Unofficial Portkey Archive

A/N: Ugh, sorry guys, this one's a little late. I was planning on updating last Saturday (which just so happened to be my 20^th b-day), and I didn't get it done then, and I started a 10-hour a day job this week, so my time has been a little stretched and I haven't had time to get any writing done. Plus got some minor surgery done on Friday (just wisdom teeth, nothing big), so I may or may not be up for writing this weekend. Again, I only have one more chapter left, so after I update chapter 40 the updates will be much slower, at least for a while. The job's only going to be for about six weeks, so after that I'll have the freedom to write as much as I want thankfully.

Anyway, now that I've bored you with my life right now, please enjoy the chapter and reviews are appreciated as always! Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last one (see, don't even have time to call you wonderful people out by name! Love you guys though!)!

Chapter 39: Gifts

"Are you sure you're not too cold?" Harry said, his own teeth chattering as the cold wind blasted against his face.

Hermione shook her head slightly, although she used one hand to pull her coat a bit tighter around her. "I'm fine," she said. "We're almost there, anyway."

Harry nodded but nevertheless pulled her closer to his side as they crossed the street, their clasped hands hidden by the sleeves of their coats.

Hermione smiled slightly. "I said I wasn't cold."

"Well I am," Harry replied. "So you're really doing me the favor."

"Right," Hermione said with a roll of her eyes, appreciating the warmth Harry provided her.

Ever since her pregnancy, Hermione had taken a strong aversion to both Apparition and Portkey, so walking had become their primary mode of travel. Unfortunately, the bitter cold of London in late December made this trip to St. Mungo's considerably uncomfortable, so they were both quite grateful when the saw the glass storefront that indicated the entrance.

Once inside, Harry quickly ducked his head in an attempt to avoid attention and quickly ushered Hermione past the welcoming desk and up to the same floor where Ginny had given birth to James. At this particular reception desk, Hermione stepped forward to speak to the elderly witch that sat behind it.

"Hello, I have an appointment with Healer Clayworth?" she said, fiddling with the strap of her purse.

The receptionist nodded and pulled a clipboard towards herself before looking up at Hermione.

"Name?" she said, her thin lips stretching into a small smile.

"Weasley," Hermione said, fidgeting even more as she sensed Harry behind her, quietly shifting his feet.

The witch took a moment to look at her clipboard and then gestured down the hallway. "You and your husband can go wait in room 604 - Healer Clayworth will be with you shortly."

Hermione was glad the witch didn't glance too closely at Harry, as she didn't bother correcting her statement when she stepped away from the desk.

"Thank you," she said quietly, then re-took Harry's hand and led him to the correct room, where they each took a seat as they awaited the Healer. As the minutes passed, she still didn't release Harry's hand, instead refocusing her fidgeting from her purse to his fingers. He made no comment as she did so, even when she began to touch his wedding band, adjusting it and twirling it idly around his finger.

Only when the Healer entered the room did she drop his hand, and she did so quite reluctantly.

Healer Clayworth was a tall man, almost as tall as Ron, with sandy hair streaked with gray and light brown eyes. He was probably in his early fifties, his eyes and mouth lightly lined.

"Hello," he said amiably, reaching out and shaking Hermione's hand as she and Harry stood up. "I take it you're Hermione. As I'm sure you already know, I'm Healer Clayworth." He then turned and extended his hand to Harry, who shook it rather stiffly. "And you must be the father."

"Her husband couldn't make it today," Harry responded, his shoulders set rigidly. "I'm just her friend. Harry Potter."

"Harry Potter?" Healer Clayworth said. Hermione was pleased that his eyes didn't dart to Harry's forehead. "My apologies. I just assumed…well, at any rate it was very kind of you to accompany your friend."

Harry gave a curt nod in response.

Clayworth seemed a bit uncertain about Harry's cold demeanor, but nonetheless turned to Hermione again with a smile.

"Well then, I suppose there's no point in delaying things with idle chit-chat. I'm sure you've both got plans for the holidays. Would you please remove your coat and take a seat on the table, Hermione?"

"Of course," she said. She deposited her purse, scarf, and jacket into the chair she had just been sitting in and Harry helped her onto the table. He hovered protectively beside her as the Healer went through a series of routine spells to check the general health of both Hermione and the baby.

"Everything seems to be going rather well," Clayworth said as he wrote down the results of his final spell. "The baby is perfectly healthy."

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief and Harry placed a hand on her shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze. She reached up almost unconsciously and placed her hand over his.

"That's wonderful," she said, smiling brightly at the Healer.

"Indeed," Clayworth said, returning the smile. "Congratulations."

"Thank you," Hermione replied. "But there was something else I wanted to ask about…"

"That's what I'm here for," Clayworth said.

Hermione hesitated. "I was just…have you ever experienced any pregnancies where the baby seemed to exhibit…premature magical qualities?"

Clayworth frowned. "'Premature magical qualities'? What exactly do you mean? An increase to your own magical ability, changes to your own qualities…?"

"Well, not exactly," Hermione said slowly. "It's more like…I wouldn't call it an increase in my own magical abilities, but it seems as though the baby is causing physical manifestations of magic."

A look of intrigue crossed Clayworth's face. "Physical manifestations? Random outbursts of magic?"

"Not entirely random," Harry interjected. "The outbursts seem to be tied to Hermione's emotions."

"Yes," Hermione agreed.

"Well, to be perfectly honest it seems like a case of accidental magic."

"That's what I said," Harry replied.

"But it's different," Hermione insisted. "I haven't had an incidence of accidental magic since I came to Hogwarts."

"It is unusual for fully trained witches and wizards to have such incidents under normal circumstances," Clayworth conceded.

"Exactly," Hermione said.

Clayworth remained silent for a moment as he brought a hand to his chin.

"Interesting," he murmured. "I've heard of infants exhibiting magical capabilities before - that's not wholly uncommon- but magical outbursts from the womb…"

"Have you heard of anything like it before?" Harry asked.

Clayworth glanced towards him, and nodded. "I've heard of it, but only of two cases within my entire career. I've never seen it firsthand, however. It's a very rare situation."

"Well are there any dangers from it?" Hermione asked.

"As there have been so few cases, I can't answer with complete authority, but I'm fairly certain there isn't any true danger. The baby is healthy and you're healthy - there doesn't seem to have been any adverse side effects. However, I would like to continue monitoring your condition as the pregnancy progresses."

Hermione nodded. "Of course."

Harry helped Hermione stand up from the table and they both shook the Healer's hand once more, thanking him for his time.

"It was my pleasure," he replied as he shook Hermione's hand. He chuckled softly. "Again, congratulations. If there's one thing I can say for certain, it's that you have an exceedingly powerful witch or wizard growing within you."

Hermione blinked slightly at the Healer's comment, and then glanced sideways at Harry, who met her gaze with a bewildered expression. Even with the Healer watching, she couldn't help but smile at him.

