Dedicated to: This fic is a present for Kalie! Happy Christmas! Also, a special thanks to Nitya for being there through the toil-some writing, inspiring me, and just being Nitya.

. . .

Her nose, toes, and fingers were still nipped from the recent snowball fight she played, her hair wet from melting snow and skin crimson with cold.

Harry thought she had never looked more beautiful, curled up like a cat and contentedly taking turns between sipping and sighing, a small smile playing on her features.

"That was enjoyable, wasn't it, Harry?" She broke the silence of his stare, offering him a sweet glance beneath her eyelashes. "This Christmas isn't so horrible, is it? I knew you were upset Ron went to Romania with his family - but this certainly isn't that bad, is it?"

"No." He answered in a whisper, taking a distracted gulp of his own hot chocolate. "Not at all." He swallowed down the lingering taste, watching as she folded into herself to retain warmth. A flashing memory of her radiant smile ducking snowballs, her ringing laughter as she surrendered tickled his stomach, reminding him that it was every bit and even more enjoyable than he could have hoped, having Christmas with Hermione.

The chill of winter persisted to keep its icy grip, and Harry felt her shiver beside him. "Cold?" He asked, and Hermione nodded, clutching a spare layer of quilt around her.

She grabbed her lower lip between her teeth, nibbling thoughtfully on it before turning to him. "Harry, are you all right? You've been quiet ever since hols started..."

Harry flinched, the question shedding light on his overly calm and quiet disposition. "Hermione, I - I don't -"

She blinked and pushed a clump of soaked hair to the side of her face, granting the firelight province to shine upon her flushed cheeks. The sight parted his lips in an unintentional, tiny gasp.

How could he think she would not notice? His self-control should have been better than this, instead of foolishly letting himself slip into the slopes of her drugging presence.

"I just meant that- oh, Harry - I'm sorry I even asked. I understand that maybe you wouldn't want to talk about it- whatever 'it' is..." She trailed off, eyes to the fire once more, full lips in a frown.

Oh, you're a genius, Potter, he scolded himself. Now look what you've done.

His own stubbornness and refusal to express how he felt in words held him back from action, time and time again. For goodness sake, even Ron laughed at him about it, clapping his shoulder and urging him to just tell her, long past his 'silly crush' on the bookworm.

Nothing was holding him back, he knew, only himself. He could just imagine her sad, pitying expression if he was ever to tell her; the soft, comforting touch of her hand over his, the consoling words. 'I'm sorry, Harry... I don't see you that way...'

Enough was the thought; to actually go through with it would be emotional suicide.

Hermione Granger was his best friend, and only his best friend. Nothing more, no matter how much he wanted it to be.

"Hermione." He croaked out, drinking in her slumped shoulders. "Nothing's wrong - I just -"

She twisted her head, capturing his feeble words with one worried glance.

"I just..."

Leaning slightly back, she wetted her lips and waited with wide eyes for his continuation.

"You see..."

"Yes, Harry?" Her voice feathered over his skin lightly, and unaware, he leaned slowly into the soft puffs of air that escaped her mouth. "What is it?"

His vision hazed and narrowed, and he tried to remember what she was asking of him, and could only seem to recall the mad desire to kiss her of the query.

"I think you're beautiful."

His heart jumped to life, awakening him from the spell she cast, and driving him to the brink of, surely, insanity.

"I mean –"

"Harry -"

"I shouldn't have -"

"Harry, I -"

"Good God, someone shut me up -"

"Harry -"

"I should go to bed, I'm sorry -"

His legs lifted him up with adrenaline-laced muscles, stopped by the urgent, forceful tug that brought him crashing back into the cushions.

Hermione did not let go of his hand, keeping her small fingers wrapped around his larger ones. "What did you say?"

"I said," he adjusted his skewed glasses with his free hand, "I said that... that I think you're beautiful."

