of scum when he realized I was eating, not only in the same room as the troops, but with them. Eww… anyway, I can’t say I was impressed with him at all. Then again, no one told me I had to eat separate from the troops.

To hell with that, I am not changing now. I wouldn’t have listened anyway.

Not that that surprises you any.

I just sometimes feel as though there are things I don’t understand. I try not to let on, but some know. I’m okay with it most of the time. But sometimes, I feel I need to talk to someone my own age, someone who can relate to me. Then I realize no one is left.

I am alone.

And I accept this so long as my mission here is achieved and my words ring true. I will not stop fighting until Voldemort is gone, until I have fulfilled my destiny.

I am nobody, I am no one special. I am just a scared, scarred boy who is trying to live through each day.

So I settle for writing to you, even though I know you will never read it. It is after all November and I have heard nothing from anyone. I guess this is my version of a journal.

The pathetic life of Harry James Potter and how no one wants to know him, or his life; so what do you think of that title. I just might have to write it someday. It’s not like I’m not doing my homework for school or anything like that. My homework’s getting all red from Snape and even a few nice commentaries from Professor McGonagall and even Professor Flitwick.

Oh, I guess I forgot to mention that part before.

Not only am I currently in command of two battalions, and possibly a third one. Not only that but I still have to keep up with my studies.

At least I sleep at night.

Most of the times at least, but living the life I am does cause dreams to occur from time to time.

I better go; I think my second in command just found my prank. So I best disappear before he finds me.

Love

Sixteen year old Harry

Hermione reaches up and wipes away her tears as she lets the words sink into her brain. Her heart is thumping wildly against her chest as she realizes he never expected her to care, he expected her to hate him for fighting in the war. Closing her eyes she leans her head back against the wall behind her, the tears still coming, as she tries to place herself in Harry’s shoes. He feels betrayed by their secrecy, and yet he still writes to her.

Hermione hears the door to the dorm open and she tries to ignore the giggling of Lavender and Parvati, she tries to ignore the fact they are standing there acting as though a war isn’t going on and that someone they know isn’t out there fighting so they don’t have to. Opening her eyes she looks down at the parchment she had placed there to remember things to make comments about, only to find her original set of scratches are all that appears upon the paper.

Hermione smiles softly as she realizes he doesn’t want to hear how worried she is about him, well, not overly much. For she knows she will put that in the letters, but more importantly she will put the life a sixteen year old within the pages she will send him. She will be his connection to people his age, she will try and tell him, that though he is alone, he isn’t alone. And so with this in mind she gathers up the parchment and begins to write her first letter. She begins right off with telling him how very proud she is of him and how very, worried she is and how she can’t wait to see him again.

She wrote on and on, trying her best to respond to his letters, trying to get across to him her feelings about what he has been through, what he is going through and how much she cares about him. Though she didn’t place within the letters how much she loves him, she wants to do that face to face, if she gets the courage to do it at all. She told him everything about what happened with Ron. She confessed over a years worth of secrets and tried her best to tell him how much she really does trust him. She tried to explain how she reacted to the news of him being in the military. And lastly she tried to explain how much she missed him.

****

Hermione looks up as the portrait to the Common Room opens, allowing Ginny and Neville entrance to the room. Ginny sees Hermione, “Are you going home for Christmas,” she asks instantly knowing Hermione would have received her letter by now.

“Mum and dad are going to a convention state side, so I’ll be staying here for the holiday,” Hermione answers and then shrugs, “It’ll be okay,” she says as Ginny starts to object.

“Yeah, she’ll be getting another letter from Harry,” Neville teases.

Hermione sticks her tongue out at the boy before her, “Are you two going to be sending him another letter,” she asks almost hopefully.

“I have one from mum,” Ginny answers as she pulls two letters from her cloak.

“Mine’s up in my room,” Neville answers as he points behind him, indicating the stairway.

“How did your rounds go,” Hermione asks as she watches once again as Neville blushes as he recalls once again that he has been made a prefect after Ron had been caught doing things no one in the school wanted to know about.

“Great,” Ginny says as she flops down in the chair across from Hermione. “Since you started writing Harry, you’ve been doing much better,” she observes uselessly.

Hermione smiles softly as she looks down at her latest letter to Harry. “I still miss him,” she says instead of commenting on Ginny’s comment.

“We all do,” Neville says as he sits down in another chair. “He’s the only one who ever really gave me a chance,” he whispers softly. “He was the first person to see I had more in me than mistakes,” he continues after a moment.

“It’s too bad we don’t know the name of the company he’s in,” Ginny suddenly says trying to change the subject from Neville’s past.

“I know what you mean,” Neville agrees, “though it would be cool if he was in Exspecto Battalion,” he says as he remembers all the writing in the Daily Prophet about the Battalion.

“I heard the Commander stays behind until every last soldier is off the battlefield before he himself will leave,” Ginny says in agreement.

“And when that one soldier died in the village, I’ve heard the Commanding officer walked beside the body all the way back to camp,” Neville comments in awe of the caring the Commanding officer must have to do that.

“I also heard there are people who are requesting transfers to his two battalions,” Ginny continues as Hermione listens to the two of them talking about something they don’t really understand. “I also heard the second in command has to refuse said transfers because that would cause them to become three battalions,” she says softly in admiration to someone who could cause people to want to join them.

“The papers also say he doesn’t consider himself above his troops,” Hermione finally adds. Her mind wondering at the similarities in what she is being told now, what she had read herself in the papers and what she has been told from Harry, she places them together and she isn't sure she likes what she's figured out.

“Eats with them and everything,” Neville agrees.

Hermione pauses slightly as she turns to look at Neville, “How many Commanders do that,” she asks almost fearfully.

“Only Commander Fox,” Ginny points out honestly. “Dad says he hears tales about this guy, everyone who meets him is awed by him and yet refuses to tell anyone anything personal about him,” she says as she shrugs.

Hermione looks down at her letter and then quickly reaches over for her quill, quickly scribbling a last note on the letter she smiles softly to herself and then folds it up and places it with the rest for the week. “Forget something,” Neville asks curiously.

“Nah, I just asked him if he’s met Fox,” Hermione says as she stands up and takes the letters with her. “Shall we get the letters to the Headmaster,” she asks ignoring their questioning expressions.

“I’ll go get my letter,” Neville says before he takes off up the stairs and to the dorm room.

Within five minutes the three of them were on their way to the Headmaster’s office, each off in their own thoughts on the possibility that their friend knows one of the best Commanding officers in the military.

****

Hermione looks down at her letter once again, hating the fact she is writing this now and Harry won’t receive it until four days after Christmas. She hates he has to spend Christmas away from people who truly care about him, away from her. Ever since she first met him he hasn’t spent one Christmas alone and she is grateful for this. That is until now.

Though she knows he really isn’t alone, she also knows this is one of the times he should be a sixteen year old boy and not a Commanding officer of three battalions. He should be here with her as she sits in front of the warm fire rather than freezing out there in the unfriendly glacial night air. In her heart she wants him there enclosed in her arms as she holds him close to her, never letting go.

Since she found out the name of his company she has been watching the papers for it daily, she has been reading everything she can about the company. From what she can tell Harry is a great leader, everyone wants to be with him, to be under his command. Everyone thinks he’s a great leader, that is, everyone except himself. She is surprised to learn that his second in command is none other than Remus Lupin and Alastor Moody. She is pleased to know he at least has someone who is close to him, with him on Christmas. She just wishes she were too.