"Thank you, Healer Clayworth," she said as they began to leave the room. "I'll be sure to set up another appointment shortly."

Once they were out in the street again, Hermione grabbed Harry's hand, interlacing her fingers in his. Despite the cold metal of his ring, she smiled contentedly as he pulled her closer to him.

*************

Later that night, Hermione couldn't help but allow her mind to wander as she sat curled up on the couch, a blanket covering her legs and part of her protruding stomach. But then again, her mind had been wandering for many months now.

She and Ron were sitting amiably in the living room of their flat. The television was on, bathing the room in a pale flickering light, but Hermione couldn't quite force herself to watch whatever holiday special was on. Ron seemed to be enjoying himself as far as she could tell, but she suspected this had just as much to do with his love of television in general as the program itself.

After about an hour of this, Hermione heaved herself from the couch with a tired sigh and stretched slightly.

"I'm going to make myself a cup of tea," she said. "Do you want anything?"

Ron shook his head vaguely. "Nah, I'm alright."

"Okay," she said as she moved to the kitchen. "I'll be right back."

She turned on the light as she passed through the doorway and pulled her favorite mug from the cabinet. After filling the cup with water, she flicked her wand over the cup and immediately set the liquid boiling.

However, just as she had placed a teabag into the water, she heard a sharp rap on the window behind her. The noise wasn't exceedingly loud, but it was sudden enough to cause her to spin around with her wand at the ready. Her heart thumped quickly in her chest as she pointed her wand at the darkened window, but then she noticed the tapping was continuing. She took a step closer, and furrowed her brow as she saw a small pebble floating innocently on the other side of the glass. It was the pebble that was knocking against the window, and there was a patterned nature to its tapping.

She cocked her head as she listened, and after a moment lyrics sprung unbidden into her thoughts:

Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts, teach us something please…

The absurdity of it caused a disbelieving smile to cross her lips, and she quickly crossed the rest of the kitchen to quietly raise the sash. When the window was fully open, the pebble hovered in front of her face for only a moment more before plummeting to the ground below. She followed its path downward, and was uncommonly delighted as she saw it land a few feet in front of Harry, who stood looking up at her with a wide grin on his face as snow fell softly into dark hair. She watched as he tucked his wand into the pocket of his dark coat and then beckoned her downward with a quick wave of his gloved hand.

Hermione quirked her eyebrow at his gesture, curious as to what he wanted but of course unwilling to voice her query for fear of Ron hearing.

Harry rolled his eyes at her hesitation and simply waved her for to come down once more. She smiled as his insistency, and rolled her own eyes as she closed the window. What was he up to now?

Thinking quickly, she promptly snatched up the garbage from the bin and stepped into the living room. She held the bag up slightly as Ron glanced over at her.

"I'm going to take out the trash."

Ron sat up slightly, squinting at her through the dim room. "You don't have to do that. I was going to take it out in the morning."

"That's okay," Hermione said as nonchalantly as possible. "I wanted to get a little fresh air anyway."

"If you're sure," Ron said, sliding back into his original position.

"I'm sure," Hermione said, and quickly donned a thick coat and shoes before dashing from the house, her feet light as she flew down the three flights of stairs that would take her to the street. She came to an abrupt halt as Harry intercepted her at the base of the stairs.

"Rocks on the window?" she said, her lips twitching. "Really?"

Harry gave a small shrug. "What can I say? Moment of brilliance."

"Moment of incredible corniness, you mean."

"Given the huge smile I saw on your face when you opened the window, I'd say it's a fair assumption to say you like corniness," he said, a roguish glint in his eyes.

"Well…" she said, smiling, "maybe just a little bit."

A brief pause elapsed before Harry jerked his chin towards the bag she still held in her hand.

"Do you want me to take that for you?"

Hermione glanced down at the trash and nodded as she handed it to him. "It was the only legitimate thing I could think of to come down here," she offered as explanation.

Harry didn't reply as he left her side momentarily to place the bag in the trashcan. He returned and shoved his hands in pockets, a smile on his face.

"That whole rock thing would be a lot easier to pull off if you actually had a house instead of a third story flat."

Hermione placed her own bare hands in her pockets as well to ward off the cold. "Surely you don't expect to be doing that very often, do you?"

Harry turned his head upwards to gaze at the sky, his glasses protecting his eyes from the snow, which was already falling faster than when she had first looked out of the window. "I don't know…should I be expecting to do that sort of thing very often?"

She scrutinized him quietly for a moment as he returned his eyes to hers. It was a loaded question, and both of them knew it. She was saved the trouble of replying, however, as Harry shook his head.

"Sorry, cold's just getting to me a bit…How is that going, by the way? The house search," he added at her puzzled expression.

"Oh," Hermione said, trying to arrange her face and voice into a semblance of neutrality. "Ron's still set on the house in Ottery St. Catchpole…" she said, shifting her feet. "I can't fathom why he can't understand the possible consequences of living so close to his mother. I think he thrives on the idea of being able to eat meals there on a more regular basis."

"He probably likes the idea of being in a village with a higher population of wizards as well."

"That too," Hermione said. "But I know you didn't come over here just to ask how house-hunting was going."

"Very true," Harry said seriously. "I also wanted to get you out in the street in your pajamas."

Hermione blushed slightly as she glanced down at her cotton pajama bottoms and pulled her coat more tightly around herself as she glared at Harry.

"Well if that's all you wanted I guess I can go back inside then…"

"Okay, okay," Harry said, chuckling. "There's another reason as well."

Hermione looked at him curiously as he reached into an inner pocket of his jacket, opposite of where he kept his wand. After a second of blind fumbling, he grasped something and pulled his closed fist out of his pocket. Then he held out his hand and uncurled his fingers to reveal a small present, pristinely wrapped in gift paper of pale gold.

Hermione stared at the package for a moment before looking again at Harry.

"What is it?"

"It's a present. And here I was thinking you were supposed to be smart..."

"Haha, very funny," she replied. "Obviously it's a present. But what is it?"

"Usually it's customary for the receiver of a present to actually open the present to find out what it is."

"But Christmas isn't until tomorrow," Hermione objected, nervousness creeping into her tone.

"Are you purposely being difficult?" Harry laughed. "It's Christmas Eve - it's only a few hours until the real thing. I wanted to give it to you alone. There probably won't be an opportunity for that tomorrow."

Hermione bit her lip for a moment, and finally reached out to pluck the box from Harry's hand. "Fine," she sighed. "I'll open it."

Harry placed his now empty hand back into his pocket. "So enthusiastic," he said with a smile.

Hermione smiled slightly in return before turning her eyes to the perfect little box with a sense of trepidation. She suspected its contents, had suspected it as soon as he'd reached within the pocket of his coat, and she was both afraid and exhilarated at the prospect of finding out.