The shocked, questioning expression on her face fell into a slightly amazed one, almost as if she weren't quite sure, even still, of what he had just told her. "Oh, Harry..." She breathed, resting a chilly hand against the line of his jaw. He jumped at the contact, covering the action by shifting into a sitting position, emerald eyes never wavering, drinking in every expression. "Do you really - really mean that?"

His voice felt hoarse, his throat closed and every cell that made him was humming. "Yes. You're beautiful, Hermione."

She gasped, every rebelling hair on her head lit from behind by the crackling fire, melted chocolate eyes darting across the planes of his face. Harry fancied that they lingered too long on his lips, and he leaned in to capture hers...

"Please, Harry..." Her lips formed around the words, her brows furrowed in an inner struggle. She turned her head to the side, and all Harry felt against his lips was the frost-kissed valley of her cheek.

His heart dropped, thumped a funeral march in his stomach.

"Harry," she repeated again, withdrawing from him, hands leaving him to wrap around herself. "This is all so sudden- I don't - understand..."

Of course, he realized. He was so wrong, he realized even further. The momentary hope left him in a rush of exhale, leaving him bereft and empty.

"Of course." He muttered, swallowing down his rising heart that formed a teary lump in his throat.

"Of course what, Harry? I don't understand - I- Harry, do you... like me?"

His eyes studied the air above her shoulder, his soul screaming in assent. "Yes." He answered.

"Oh, Harry- why didn't you tell me?"

"I was afraid..." He trailed off.

"Oh," she released with a painful tone in her voice, "afraid of what, Harry?"

"I was afraid of this. Rejection, I suppose."

"...Rejection." She repeated, tumbling the word as if it were foreign off her tongue. A slow pause commenced, stretching out into an eternity.

"You don't feel the same way." Harry said plainly, blandly, his heart spilling warm blood from gaping holes he wasn't sure he could repair.

"Harry... I..."

His eyes found hers, an intense searching gaze that stopped her voice. "You don't have to say it, Hermione." He ordered, every word like a punch to his gut.

The ground found his feet, leading him away, hands groping to snatch up his jumper. "Harry- wait -" She called after him, her voice strangled with tears.

But he couldn't wait, and he swung open the portrait door with all his might, not even apologizing to the surprised "oomph" noise the Fat Lady made and the accusations of rudeness she left in his wake.

In the still halls of Hogwarts, all that Harry could hear was the soft melodic music sounding from the enchanted air around him - the soft notes of a Muggle Christmas song that haunted his breaking heart. He breathed in the lingering scent of ginger and pine, remembering the joyful Christmas Eve dinner he had shared with Hermione just hours before. The thought tugged at him, and hastily he shoved the memory away, maneuvering violently into his jumper at the same time.

He couldn't believe his own stupidity. It was even worse than he could have imagined, for she didn't just reject him... she pitied him, her sweet chocolate eyes filling with tears to shed for his misfortune.

He turned a corner sharply, angry footsteps falling and drowning out the unknown light pitter-patter that hastened to follow him.

Little gold twinkling lights hung in the air, a festive decoration among floating mistletoe and sprigs of pine. The growing black part of his heart turned bitter at the heavy, peaceful blanket of air the castle gave, a stifling feeling that weighed down on his bones. He needed to get out, and with a furious push of his hands, winter accepted him with icy arms.

The chill encased him willingly, the wind sweeping and pushing him deeper into its caves. He walked, head down and eyes closed against the currents.

A faint call sounded behind him, and he swiveled around to catch a vision of Hermione stumbling through the deep path he had begun to make. The cold froze through him, hardening even the blood in his veins.

Her hair was littered with stray snowflakes, glittering under the darkening sky, and her soft skin was stiff and pale, her teeth chattering hard beneath lips. "Harry -" She breathed out, hands reaching out to grab his arms immediately, almost as if he were but the whipping wind, one moment overpowering and the next, gone.