Placing her letter away she heads down to dinner, knowing in her heart she doesn’t want to eat alone. She wants Harry with her as she eats the holiday meal. With a sigh she makes her way down to the nearly empty Great Hall. She is the only Gryffindor to have remained for the holiday and it seems only five other students have remained behind as well. Sliding into place at the only table centered in the center of the Hall she looks over at the Headmaster and smiles softly in greeting. He doesn’t talk, he just nods his head in agreement of not only her greeting but her feelings as well.

Minerva McGonagall arrives not too much later and sits down beside the Headmaster. Her aged eyes scan the remaining group, her eyes settling on Hermione, with a soft sigh of regret she looks to the Headmaster and nods just once. The Headmaster nods in return and instantly food appears on the plates before the remaining people at Hogwarts.

Silence is the order of the meal. With Christmas just a few short days away, no one seems to be in the mood for celebrating. “Have you heard anything about Fox, Albus,” Minerva finally whispers, not knowing Hermione knows the truth about the call sign, or at least the truth about who it is.

“They haven’t been heard from since they marched into the Badlands in the east,” Albus says softly knowing very well that Hermione knows who they are talking about.

“That was last Saturday Albus,” Minerva says and the worry can be heard in her voice.

“Fox would not go into such territory if he did not think he should,” Albus says softly, the concern evident in his eyes.

“But the Badlands, there is nothing in the Badlands,” Minerva proclaims.

“Had that been true, Fox would not have gone there,” Albus points out.

“I’m just scared,” Minerva finally admits. “What if he doesn’t make it out of this,” she asks as she pushes her food around on her plate, not knowing her actions are being mirrored by both Hermione and Albus.

“I don’t know,” Albus reluctantly points out softly.

Before Minerva can respond the doors to the Great Hall fly open and Fred and George Weasley come running into the Hall. “What is the meaning of this,” Minerva demands as she watches them make their way to the Headmaster, blood covering their clothes.

“It’s happened,” one of the twins says as they reach the table.

“What’s happened,” one of the other students demand.

“I didn’t know you two were,” Minerva starts and then her mind finally grasps what is being told to them. Instantly she stands up and starts to follow the aged Headmaster as he follows the twins out of the door. “Ms. Granger,” she calls over her shoulder not bothering to slow down, but actually speeding up. “Follow me,” she finishes as the door closes behind her.

Hermione wasted no time in catching up with the twins and the two Professors, her mind wondering what is going on and just why they are heading to the Hospital Wing. Finally her stunned mind catches up with her and she realizes just what is going on, “HARRY,” she shouts out as she runs faster than she ever has. The adrenaline kicking in, in a way she never knew. Before she realized she left the others behind she was already pushing the doors to the Hospital Wing open, only to close her eyes as she sees the blood covered floor and the bloody form of the person she has been so wishing to see.

Within a breath’s moment she was at the bed side, standing next to Remus who is helping Madam Pomfrey to try and save him. In the distance she can hear the many different spells being cast, in the back of her mind she knows they are last resort spells. At the moment however, her eyes are fixed upon the face of the boy she loves with all her heart. “Don’t you dare die on me Harry,” she hears Remus shouting out in an inhuman voice.

“We’re losing him,” Madam Pomfrey shouts out a second later.

“He’s not breathing,” Minerva shouts out as she joins the action.

“He’s not going to make it,” one of the twins cries out.

Ignoring the gasps from the Professors, Hermione steps forwards and places her hand upon Harry’s bloody forehead. She leans over him and gently kisses his lips, and then moves closer to his ear, not caring about the blood she is getting on her, “I love you Harry,” she whispers not knowing everyone within the room can hear her. “Don’t you leave me alone Harry, I don’t think I can live without you, come back to me,” she whispers softly. Suddenly the form beneath her hands starts to breathe.

“He’s breathing,” Madam Pomfrey points out uselessly.

****

For the next three days, Harry was in and out of danger, he kept crashing and then suddenly he was okay only to be knocking on death’s door a moment later. It was the longest three days of Hermione’s life. She never left his side, not even to eat. She and Remus had set up vigil beside him, neither talking, afraid to break the slight hold Harry has on life. Both watching over him, waiting for him to show signs of being out of the woods. It was on the third day Remus finally spoke, “He’s thankful that you were writing him and so am I,” he whispers softly into the silent room.

“I would’ve written earlier had I know he wasn’t just avoiding me,” Hermione says as tears form in her eyes once again.

Remus reaches up and moves some of Harry’s hair off his face, “He told me when he’d gotten it cut,” he says referring to his haircut, “That he’d gotten tired of his unruly hair and if it was going to be such, it was going to be short and unruly, then it would look more stylish rather than scruffy looking,” he says his thoughts on another day long before now, seemingly years before now.

Hermione smiles at the image this conjures in her mind, “I can see him saying that,” she admits with a shake of her head as she watches Remus move Harry’s hair. Her eyes then travel down to Harry’s hand that is incased in her own. “What was it like seeing him in command,” she finally asks. “He told me how afraid he was, how much he didn’t think he wasn’t any good, but I know he isn’t telling me what everyone else sees,” she says as she looks up and into the caring eyes of her former Professor.

“It was an amazing sight,” Remus admits with a proud smile. “No one knew he was afraid, he acted as though he was born to lead. When Davison died it was hard on everyone, but I personally know Harry took it hardest. He walked next to Davison all the way back, even though he himself was injured, Harry walked with the body even though he knew Davison was dead and anyone else would have just left the body for someone else to deal with. Not our Harry. After the body was placed upon the bed in the hospital tent he spoke to everyone asking them to write some of their fond memories of Davison so he could send them to the family, he then went to his tent to write the family. A while later he came out of his tent, dressed in his full dress uniform, he then slowly, silently, and respectfully made his way to Davison’s tent. He saluted the tent before he would enter it, and when he did, he placed each piece of property within the box with the utmost respect. When he finished he exited the tent and saluted it again. Only this time, everyone else was in dress uniform as well and saluted too. It was an amazing sight to see,” he tells her as he watches the still form before them.

“You could feel not only the sadness from each person but the respect as well. If anyone had any doubt in their mind about weather or not Harry cared for them, they didn’t then. When news of this got around, the requests for transfers started coming in at an alarming rate,” Remus continues softly. “When it was time for dinner, the mess hall was decked out in black, everyone knew why, I knew where he learned it, but it worked. Once everyone was seated and it was almost time for dinner to start, Harry stood and asked for a moment of silence to remember our fallen friend. You could hear a pin drop it was so silent. I will never forget that day. Never,” Remus proclaims.

“He never told me what he ended up doing, just that he didn’t know what to do. He did tell me about the dinner part,” Hermione says softly as she watches the slow rise and fall of his chest.

“There’s just so many amazing stories to tell, every day something new would happen and everyone would turn to look at Harry and see how he’s taking it. If Harry was worried then there was something to be worried about. If it didn’t seem to bother Harry, then they knew they could live through it. I knew of his internal conflict, but I too looked to him,” Remus admits. “And when he came up with the Portkey idea and didn’t make one for himself, I nearly hung him. I mean the nerve of him giving me a Portkey when he had none. I would hear nothing of it,” Remus says thus confirming Hermione’s suspicions on who had been that second in command.

“He talked about a prank,” Hermione prompts wanting to know if Harry had been able to keep his childhood somewhat alive.