Very slowly, she peeled back the first corner of the paper, relishing the smooth glossiness of its texture. She repeated this on each edge, intent on making sure she didn't rip it and soil perfection. Harry didn't comment on her lengthy procedure, merely choosing to observe her progress with a calm expression.

Finally, even more slowly, she pulled the paper free from the box, and despite her earlier conjecture, she still couldn't prevent the little leap her heart performed.

Free of the golden paper, and already collecting a sprinkling of snowflakes that stood in stark contrast to its dark color, was a small velvet box.

Hermione was amazed that such a small, unobtrusive little object could cause a person so many emotions. Her mind was reeling with so many different thoughts that she couldn't manage to solidly grasp a single one, leaving her in a chaotic blur of false nothingness, like she had been rendered deaf in the middle of an uproarious rock concert. She blinked as her gaze rose to Harry's, who was studying her pensively. She glanced down at the seemingly innocent little box, and then back to Harry, who inclined his head almost imperceptibly for her to continue.

At this small urging, she bowed her head once more over the box, grasped the velvety top with quivering hands, and gingerly pried it open.

But all of her apprehension flooded from her in a single surge as she looked in wonder at the item in the box.

There was indeed a ring nestled in the silky blue interior of the box, but not in the way she had expected. The ring was a part of a small silver pendant that was attached to a delicate chain of the same metal. The pendant consisted of a perfect circle, and suspended within was another circle, although this one was almost teardrop shaped. The two rings were attached at their upper peaks, resulting in gaps between them shaped similarly to a crescent moon with its tips pointed upward. Finally, embedded at the bottom edge of the teardrop-shaped ring was a small, dark green gem.

Hermione softly fingered the pendant, which shimmered faintly under the dim streetlights.

Harry finally broke her out of her mesmerized examination.

"Do you like it?"

Hermione opened her mouth, then closed it, and then opened it again as she searched for appropriate words.

"Harry, it's beautiful…"

He looked quite relieved when she finally spoke. "Good…for a second there I thought you were disappointed or something…"

Hermione blushed slightly. "Well, not disappointed, exactly…politely bewildered, perhaps."

Harry raised an eyebrow and looked at her knowingly before lowering his gaze. "I'm glad you like it at any rate."

"I do," Hermione said sincerely. "I love it." She immediately pulled the necklace from the box, handing it to Harry before twisting around as if to prove her point.

"Can you put it on for me?" she asked, pulling her hair away from her neck as she glanced over her shoulder.

Harry smiled slightly. "Of course."

Hermione stayed perfectly still as Harry carefully brought the chain around her neck. He fumbled somewhat with the clasp due to his gloved hands and the dim lighting, and Hermione shivered as his warm breath washed over her bare neck.

When he stepped back, Hermione allowed her hair to fall back into place and raised the pendant from her chest, inspecting it once more. Her eyes lingered on the green gemstone.

"Is there any particular reason you chose this color stone?" she asked, keeping her eyes fixed on the necklace.

"Actually, yes," Harry said. He paused. "It's…well, I picked it for the baby."

"The baby?" Hermione said, now looking at Harry fully. "What does -"

"It's an emerald," he said. "Emeralds are the birthstone for May…"

"Which is when the baby is due…" Hermione finished quietly.

Harry nodded mutely.

Hermione's heart swelled in her chest as she moved slightly closer to him, keeping her eyes on his own emerald irises. "That was…that was very thoughtful of you, Harry."

She noticed him sidle closer to her as well, closing their proximity. He reached up and brushed away some of the snowflakes that had fallen onto her face. Hermione laughed slightly and brought her own hand up to sweep away the snow that continued to fall in his already damp hair. He laughed as well. Both of them were shivering, and they found the fact that they were prolonging their discomfort for the sake of this secret meeting almost absurdly amusing. Yet they continued to stand before one another, unmoving.

It was Harry who started to speak first:

"There's something else I -"

But before he could finish his sentence, another voice called out from above them, mingling with and overpowering Harry's words.

"Hermione, are you alright?"

Hermione jerked her head towards the source of the noise, and both she and Harry almost unconsciously moved closer into the shadows of the building, where Ron would have less of a chance of seeing them if he looked over the staircase railing.

"I'm fine, Ron," she called back. "I just…I'm coming back up now."

"Okay," Ron called back. "Hurry up though, you don't need to be out in this kind of cold."

"Okay," Hermione said, and was grateful as she heard the door to their flat slam shut. She closed her eyes and opened them again to see Harry's standing a few feet away from her.

"I'll see you later, Hermione," he said quietly, and before she could stop him he had disappeared with a soft crack.

She sighed softly as she crossed her arms across her stomach, using one hand to reach up and twiddle the silver rings on her chest. Then she pushed the chain into her shirt and returned to her flat and her interrupted cup of tea, which she found had grown cold.

************

"Okay," Ron said as he slipped on his coat. "I have absolutely everything ready."

"Really?" Hermione asked incredulously. "So you finished wrapping those last few presents, loaded everything in the car, picked up the cake we're taking, and went out and bought the groceries your Mum wanted?"

Ron grimaced slightly. "Has anyone ever called you needy?"

Hermione sighed. "I'd assumed as much…I did everything this morning."

"Oh. Well, then I guess we can go then?"

"Yes, we can go."

"I still don't see why we have to drive…" Ron grumbled as they left the flat.

"Because Apparating is out of the question and Flooing makes me nauseous," Hermione said exasperatingly, rolling her eyes as she opened the door to the passenger side of the car. "I'd rather not arrive at the Burrow and vomit all over the Christmas tree - I have a feeling it'd put a bit of a damper on the holiday spirit."

"I get it," Ron said as he looked at her over the roof of the car, but he didn't appear much happier. "I just don't look forward to being in a car for the next hour."

"Fine, Ron!" she said, her temper erupting forth suddenly. She slammed the passenger door shut again furiously. "YOU go ahead and leave and I'll drive myself there! GO AHEAD!"

Ron blanched as Hermione stormed over to the driver's side. He held up his hands to her in a sign of surrender as she placed her own on her hips.

"Come on, Hermione, don't be that way! I'm sorry." He placed his hands on her shoulders and began to lead her over to the other side of the car. "I didn't mean to upset you. It's just that it's Christmas and I wanna get over there as soon as possible, you know?"

He opened the door for her and looked at her entreatingly. Sighing, she slid into the car, but didn't respond to his apology.

The entirety of the ride passed in a similar state of silence. Occasionally Ron would say something to breach the quiet, but Hermione would only respond with a noncommittal grunt, if she replied at all. Consequently, it seemed immensely longer than an hour when they pulled up to the fence of the Burrow.

When Ron had turned the car off, he quickly rushed over to her side and pulled open the door like he had before.

"Thank you," Hermione murmured as she stepped out.