"Harry, it's freezing!" She exclaimed over the gusts, tugging at him. "We'll both catch our deaths!"

Harry involuntarily grabbed her slipping body on uneven footing, pulling her under-dressed frame flush with his. The contact hurt and made him ache with unwanted longing, and harsh words carried out from his mouth. "What do you care?"

Her chin found leverage on his chest, and tears gathered at the annex of her eyes, her lips trembling with the wintry weather and emotion. Harry felt his soul falling like the snow around him, just as fast and just as hard, into her.

"I do care, Harry! How can you even suppose I don't?" Hands clutched at his jumper desperately. "We need to get inside, Harry!"

Disbelief caught itself in his frigid blood, and Harry resisted the urge to push her off, the little warmth she had permeating into him and melting his resolve. "No." He answered stubbornly, and an incensed line creased on Hermione's forehead.

"Listen, Harry, you have every right to be angry with me -" Then a shudder shook her like infuriated arms, and she leaned even more heavily into him, almost without thinking twice of it. "- But you are being absurd!" Her rising voice was muffled, so close against his jumper that tepid breath collided against his chin. "This is just ridiculous, Harry, honestly. One more moment out here and our limbs will fall off!"

He swallowed back the rising protest and nodded to her pleading brown orbs. "Fine," he muttered, enraged at her logical reasoning. She sighed and took his shoulders, pressing softly away and righting herself, then snatching his hand with a relieved glance and starting back, Harry in tow.

With difficulty, they climbed the tumbles of trodden snow with only a few cursory slips and stumbles, until finally the door to Hogwarts loomed in sight, covered in the white, lumbering snow. Both Hermione and Harry needed to force the doors open, the icy wind protesting and howling, not eager at all to present them safety and shelter.

Hot air hit Harry's face, welcoming and saturating him with the feel of home and the smell of Christmas. Silently and with stall, both Gryffindors shook off the gathering precipitation from their soaked clothes. A quaint little sniff sounded from Hermione, and Harry looked over to see her miserable form red-faced and shuddering.

"We should go to the kitchens. It's closest." Her teeth chattered, and hugging herself, she took the first steps.

A path of water grew behind her, and Harry realized for the first time that only slippers adorned her feet, and her bed clothes were thin and drenched. Green disappeared beneath eyelids, and a bit ashamed at the tender spot in his heart, Harry called out to her.

"Hermione -" She stopped and twirled at the sound of his voice, and with a determined frown, Harry shed his jumper and swiftly unbuttoned his second layer - a red cotton pajama top that wouldn't be completely useless to her. Starkly aware of his nakedness and the shiver that rolled above his skin, he offered the top, blushing at her roaming eyes and rosy cheeks.

"Thanks, Harry," she whispered, and uncoiled her arms to bring the garment about herself.

His gaze was stricken to the back of her head the entire trip there, wondering what she was thinking and what it would mean to him - for he admitted it. Silly hope had crept up on him at the sight of the dire and despairing wrinkles on her face, outside in the lashing weather where she clung to him in desperation and worry.

The portrait of the pear was close, suddenly just a few feet away and she stopped at it, glancing back only once, her usually frizzy and wild hair matted against the sides of her face and long, sloping neck. Brown eyes seemed to drink him in, and she wet her drying lips with a darting pink tongue that drew Harry's eyes. Then, hesitating only slightly, she feathered her fingers over the green and yellow fruit and the passage swung open.

Instantly, abnormally long noses and billowing ears greeted them, ushering them in with squeaks and orders being told about, an uprising of sound so different than the mute walk there.

Not five minutes since the time they arrived, they found themselves blanketed in thick, warm quilts in front of a fire with cups of steaming chocolate in their grasps.

The red flames licked the hearth, smoke rising slowly up the chimney and stroking the rough bricks on the way out. Harry watched hypnotically, watching the rapid breaths of the fire, and the stinging cold that fought to stay in his body.

