Hugging Harry

A little bunny in a red hat with white fur trim has been hopping around me all morning and to get rid of him, despite the fact I should be doing a hundred other things considering it's Christmas Eve, I had to write this completely fluffy, picture-perfect, postcard-pretty Christmas one-shot consisting of nothing but fluffy romance with some gentle humour. Any mistakes *shudder* are mine as this is a special Chrissie pressie *giggles & waves* for Kirsti! Hugs dear! And blowing special Christmas kisses to Holly and Timbo - cheers dears! So Merry Christmas everyone and all the best for a happy, healthy and prosperous New Year! Janie xoxo

HUGGING HARRY

By JanieB

Harry stood at Hermione's front door. It was a friendly door, the colour of clotted cream with a thick, fresh Christmas wreath of holly hanging on it. Harry could see clusters of red berries nestling amongst the deep green leaves; then his eyes were drawn to the slightly distorted image of himself reflected in the brightly polished brass plaque of the knocker sitting in the centre of the wreath.

It was Christmas Eve and Hermione had invited him to come for dinner. She knew he would be spending Christmas Day at the Burrow, where she would be joining him on Boxing Day to visit with their favourite wizarding family. But when she'd found out he was going to be alone on Christmas Eve, she'd immediately invited him over. `I'd be home alone, too, otherwise,' she told him with one of her lovely, warm smiles, `so I won't take no for an answer, Harry.' Harry grinned at his reflection. As if I'd say no to you, Hermione. Especially when it means having you to myself, even if it's just for a few hours over dinner.

Harry noticed then that it had begun to snow, the white flakes fluttering lazily about him in the cold, still night air. He could hear the cheerful sound of “Jingle Bells” coming from inside and his grin became wider. Hermione loved Christmas and all its trimmings and traditions he knew, just as she loved snow. `I wished she loved me as much,' he whispered sardonically to his reflection. I might get lucky, he thought to himself, she might have hung some mistletoe somewhere and I might just rustle up some Gryffindor courage and kiss her. Harry chuckled to himself. Face up to Voldemort? Not a problem. Kiss Hermione? Ha! My knees feel weak just thinking about it!

Harry lifted his gloved hand to the knocker, then hesitated. He thought the wonderful anticipation of a few hours alone with Hermione was too delightful to end just yet, so he pushed his hand back into his coat pocket. As he did so, he heard Crookshanks miaowing on the other side of the door followed by Hermione saying something in reply, although her voice was too muffled to make out the actual words.

Then the door suddenly swung open and Hermione was smiling at him, her eyes sparkling.

`Harry!' And then she hugged him. As only Hermione could.

Harry wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her hair, his eyes closed as he drank in the wonderful feel of Hermione in his arms, of Hermione's arms wrapped around his neck. Harry would have held her like that forever, but Hermione wriggled back, looking up as she cried out in delight, `It's snowing!'

Harry laughed. `Just for you, Hermione!'

As she took Harry's hand and tugged, she smiled up at him, saying, `So, you arranged it for me, did you?'

Harry stepped inside. `Naturally,' he told her with a grin. `It's always polite to bring something for your hostess.'

Hermione laughed as she closed the door, then helped Harry take off his hat, scarf and thick, winter coat; he was wearing his favourite blue jeans and last year's green “Weasley jumper”.

`Well, thank you very much, snow was a perfect choice!'

With Harry's things neatly hung on the hooks on the back of the door, Hermione put her arm through his and led him down the hall to the kitchen.

`I thought since it's just the two of us, we'd eat in here, it's cosier,' she told him as they entered the warm, fragrant kitchen.

`Smells delicious!' commented Harry.

`Don't sound so surprised,' Hermione told him, smiling. `Now you go and sit down and I'll get you a drink.'

Crookshanks had returned to his basket by the hearth and was curled up contentedly, soaking up the warmth of the blazing fire. Harry sat down at the round table which Hermione had set beautifully for the two of them; it was placed before the fire and Harry was glad of its warmth at his back.

`When do your mum and dad get back?' he asked Hermione, who was now heading back to the table, carrying two glasses. Harry couldn't help but admire her slender form in her black jeans and coffee coloured jumper.

`Day after Boxing Day,' Hermione told him as she placed the glasses on the table and sat down beside Harry. `My mum wanted to spend Christmas with her sister, something they haven't done for a long time. My poor aunty's quite frail these days, so she couldn't make the trip here. They were a bit worried about me being alone, but not for long; I told them I was fully booked for Christmas and not to worry.'

`So what's this?' asked Harry, lifting his glass to his nose and sniffing appreciatively.

Hermione smiled. `It's delicious. My mum and dad always keep a bottle so they can have a glass or two on Sunday evenings. It's called Bailey's Irish Cream. Better than eggnog.' Hermione lifted her glass and continued, `Here's to Christmas!'

Harry touched his glass to hers. `To Christmas,' he echoed before taking a tentative sip. Then he took another.

`Hermione, this is delicious!'

`Told you so,' said Hermione smugly.

Harry grinned at her. `So what's cooking that smells so delicious?'

`Just roast pork,' she answered with an airy wave of her hand.

Harry gave her a quizzical look and Hermione laughed.

`All right, mum left detailed instructions and I've followed them to the letter!'

`Well, it certainly smells as though it's paid off! By the way,' Harry lifted his hand and a small, rectangular gift-wrapped box floated up out of his coat pocket and flew threw the air along the hallway, through the kitchen door and into Harry's waiting hand, `this is for you.'

