Author's note: I know this is outside of my normal ship, but I find them extremely fun to write. If you are looking for dramione, please hit the back button and visit my other stories or the archive. This is not one. Thank you to the woman in the group (not sure she'd want her name on the internet.) for editing the first half of the first chapter. Any other mistakes, unfortunately, belong to myself, or Grammarly. Grammarly and I don't get along much. I am uploading this all in one go since it's already completed on AO3, and I don't see a reason not to since Christmas is literally about to end.

Written for the Facebook group Harmony & Co's Christmas Advent! Thank you for giving me the chance to write for this ship again!

Pairing: Harry Potter x Hermione Granger. (Harmony.)

Warnings: There will be sexual content, so if that's not your thing, you know what to do. There is no Ron bashing here if that is a deal breaker for you. Though Harry does not like Oliver Wood very much.

Summary: Frigid. Boring. That's how Hermione Granger sees herself following a bitter breakup on the previous Christmas. Planning to make the annual trip home to her family, she's not looking forward to discussing her relationship status. That's where Harry comes in.

Chapter One

Crookshanks lounged at the foot of her bed, meowing in indignation as she pulled her jumper out from under him. He'd been curled into a ball on the fabric, and now the logo of the Holyhead Harpies was absolutely matted in fur. Rolling her eyes at her familiar, Hermione sighed and tossed the shirt back onto the bed. It wouldn't do if she meandered through Diagon Alley while reeking of Kneazle.

Sighing to herself again, Hermione put her hands on her hips and surveyed the room around her. While the rest of her flat appeared to be neat and tidy, her bedroom was an absolute wreck. With holiday wrapping - all kinds, foil, there was even one with snowflakes! - strewn about the room, she was only seconds from tearing her hair out.

Christmas was going to be a pain in her arse, just as it had been the year before. And for the same bloody reason that she hadn't wanted to attend her cousin's wedding earlier in the spring. Grumbling under her breath, she noticed Crooks was once more fast asleep and had now cocooned himself in the offending shirt.

In a corner of the room, there was a stack of presents ready to be shrunk to an appropriate size so they would fit in her beaded bag. In only forty-eight hours - hours that would pass by all too quickly - she would be visiting her family and likely hating every moment.

She adored her parents, and she was grateful every day that they were able to remember her. Hermione was quick to remind herself that at least she had her parents, even if they took too much of an interest in her love life these days - or rather, lack thereof. She'd dated Ron Weasley for exactly three weeks, two days, and approximately two hours.

It had been undoubtedly the longest three weeks, two days, and approximately two hours of her life, and that included the Battle of Hogwarts and all that before. The split was amicable, ending with them going their separate ways but remaining mates. They simply realized they weren't compatible but were meant to be just friends.

And then came Oliver Wood: charming, muscled from professional quidditch - imagine her surprise when he didn't prattle on with his career constantly after the sport had been all he cared for in Hogwarts - and well, it was easy being with him. Too easy, Hermione thought as she surveyed her room for something else to wear. It would be nice to say there was some terrible reason they had split. Perhaps if he'd cheated on her with a Quidditch groupie as Witch Weekly frequently said. Or if he deemed her too boring - which had happened and was the reason she didn't date in Hogwarts.

That wasn't it though. She had herself, and only herself to blame.

They dated for over a year, not quite enough to say two years, but definitely more than one. He was polite and kind. Oliver was well endowed. She chose to look beyond the fact that he always had a joke about his cock that corresponded with his last name.

He'd loved her.

Hermione had loved him, that much she knew, but unfortunately for her, she was dreadful at relationships. Oliver was kindhearted and he never told anyone the truth behind their split: that Hermione Granger might have been good at everything else, but she was not a good girlfriend.

What the fuck was she meant to do with that rattling around in her head? It hurt like hell to hear someone say it, and although she'd argued it, Hermione knew when she was wrong. As much as she loathed to admit it, the evidence was there.

She frequently dashed out of dinners - "My career is very important to me, Oliver." Hermione would say - but he would point out that it was so much different when every single dinner was interrupted.

Last year, her family had been kind enough not to mention her breakup. As highly as she regarded Oliver Wood, dumping her on the morning of Christmas Eve had not been kind at all. Ronald wanted to beat the hell out of him, Harry had rather imaginative ideas of where to shove a broom, and she just wanted to be alone.

The Grangers would at least try to ignore the empty place setting Great Aunt Matilda insisted on setting just in case little Mione brought home a new fella - Matilda's words, not her own - even though she knew full well she wasn't.