“Honestly, he’s worse than his father,” Remus laments, but it fails miserably by the proud marauder twinkle in his eyes. “There was this one time, when I had had the worst possible day. I had just come back from a night after the full moon. I walked into my tent to find everything gone. I was livid. Then I looked up at the roof of the tent, only to burst out laughing. There on the roof was my stuff, exactly like I had left it. Well as close as he could get it, given that it was upside down. I think I shouted his name and I know for a fact I chased him throughout the camp for at least an hour, laughing all the while. It was a good prank,” Remus declares with a soft nod of his head.

“Good,” a raspy voice whispers, “It took me nearly six hours to do it, it had better be more than just good,” the voice continues.

“Harry,” both Remus and Hermione ask as one. If they hadn’t heard his voice they wouldn’t believe he was the one talking. His eyes were still closed and he is still as pale as a ghost.

Slowly Harry’s eyes open to reveal two bloodshot, but as far as Hermione was concerned, beautiful green eyes. “Hey,” he whispers weakly.

“Madam Pomfrey,” Remus shouts over his shoulder. “How you feeling,” he asks as he looks down at the boy he considers his son.

“I’ve been better,” Harry responds in a cracked voice.

Hermione reaches up and brushes her hand across his cheat, he turns slightly and looks at her, he smiles softly in greeting. “Hey you,” Hermione says softly ignoring the sound of Madam Pomfrey making her way to them. “I’ve missed you so,” she says softer still, loving the fact she can see his eyes once again.

“As I have missed you,” Harry says in response. “I must be dreaming,” he whispers after a moment as he continues to look at Hermione.

“Why do you say that Mr. Potter,” Poppy asks as she waves her wand over his still form.

“There’s an angel by my bed and she looks like Hermione,” Harry answers still watching Hermione.

“I’m not an angel Harry,” Hermione says trying to contain her blush.

“Sure you are,” Harry counters as he shakes his head slightly. “You’re my angel,” he whispers as he starts to cough roughly. “I need to get a message to Professor Dumbledore,” he says once he gets his coughing under control.

“We’ll tell him,” Remus assures him.

“Tell him, mission fulfilled,” Harry says as he closes his eyes, acting as though they are the heaviest things in the world. “I’m so tired,” he says softer still as sleep takes him once again.

“The road back to normal is a long and difficult one, he will survive, but he may never be as he once was,” Madam Pomfrey declares with a smile. “There will be a lot of pain ahead of him and he will not be returning to the field for at least a year, if at all,” she explains to Remus.

“I don’t ever want him back out there, if I could have any say in it,” Remus declares.

“I fully agree,” Hermione adds in knowing her word doesn’t matter, but at least she voiced her opinion of what she feels.

Christmas Wishes Part Three

****

Over the next two days Hermione learned exactly how difficult the road would be. Though magic could heal a lot of wounds, it seems that whatever Harry faced, not only did he face it alone, but it was a fight beyond what most have ever seen. He will have to re-teach himself how to walk, how to move, how to exist. Things Hermione took fore granted were now the most difficult tasks for Harry.

When he woke on Christmas morning Hermione was right there with him, refusing to leave him alone on this day of days. “Happy Christmas Harry,” Hermione proclaimed once she realized he was awake.

“Happy Christmas Hermione,” Harry weakly returned. Though he’s no longer in danger of dieing, he is still very weak.

“I asked Madam Pomfrey if we could take you out of bed today and move you up to the Common Room,” Hermione says as she adjusts the covers around him.

“I don’t want to be a bother Hermione,” Harry says as he watches her.

Hermione pauses in her task and looks up at him, “You’re never a bother Harry, never,” she says emphasizing her point as she leans over him and kisses him on the forehead. “Now what do you say we get Madam Pomfrey so we can get up to the Common room, everything is already set up. Remus double checked everything, Professor McGonagall has made sure it’s warm enough and Professor Dumbledore has made the couch long enough for you to lie on,” she explains as she looks down at him. “Where are your glasses,” she finally asks.

Harry blushes slightly as she asks this, “well, um, I have contacts,” he finally answers.

“Oh,” Hermione says and then smiles, “but you still have them,” she asks.

“Yes,” Harry answers confused by her reaction.

“I’ll just go get Madam Pomfrey,” Hermione says as she tries to hide her embarrassment. She loves to see Harry in his glasses and she feared she would never see him in them again. He just wouldn’t be Harry if he didn’t have glasses.

Twenty minutes later the portrait closes behind the last adult, leaving behind the two teenagers. Harry lies on the modified couch taking in the atmosphere around him almost hungrily. “Thank you,” he finally whispers as his eyes settle on Hermione who is standing at the end of the couch.

“I know how much you love this place and it just wouldn’t be Christmas without you,” Hermione says with a slight shrug. “So Harry, what would you like most for Christmas,” she asks.

Harry looks away from her slightly and to the fire, “It’s stupid really,” he says softly.

Hermione makes her way in front of Harry and kneels before him, her eyes even with his. “It’s not stupid,” she tells him honestly. “Whatever you want, if it is in my power then you will have it. So Mr. Potter what is your Christmas wish,” she asks again.

Harry looks at her for a moment, and then he closes his eyes as he thinks about what he wants the most. “What I want the most,” he asks her softly.

“Yep,” Hermione says with a smile, loving the fact she is with him once again. That she is with him on Christmas.

Harry slowly opens his eyes, “Can I,” he pauses, “Can I have a hug,” he asks softer than a whisper and in the tone of a lost child who has just been told there is no such thing as Santa Claus.

Tears spring to her eyes as she hears this, of all the things she thought he might ask for, this isn’t it. “Of course Harry,” she whispers as she gently gathers him to her in a hug. “Of course,” she whispers as she continues to hold him.

~END FLASHBACK~

In the days following Christmas, news came out of Voldemort’s defeat. It also came out that Harry Potter was the one who defeated him once again. Celebrations were everywhere, Hermione and Harry, when he was awake, could hear the parties from Hogsmeade in the Common Room where Harry would spend his days. Unfortunately with this news, everyone was declaring the day as Harry Potter day, and when the world learned of his injuries it seemed as though everyone was crying for him.

Harry didn’t like his new found popularity, but he just shrugged and continued on his with rehabilitation. When school was back in session, Hermione would visit him everyday before classes, at lunch and after classes. She helped him with his homework, helped with his rehab and at times just talked while he listened and sometimes they would talk, getting to know each other again. Ginny and Neville would also come at night, and together the four of them would talk hours on hours about many things. And every time they walked out of the hospital wing, each seemed to reflect on how much pain Harry is going through and how hard he is trying to be normal, to be himself rather than sink into the pain he’s forced to endure.

It was sometime in February before Hermione was able to see him out of his bed by his own means. And it was a day she will never forget, for it was the day when her world started to right itself. She was no longer alone in the world and neither was the one person she really cared for.

~BEGIN FLASHBACK~

Having been let out of class early, Hermione decides to go see Harry, so as she was walking she was looking down at her notes as she walks to the Hospital Wing, there’s a test tomorrow in transfiguration and she wants to get as much studying in as she can. With a soft smile she looks up at the doors to the Hospital Wing, knowing that behind those doors is the one person who makes her feel complete. The smile slips from her face as she recalls just what that one person has been forced to endure the past couple of months.

Pausing just out side the door, Hermione silently prays that she won’t cry again. Though Harry doesn’t seem to mind, he just takes her into his arms and waits patiently for her to calm down. To think Harry is the one calming her down, when it should be her who is calming him down. She smiles at this thought and she quickly pushes the door open, only to drop everything in her hands as she sees the sight before her.

Harry looks up from the floor, his hands tightly hanging onto the crutches supporting his weight and he smiles softly, trying to hide his blush. “You weren’t supposed to come so early,” he whispers as he quickly looks back down to the floor.