Harry sat the box, which was wrapped in white tissue paper with a red, green and yellow bow perched on top, on the table in front of Hermione.

Hermione gasped, smiling in sheer delight as she gazed at Harry then down at the box.

`Harry, we agreed we wouldn't worry about gifts this year!' she admonished him.

`I'd already bought this, and I was going to keep it for your birthday, but - well, I couldn't wait,' Harry said with a self-deprecating smile. `Go on, open it!' he urged her.

`Thank you so much, Harry,' she told him as she picked it up and pulled off the bow and paper, revealing a white jeweller's box. Hermione slowly opened it and Harry couldn't take his eyes off her as she gasped once more, whispering, `Oh, Harry! It's just beautiful!'

`You like it?' he asked.

Hermione gave a small groan as she held up a finely worked gold charm bracelet; the tiny charms swung gently to and fro, catching and reflecting the bright light of the fire's dancing flames.

`Like it? Harry, it's beautiful! I love it!'

Harry smiled in relief. `I'm so glad,' he told her, leaning forward and resting his arms on the table, still unable to take his eyes off her as she examined each of the delicate little charms.

`A wand, a witch's hat,' he heard her murmuring to herself, `an owl, a cat, a book, a handbag and -' Hermione hesitated and looked up at Harry, `a ring? A circle?' she queried.

Harry dropped his eyes, embarrassed, watching as Hermione's hand appeared and came to rest on his arm.

`Harry, I know what each of them means - and the handbag even looks exactly like the one I used when we were searching for the Horcruxes - but I'm not sure about the circle; please tell me.'

`Well, it's a bit embarrassing,' replied Harry, his eyes still cast downward, looking at her hand; it felt so nice to have her touching him. `It's supposed to represent a, erm, well, a hug, actually.'

`A hug?'

`You know when someone hugs you, they put their arms around you, like in a circle, I just thought, well, it's just that…' Harry had spoken quickly in his embarrassment, but once he'd said it, he felt heartened and looked up at Hermione, his green eyes dark with emotion. `It's because you were the first person I ever remember hugging me,' he said quietly. `Our first year at Hogwarts, remember? When we going after the Philosopher's Stone?' Hermione nodded, her eyes glistening with tears as Harry continued, `No one had ever hugged me before, at least not that I remember. I'm sure my mum and dad did, a lot, but I just don't remember it.' Harry grinned at her then. `And that wasn't the last time, either,' he said, on a lighter note, but when he saw two tears trickle slowly down Hermione's face, his expression became serious once more and he stood up, taking the bracelet from Hermione and placing it carefully on the table before taking her hands in his and gently pulling her to her feet.

Hermione suddenly flung her arms around Harry's neck, hugging him once more. When he wrapped his arms around her, Harry could feel her shaking and knew she was crying.

`Hermione, I'm sorry,' he said, bewildered. `I didn't mean to upset you, honestly!'

He felt Hermione shake her head, but she obviously couldn't speak as yet and so Harry simply stood, holding her, waiting.

When Hermione finally lifted her head, her hands sliding from around his neck and down to rest on his chest, Harry kept his arms around her.

`I'm sorry,' he said again, quietly.

Hermione gave him a watery smile and shook her head again.

`You don't need to be sorry, Harry, I truly love it. I was just so touched by the - by your circle, your hug. And it breaks my heart to think that it wasn't until you were eleven years old that someone hugged you - even if it was only me!'

`Only you?' It was Harry's turn to shake his head. `I'd rather you hug me than anyone else I know, Hermione. You don't know how much you mean to me.'

Abruptly, everything fell perfectly still and silent for a few seconds as they gazed at each other.

We're both holding our breath, Harry thought wonderingly.

`No, I don't know,' said Hermione, her eyes fixed on him, `so please tell me.'

`Tell you?' repeated Harry, not sure what she meant.

`Tell me how much I mean to you.'

The momentary stillness was banished as his heart began pounding madly, blood pumping loudly through his head and the sound of his own breathing ragged in his ears. Their eyes were locked and Harry found himself answering in a hoarse voice that didn't sound at all like his own as he said, `Everything.'

Many things happened at once. Hermione smiled, her eyes filled with tears once more, then she sobbed before wrapping her arms around his neck so tightly he thought he couldn't breath but when he heard her say, `Me, too!' he was stunned.

I'm dreaming, he told himself. I must be.

He realised he must have actually spoken the words aloud when he heard Hermione say, `You're not dreaming, Harry. And neither am I. Not anymore.'

Harry lifted his hands to Hermione's shoulders, gently pushing her just far enough away so that he could see her face.

`What are you saying?' he asked gruffly, still unable to believe what was happening.

Hermione smiled at him. The most beautiful smile he'd ever seen. `It means,' she told him softly, `that I love you.'

Harry stared at her. `Are you sure?' he asked.

Hermione laughed. `Quite,' she told him. `And I will be hugging you so often from now on, you may even get sick of it! So, do you need mistletoe, or will you just kiss me? Please.'

A huge grin split Harry's face. While he still wasn't sure whether or not he was dreaming, he decided not to worry about that now. If it was a dream, it was the best one he'd ever had, bar none. So he told her how much he loved her. Then he kissed her. And as their lips met and an indescribable joy swept through him, along with some other, rather thrilling sensations, the small gold “hug” on Hermione's new charm bracelet glowed briefly, then grew. Into a ring. The first time Hermione tried it on that happy Christmas Eve, they found that it was a perfect fit. When she removed it, it was the last time she ever did so. Because the second time she wore it was when Harry placed it on her finger on their wedding day, and she never took it off again...

THE END

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