Rifling through her closet, she tossed all of the possible clothes she could need onto her bed. She didn't hear the floo roar to life in the living room as she dragged her trainers out of the closet. On second thought, if her other Great Aunt, Mildred was there, she ought to grab the heels to wear lest she wanted to be bought a pair of stilettos.

"This must be the stupidest, bloody, goddamned holiday!" Hermione growled, chunking the heel behind her.

"What's gotten into you - fuck!" Harry yelped behind her, followed by the loud sound of him crashing against her floor. Her best friend was sprawled on the carpet, his auror uniform wrinkling as he rubbed the back of his head.

"You could have cut me with these blasted things." He held up the heel, glaring at it before tossing it into the rubbish bin.

She gaped at him, scrambling for the shoe before something could get on it.

"Harry!" Hermione snapped. "Don't throw my footwear into the trash."

He rolled his eyes, propping himself up on his elbows. "Well, don't try to slice my neck open with them."

"It's not my fault you snuck up on me." She countered, dragging another pair of heels from the closet floor. Best to take both.

"I yelled your name before I came in here. Though it's not surprising you didn't hear me since you were cursing the most wonderful time of the year."

"Most wonderful time of the year, my arse." She hissed, climbing to her feet. Offering him her hand, she shouldn't have been shocked when he just yanked her into the floor with him. "What are you doing here?"

Harry laid on the floor beside her, not touching her beyond when he brushed a curl from his forehead and his elbow brushed against her arm. "It's my lunch break. Am I not allowed to pop in to see my best friend since childhood?"

Hermione snorted, tilting her head to get a good look at him. "You only mention that I'm your best friend when you want something."

His cheeks flushed. "I don't mean to be so unappreciative.." Harry murmured. "Yet you know me so well...I wanted to ask you what you were doing for Christmas."

Hermione bit her lip. "I'll be in the middle of Muggle London with my family. They're big on the holidays now that their memories have been restored, as you know."

He nodded. "That must be nice. What?" Harry asked at her scoff.

"My parents are lovely human beings who won't bring up my relationship status. Great Aunt Mildred and Matilda however.." Hermione trailed off. "Do you want something to eat? It's your lunch hour after all." Hermione sprung to her feet once more, making her way into the kitchen. "Sandwich?"

"That's fine." He replied, taking a seat at the bar in her kitchen. "Hermione -"

"Tea?"

He set his glasses down on the counter. "Sure, but I'd like to talk about -"

Hermione picked up his glasses, squinting at the broken lens. "Harry, you've broken them again? Why don't you ever fix them?" Pulling her wand from her back pocket, she continued with a mild lecture of how he ought to repair them more often.

Until he grew exasperated with her. "Hermione." He stressed her name, leaning on his forearms. "Would it be too much trouble for you to lecture me later?"

Her cheeks grew hot. "I'm sorry. I'm acting like a mother hen. What is it you wanted to talk about?" Hermione placed a plate in front of him, though he didn't so much as look at it.

"I've been formally uninvited to Christmas at the Burrow this year." He said, his expression not wavering.

Her mouth fell open. "What?" It was nearly a screech with how loud it was. "You and Ginny have been on such good terms! Why would you be uninvited?" Hermione hurried around the island, taking the seat in front of him while resting her chin on her hand.

Harry sipped his tea, not looking one bit upset. "She's bringing her new boyfriend home this year, and he's not 'comfortable' with my presence."

"And she just," Hermione gritted her teeth. "Harry, that's not fair to you. You're family, you've always spent the holidays there! What does Molly have to say about this? Surely she must disagree."

He shook his head. "She doesn't mind, but she promised to send me homemade dinner to my flat on Christmas. Mrs Weasley said I could 'come by after Ginny and Blaise have left for Italy. If you didn't know, he's taking her on a lovely holiday in his family's villa'."

She blinked, not sure if she wanted to giggle at the horrible imitation of Molly Weasley's voice or break a pan over the woman's head. "I'm so sorry."

He waved her off. "I wanted to ask you if you had plans, or if you'd like to go somewhere with me if you would be home anyway. I'll just -"

Hermione's eyes widened as the gears in her head turned, and an idea formed. Tilting her head to the side, she cut him off. "Harry, I'm not going to let you sit in Grimmauld Place for the next week. That sounds like a horrible time."

He shrugged. "It's nothing, Hermione. It's a handful of days. Do you suppose McGonagall would let me take her up on her offer to watch the kids who stay over the holiday?"

She remembered. "Well," Hermione coughed, clearing her throat. "I'm sure Minerva would be overjoyed that you would help."

