The Best Christmas Gift

Disclaimer: All things HP belong to JKR, no money is being made. You know the drill.

Author’s Note: A one-shot fic, written for Christmas. Enjoy!

The Best Christmas Gift

“Christmas won’t be Christmas without any presents,” Ron grumbled for what had to be at least the 10^th time in the past two weeks.

Harry didn’t appear to hear him, as he was frowning over one of the books they had taken from the library at Grimmauld Place on their last stop there. (The house did have an extensive collection of books on Dark Magic which Harry found both disturbing and very helpful.)

Hermione glanced at Harry, sighed, and then answered Ron, trying not to snap at him. “Ron, we’ve been over this. It just isn’t safe for us to go anywhere else for Christmas or even be with your family and make them targets too. And it certainly isn’t safe for us to simply go to Diagon Alley and shop. If we were so stupid, we’d probably end up being delivered to Voldemort as his Christmas present instead.”

Ron grimaced. “I know,” he admitted grudgingly. “But can’t a fellow express his disappointment?”

“You’ve expressed your disappointment quite enough already,” Hermione said dryly.

Hermione shifted closer to Harry as his scowl deepened. “What is it; did you find anything?”

“Nothing,” Harry said flatly. “Nothing but a headache. I’m going to bed for a few hours if one of you two could get the first watch.” He didn’t say anything else as he left the room.

Hermione stared after Harry with a worried expression on her face. Harry had changed so much over these past few months and sometimes she didn’t think she liked the change. He’d become—so controlled, almost cold, most of the time. There were still times when he softened, was good-humored and even smiled and laughed a little, but sometimes she wondered if those times when the old Harry appeared weren’t becoming more and more rare.

She sighed to herself. She wanted to help Harry, wished she could be of more help to him, wanted it more than anything she’d ever wanted in fact, but it didn’t always seem like Harry wanted to be helped.

She looked back at Ron. “I’ll get the first watch,” she offered, “I want to go through another of the books we have anyway.”

For a moment, Ron looked ready to protest but then he closed his mouth and left with a mumbled, “G’night.”

Hermione was woken up on Christmas morning with an excited shout from Ron in the other room and, though she could tell from his tone that it was something good and not one of those hundreds of things she dreamed in her nightmares every night, she still hurried to throw on clothes and rush into the living room from where Ron’s shout had come.

She found him and Harry, both still in their pyjamas, standing over an unwrapped bundle in brown paper, containing 3 smaller packages wrapped in brown paper, with no sign of the owl that had brought it.

“I was on watch,” Ron was explaining, “and heard this tapping sort of noise. I nearly panicked at first but then I looked out the window and saw that it was an owl. And it just flew in the moment I opened the window, dropped this at my feet and then flew off before I could do anything.”

Harry was frowning slightly as he glanced at the now-closed window but Ron continued on, waving a piece of parchment around in his hand. “Anyway, it’s from Mum. The note says so and it’s her handwriting.”

He handed it to Harry who read it, his frown clearing and the beginnings of a smile appearing on his lips, before Harry handed it, in turn, to Hermione.

The note was brief and Hermione could tell how hard it must have been for Mrs. Weasley to write the note without asking any of the million and one questions that must be going through her mind.

Dear Ron, Harry and Hermione,

Something for Christmas. I’m sending this by stealth owl so it should be safe. We’re all well and I do hope, wherever you three are, that you’re taking care of yourselves.

Happy Christmas.

Love,

Mum

And then underneath it in large letters, underlined twice, Be Careful!

“Well, can we open them?” Ron asked eagerly.

Hermione smiled. “Just wait a second. I’ll be right back,” and turning, ran back to her room, digging out of her bag the two gifts she’d bought over the summer and kept until now, having guessed that they wouldn’t be able to go out to buy gifts while hunting for Horcruxes.

She ran back to the room and had to laugh at the delighted expression on Ron’s face when he saw the additional gifts in her hands as she handed one to him and one to Harry. “I got them over the summer and saved them until now.”

Ron grinned as he tore into Hermione’s gift first, to laugh at how she’d gotten him a book, the latest edition of A History of the Chudley Cannons.

Harry was slower to take his gift, pausing to look at Hermione with a small smile playing around his lips.

Hermione met his eyes, happy to see that they were as clear a green as ever, the eyes of the boy she knew and- and loved. Because she did love Harry, she knew that now. Loved him more than anyone else, loved him in a way that completely transcended any small fancy which she had once felt for Ron. “Happy Christmas, Harry,” she said softly.

He smiled a real smile, his first in what seemed like weeks. “Happy Christmas.”

His smile widened into a momentary grin as he saw that his gift was a book called An Encyclopedia of Dark Magic. He looked back up at her, still smiling although his smile had become sober. “Thanks.”

“I’m not sure how useful it will be in our search,” she explained rather hurriedly, hoping he wouldn’t notice the heat in her cheeks. “But I figured it couldn’t hurt and it would at least make interesting reading.”

“I’m sure it’ll help,” Harry said quietly.

“Oi.”

They both looked over at Ron who had spoken to get their attention and was now waving two packages in their faces.

Harry and Hermione exchanged grins as they each took their gifts and opened them to find, in Harry’s a box of Chocolate Frogs along with the usual knitted sweater, this time with a Snitch across the front, and in Hermione’s, a box of Sugar Quills with, for the first time, her own knitted sweater with a book on the front.

Hermione smiled and without a word, put on the sweater as Harry and Ron all did the same.

Ron’s had a broomstick on his.