"Harry...?" A tentative voice broke him out of his reverie, and the thoughts that ran through his mind, questioning and analyzing.

Jade eyes clashed with brown. Her hair was drying slowly, starting to go back to its normal frizz, and he could just make out the crimson collar of his pajama top in the orange light. It bathed her in its warmth, casting dramatic shadows over the angles of her face and reflected back through the mirror of her eyes.

"Harry... what happened before...?” She muttered, breaking away from the stricken look he could feel starting to ripple his features. "I..."

"Hermione -" He pleaded, his voice cracking.

Knuckles turned white as they gripped a quilt desperately, the stiff muscles of her small frame creasing a hopeless line between her brows.

"Harry, please, just listen for a moment -" The words erupted from her mouth. "You surprised me - I had no idea you felt so strongly for me and I didn't know how to react. The way I did act was horrible, I know that and I'm so ashamed -"

The rushing hope that had filled him seemed to drain, creating a puddle of lost dreams at his feet.

"- Oh, Harry, I'm so, so sorry, and I..." She stopped, sparing him a meaningful glance, lashes fluttering.

"And you what?" He prodded, heart racing. Unknowingly, he leaned forward, intently fixing his attention and catching a bit of hope that stubbornly infused into his veins.

"I -"

"Harry - Potter!" Startled, the bespectacled boy fell back. Dobby grinned up at him, innocent and unaware of the violence Harry was contemplating. "Have you come to visit Dobby, sir?"

One of his long fingers pulled up a lagging sock, but his gaze never deterred from Harry's face. He sighed in frustration, trying to expel any lingering anger. "No, Dobby, not tonight. Hermione and I were planning to visit tomorrow -"

That much was true. They had even gone into Hogsmeade the other day to buy him a few small presents, which included a pair of festive socks and a silly parka that Hermione swore Dobby would love.

His huge ears drooped in disappointment, the corners of his mouth following, but soon it spread up again. "Dobby is glad you came now, Harry Potter, sir, for there is something he wants to show you! Your Miz Granger should come too!" The house-elf nodded in excitement, shuffling in place, his many layers of sock making a thudding 'thump-thump' sound against the wooden floor.

Harry bristled and shook his head, ironically even more frustrated despite his efforts. "Dobby - Hermione and I need to talk -"

"But - Harry Potter doesn't understand!"

"Dobby, what is it?" Hermione's gentler voice soothed the frantic look that began to take hold of Dobby's features.

"It's a surprise, Miz Granger!" A thirsty, enthusiastic rush seemed to fill him, and he took Hermione's hands in his, tugging. "Dobby wants to show Harry Potter and his friend how the presents are delivered, Miz Granger!"

"The presents?" Hermione inquired curiously, her face alight with restless avidness.

"Don't you bring them, Dobby?" Harry broke in. "I mean, the house-elves?"

A short wheeze left the creature in an imitation of a laugh. "Oh, no, Harry Potter, sir - they do." He whispered conspiratorially.

"They who?" Hermione stood up tentatively, grabbing onto the slipping quilt. "Show us, Dobby."

Harry recognized the intent, hungry look on his best friend's face, full of wonder and inquisitive questions. The far-off, curious lenses of her eyes were the only answer Dobby needed, and he waddled off, Hermione following, and Harry two steps behind, seeing no other alternative.

They left the warmth of the fireside and maneuvered through the long aisles of the mirrored Great Hall, soon reaching the back of the pear painting. Where they would have exited, Dobby took an abrupt right turn, into a rather inconspicuous dark corner.

"Here, Harry Potter, sir!" He reached one long, bony finger into the blackened crease, smiling.

A corner? Harry thought, leaning in to examine the shadows. A mane of bushy brown hair tickled his cheek, and he saw Hermione's eyelashes flutter away as he glanced over. "What of it, Dobby?" She queried, running a slender fingernail along the apex of bricks.