"You're welcome," Ron said, nervousness in his tone.

Once they had laden themselves with the numerous gifts and groceries from the car, they pushed open the gate and made the way to the front door, where they were met by Mrs. Weasley.

"Happy Christmas!" she said, pulling them each into a hug despite their burdens. "Oh, thank you dear, I've been needing those groceries." She pulled the bags free from Hermione's bundle and led them into the kitchen.

Bill, Fleur, Audrey, Andromeda, and Hermione's own mother were bowed over the counters, cutting, chopping, and peeling various vegetables. They each stopped what they were doing as Hermione and Ron entered and embraced them as well as they could without dirtying their hands.

"Hey Mum," Hermione said. "I see they have you busy."

"Oh, it's nothing," Katherine said airily, kneading a piece of dough with her flour-covered hands. "I don't get much of an opportunity to cook for anyone besides you, Ronald, and sometimes Harry and Ginny. This is a nice change."

"And unless you'd like to join in, ze boys and children are in ze living room or in ze backyard," Fleur said as she returned to chopping carrots and celery.

"As well as Ginny and Angelina," Audrey added, peeling a potato. "I suspect Harry and George do most of the cooking in their houses…"

"For Angelina's sake at least, I hope not," Bill said. "Who knows what George experiments with."

"I'm surprised you're not out there," Ron said.

"I actually like to cook if you can believe it, Ron," Bill replied. He held up a piece of chicken he had just cut with a grin. "At least while dealing with beef, chicken, or pork."

"Yes, I notice you don't participate in much of ze baking," Fleur said with a smile.

"What can I say?" Bill said with a grin, his scars stretching over his skin. "I'm a carnivore."

The group continued to banter, so Ron and Hermione quietly left the room to greet the rest of the Weasleys.

Most of the family was in the room, including the majority of the children. However, Hermione quickly noticed that Harry was one of the few absent.

After everyone had cheerfully said the obligatory greeting of "Happy Christmas," Ron and Hermione deposited their gifts among the already enormous pile at the base of the lavishly decorated tree and made their rounds of hugging the family properly. Almost everyone clutched either glasses of eggnog or bottles of butterbeer in their grips and were dressed in shades of green and red (mostly Weasley sweaters, of course).

Charlie was deep into a game of exploding snap with little Molly, Percy's oldest, but he managed to look up long enough to tip the neck of his bottle towards the door that led out to the backyard.

"Dad's out that way," he said vaguely, and then returned his attention to the game.

"Alright," Ron said, and immediately left the house. Hermione followed as well, hoping Harry would also be outside.

Her hope was quickly fulfilled, but she had to fight down a giggle when she saw him.

Harry was indeed outside, holding James within the additional warmth of his jacket, but he was standing not with Mr. Weasley or Percy, but with none other than Luna Lovegood.

Ron seemed as amused and bewildered to see Luna as Hermione was. "Mum didn't tell me she was inviting Loony…"

"Ron!" Hermione chastised.

Ron waved his hand nonchalantly. "You know I don't mean anything by it. I'm just surprised she's here."

"True…I'm surprised your Mum didn't mention anything," Hermione said, looking back across the yard to observe Harry's expression. He bore the customary disorientated look that was almost impossible to ward off when in Luna's presence, but he seemed lighthearted as well, which (Hermione was reluctant to admit) was also a side effect of Luna's eccentricity. The former Ravenclaw was currently pointing to a dead hawthorn bush with a cautionary air, and Harry seemed to struggle down a grin as he moved to carefully cover James' mouth and nose loosely with his jacket before bending down to inspect the plant himself.

"Wonder what they're talking about…" Hermione said with a smile as she started to pick her way through the layer of snow that coated the grass.

"No doubt something completely barmy," Ron said as he followed her.

Harry straightened as they approached and took a large step back from the shrub before moving his jacket from James' face.

"Hey guys," he said, smiling.

"Happy Christmas, mate," Ron said, grinning as he looked from Harry to Luna. "Good to see you, Luna. Didn't know you'd be joining us."

"Yes," Luna said, tucking a strand of her long hair behind her ear, which Hermione noted bore an earring shaped like a small red Christmas stocking. A matching necklace lay on her lime green sweater. "Daddy's very busy in Norway following up a story on a Umgubular Slashkilter sighting, and Mrs. Weasley was kind enough to invite me here so I wouldn't be alone for the holiday. It was very thoughtful of her," she added vaguely.

"That sounds…interesting," Ron said.

"Yes, quite interesting. I would have gone myself if I hadn't been exposed to a Clabbermonk bite recently…It's very dangerous to travel overseas with such an affliction, of course."

"Of course," Ron said, nodding knowledgeably.

"Well, we're glad you're here at any rate," Hermione said.

Luna smiled and nodded before she looked once more at the hawthorn bush. "Harry and I were just catching up."

"Yeah, Luna was just telling me a little bit about Wrackspurts," Harry said casually. "Apparently they tend to reside in hawthorn bushes."

"Although since it's winter the colony has been severely reduced," Luna said, bending over the plant and gently touching its dead leaves.

"I think I've heard you mention them before," Hermione said. "What do they do, exactly?"

"Wrackspurts use the qualities of hawthorn roots to induce a mild sedative effect on their prey as well as predators," Luna said. "Gnomes are quite fond of them, which is why I believe the gnomes in this area are a bit clumsier than normal. Babies can grow very tired from exposure, which is why I told Harry to cover James' mouth before he observed them. In adults, they can make your mind go very fuzzy, which is what happened to Harry."

Hermione turned just quickly enough to see Harry avert his eyes from her to the ground, a faint redness in his cheeks as he cleared his throat nervously.

"Right," he muttered. "Wrackspurts."

Luna patted Harry's shoulder sympathetically, although a faint smile crossed her lips, one that Hermione couldn't quite place. "Don't worry, the symptoms should wear off in a few moments."

Ron snorted in amusement before pushing his hands in his pockets and addressing Luna again.

"So, this story your dad's following up...Uglublia Skashmisher or whatever it was… is he trying to find out if it exists?"

"Umgubular Slashkilter," Luna corrected. "And he's trying to prove they exist."

"Same thing, isn't it?" Ron said. "I mean, how does he know they exist if he hasn't proven it?"

Luna turned her pale blue eyes on Hermione, and the knowingness within them almost forced her to avert her gaze. But she continued to stare at Luna until she turned to glance briefly at Harry, and the small smile on the blonde's face as she turned back to Ron made Hermione's mind spin wildly.

"Just because someone hasn't proven something exists doesn't mean it's not there or that it's not real," Luna said, twiddling her necklace as she stared vacantly at the sky. "It just means you haven't seen it yet."

**********

When the group returned to the house, Mr. Weasley and Percy now in tow, they had barely stepped into the warmth before Mrs. Weasley shooed them back outside.