Hermione leaves her stuff on the floor as she makes her way over to Harry, “You didn’t want me to see you like this,” she asks logically, understanding he might be embarrassed to be seen this way, hoping to hide her hurt at the thought, at the thought he would feel as though he had to hide this from her, that he would have to hide anything from her.

Harry looks up at her, hearing the hurt in her voice. “No it’s not that, it’s just,” he pauses and then shrugs slightly. “I wanted to surprise you,” he admits finally.

Hermione smiles at his words, the hurt instantly forgotten. “I am surprised Harry,” she affirms for him.

“But you weren’t to have seen this early,” Harry explains sadly, his eyes fixed upon the floor.

“Early,” Hermione asks in confusion.

“Valentines day isn’t for another couple of days,” Harry says looking up at her, his blush returning full force.

“You wanted to show me on Valentines,” Hermione asks for clarification as she beams at him in happiness.

“Stupid, I know,” Harry says looking away from her, embarrassed.

Hermione steps closer and wraps her arms around his chest gently, “It’s the best Valentines gift I have ever received,” she whispers in his ear.

“Even if it is early,” Harry asks as he lets the crutches drop unnoticed to the floor so he can return her hug.

“Even if it’s early,” Hermione agrees, holding him just a little bit tighter.

****

It was late in March before he could walk with a cane alone, and he decided to show Hermione this in a different way than before. So he figured if there couldn’t be a holiday by which to wait for, he’d make his own reason.

It was fairly late in the evening; Hermione was sitting by the fire studying for N.E.W.T.’s, which are to be taken next school year. Though she’d much rather be down with Harry, she had been told she couldn’t stay late tonight. Leaving her to have to tell Harry she had to leave him earlier than normal, something that broke her heart to have to do. She hates how he is forced to remain alone within the confines of that small room.

In the back of her mind she hears the portrait open to allow someone entrance. So deep in thought she was she didn’t even think about who had entered when she knew for a fact all the Gryffindor’s where in for the night. She didn’t think about it, that is, until someone stopped in front of her. Preparing to let the person who is disturbing her have it, she slowly starts to look away from her book and up the body of the last person she expected to see tonight. “Harry,” she gasps out in question as she stands up to face him, book dropping forgotten to the floor.

“Surprise,” Harry says softly as he raises his hands, the cane in his right hand.

Hermione takes in the picture before her and she finally realizes what it is he is trying to show her. A large smile breaks out on her face as she realizes he is standing on his own, no crutches, no help, alone. “When did this happen,” she asks as she quickly gives him a hug and then stepping back and placing her hands on her hips, trying to sound mad, but the smile gives her away.

Harry shrugs, “Not too long ago,” he admits as he places the cane closer to his body so it can lean against him. “There wasn’t a holiday for a long while and I couldn’t wait to show you until then,” he explains.

“So you set this up,” Hermione asks smiling almost goofily.

“Partly,” Harry admits.

“What do you mean,” Hermione asks as she points to the space beside where she had been sitting moments before. She knows that even though he’s getting better with each passing day, he still weakens easily, far too easily for her liking.

“Madam Pomfrey has a convention she needs to be to, and she didn’t want me to remain alone. I asked her if I could use this time to show off,” Harry admits as he sits down only to have Hermione sit down beside him.

“I’m so very proud of you,” Hermione says as she leans over and places her head on his shoulder. Harry wraps his right arm around her and holds her closer to him. “Thank you,” she whispers honored he wants to show her, of all people, his progress.

“Thank you,” Harry responds as he pulls her closer to him. “Now, about that studying…”

The two of them sat there quizzing each other on different subjects and just having fun. It was almost two in the morning before Madam Pomfrey came to collect him, but by that time, the two were fast asleep and holding tightly on to each other. A sight Madam Pomfrey still carries with her to this day. The fact she had a camera with her helps matters. She gave Minerva and Albus a copy and then decided to give a copy to both Hermione and Harry.

****

Hermione closes her eyes tightly as she recalls that last part. Harry wanted her to know of his progress and he wanted to surprise her. Her of all people, he wants her to know first. She smiles as the love she feels for this man surges forward and encompasses her whole being. From that day on, Harry would try and come to the Common Room after dinner, he would eat in the hospital wing and Hermione would try and talk the nurse into allowing her to eat with him too. Sometimes this worked, but most of the times it wouldn’t. When he first came to the common room when everyone else was there, they were shocked to see him and everyone started asking him questions, they wouldn’t leave him alone. Shortly after he arrived a party was in full swing, even if he just shook his head and turned to Hermione who was smiling proudly at him and asked her how she did on her exam. So while the rest of the people where partying themselves silly, Ginny, Neville, Hermione, and Harry were talking freely with each other and just enjoying the time.

And so the rest of the school year proceeded, Harry was finally able to join some classes by the end of March. Though he still had to return to the Hospital Wing, but he didn’t seem to mind too much. Everyone kept trying to get stories from the war from him, but he just smiled softly, shook his head, and asked them what they did over the break.

When it came time for school to end, Hermione dreaded it more than she ever has. She wasn’t going to be able to see Harry everyday as she has. Something she has become addicted to, more than she was willing to admit. One thing that helped her, was the fact he wasn’t returning to the Dursley’s, he was going to live with Remus, who was back from the field for those two months.

Even though they didn’t see each other for nearly two months, they did write to each other almost constantly. Hermione would ask him how he’s doing, if he was able to walk further with his cane, if he tired as easily. Harry would in turn ask her if she’s going out of country and if so, to be careful. For even though the war has been won, many battles where still being fought, many Death Eaters were still out there, including Malfoy. Hermione still has every single letter he has ever sent her. One day her mother asked her about her feelings towards this boy they have only met a few times.

Hermione looked at her mother and smiled softly, her mind going over just how much she loves Harry. Patting the bed beside her, Hermione slowly began to tell her mother the tale of the life of the man she has fallen head over heals with. Hermione left nothing out, not even what Ron told her on the train. She told her of him being in the war and how injured he had been on Christmas. She then told her of his progress since then. Her mother smiled knowingly back at her daughter and said, “Sounds like he’s a keeper,” and then reached over and pulled Hermione into a hug. “He is mum, he is,” Hermione whispered into the embrace.

When she had received her letter telling her she had been named Head-Girl, she squealed impossibly loud and ran to write a letter to Harry, telling him all about it. She explained how excited she was to get it and how scared she was that she would fail at it.

When Harry replied to her frantic letter he told her one thing, “Hermione. All I can say, all I can suggest is have faith, love, compassion, and understanding Hermione. So, in short, just be yourself and you’ll be better than perfect,” his letter said nothing else but that. Then again she knew he couldn’t write to her on that day, he had an appointment at St. Mungo’s. An appointment she wanted to be there with him for.

Harry had explained to her that the doctors feared there was more wrong with him than they first thought. Things that would affect his present, but Harry feared more about what they had to say about his future, though he didn’t explain and Hermione didn’t press, she knows the future part is something very personal. Something that scares Harry is something very important indeed.

So the fact he had written at all, says a lot to the bushy-haired girl. It told Hermione he cares. Even when he is scared for his future, he still cares enough to help her. And help her he did. For if there is anyone who could say those words and actually mean what they say, it would be Harry. So Hermione did the only thing she could think of, she had the small note framed. Her and her mother went looking for just the right frame. Her mother never questioned it; she just smiled at the note and told Hermione she agrees with his words. Her mother also knew what today was, she knew as much as Hermione did, for Hermione told her everything. Only to realize she didn’t ask Harry if she could. She had quickly written him a letter explaining what she did, omitting the part where she confessed to loving him, and told him how sorry she was and that she would understand if he was mad at her. His reply was simple enough, “Everyone needs someone to talk to, Hermione. I am honored you care enough to share my life with your family. I could never be mad at you, well, for too long that is,” and then he drew a picture of a smiley face with its tongue sticking out.