Dobby smiled in response, seeming to conjure up a red ball of sparkling light that balanced in the palm of his hand, the brightness illuminating every crevice of stone and flesh. His long nose dangerously close to bumping into the corner, he stepped forward and skimmed the crimson ball over the line of the walls, almost searching for something.

And then, he found it. As the shimmer fell in reddish rain and splattered to the floor in an array of misplaced fireworks, it uncovered a towering white door with a little gold knob.

"Oh!" Hermione gasped in wonderment and stepped back, the red splashing across her features in merriment and the twinkling glitter in tune with her bursting excitement.

"Follow Dobby!" The house-elf ordered, and he opened the knob, disappearing within.

Hermione wasted no time to retrace the footprints inside, and Harry, yet again, realized he had no choice but to do the same.

. . .

They walked, their feet against the hard, cold ground, the sound mingling with breaths. Minutes passed, and soon words bubbled up in his throat, desperate for release. He thought of Hermione's hesitation, the small quiver of her lips, and confusion blanketed him like the snow outside, uncomfortable and stifling. He thought of where they were going, of what their destination could possibly hold. Truthfully, he wanted to grab hold of Hermione's small wrist and turn around, but he was torn between his own selfish needs and Dobby's disappointment.

Just as he was sure he would go insane with endless walking and his thoughts, a faint light appeared away down, glimmering orange and yellow.

Hermione slowed in front of him, spotting it too, before visibly speeding up and exclaiming, "Is that it, Dobby?"

"Yes, miss!" He answered, and they walked on, the light growing and growing. Harry recognized it to be coming from a room, the entrance slanted to the right, and he could just make out the oddest tinkling sound of bells.

They turned the corner, and a stunning vision loomed into view.

The room sparkled with a yellow dust that seemed to beautifully light up the entire room, at least two times larger than the Great Hall. Fireplaces lined the wall, and gifts appeared from the constant green flames every few seconds. A huge tree sat at the end of the joyful hall, decorated and a shocking pure green. From behind, owls swooped and glided in from the heavy snow and dropped packages to rest underneath the towering pine. But perhaps, the most amazing sight was the little, flying creatures that darted about to unknown tasks, garbed in silver and gold, red and green, their wings transparent and winking light like white diamonds.

"Oh," Hermione breathed, twinkling brown eyes turning to meet his. She smiled, and the skin of her palm pressed up against his.

Harry's heart seemed to lodge itself in his throat and he wove his much larger fingers into hers, shaking with a fearful, anxious shiver.

"Dobby, this is absolutely wonderful," Hermione assured.

"This is where house-elves bring the presents from!" He explained. "They come in through Floo and owls, Harry Potter, and then we magic them where they have to go. And the faeries, Mr. Harry Potter, sir - they're here for the surprise tomorrow!"

"It's - really great, Dobby..." Harry said, feeling inept with Hermione's fingers twined so tightly with his, especially with the slow and painful, yet sweet burn of anticipation clenching his stomach.

Teeth grabbed at Hermione's bottom lip, and the next words out of her mouth brought a knowing grin to Harry's lips. "Dobby - are the faeries being paid?"

"Oh yes, miss! Faeries aren't like house-elves, oh no. They demand good pay, miss."

"That's even more wonderful!" Hermione beamed.

Harry felt his fingers squeeze hers in reassurance, and an acute blush spread from his face to crawl steadily along his neck at the unconscious action. "C-can we meet one, Dobby?" He sputtered, tearing his eyes away from her brown depths.

Dobby rocked on the balls of his feet, a grimace taking hold of his features. "Dobby could try to catch one's attention, sir! But faeries don't like to be disturbed..."

As if on cue a faery with wings beating angrily came to stop in front of them. Placing two little hands on his hips, he frowned, glaring at the trio. "And what are you doing here?" Hermione jittered to and fro with delight, her gaze looking to drink in every detail, from the pointed ears down to the tiny encased feet.