"I need you all to go and get rid of all those gnomes in the backyard," she said. "I can't very well have the grandchildren out playing in the snow when those little pests are bigger than the majority of them. And it doesn't help matters that they're attracted to the Christmas lights. Hermione, Luna, you two can stay in of course, but the lot of you better not dither back there for more than an hour while we finish all the cooking!"

Charlie, Bill, George, Teddy, and Victoire all filed past Mrs. Weasley at this point, bundled in their coats to ward off the cold.

"I'm going to dither for two hours just to show her who's in charge," George said once his mother had closed the door.

"Not if I have anything to do about it," Bill growled. "Search for the damn gnomes so we can get this over with."

"Plus, we need to show Teddy and Victoire how this is done," Harry said, ruffling his godson's currently green hair. "And way to get into the Christmas spirit, Ted."

Teddy grinned as his hair changed from green to red and back to green. "I was gonna go for red, but I figured that was already covered."

Harry, Hermione, Luna, and Victoire all laughed as the red-headed siblings scowled good-naturedly.

"Good one, Teddy," Charlie said. "Really witty."

"I thought so," Harry said. "Why do you think I always wear green?"

"Because it makes your eyes pop," George said, batting his eyes teasingly.

"Is that supposed to be an impression of me?" Ginny said from behind them as she entered the yard. "Because it's pretty crappy to be perfectly honest."

"You recognized it, didn't you?" George said. "But what can I expect? Everybody's a critic these days."

"Sorry to devastate all your plans of becoming an actor," Ginny said as she pulled on a hat. "But you're much better at de-gnoming, so I'd stick to that before Mum denies you food."

"To eat or not to eat…?" George said, raising his hand to his chin as if pondering the dilemma. Then he lowered it and dashed off to the nearest bush, shaking it and causing a disgruntled gnome to leap out. "Is that really even a question?"

Everyone else nodded their agreement and proceeded to move throughout the garden looking for gnomes. Ginny, Luna, and Hermione walked behind the search party, but didn't participate in the actual de-gnoming.

As Ginny and Luna discussed Luna's theory about the Wrackspurts' influence on the gnomes (Hermione tuned out everything beyond this), Hermione kept her eyes on Harry and Ron. She didn't know why, exactly, but for some reason she found herself evaluating - and comparing - their every move.

Many of the differences that Harry and Ron had possessed in Hogwarts were still relevant, but she couldn't help but see them in a different light. Harry had always been shorter than Ron, for example, although the growth spurt he had had before sixth year had certainly closed that gap significantly. Still, Ron had a good three, maybe even four inches on Harry. She noticed how Harry's dark hair was more closely cut than it used to be, perhaps given the fact that he was less self-conscious about his scar, and Ron's red hair was a bit longer.

She noticed their smiles as they joked with Teddy. Ron had always been quick to smile, a sincere, ear-to-ear grin, and it was something that Hermione had always appreciated about him. He never seemed to lose his boyish excitement for life, and his smile transformed his features. Yet, perhaps he was too quick to smile at times. Ron was obviously excellent at defusing tension with humor (as most of the Weasleys were also adept at), but he very seldom acknowledged when a tension needed to be there, when something serious needed to be treated as more than a joke.

And then of course there was Harry's smile. That crooked grin of his that had melted her heart on more than one occasion. Harry didn't smile as much as Ron usually did, but it only made the times that he did all the more precious. More importantly, however, there was an enormous difference between the smile he gave in photographs and the one he reserved for his closest friends and family. If he turned that particular smile on you, you knew you to the deepest level that you were truly appreciated and cared for. If he grinned at you that way, you knew that he was grateful for you in a way that was beyond words, perhaps as a result of the childhood he had missed or the future he could have lost.

When they turned towards her and the other girls and waved, she met their gazes earnestly, trying to search them even from across the yard. Ron's pale blue eyes were often as easy to read as his smile - when he laughed, they lit up with that same excitement and happiness. When he was angry, they could grow icy with rage, as she had seen on numerous occasions. Harry's eyes, on the other hand, were as masked as Ron's were open. The fact that she could still read them just as easily, if not more so, than Ron's was a skill that Hermione had always been proud of. She doubted even Ginny could see through his defenses as easily as she could.

Hermione continued to watch the pair silently, even as she vaguely addressed Ginny and Luna's attempts to draw her into the conversation. She very much wanted to stop her thought process, forget her troubles in whatever gossip Luna and Ginny were discussing, but now that she had begun she couldn't stop herself. She even found herself comparing their physiques, which of course made her feel guiltily uncomfortable. Both Ron and Harry were rather fit, as expected given their careers, though in differing ways. Due to Ron's naturally taller and lankier frame, he had leaner, wirier musculature than Harry. She could even detect some of his personality in his languid, casual way of movement that could easily be seen in his long, loping walk, the way he stretched when he woke up in the morning.

Comparatively, Harry was slightly stockier, with a stronger jaw, thicker arms, somewhat broader shoulders, and (Hermione thought with an ill-disguised blush) a more defined chest and stomach that Ron's love of food prevented him from quite achieving.

In general, due to his upbringing and hardships, Harry was simply rougher than Ron for lack of a better word, from his masked expression to his more calloused hands…

But then Ginny finally succeeded in breaking through her thoughts with a quick snap of her fingers.

"Are you alright, Hermione?" she asked. "You haven't said a word since I came out here."

"It's nothing," Hermione said with a reassuring smile. "I'm just thinking of some things."

She was quite aware of the thoughtful gaze Luna fixed upon her, but she ignored it determinedly.

"Well stop it then!" Ginny said. "It's Christmas! You should be relaxing, not dwelling on your job or whatever it is."

"Yes," Luna said. "Stop dwelling. I'm sure it'll work itself out."

Hermione glanced at Luna and then back towards Ginny. "You're right, I'll try to stop thinking about it."

"Of course I'm right!" Ginny said. "It's no good to work yourself up, especially with the baby."

Hermione nodded as she watched Teddy send a gnome flying over the fence to the appreciative whoops of Harry and Ron and the enthusiastic clapping of Victoire. She noticed that as soon as the creature had landed with a muffled thump in the snow on the opposite side, everyone began to pick their way back to the house, leading her to believe that they had saved the last for Teddy.

However, as Hermione was watching she saw a lone gnome slink out of a bush. The gnome crept up behind the group, and Ron gave a yelp as it tripped him and sent him flying face-first into the snow. His face red as he spat out mouthfuls of white powder, he leapt back to his feet and lunged at the gnome, who deftly dodged him and skittered a few feet away, cackling all the while. Ron shouted curses towards the gnome, which of course drew the Weasley matriarch from the house.

"Ronald Weasley! There are children here! If I hear one more foul word from your mouth I swear you won't be putting a bite of food into it!"