****

When she didn’t receive any news from him for two days she began to get worried. So worried in fact she found herself at St. Mungo’s asking for directions to his room. Only to turn around and find a confused and concerned Harry Potter walking her way, “Hermione, are you okay,” he asks instantly as soon as he got within hearing range, his cane on his right side and Remus on his left.

Hermione didn’t think she just acted on all the worry within her heart. She ran the rest of the distance between them and wrapped her arms around him. “I’m fine now,” she whispers into his chest as he wraps his arms around her.

“What are you doing here, Hermione,” Remus asks with an amused voice.

“I didn’t receive word on how the tests went,” Hermione answers as she finally pulls back, reluctant to separate from Harry.

“Most of the results won’t be back until nearly Christmas,” Harry says with a hesitant smile. “But the one’s they were able to tell me, all points to full recovery within the next five to ten years,” he says causing Hermione to fling herself at him once again.

“Oh Harry, I was so worried,” Hermione cries into his strong chest.

“I’m sorry,” Harry quickly apologizes, “they wouldn’t let me have Hedwig come in,” he says as he pulls her closer to him, taking in her hug.

Hermione tried to quickly compose herself, but even given the circumstances she didn’t feel odd or embarrassed for over reacting as she did. Though she knows her reaction is only based on what she knows of the tests; not what, Harry hasn’t told her about them, “Are you two heading home now,” she asks after a moment.

“We were just going to call the Knight Bus,” Remus agrees with a nod of his head, the amusement in his eyes at the scene before him clear to everyone there.

“I can ask my mum if we take drop you off, she’s just outside,” Hermione offers.

“Talked her into it did you,” Remus asks with amusement.

“She offered thank you very much,” Hermione counters with a small smile.

“Oh no,” Harry suddenly gasps in shock.

“What,” Hermione asks worriedly.

“Taking me home to meet the parents already,” Harry responds dramatically as he places his hand over his heart.

Hermione stares at him unbelievingly for a moment only to stick her tongue out at him a moment later. “Of course, Mr. Potter, they do after all want to meet my future husband,” she teases back, trying to hide how much she wishes it was true.

“Be still my heart,” Harry responds before the three of them start laughing at the stupid ness of it all.

“Come on, I’m sure I can talk her into it,” Hermione says as she steps to Harry’s right side. The three of them made their way out of the front window and to Hermione’s mother’s car without any problems. Hermione and Harry sat in the back while Mrs. Granger and Remus talked in the front. For the half hour ride, Hermione and Harry talked endlessly, laughing nearly constantly and just enjoyed being in the presence of the other person.

At the end of the ride, Hermione reluctantly watched as Harry waved goodbye before disappearing into the house of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. “I like him,” her mother says into her thoughts.

“I love him,” Hermione responds with a sigh, hating the fact the next time she will be able to see him is on the train to Hogwarts. Hermione was too busy watching the place where the house is, that she missed the knowing look and smile on her mothers face.

****

Hermione was overly excited when September first finally arrived. She would be seeing Harry shortly. Knowing that she was to be in the Head Compartment nearly broke her heart, for she would have to be there for the whole trip and Harry would have to sit with everyone else. If she knew who the Head-Boy was she might be able to talk him into letting Harry come and stay with them for the trip. But given that she doesn’t know she has to count on it being someone like Malfoy. With this thought she nearly growls out in frustration as she opens the car door to get out. “Don’t worry dear,” her mother soothes her as she gives her one last hug. “Things will turn out as they should,” she says before kissing Hermione goodbye.

A few minutes later Hermione found herself heading towards the compartment she is being forced to remain in, for the first time since she learned she was going to be Head-Girl, she wants nothing to do with it. That is, at least, until she opened the door, only to find someone else already within. Someone who was currently sound asleep with his head leaning on the arm of the bench and his feet out in front of his body. Hermione pauses at the sight, only long enough to get over her shock. She then quickly closed the compartment door to avoid other people from seeing the sight before her.

Once she was sure the compartment door was sealed, and that she is the only person who can see the cuteness of the sight before her. She doesn’t want anyone else to see the heavenly sight she is about to see once again. She slowly turns around to look at the handsome specimen of a male before her. Never before had Hermione felt so overtaken by complete desire, want, and absolute love as she is at this moment. She stands there for a while longer just watching Harry sleep, a softness in her loving eyes that would have given her feelings away instantly had he been awake at the moment.

Forcing herself to control her actions, and emotions, she decides it’s time for the reunion she has been waiting for, for what seems forever. “Harry,” she says softly as she makes her way from the doorway to the bench. Instantly Harry jumps to wakefulness, sitting up quickly, his wand drawn and pointing at her. Hermione pauses, cursing herself for scaring him. “It’s just me,” she says just as softly as before.

She sees the recognition in his eyes a moment before he quickly puts away his wand, “Sorry Hermione,” he apologizes as he looks away from her in embarrassment.

“Hey,” Hermione says sitting down beside him. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, I surprised you is all,” she says as she bumps her shoulder into his.

“I wanted to be awake to see you when you came in,” Harry says after he flashes her, a smile.

“Why didn’t you tell me,” Hermione finally asks.

“I honestly didn’t think about. My mind was on the tests and then they were on the results,” Harry admits. “I really didn’t think about it until I stepped into the compartment and began wondering when you’d get here. I realized then, I hadn’t told you,” he pauses, “sorry,” he says softly.

“I’m not upset or anything, just pleasantly surprised. I had feared I’d have to stay in here with some nitwit, while you were somewhere else,” Hermione admits.

Harry smiles brightly as he hears her words, “I have something I want to show you,” he says as he stands up and slowly walks to the center of the compartment and then turns around and looks at her.

Hermione watches his movements wondering what he’s trying to show her, and then it hits her. He isn’t using his cane. “When did this happen,” she almost shouts out excitedly as she stands up.

“Remus and I have been working on it all summer,” Harry admits softly and yet he somehow sounds disappointed.

Hermione hears his voice and she can’t help but wonder why he is disappointed, then she realizes he isn’t the only one who is disappointed. Normally after every new achievement she gives him a hug. And now when he shows her he can walk, she just stands up and stays there, rather than get one of her precious hugs from him. “Well, what are you waiting for,” she says hoping he won’t think her stupid for what she is about to say. She raises her arms, invitingly, “Come and get your hug,” she says trying not to blush as she says this. Harry’s eyes brighten considerably, causing Hermione to wonder if he was just as sad as she was when they didn’t hug.

Hermione watches with her heart in her throat as Harry slowly walks to her, making his way to her for a celebratory hug. Finally she feels the heat from his body start to encompass her once again and she closes her arms firmly around his body, pulling him to her. Loving the feel of him, feeling as though she has finally returned home, “I am so proud of you,” she whispers into his chest as she continues to hold him to her long after she knows she should have released him.

“I’ve missed you,” Harry responds just as quietly, holding her just as tightly.

****

Harry uses his cane when he’s in the presence of anyone but those he holds dear to him, Hermione is one of these people. Though when he walks without the cane he walks slowly and he often stumbles and falls. Hermione hates when she can’t catch him in time, she hates having to watch him fall. She also knows he’s highly embarrassed when he falls. She is honored he trusts her as much as he does.