"Oh, please -" Hermione spoke up. "We're sorry to distract you, but -"

The faery turned up his nose and smugly adjusted a hat that sat atop a mass of black hair. "Excuse me, miss, but it is my job to handle any and all distractions. We are trying to work here." His voice held traces of an accent, and of a dignified sense of superiority.

"Oh." Lips fell into a disappointed frown.

Harry shifted, his mind calculating. "She would just like to ask you a few questions." He spoke up, voice rising past the continual lump in his throat.

The faery sighed, dropping a few inches in defeat, his recently puffed out chest deflating. "Oh, all right. What would you like to know?"

The joy re-entered Hermione's eyes, and Harry felt his abdomen give a soft kick to his insides. "Where are you from? Why are you here?"

"We faeries are from within the deep forests of Sweden." He started, the priggish demeanor again in place. "Why we are here," there he gave an obligatory flutter of his wings to stay aloft, "is nothing you should worry yourselves about. You'll find out soon enough," he let out a knowing smirk, "now please leave us to our work!" Sternly, he narrowed his eyes and flew away in a tinkle of light.

"Faeries are very secretive, Harry Potter, yes, very." Dobby bent his head, almost ashamed. "Dobby is sorry they wouldn't tell you the secret, because Dobby is not allowed to tell! Dobby thought if he -"

"It's all right, Dobby," Harry gave him a reassuring smile, and finally being allowed to do what he had been yearning, turned and gently tugged Hermione along with him.

. . .

But tomorrow was the furthest thing from Harry's mind. He both dreaded and awaited the walk back to Gryffindor Tower with a nervous beat in his heart.

What could he say to her? What would she say to him? Or would the entire way be riddled with an unbearable silence and an awkward goodnight at the foot of her stairs?

Harry didn't think he could take it. He'd rather take a detour, plunging into the icy winds outside, to brave them out instead of this.

His hands were stuffed deeply into his pockets, and hunched tensely, he bid Dobby farewell and walked side-by-side with Hermione up to the tower. The only sound was the mournful creaking of the stairway, her small breaths and the frantic pounding of his heart.

Each step felt like torture, an agonizing embarrassment. They both had been through a lot that night - an emotional roller coaster that had led them here - in the dead of night, stealing glances and choking back words.

And quite suddenly, as they rounded the corner away from Myrtle's bathroom, Harry couldn't take it anymore.

"Her -"

"Har -"

They both stopped and faced each other, and Hermione let out an amused chuckle. "You first, Harry." She wrung her hands, her lips twisting with anticipation.

Harry shuffled his feet, his own lips curving upwards in an uncomfortable smile. "Well, I - What I wanted to say was that -" Nervously, he fiddled with his glasses, pushing them upwards against his face. "What I said tonight - we could pretend like it never happened..." He stole an upwards look to find a surprisingly indescribable expression on his best friend's face. "...If you'd like, I mean." He stumbled out, eyes fixed on her. "I don't want this to make things awkward, is what I mean." He paused, and she blinked, looking down. "Is this awkward?" He asked distressingly.

"Harry, I..." Her chestnut eyes rose, luring his gaze deeper. "What I wanted to say by the fire was that..." He took a hopeful step forward, praying to Merlin. She stopped, struggling internally, before letting out a strangled sound from the back of her throat and throwing her arms around him.

Warmth from her figure soaked through his still-damp clothes and tugged at his heart. "Oh, Harry!" She exclaimed, her voice muffled against his neck. The two full lines of her lips pressed against a sensitive hollow and a shiver beckoned his arms to draw her closer. "Harry, I feel the same way!" She said into his ear, and a shocked sort of joy filled him to the brim.

Unbelievable laughter escaped his throat, and she leaned back to catch the sight of it in his eyes. "Harry, there's so much I've wanted to say! Oh, I'm so, so sorry about before!" Hastily, she wiped the stray tears falling from her eyes. "I was scared stiff, Harry. I hadn't expected that you'd feel that way about me after years of berating myself. Oh, Harry, I can't even begin to explain -"

He quieted her, swiftly stealing her voice from her mouth.