He nodded, taking the blue, ceramic plate from her hands as she turned back to face him. "Mind if I use your owl? Be better if I got this to her as soon as possible."

She was rigid, gripping the edge of the counter. "Or," Hermione began, her voice uncharacteristically high, "you could do me a favour instead. I think you'll find that it benefits us both. More so me than you, but it's your duty as my best friend -"

Harry barked a laugh, waving his hands. "Before you begin a well thought out argument that you've no doubt just thought of,"

Hermione huffed as she folded her arms across her chest. "It's not an argument. It's more of a proposition than anything else." She murmured. She'd turned away from him, pulling a glass from the overhead cupboard. Water trickling over the rim as she turned back to him, she was met with widened eyes and raised eyebrows. "Oh, not that kind of proposition." Hermione rolled her eyes.

A playful grin curved his lips. "I wasn't aware there was any other kind."

She scoffed. "Well, I don't know what sorts of witches you've been around, but this is strictly a favour."

He waved for her to go on, lifting the mug she slid to him to his lips. "Out with it. I've never seen you hesitate before."

"As you ought to remember, Oliver and I broke up some time ago."

"I vaguely recall reading about it in a few magazines."

She snorted. "Utter hogwash, all of them. Moving on from the gossip rags that you shouldn't waste your money on, I have a dilemma with going home for family Christmas." She muttered, tipping her glass to her mouth and swallowing. "I don't have a boyfriend."

His reaction was exactly what she expected, and it as unequivocally Harry. "I'm not following."

And still so oblivious, Hermione thought. "I'll just come out with it since subtle hints won't work with you."

"Hey!" He shouted, his voice muffled by food.

"I don't have a boyfriend, and I have two great aunts who will pester me, quite relentlessly might I add over the fact. Since you aren't going anywhere, would you like to come home with me for Christmas?"

A little light went off behind his eyes. "Hermione, you must know that it's not a good idea," Harry said softly, and her face fell. The useless organ in her ribcage rattled as if he'd truly rejected her. "I mean, we've known each other for a long time.."

Hermione glanced up as he trailed off, only to find him smirking. "You're joking." She deadpanned.

"Never knew you felt this way about me, Mione." He grinned, laughing and dodging the rag she threw at him. "I'm happy to help."

She found herself smiling even though he'd teased her, and made her feel silly. "You're a prat. We leave in two days, so I suggest you pack when you leave the Ministry tonight."

In the years since the war - five to be exact - she had spent the majority of her life on her career. Only now was she beginning to regret it. In one way or another, Oliver's words stuck with her.

Her heels clicking against the tile as she rushed through the atrium, calling out for someone to hold the lift, she was overtaken by a wave of regret. Glancing around, she knew that she was going places inside the Ministry.

Hermione was squashed along the side of the wall, someone stepping on the hem of her robe and it was nearly caught in the lift as they swept past her. Grumbling to herself, she ripped the fabric free. Pulling the now torn garment from her shoulders, she hurried for her office. There would be a spare, one that her assistant conveniently kept at the ready, in the closet behind her desk.

Hermione passed Ron, scoffing under her breath as he leaned against Katie's desk. His eyes lit up at the sight of her, and then he'd already returned his bright smile to the seemingly docile witch behind the mahogany desk.

Hermione laid her tattered robe over the edge of the sofa, collapsing into the seat behind the desk. There was a roll of parchment from Minister Shacklebolt, one that must have been six feet in length and was no doubt for her case on Werewolf Rights. Hermione reached for the seal, and just as she was about to settle into what would be the rest of her morning, she noticed it.

Stuck to the back of her nameplate - a glossy, bronze rectangle that Oliver had gifted her after her sought-after promotion - there was a scrap of parchment. Snatching it up and examining it further, she recognized Harry's scrawl.

When do you want to make up the story of how you fell for me?

Her laughter could be heard across the floor.

Her day was longer than necessary.

She thrived on having something to do, flourished under pressure. As the Department Head for the Magical Creatures Division, she had her work cut out for her of course. The scroll tucked neatly in her bag, she flooed into her flat from the connected fireplace in her office. Even though she'd been in the office for six months, she liked the routine of walking through the atrium each morning.

It was routine, she thought.

It's because Oliver accused you of never leaving your office, and a tiny part of you is worried everyone thinks you sleep in your office, an annoying, nagging whisper sounded between her ears.

Tossing her bag onto the sofa, Hermione made her way into the bedroom. The room was spotless again now that the chaos of wrapping presents was over. Hermione heaved a sigh, twisting her skirt around and unzipping it. She unbuttoned her blouse as the skirt slid down her legs, and she stepped out of it.