The two of them do their nightly walk of the castle together, talking, teasing and studying all the while. Even though they are supposed to switch nights, it was agreed to be this way after Hermione refused to let him have to deal with the moving stairs alone. Though what won the argument was the fact she didn’t want to be left alone, and she didn’t want to walk the halls alone. So one night Harry would quiz her from her note cards and she would be searching for errand students. The next night it would be Hermione quizzing him and him looking for people to take points from.

They even go to the same classes and sit next to each other, minus potions; Snape wouldn’t allow them to be near each other. Snape does seem very hesitant to upset Harry, though considering he had just gotten rid of Voldemort single handedly, no one was in the mood to upset Harry.

The two of them are separated for only a few minutes of the day. The few unavoidable moments of the day, trips to the restroom, getting dressed, going to bed and the likes, this is a fact Ginny and Neville find amusing beyond belief and they started teasing the two of them insistently about it. That is, until Harry started teasing the two of them for nearly the same thing. Since then, they haven’t made one comment on their arrangement, and in return Harry and Hermione make sure that Ginny and Neville get the same times for their prefect duties.

When it started to snow, the two of them would continue to take their walks around the lake, like they used to during fourth year. They even had a few snowball fights, even though Harry would always end up falling because he couldn’t move correctly, his feet wouldn’t work the way his mind was trying to work them. He’d blush profusely and refuse to look her in the eyes as he kept apologizing for not being able to keep up with her, for ruining her fun, for not being as he once was.

When he did this, it would break Hermione’s heart. She didn’t need him to stay up with her, she just needed him happy. She was happy with what they were doing, spending time together. When he’d get this way she flop down beside him and tell him, “Don’t be sorry Harry, I’m still having fun being with you. I don’t care about the game, all I care about is being with you,” and then she’d start making snow angels, always remembering his words from when he first woke in the hospital.

The two of them would then make snow angels and snowmen, and then Harry always seems to insist the snowmen were lonely and needed someone special in their lives. They proceeded to make snowwomen for the snowmen. Hermione found this to be highly amusing, especially when they finished with it. She had to admit they had done a very good job of it. Only to find themselves being taken pictures of by the Creevey brothers, though neither minded for they each had a secret deal with the brothers. Every picture of the other, they wanted a copy. In return for the copies, they would either pay them or if caught lessen their punishment. So far it has been a very good trade off.

Then last night, the two of them were down in the Great Hall eating dinner when an official owl, soared through the air and headed directly to Harry. Harry looked at it with horror in his eyes and Hermione instantly knew the first thought in his mind is that of Remus. When the bird landed and Harry slowly removed the letter from its outstretched leg, he looked at the envelope and released an audible sigh, only to quickly place the letter in his robes. He then paid the bird for its troubles and as the bird took off he continued to eat, though much quieter than before.

It took Hermione until they were in the Head-Girl/Boy Common Room to get out of him what it was all about. Harry just shrugged and said it was his test results. Hermione had totally forgotten about the tests, the tests of Harry’s future. Within those few words Hermione’s whole life nearly came crashing to a halt. What tests did Harry have done? What are those results going to tell him?

Harry watched her eyes change colors before his eyes, and Hermione could see the fear within his own eyes. “Do you want to open them now,” Hermione asks, offering to be there when he read them.

Harry shook his head softly, “Nah, I want one more day of ignorance, I’ll open them in the morning,” he informs her.

So the two of them curled up on the couch in front of the fire and just enjoyed each other’s company. Each lost in their own thoughts on what the test results might mean. Hermione was mentally reciting every prayer she knows, praying Harry won’t be taken from her again. She doesn’t know if she could take that. Not now, not ever, she loves him way too much to lose him.

~END FLASHBACK~

Hermione finally allows herself to open her eyes, some Christmas this is turning out to be. She’s too worried to even be happy. Turning over on her bed so she can look at the door to her room, she jumps at the sight she sees. Harry is standing in the doorway, his shoulder leaning against the frame, a soft smile playing upon his lips, and an open letter in his hand. “Morning,” Harry says softly; then he takes in the red of her eyes. He sees this and instantly starts to walk towards Hermione. “What’s wrong,” he asks just before he stumbles and falls to the floor. Hermione hears him cursing violently, and depreciatively.

Hermione instantly jumps out of bed and rushes to him, “You okay,” she asks as she helps him sit up.

“No,” Harry answers as he looks down to the floor as he tries to steady himself, looking everywhere but at her, “I was trying to help you and you end up having to always help me,” he whispers in embarrassment.

Hermione pulls him into a hug and slowly begins to rock back and forth, “Don’t be so hard on yourself Harry” she whispers into his hair.

“I need to be able to help you, you help me all the time and I never help you,” Harry whispers as he pulls her closer as his arms wrap around her, the despair evident in his soft voice. “How can you stand to be with me when I don’t help you,” he asks as he buries his head into her hair.

“You do help me Harry, you help me all the time,” Hermione tells him as she pulls back so she can look him in the eyes.

“I do not,” Harry says looking her in the eyes. “I don’t even know what’s bothering you. I thought I heard you crying and when I opened the door it looked like you were asleep. Only to learn you were crying and then I go and fall, what kind of help is that,” he says looking away from her once again.

“More than you can realize Harry,” Hermione says as she forces him to look at her.

“Why were you crying,” Harry asks letting the subject slide away and moving on to more important subjects.

“I was just remembering,” Hermione says honestly.

“I’m sorry your life hasn’t been the best,” Harry apologizes instantly as he once again looks down to the floor.

“Oh Harry, but it has,” Hermione rushes to assure him.

“Then why,” Harry asks looking back to her, as he reaches up and wipes her tears away.

“Because for someone to know exactly what they have, they also have to have a time where everything seems to fall apart, where they didn’t have anything. I was just remembering the time when I felt as though I had nothing,” Hermione tries to explain to him.

“Here at Hogwarts,” Harry asks softly, knowing in his heart it is the truth.

“My time here when you weren’t,” Hermione confesses.

Harry looks at her with confusion written clearly on his face, “Even if I can’t walk without my cane for more than five minutes without falling, even if I can’t be as I used to be,” he asks wondering how she could possibly like how he is now compared to how he used to be.

“None, of that matters Harry, you’re you and that is all that matters to me, that’s all I want, that’s all I’ll ever need. I don’t care about how far you can walk with or without a cane, I don’t care if you can’t throw snowballs without falling in the snow, I don’t care if you will be forced to walk with a cane for the rest of your life,” Hermione says as she holds his shoulders in her hands, steadying him and herself on the floor.

“All I care about is the fact you spend time with me now. I love how we make snow angels. I love that you feel comfortable enough around me to try and walk without your cane, even if you know eventually you will fall. I love the snowball fights we do have, because I know you are having fun, because I love spending time with you. I only care about the fact you are you in your heart and soul, the rest is just a bonus,” she tells him as she looks directly in his eyes, hoping he will understand what she is trying to tell him, that he will believe that what she is saying is the truth.

“What if I were to tell you the doctors say this is how I will always be,” Harry asks her softly, his eyes straying from hers, fearful of her reaction.

“Then I say,” Hermione starts as she turns his chin toward her forcing him to look at her, “So be it,” she finishes.

“How can you want to spend time with someone as damaged as me,” Harry asks as he searches her eyes for some hidden truth she isn’t telling him.