She breathed, hot air colliding against his glasses and fogging them, her fingers weaving delicately into his messy hair.

It was almost too good to be true.

. . .

Harry woke to a nagging crick in his neck and a prickling arm. Sleepiness lulled his eyes closed and yet, it was all too good to be true.

Cinnamon tickled his nose and Hermione's soft breaths trailed along his neck, her form huddled and curled on top of his shoulder. The common room fire crackled and popped, the winter sun shining mercilessly through the tower windows.

He blinked; once, twice, straightening his posture as Hermione roused, lifting her eyes to his.

"Good morning." He smiled down at her, moving her bushy hair over one shoulder.

"Good morning." She replied back, placing a soft kiss on his lips.

They both stretched, bringing the two piles of presents under the tree into view. With identical looks, they both hurried over in a youthful excitement to tear open their gifts.

"Oh, Harry! A Thousand Even More Advanced Charms!" Hermione beamed, holding the book against her chest lovingly. "I've wanted it for ages!"

Harry swallowed a mouthful of chocolate frog from Mrs. Weasley. "I thought you'd like it."

Her expression softened, and with a breath she reached for her next present - a tattered, badly wrapped package.

"Ron's." She laughed.

With a lingering smile Harry turned his attention back to his pile, unknowing of Hermione's fixed gaze and halted hands. "Harry." He looked up, expectant. "What - what are we going to tell Ron?"

"He knows, Hermione." Harry grinned. "Well - he knew about how I felt about you. He guessed it, I mean. Been pushing me to get on with it for awhile now." He paused, studying her startled expression. "You're not upset that -"

"No!" She stuttered at, breaking a stumbling smile. "I'm just a bit surprised. To think I never even thought that... well, you know."

She blushed, filling her cheeks with pink, and began opening another present.

"Thought what?" Harry blinked, filled with confusion.

She dropped the present in an embarrassed intake of breath, closing her chestnut orbs and letting an awkward smile grace her lips. "That Ron knew, that's all." She opened her eyes, hesitating before taking his hand in hers. "I mean, he even mentioned to me ... Oh, Harry!" She laughed, dropping her head onto their clasped hands. "He fooled us both. He's been setting us up all year!"

"What?" Harry asked incredulously, eyes widening. He untangled one hand to bring her face to his.

"He knew all along, Harry." She continued. "He knew how we both felt about each other."

A rush of sound interrupted their embrace, a twinkling sweep of magic that lit the room in an array of sparkling reds, golds, and silvers.

The faeries, who had been quietly decorating the tree moved, raining down fading lights. "Oh..." Hermione gasped, and Harry watched as they danced, making beautiful patterns that spiraled down to fade mere millimeters from them. Then, unsuspectingly, they started to sing. Words rang true from their lips, holding their attention captivated.

"Somewhere across the winter world tonight
You will be hearing chimes that fill the air;
Christmas extends its all-enfolding light
Across the distance... something we can share.

You will be singing, just the same as I,
These familiar songs we know so well,
And you will see these same stars in your sky
And wish upon that brightest one that fell.

I shall remember you and trim my tree,
One shining star upon the topmost bough;
I will hang wreaths of faith that all may see--
Tonight I glimpse beyond the here and now.

And all the time that we must be apart
I keep a candle in my heart."

They bowed cordially, and both Harry and Hermione clapped, stealing a knowing sidelong glance at each other.

"We'll be late for breakfast." Hermione informed him, still holding his gaze.

Harry reached to cup her face in his hands, adjusting to hold her closer. "Happy Christmas, Hermione." Happiness bubbled up inside him, unlike any he had ever known. For once, the loneliness he felt became obsolete.

"Happy Christmas, Harry." She whispered back.

--end--