They were due to leave in twelve hours, and she had no intentions of makes the trip without feeling comfortable. She grabbed a pair of black joggers, stepping into them, and pulling them to her waist before tying the drawstring in a knot. Her fingers brushed against the sleeve of her Falmouth Falcons jumper, which was really Oliver's. Reminding herself that it was comfortable, but it would scream inconsistencies if she wore it, she grabbed a plain jumper instead.

Now, to just pop into Harry's flat to be absolutely sure he was ready to go and then she would sleep until the last possible moment. She'd already packed a week ago, and her suitcases were nearly sat beside the door of her flat, and the presents were shrunk inside of them. There would be time to unshrink them in the rental car.

Sliding her feet into plush slippers, Hermione tied her hair up as she padded across her living room. She grabbed the last bit of floo powder, stepping into the fireplace. "Twelve Grimmauld Place!" Hermione called out and disappeared amongst the green flames.

Grimmauld Place hadn't changed since the first time she'd ever stepped inside of it. Harry insisted that one day he would remodel it, wash away any traces of the family Sirius had hated so much, but he'd never lifted a finger. In fact, she was certain he'd never cast as much as a simple cleaning charm.

"Harry?"

She was met with silence. Hermione brushed soot from her clothes, tucking her hands into her pockets. Checking the kitchen as she strode by, she made her way up the stairs while glancing side to side. Harry didn't use but maybe three rooms of the entire home, the others sealed with magic.

Somewhere in the house was the portrait of Walburga Black, and Hermione had little doubt that she was screaming. "Harry?" She tried again as she reached the top of the stairs.

His shower was running, the steady stream of water echoing against the tile of the shower. The door was cracked open, but she only knocked on the door. "Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Hermione?" The water cut off, followed by the sound of bottles falling. He ripped the door open, water rolling down his bare chest, and he'd quickly slung a towel around his hips. "What are you doing here?"

She stepped back from him as water slid off the tips of his hair and landed on her jumper. "I wanted to double check that you had everything packed."

He snorted. "Mother hen." Harry accused.

She arched an eyebrow. "So you've already packed then?"

He scratched the back of his neck, grinning sheepishly. "Not technically. I'm nearly done."

"How much is nearly done?"

Silence.

Harry looked everywhere but her. "I think I threw a sock in my bag?"

She shrieked, "Harry!" before storming into his bedroom. The room was a mess, and she stared openmouthed at the sheets that were tossed haphazardly into the floor. His closet was left wide open, clothes spilling from it.

He gripped her shoulder, sniggering under his breath. "See, I started to pack, but I was called in by the Head Auror before I made any progress." He motioned toward the dresser and the black duffel that laid across the wood. "I can throw in some clothes before I head out."

Hermione looked behind her. "Wait, you're being called in now?" She asked, groaning to herself. "Whatever for?"

Harry was silent as he tugged his auror uniform from the hook behind the door. "It's not something I can disclose."

She nodded. "Go. I'll pack for you." So much for crawling into bed and getting a full night's sleep. "The house is an utter mess, you know that, don't you?" Hermione stared at the opposing wall as he dropped his towel without even warning her.

"I don't find myself to be home too often." He replied. "You can turn around, Hermione." Harry chuckled. "Accio glasses," he called out, and he slid them onto his face as he buttoned his top. "Get some sleep. I'll have time -"

She rubbed her temples. "You're going to stumble through the fireplace fifteen minutes before we need to leave. It won't take me long. Thirty minutes at the most. Now go."

Grinning as he gave her a two finger salute, Hermione stood frozen as he left the room. She heard him call out for the Ministry from downstairs, and she muttered a very quiet, "bollocks." when the house was empty save for her.

Packing truly only took forty-five minutes. It wasn't as if it was hard. Harry James Potter barely wore anything outside of his uniform, but when he did it was only denim, a shirt and a button down shirt over that. She'd waved her wand around the room, his clothing flying into the duffel bag - conveniently folded as there was a charm for that - and she braved a trip into his bathroom for his toiletries.

While she ought to have gone home, Hermione chose to stay. His house looked as if a twister had come through it, scattering everything about. So she cleaned it, at least the rooms that weren't sealed, from top to bottom.

It was half-past five when Hermione finished - the kitchen taking the most of her time - and she was far too tired to drag herself to the fireplace. Instead, she crawled into his bed, yanking the covers over her and swiftly falling asleep.