"Well the bloody thing isn't responding to my yelling anyway!" Ron growled.

"You haven't exactly conveyed an assertive presence with them though, Ron," Arthur said. "What you need to do is -"

"And don't you encourage Ronald to be more violent with the gnomes!" Molly shouted shrilly. "What sort of example is that setting for Teddy? We want peace in this house, not assertiveness!"

Arthur seemed to wilt under his wife's angry glare. "Yes, dear," he said meekly.

Ron rolled his eyes as Mrs. Weasley retreated once more into the house. "Gee, I don't know where I learned that whole unassertive thing from," he said with a smirk.

"No," George said. "He said to be assertive with the gnomes. Being assertive with your wife is suicidal."

"What's assertive mean?" Teddy asked curiously.

"It means you should probably do almost everything your wife tells you without complaint," Bill said.

Charlie tucked his hands into his pockets with a grin. "Which is exactly why I will never get married."

"Right, because dragons are much easier to deal with," George said sarcastically. Then he raised a hand thoughtfully to his chin. "Actually…"

"You do realize that we're standing right over here, don't you?" Ginny said.

"Only two of you," Bill pointed out. "One of which happens to be almost everyone's sister."

"Fine," Ginny said. "That means that I'll be taking George down in a snowball fight."

"Why!?" George said.

"Do I need a reason?" Ginny said as she placed her hands on her hips.

George eyed his sister warily as he took a step back. "If I hadn't been around for her childhood, I'd think she hadn't been hugged enough."

"Maybe she was hugged too much," Charlie pointed out.

"I guess that does seem more likely," George said. "Apparently hugging has a dark side. But fine - if it's a snowball fight you want, it's a snowball fight you'll -"

Before he could finish his sentence, a snowball that no one had recollected Ginny picking up smashed into George's face.

"-get," George said, spitting snow from his mouth. A mischievous grin crossed his face as he bent down to calmly gather a handful of snow. "Now you asked for it," he said. "You just wait and -"

"All the food's ready!" Mrs. Weasley called from the doorway.

"I win," Ginny said cheerfully, and then pranced into the house.

Everyone looked expectantly at George, who gave a shrug as he dropped his newly formed snowball back to the ground.

"I'll get her later," he assured them.

"Now why does that give me a bad feeling?" Charlie said mock-thoughtfully.

"Haven't the foggiest," George said casually, and then led the chuckling group back into the warmth of the house.

Dinner was a much more informal affair than usual, if a Weasley dinner could ever be described as formal. All the food was placed on every available surface throughout the kitchen and everyone simply piled a plate high with ham, turkey, mince pie, stuffing, sweet potatoes, cranberry sauce, green beans, rolls, and an assortment of other treats before resuming their positions within the living room.

Hermione thought is was a quite picturesque scene - Bill, Fleur, and Angelina were seated on one couch, laughing as Fleur expertly balanced her plate while she fed two-year-old Louis; George sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the couch, his plate mostly untouched as he struggled to feed Roxanne, who was also two-years-old and who seemed much more interested in anything but her food; Andromeda, Mrs. Weasley, and Mrs. Granger sat on another sofa, chatting amiably between bites; Arthur, Audrey, and Percy were each sitting in mismatched chairs, seemingly involved in some sort of job-related discussion as Charlie, who was seated on the floor like George, divided his attention between them and the other children, who were sprawled all over the ground in front of the Christmas tree, sharing food and laughing happily; Teddy and Victoire sat slightly away from the younger children, nibbling on their rolls as they played a side-game of checkers while simultaneously shooting longing looks at the pile of presents beneath the tree.

Hermione, on the other hand, was sitting among Luna, Ron, Harry, and Ginny in front of the fireplace. She couldn't help but feel jealous as she watched Harry and Ginny's practiced mannerisms. Ginny fed James bite-sized portions of turkey and beans as Harry consumed his own food, and when James had eaten his fill he was passed to Harry so Ginny could eat. In fact, Hermione was watching their interactions so closely that she was quite startled when Ginny turned to face her.

"So Hermione…" she began. "Have you picked out any names yet?"

It took a few moments for Hermione to gather her thoughts. "Um…no, not really," she said. "We haven't talked about it."

"Yeah we have!" Ron said. "We talked about it the other day, remember?"

Hermione blushed slightly, realizing that she had been referring to herself and Harry. "Right, I forgot," she said, smiling weakly. This was absolutely true as well - she couldn't remember a single name Ron had suggested, and she was fairly certain she hadn't volunteered any names either.

"Well what were you discussing?" Ginny said.

"I mean, I personally like Felicia," Ron said. "You know, if it's a girl, obviously."

Hermione shook her head as she recalled a rather cruel girl in her primary school who had been rather fond of snatching her books away. "No, not Felicia."

"I agree," Luna said. "It doesn't have the right aura about it."

"Fine," Ron grumbled. "Just an idea."

"What about for a boy?" Ginny asked. Hermione noticed that Harry had turned his head to look into the fire, a pained expression on his face.

"Well…" Ron said. "I think I'd like a boy to be named after me."

Hermione inwardly grimaced as he said this. Now she remembered the conversation.

"Ronald Jr.?" Ginny said incredulously. "You're not serious, right? One of you is quite enough."

"Yes, I'm serious," Ron said, the tips of his ears turning red. "What's wrong with naming the baby after me?"

"It just…it just seems like the wrong name," Ginny said.

"Yeah," George said from behind them. "Two Rons don't make a right!"

Ginny winced. "Really, George? You really just went with that?"

"Come on, Gin, that was just begging to be said!" George said.

"I know, but it doesn't mean you actually have to say it," Ginny said.

"You just don't have the comedic eye I do," George said. "And if you'd like to join us by the tree, we're ready to open presents."

"Okay," Harry said, quickly standing up with his and Ginny's plates clutched in his hands. "I'll just put these up."

"And I'll put these up," Hermione added, snatching up Ron and Luna's plates along with her own as she stood up just as quickly.

Both Harry and Hermione quickly entered the blessedly empty kitchen and dumped the plates unceremoniously in the sink, where a sponge was already working on other dishes. They both leaned heavily against the counter for a moment before Harry glanced over at her.

"No matter what happens," he said, "please, for the love of Merlin do not allow my child to be named Ron Jr."

Hermione smiled slightly as she gripped Harry's hand reassuringly. "That's a promise," she said.

Harry flashed her a half-smile, a feeble attempt at the grin Hermione had thought about earlier, and gently dropped her hand as they returned to the living room. However, before they had crossed the threshold, George gave a shrill whistle that halted them in their tracks.

"What the hell was that for?" Harry said.

George didn't answer, but simply pointed towards the ceiling above them with an impish grin.

Both Harry and Hermione looked above them simultaneously, already knowing what they would see. And their suspicions were confirmed as they saw a small sprig of mistletoe suspended from the ceiling.