Thus dressed, the three looked at each other and then started to laugh, at what neither of them was quite sure but they knew that it felt good to laugh, to have a reason for laughing, and that this was a happy Christmas after all.

Harry smirked at Ron as they calmed down. “No ‘R’ this time; I guess your Mum decided that she didn’t need to worry about forgetting your name since you’re not around anymore.”

Ron threw some of the ripped brown paper used to wrap the sweaters in at Harry’s head. “Oh shut up.”

Harry ignored the paper. “Nope,” he answered.

Suddenly Ron lunged forward and pretended to try to smother Harry with the brown paper.

Harry fought him off, laughing. “Gerroff, git!”

Hermione watched Harry and Ron with a smile on her face that was a mixture of exasperation, affection and a tinge of wistfulness at how rare the sound of Harry’s honest laughter had gotten.

She rolled her eyes and started using her wand to clean up the rest of the bits of brown paper scattered over the room, along with the wrapping for the Chocolate Frogs which Ron had already opened and begun to eat.

Harry and Ron sat up, both of them picking bits of paper out of their mouths and hair.

“I see you two have decided to stop acting like 8-year-olds,” Hermione said although the amusement in her tone belied her words.

Ron grinned at her as Harry stood up. “Yeah and I just remembered something.”

Ron gave Hermione a questioning look as Harry left the room and Hermione shrugged. Harry had spoken lightly enough but lately, she felt she’d gotten somewhat paranoid after worrying over him as much as she did.

Harry returned to toss a rather clumsily-wrapped and oddly-shaped package at Ron who caught it and then looked at it.

“Er, it isn’t alive or anything, right, mate?” he asked dubiously.

Harry grinned. “I doubt it. Open it up; I’ve been saving it so consider it your Christmas gift.”

He turned to Hermione, more soberly now. “I- I didn’t really get you anything, Hermione,” he admitted guiltily.

She shook her head slightly, smiling. “It’s ok; I wasn’t expecting anything.”

Ron’s crow of delight made Hermione turn and she saw just why the package had been so oddly-shaped. It was because it wasn’t just one item; it was several packs of Chocolate Frogs, a box of Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum, Fizzing Whizbees, Pepper Imps, Peppermint Toads and a box of Bertie Botts’ Every Flavor Beans. It was, in short, a sample of just about all of Ron’s favorite sweets.

Hermione couldn’t help laughing; Ron looked like a little boy in heaven, trying to stuff at least one of each different kind of candy into his mouth at the same time.

Harry laughed too and then sobered, as he looked at Hermione again and finally seemed to make a decision and handed her a piece of parchment, folded up and sealed.

Hermione frowned slightly but Ron spoke up before she could, asking as indignantly as possible through his mouthful of candy, “Oi, Harry, what kind of gift is that? A piece of parchment?”

“It isn’t really a gift,” Harry said quietly to Hermione. “I- it’s just something I wrote a while ago and I- I thought I’d finally let you read it. But not now, ok?”

Hermione frowned. There was something odd, uncertain, in his expression and his tone but she decided against asking him about it especially with Ron there and only put the piece of parchment in her pocket to read later.

Later that afternoon…

Hermione retreated to her room while Ron and Harry practiced more Defensive Spells in another room.

Slowly, she opened the piece of parchment to find that it was a letter of sorts, in Harry’s familiar upwards slanted handwriting.

Hermione, I don’t know why I’m writing this when you’re just one room over but I’ve been thinking and since you’re asleep, I decided to write out my thoughts and not wake you up. It’s not that important anyway.

I was just thinking—how much harder this would all be if I didn’t have you. It’s not just because you know more about spells and magic, in general, and the history of Dark Magic and everything than me or Ron—well, it is, but it’s not only that. I don’t know how to say this but it’s just you, you know. That you keep me focused on the next step and don’t let me get bogged down in worrying about everything else. And you’re not afraid to tell me when I’m being an impulsive prat and might put us in unnecessary danger. I just—I just wanted you to know, I guess, that I’m glad you’re with me.

There isn’t that much to be glad about these days but I’m glad that Ron is here and that you’re here. So thank you for that, I guess.

I don’t know how much of this makes much sense. I’m not even sure I’ll give this to you but just wanted to write it out anyway.

There was no signature on the note, as yet further evidence that Harry really hadn’t particularly meant for this to be a letter which she read. It read much like his thoughts with its rather rambling, uncertain tone.

It was the sweetest thing she’d ever read and told her more than she’d ever dared to hope about his feelings.

Hermione waited until she heard Ron go to bed before she went to find Harry in the living room.

She moved to sit next to him and he looked up to see that she was holding the unsealed letter in her hand and looked away, his cheeks coloring.

“Thank you for the letter,” she said simply.

He shook his head slightly. “I should’ve gotten you a real gift.”

“No, this was the best gift you could have given me,” And then, before she could think further about what she was going to do and possibly persuade herself out of it, she leaned forward and kissed him quickly on the lips.

He drew back and stared at her, his eyes wide.

She felt herself blush but met his eyes honestly.

And slowly, she could see a new expression, a new look she’d never seen before, dawn in his eyes as, very tentatively and uncertainly, his hands lifted to cup her cheeks with the lightest of touches and he drew closer and touched his lips to hers.

The kiss was soft, hesitant, barely more than a kiss between friends but then her lips softened and she shifted closer to him and the kiss deepened from there.

When the kiss ended, she was smiling.

Harry, rather shyly, put his arm around her.

She leaned her head on his shoulder and they sat in a comfortable silence, words not needed between them.

And Hermione smiled at the thought that, after all, this had ended up being one of the best Christmases ever.

The End