Hermione closes her eyes as she hears his question, only to open them just as quickly, “You are not damaged Harry,” she growls in correction. “You are the kindest most caring person I have ever had the privilege to know, I don’t ever want to hear you say that again,” she tells him as she stares directly at him. “Spending time with you is the highlight of not only my day, but my life as well,” Hermione informs him as she pulls him in for another hug.

Harry returns her hug and the two of them just sit there for a moment enjoying the feeling of being with each other. Finally they pull apart and Harry smiles softly, “I’m sorry to have darkened this day, so,” he pauses slightly, “Happy Christmas Hermione,” he says smiling at her.

“Happy Christmas Harry,” Hermione returns as she smiles at him.

“Will you help me up,” Harry asks softly and Hermione knows he hates having to depend on other people for things he once was able to do himself.

“My pleasure,” Hermione says as she stands up and reaches down to help him up as well. Once he is steady she lets go of him only for something to catch her eyes. She looks down and notices it was the paper he had in his hand earlier. Bending over she quickly picks it up, as she stands up she fights the urge to read the results, once erect she hands the paper back to Harry, who is looking at her questioningly.

“Thanks,” Harry whispers after a moment. “You look great by the way,” he says as he blushes brightly.

“How did things turn out with the results,” Hermione asks hesitantly, as she still looks at the paper in his hands.

Harry pauses in his steps as he was heading out of the room, he turns slightly to look at her, “Some good, some not so good,” he admits with a soft shrug.

“Are you going to tell me about them,” Hermione asks hopefully, but understanding there may be things he might want to keep to himself.

“After you get your presents opened we’ll talk about this,” Harry answers as he lifts the paper up. “Though in truth I don’t know why I was worried about the one thing I was,” he admits with a shrug. “Not like it will matter,” he whispers softly as his eyes drop to the paper.

“It matters Harry,” Hermione says just as softly.

Harry shrugs in response and then smiles, “Hurry up already, the presents aren’t going to open themselves you know,” he says effectively changing the subject.

“Get going you clown,” Hermione says with a soft laugh as she shakes her head. She watches as he slowly makes his way out of her room, though she is still smiling all she wants to do is cry again. Her heart goes out to him and she hates that he seems to feel no one would want anything to do with him if he’s like he is. If only he knew the truth.

****

A few short minutes later Hermione comes bounding down the stairs as she rushes to be with Harry, she pauses at the foot of the stairs as she sees Harry standing before the fireplace looking at the numerous pictures on the mantel. When they first arrived in the room, Hermione insisted they each place pictures of their families there. She was ecstatic when he placed a picture of his parents wedding there. It had been nearly two weeks into the semester; her pictures had been there long before. He had placed it there sometime after she had gone to bed. When she woke the next morning she couldn’t help the large beaming smile that formed on her face when she seen he had contributed to the collection.

Hermione watches a moment more as she sees him holding the picture of his parents in his right hand, his left hand firmly holding onto the mantel to avoid falling. She closes her eyes once again as she realizes he never had one Christmas he could remember with them. “They’re here you know, if you try really hard you can feel them,” Harry whispers causing her to jump in surprise. “All of them,” he continues as he places the picture back on the mantel.

Hermione continues to enter into the room, “I know,” she agrees and for the first time in her life she doesn’t comment how stupid an idea that is. For now she truly understands how right he is.

“Do you think they would be disappointed in me,” Harry asks still looking at the pictures, his back to her.

“Never,” Hermione says instantly. “They would be so very proud of you,” she says as she places her hand on his left shoulder as she steps up beside him.

“I often wonder about things,” Harry says, his eyes still fixed upon the pictures before them.

“What things Harry,” Hermione prods softly, hoping he will open up to her.

“About how they’d react to all the troubles I’ve caused or been through, the adventures we partook of. When Ron got that Howler from Mrs. Weasley in second year, stupid I know, but I was jealous. I used to dream about what my mum would’ve done had she been alive, how she would’ve reacted. Would she have sent me a Howler as well, or would she have stormed the castle to yell at me herself,” Harry says softly his eyes seeing the picture but looking beyond it to something he will never know. “Then I’d wonder what my dad would have said, what he would have done. Would he have been just as upset as mum, or would he play the father in her presence and the joker when we were alone,” he shrugs slightly. “I used to dream about how I would react if my own children ever did half the stuff we have,” he whispers and then sighs softly. “Seems kind of stupid to dream about that stuff anymore,” he declares softly at length.

“It’s not stupid Harry. You can still dream about that,” Hermione says softly, reassuringly. “You’ll be a great father one day, Harry,” Hermione whispers with a soft blush rising on her cheeks.

“No I won’t,” Harry says with a sigh as he turns away from the pictures to look at her.

“What do you mean,” Hermione asks, her heart breaking with the pain she sees in his eyes. She doesn’t know what brought all this up, but she knows it is important to him and therefore it is important to her.

“Who would want to date,” Harry pauses slightly as he shakes his head slightly. “Who would want to marry someone who’s been told the chances of him having children are less than fifty percent, thirty at best,” Harry asks as he looks back to the pictures, looks away from her, not wanting to see the pity in her eyes. Not wanting to see his dreams crumble before him.

Hermione gasps as she hears this, she closes her eyes as she realizes this is what part of the results have told him. He feels hollow because having children might not be possible. Suddenly she feels empty, almost barren, as though it is she who is unable to have children. Then again, for her Harry is the only person she wants to have that kind of life with, so in affect it is her too. “If she truly loves you, then she will,” Hermione answers, opening her eyes, as she slides her hand from his shoulder to around his back, giving him a half hug, wishing she could be that person.

“Would you marry someone who might not be able to father your children,” Harry asks softly, the pain clear in his voice and the slight shakiness of his body.

“Yes,” Hermione answers instantly as she tightens her arm around him, needing him to know she’s there for him.

“Would you marry someone who had to use a cane to walk, who would always be falling and unable to help you, who might not be able to have kids, and if you did have kids wouldn’t be able to help with them,” Harry asks in a voice softer than a whisper.

Hermione forces Harry to turn, his left hand flying to her left shoulder, his right settling on her right shoulder so he doesn’t fall. When he refuses to raise his head to look at her, she places her right hand under his chin and forces him to look up at her. “In a heartbeat Harry,” she says honestly and emotionally, the tears she had thought to have cried out, now roll down her cheeks freely. “In a heartbeat,” she whispers fiercely. “You would be the best husband a woman could ask for, and the best father any child would be lucky to have,” she says as she looks him in the eyes, needing him to believe her.

“Would you marry me,” Harry asks softly, his eyes searching hers.

“If you asked me to,” Hermione says knowing she is telling him more than she more than likely should.

“Why,” Harry asks in a ghost of a whisper.

“Because I love you Harry,” Hermione cries out as she buries her head in his chest, knowing this will be the last time she will be able to do this. She has just lost the most important piece of her heart. “I’m in love with you Harry Potter,” she cries into his chest, loving the feel of his arms wrapping around her, knowing it will be the last, she has just messed everything up.

“To think, before I read the results, I was going to just ask if you’d be my girlfriend,” Harry whispers into her hair.

Hermione gasps as she hears this; she reluctantly pulls back from his embrace to look at his face, “Wha…,” she stutters and then swallows in disbelief. “What did… what, did you just say,” she asks with a soft squeak.

“Ms. Hermione Jane Granger, would you do me the honor of allowing me to become your husband, even if it means we might not be able to ever have children and I more than likely will be forced to have a cane for the rest of my life. Will you marry me Hermione,” Harry finishes in a whisper, his eyes watching her closely.

“Are you serious,” Hermione asks in a whisper.

“Yes,” Harry reassures her.