And just as synchronized as they had looked at the ceiling, the pair lowered their heads to fix their accusing gazes on George.

"Really, George. Mistletoe?" Harry said.

"Yes, Mr. Potter, mistletoe," George confirmed. "Good eye."

"Obviously not good enough," Hermione said, shooting George a glare. "I didn't see this earlier."

"That's because it wasn't there earlier," George clarified. "Special kind that appears randomly. What's the fun in putting up the normal kind? Maybe one or two pairs get caught and then everyone's on the lookout. This is much more entertaining."

"Oh, yes," Hermione said sardonically. "I can hardly speak for amusement."

"Come on, Hermione," Angelina said. "Don't be a spoilsport."

"And this is why I married her," George said, grinning at his wife, who smiled in return with an amused shake of her head.

Hermione quickly went to step away from Harry, but she found that she, well, couldn't. An invisible barrier prevented her from moving more than a foot away from Harry.

"And did I mention you have to snog before you can move away from the mistletoe?" George added.

"No, didn't mention that," Harry said, a tightness in his voice.

"Surely there's something else that can let you walk away," Ron said, and Hermione noticed that there was a forced casualness to his voice. "I mean, if they don't want to do it they shouldn't have to."

Hermione glanced towards Harry and could sense that he was thinking the same thing she was…that it was quite ironic that Ron thought they didn't want to kiss when the entire reason they sought to escape the situation was because they did want to. Entirely too much, in fact.

George waved his hand nonchalantly. "Of course there is, but that doesn't mean I'm talking."

"Just get it over with," Percy suggested.

"Yeah," Charlie said, grinning. "Pucker up and go for it."

Hermione felt her cheeks redden as all eyes turned to them. She noticed that Ron and even Ginny looked uncomfortable, and that Luna had that same strange and knowing look about her. Everyone else, including her own mother, simply looked amused, so she turned towards Harry with a sigh of resignation.

"Don't act so enthused now, Hermione," George said.

"Yes, `Arry is a good-looking boy," Fleur said. "Not ze most unfortunate circumstances."

"Yes," Bill said. "And Harry, stay away from my wife."

"I'll do my best," Harry said, glancing down to meet Hermione's eyes.

Hermione swallowed nervously. "Did you know that mistletoe is a parasite?" she whispered so only Harry could hear.

"The nargles are rather inconvenient as well," Harry said quietly in return.

Before Hermione could respond, however, Harry had bent down and pressed his lips to hers chastely. When everyone groaned at the innocence of the display, Hermione couldn't help but silently add her disapproval.

Harry waved them off as he walked back to his seat. "Settle down," he said dryly. "What were you expecting, a make-out session?"

"I think Harry was quite wise to not linger under the mistletoe," Luna said. "Nargles are rather widespread at this time of year…"

This statement, of course, was met with polite mutters from most of the group before they quickly reverted their attention to the Christmas tree, or more importantly, the gifts beneath it. The children immediately dove into the pile of presents, dividing them appropriately among themselves as Bill tossed the adults their respective gifts. Although Hermione couldn't see the majority of the children's presents, she did hear the delighted squeals of Victoire and little Molly as they each opened a present to find a Pygmy Puff.

"It's so cute!" Victoire said, tickling her purple fluff-ball as Molly did the same to her pink one. "Thank you, Uncle George!"

"No problem," George said with a smile. "You just need to make sure you take care of them."

"We will!" the two girls said in unison.

Ginny looked at the girls' pets wistfully. "Seeing those guys sure makes me miss Arnold," she said sadly.

"I'd almost forgotten about him," George said. "What ever happened to old Arnold?"

"Oh, I set him free at the beginning of seventh year. I didn't think he'd be safe in the castle with all the madness going on."

"Right," George said with a nod. "The Forbidden Forest is much safer. I bet he's shacked up with a giant spider to this very day."

"Yeah, didn't think that one through…" Ginny said regretfully.

It was only after this exchange that Hermione turned away from her own gifts (books, a turtleneck knitted by Mrs. Weasley, Hagrid's obligatory tin of fudge, and a rather intriguing-looking puzzle game from George and Angelina, among other things) and glanced towards Harry. She had expected to see him smiling just as widely as any of the other Weasleys, so she was surprised to see him staring down at a parcel in his lap, his eyes dark and his face pale. The gift was wrapped plainly in flat red paper that obscured the contents.

Then Harry seemed to shake himself from his stupor and quickly replaced the paper over the gift, looking around furtively. He blinked at Hermione as he realized that she was the only one who had noticed his peculiar behavior.

Hermione cocked her head slightly, furrowing her brow inquisitively. But he simply shook his head, turning his eyes away from her. Then he abruptly stood and left the room. She heard a thud as the door to the porch was opened and closed. No one paid much attention to his departure, engrossed as they were in their own gifts, so after a few moments Hermione stood up as well and sidled quietly from the room.

When she stepped out onto the porch, she saw that Harry had his hands pressed into the railing. If it hadn't been for the Christmas lights lining the wooden beams, she doubted she would have seen him.

She moved closer to him and eventually placed her hands on the railing next to his, staring out into the darkness just as he was. They stood in mutual silence for a few moments before Hermione gestured to the package that Harry had placed between his hands.

"So what's wrong?" she asked.

Harry scowled deeply as he pushed the gift towards her, never taking his eyes away from the barely visible yard.

Curious, Hermione lifted the bundle into her hands. It was rather shapeless and light. She sought out the edge of the paper and pulled it away, wondering what could have caused Harry to be so angry.

When she saw the contents, it took her multiple moments for her to understand what it implied. Nestled in the red paper was none other than Harry's own Invisibility Cloak.

"Harry," Hermione said, astonished. "Didn't you -"

"Lose it at the mansion in Scotland? Yeah, I did," Harry growled. "Thus my current agitation."

Just as Harry had done before, Hermione quickly covered the Cloak and placed it on the railing. "But why?" she said.

"I have no idea," Harry said, shaking his head. "There was no note, no nothing. Oh, here. They returned this as well."

He extended his hand, and Hermione saw that her wand was resting on his palm.

Gratefully, she took the wand and placed it in her pocket next to the replacement she had acquired after she had lost the original.

"It just makes no sense," Harry continued.

Hermione bowed her head thoughtfully. She and Harry had never discussed what had happened that day due to the chaotic nature of their own relationship, but now it was being shoved to the forefront of their minds.

"Dolohov wants the Elder Wand," she said. "That's why he attacked you."

"Yes," Harry said. "But there has to be more to it than that."

"Why does there have to be more to it? Isn't it enough to only want to possess the most powerful magical object in existence? Isn't that reason enough?"

"Sure," Harry said. "But regardless, I still feel like there's more to it than that. A bigger picture to it all."

"Maybe he wants all the Hallows," Hermione suggested, already seeing the fault in logic.