“Why me,” Hermione finally gasps out in question, cursing herself for not just accepting her dream.

Harry reaches up and gently brushes her tears away, “Because I love you,” he whispers softly, “And I don’t want to live without you in my life. So will you marry me,” he asks again still looking into her eyes, but the fear of rejection is slowly creeping into his eyes.

Hermione sees him starting to doubt himself, she knows what he’s said is true and she also knows this is the best day of her life. “YES,” she shouts out as she throws herself onto him, causing him to lose his balance and the two of them to end up on the floor.

“Yes,” Harry squeaks out in question, unable to believe his own ears, his arms wrapped around her waste.

“Yes,” Hermione repeats as she looks down at him, being as she landed on top of him.

“Can I have two more Christmas wishes,” Harry asks softly, a smile playing on his lips.

Hermione smiles happily as she remembers her words from a year ago, “I’ll get them if it is in my power,” she answers as she nods slightly.

“Can I have another of your hugs,” Harry asks softly and then smiles widely as she wraps her arms around his neck. He quickly returns the gesture, but around her waste.

“And the second,” Hermione asks as she places her head on his chest, loving the fact she can hear his heartbeat, loving this dream.

“Can I kiss you,” Harry asks with a childlike tone to his voice.

Hermione lifts her head and looks at him for a moment, before slowly and gently lowering her face to his. “Always Mr. Potter,” she says just before Harry raises his head to close the gap between them. The kiss was chaste and gentle, but more powerful than most erratic kisses. It is a kiss of completion of their souls, of being welcomed home, of belonging, and of affirming their love for one another.

Once they part Harry smiles up at her, “Thanks Mrs. Potter,” he teases softly, loving the way that sounds.

Hermione nearly squeals in delight as she hears this, her smile spreading so wide it actually hurts, “I like the sound of that,” she whispers before giving him a quick kiss. “This is the best Christmas ever,” she proclaims just before she reclaims his lips for another kiss, knowing she will never get enough of them.

“Speaking of Christmas,” Harry laughs out, “Those presents aren’t going to open themselves,” he points out once again.

Hermione can’t help but laugh as she shakes her head at him, “One track mind,” she states as she reluctantly moves off of him. She watches as Harry maneuvers himself into a sitting position with trained ease, something she knows a year ago was impossible for him.

“You bet Mrs. Potter, there’s a gift in there with your name on it,” Harry says as he slowly scoots over to just in front of the couch, he sits down and leans back against the front of the couch. “Would you like to sit with me,” he asks, his cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“I thought you would never ask,” Hermione says and both know she means more than just sitting between his legs. Hermione makes her way over to him and gently leans back against his chest, instantly her mind tells her this is now her new favorite spot.

Harry slowly wraps his arms around her waste and pulling her closer to him, “I don’t think I said this before, but,” he pauses slightly, “I love you, Love,” he says as he tightens his hold on her for a quick second.

“I love you too Harry,” Hermione all but purrs in response, still unable to believe she is able to say that out loud now.

Harry removes one hand from the embrace, ignoring Hermione’s protest, and raises it to the stairwell, “Accio,” he says softly, his eyes fixed on the stairs, his mind centered on the object he wishes to come to him.

“You forgot to say what, dear,” Hermione points out before she realizes that not only didn’t he use a wand, but something was floating towards them. “What the,” she says in her stunned stupor.

The small bag lands softly in Harry’s hand and he wraps the hand back around her waste, “I,” he pauses and then shrugs once again. “While out in the field, there were times we could visit the local villages,” he starts to explain. Hermione fights against shouting in glee as she realizes Harry is finally going to tell her something about his time in the Military.

“One time as I was walking through this village in lower England, this one store caught my sight. I asked Remus about it and we had a really long and embarrassing conversation about what I wanted to do with the rest my life. He wasn’t too surprised when I told him how much I loved you, even then. He was surprised that I did know of you and Ron dating, he hadn’t known,” Harry explains and as he says the last part he hugs her a little tighter.

As Hermione listens she places her hands on top of his, letting him know it’s okay to continue, it’s okay and it’s in the past. “When we finished our conversation he returned with me to where I had seen the little shop where I eventually got this,” he says as he looks down at his hands on her stomach, indicating the small bag in his right hand. “Together we talked about whether or not this or that was your style, if you’d like it, how you’d take to receiving it from someone, who at the time, I thought you hated,” he continues.

“I could never hate you,” Hermione instantly corrects, “I love you way too much,” she proclaims as she hugs his hands to her.

Harry smiles softly and kisses the side of her temple, “I didn’t know that then Love,” he admits and then shrugs. “It was actually kind of funny; here were two guys in Battle Dress Uniforms, looking at all these different cuts. The lady was very accommodating and patient with us. We asked each other many questions, does this one work with her studying, would her wand get in the way, would this affect her performance, but most importantly would she like it? We spent nearly three hours searching for the right piece, half the battalion were standing outside the window laughing at us, not that I blamed them,” Harry says as Hermione laughs softly at the image he is generating in her mind.

“The lady never complained, she kept saying she could tell that I deeply loved the person I was getting it for. Finally she brought out the very last piece; one she said had gone out many years ago. Her father’s father couldn’t even sale it. Remus and I took one look at it and I swear to Merlin we almost jumped out the roof in our excitement. It just screamed your name,” Harry continues as he rearranges his hands so Hermione’s is in them. He places the bag into her right palm. “I don’t know much about how engagements go,” he admits with another blush, “but I do know an engagement ring is common amongst Muggles, I’ll have to ask you later about that,” he teases causing her to giggle.

“For our wedding, I was,” Harry says after a moment but pauses.

“You what Harry,” Hermione asks as she looks up at him, love clear in her brown eyes.

“I was wondering if we could use my parent’s rings,” Harry asks hesitantly.

Hermione smiles softly and reaches up with her empty hand to pull his head down till her lips touch his, “I would be honored,” she answers as her lips leave his.

Harry smiles brightly at this, “I wasn’t sure you would like that,” Harry admits.

“I’ve been hoping for it,” Hermione admits as she blushes bright red.

“Really,” Harry asks stunned.

“For a long time,” Hermione agrees with a nod of her head, “From your story and the fact you seem to have thought this through I can tell you’ve thought about it too,” she states more than asks.

“A while,” Harry agrees as he kisses her temple quickly. “Are you going to open that,” he asks as he looks down at the bag enclosed tightly in her right hand.

“A little impatient aren’t we,” Hermione teases him but she quickly turns to the task of opening the bag. Her mind supplying her with many things it could be. She gasps as a small, elegant, beautiful diamond ring slides into her open palm. The diamond is encased within the band, the band is a swirl of alternating gold and silver and smooth to the touch. With tears in her eyes she looks up at Harry. “Harry, it’s beautiful,” she proclaims as she starts to cry once again.

“Not as beautiful as you,” Harry informs her honestly. “The lady told me it would adjust to your size and that it has a charm on it so the only person who can take it off is the one who put it on,” Harry says trying to hide his embarrassment and pleasure at finally being able to give it to her.

“Will you put it on,” Hermione asks in a choked voice. Harry smiles as he takes the ring out of her hand and starts to place it on her middle finger. “Not there Harry,” Hermione corrects and then directs him to place it on her ring finger, “put it here”. Harry slides it on slowly, his heart pounding faster than a race horse. “Now it is official,” Hermione declares as she turns around on her knees and proceeds to partake of her role as fiancé to the man she loves. She rightfully and completely snogs him senseless, which she didn’t mind in the least, for he too had snogged her senseless as well.