"I don't know," Harry said uncertainly. "Why would he give my Cloak back if he knew it was a Hallow?"

"Why would he give it back period?" Hermione countered. "It's an extremely useful object even without being a Hallow."

"I don't know!" Harry said, pounding his fist against the railing. "Nothing about this makes sense. There's just something very odd about this entire thing. I mean, obviously the reason they didn't kill me is because I know where the Elder Wand is. But the woman in the group - Krista - she made a comment that seemed very strange."

"What was it?" Hermione asked.

"Something about…I think she said something like `I could get used to having you around.' What could she possibly mean by that?"

"I don't know," Hermione said miserably.

Harry laughed at that. "You don't have to sound so apologetic," he said with a smile. "You're not obligated to know everything."

"I know," Hermione sighed. "It's just that this is getting more involved than I could have imagined…I guess I'm just scared for you," she admitted.

"Well don't be," Harry said, and he moved his hands from the railing to wrap them around her waist. Hermione gladly buried her face into his sweater, breathing him in, and closed her eyes. They held each other like that for a while, until Hermione could hear his heartbeat slow down and their breathing aligned.

"You know," Harry said softly, "I have a theory about something."

"Oh?" Hermione said, keeping her cheek pressed into his chest.

"Not about Dolohov or anything," he clarified. "About…well, about the mark on my chest."

Hermione nodded, which Harry obviously felt as he continued to speak.

"I think I know why it disappears the way it does."

"How?" Hermione asked.

"You," Harry said simply.

Hermione finally moved her head from his chest to look at him quizzically. "Me?" she said incredulously.

"Well, mainly you," he said. "I think - and I know this sounds incredibly corny - but I think love makes it fade."

"What makes you say that?" Hermione asked.

"After…that night," Harry said, the brush of his hand against Hermione's growing abdomen clarifying exactly which night he was referring to, "I didn't notice it for days because I was so mixed up, but I realized that the mark had almost completely disappeared. Not a small change, but really noticeable. And it's never done that before."

"A wound left from the Killing Curse cured by love," Hermione mused. "Very ironic."

She smiled. "And yes, rather corny."

"I thought we agreed that you liked corny," Harry said.

"We did," Hermione said, with a small smile. She hesitated before continuing to speak. "And I think I want to share something with you as well."

"What?" Harry said.

Hermione felt that Harry's confession should be met with an equally enlightening revelation, so she pointed her wand into the darkness, and took a breath.

"Expecto Patronum," she said clearly, and for the second time she saw the large silvery wolf form before her. The Patronus seemed to know there was no real danger about, so it simply stood and stared at them, blinding against the pure white snow, before fading into darkness once more.

When Hermione turned her eyes back to Harry, she saw that an astonished air had crossed his features. And she wasn't all that surprised to see it there. He knew, just as much as she did, that only something very powerful could change the form of one's Patronus. Just as Harry had revealed how much her love was affecting him, she was able to admit how his love had affected her… to admit that he had altered not only their relationship, but her very being, the essence of who she was.

"Hermione..." he said. "I…"

However, instead of continuing, he closed his mouth and reached across the small gap between them and grazed her neck. Very delicately, he pulled the chain he had just given her away from her skin, and lifted the pendant from where it was hidden beneath the neck of her white sweater. Wordlessly, he pulled his wand from his pocket and gently tapped it against the silver rings. Then he laid the pendant against the front of her sweater.

"Touch it," he said as soon as he'd removed his fingers from the pendant.

Confused, Hermione pressed the pad of her index finger against the necklace and then, at Harry's gesture, lifted it to her eyes. In the multi-colored spots of light that scattered across the metal surface, she could see that words had seemingly etched themselves into the ring. She brought it close to her face to make out the words:

Amare sine timore

She repeated the words quietly to herself, liking the way they flowed from her tongue. "What does it mean?" she asked.

Harry met her gaze steadfastly. "`To love without fear,'" he said. "The words will only appear when you hold the pendant. They'll disappear as soon as you let go."

Hermione felt an indescribable rush of emotions as words flood to her lips, but they all seemed to catch in her throat, all far too inadequate to describe how she was feeling at this moment.

But she was saved the trouble of speaking by Harry suddenly moving closer towards her.

"Could you take a step back?" he said suddenly.

"Um…okay," Hermione said, bewildered. She took a large step away from him, and he quickly closed the gap again.

"And one more."

Hermione obliged once more, furrowing her brow. "Why are you -"

Then, with that crooked grin that made her melt, he lifted his eyes upward, and Hermione followed his gaze to see another small sprig of mistletoe hanging innocently above them. This time, however, Hermione welcomed the sight.

"Had to get you under the mistletoe somehow," he said. "After all, the last one was a bit of a cop-out."

"Yes," Hermione said breathlessly. "I agree."

Then Harry bent down and captured her lips with his. If either of them had been truly logical, they would've at least made sure no one was in the doorway, or watching from the window, but as caught up as they were in the moment, neither were overly concerned about being found out. Later, she would wonder if perhaps, subconsciously, deep down, they truly wanted to get caught. To find a poetic justice to all of this recklessness and be together - it would certainly be simpler that way.

This was the first time they had kissed since that night so long ago, and everything that those kisses had contained in passion, this kiss made up for with intimacy. There was a new level of familiarity and understanding between them that made Hermione's rapidly beating heart rejoice and ache simultaneously. Through her closed lids, she was vaguely aware of the bright red and green and blue and white of the Christmas lights, which flared more and more brilliantly as the kiss continued.

But they broke apart from each other quite suddenly when several of the lights went out with a sharp pop, and Hermione's hands leapt to her belly.

"Harry," she said, laughing. "The baby just kicked!"

"Really?" he said, his eyes flying to her stomach.

"Yes!" Hermione squealed excitedly. "The first time!" Then she snatched Harry's hand up and placed it against her stomach, folding her hands over his.

Harry's face instantly lit up when Hermione felt a small pressure and knew the baby had kicked. Their baby had kicked. Their child, their son or daughter, who would grow up and move on and leave their own impression on the world, despite what might happen in the coming months and years. This gift, more than any other, made Hermione smile, and seeing the smile on Harry's face only increased the warmth in her heart.

Maybe it was senseless to want to be near a person so badly, to be with a person so badly, when the very act of being with them would cause more heartache than anything else. But all Hermione had to do was picture the absolutely fervent look of pure elation on Harry's face and then nothing in the world seemed more sensible to her.

And then, finally, they were jerked back to reality as they heard a shriek at the same time as they heard a loud thud, which was quickly followed by resounding laughter. Hermione and Harry exchanged a glance, and then went inside and entered the living room, only to be met with the sight of a scowling Ginny buried to her neck in a pile of snow.

George appeared excessively smug. "I told you guys I'd get her later," he said with a smirk.

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