Harry found her like that, her hair spread over the pillow as she stretched across his bed like a cat. He nudged her side, laughing quietly as she shied away from his touch. "Five more minutes?" She murmured, fisting the blanket in his hand.

"Hermione, we need to leave now." He told her, peeling to blanket back so he could see her. "You cleaned my entire house."

Her eyes still shut, she yanked the blanket once more. Only Harry was still stronger, and her hand slipped - hitting her right in the mouth. "Fuck." Hermione hissed, sitting straight up as her eyes watered. "That hurt."

He snorted, sitting in front of her. "Let me see it." Harry urged her, trying to pull her hand away by her wrist.

"I'm fine," Hermione argued, and she could taste metallic as she ran her tongue along the seam of her lips. "Harry, really I'm fine!"

His fingers were warm as they wrapped around her wrist, tugging it forward so he could see where her teeth pierced the supple skin. "Merlin, you nearly bit through your lip when you punched yourself."

"This is really your fault." She muttered, crossing her legs. Glancing down, she could see that her jumper was one Crooks had recently napped on. "If you had just let me sleep, this would have never happened."

He rolled his eyes. Not bothering with his wand, he murmured under his breath, "Accio salved." They could hear the medicine cabinet in the bathroom opening, and a small jar landed in his open palm a moment later. "Don't cover your face again," Harry grumbled, twisting the lid off and dipping his finger into the mixture.

With her hands folded in her lap, Hermione sat still as he rubbed the cream across her bottom lip. The stinging vanished instantly, and she begrudgingly thanked him. "What time is it?"

With the sunlight pouring in through the windows, it was a silly question to ask. "It's time for us to leave for your parents." He smiled. "Why did you clean?"

She shrugged, yawning as she did so. "It desperately needed it, Harry. I don't know how you can stand to live with it so dirty."

"I'm hardly home. I'm at yours, or on a mission, occasionally I visit the joke shop with Ron." Harry replied, taking her hands and pulling her from the bed. "We still haven't decided on our story for our relationship."

"How long have we been dating?" Hermione asked him suddenly, the corner of her mouth quirking up.

"Eight months," Harry said cheekily, ruffling her hair - his hand tragically was then tangled in her mane - for emphasis. "You couldn't help but fall for me whenever I played a trick on you for April Fools."

Hermione scoffed. "My father would know we were lying the second you said that. First of all - none of your tricks get the best of me anymore, Harry. Second, the first question we would be asked is why I didn't bring you to my birthday party if we were already together."

"You were embarrassed."

"Of what?" She snorted. "No, we've been together since Halloween. That's as good a story as any other." Hermione told him, hurrying down the stairs as he levitated his luggage behind them. "There was a party -"

"Perhaps we were stuck in a closet after a game of spin the -"

Hermione choked on her laugh, and nearly tripped at the bottom of the staircase. "Harry," she scolded, "be realistic, would you? My parents know I would never be caught dead in a game like that."

"You couldn't pass up the chance to be alone with me." He smirked, ducking out of the way as she swatted at him. "I don't think we should worry about the trivial details. It was a Halloween party, and we'd spent the majority of the day together."

"Are you going for the cliche 'it just happened' explanation?" Hermione smiled, grabbing a handful of floo powder.

Harry stepped into the fireplace beside her, his chest rumbling with his laughter as he pressed against her back. "Oh, because best friends falling for each other isn't cliche?"

Hermione huffed. "At least it's believable." With that, she shouted out for her flat.

Jean Granger was the first one out of the house, and down the steps when she pulled into the drive. Loud laughter echoed throughout the neighbourhood as she threw her arms around Hermione's neck and squeezed. "It's so nice to see you, sweetheart." She murmured into her ear, smoothing her hair down. "Harry?" Her mother admonished. Pulling back, Jean peeked over Hermione's shoulder. "Well, I always thought it might be him in the end." She winked.

Hermione followed Harry inside, dragging her suitcase behind her. Not to her surprise, but to her own disappointment, both of her great aunts were standing in the foyer. "Hermione!' Mildred cooed, ripping her in for a hug that squeezed the breath out of her. "Who is this?"

Hermione sighed, reaching out to grab Harry's hand, sliding her fingers through his own. "Well, this is Harry -"

Harry reached out to take Mildred's hand, kissing the back of it. "Hello, I'm Harry. I'm Hermione's boyfriend. It's nice to finally meet you, she talks so much about you."

"Only good things I hope." Matilda chimed, bumping her twin out of the way with her hip. As if she were all too eager to receive the same treatment as Mildred. "Well, out with how the two of you got together. No, dear, I don't want to hear it from you." Matilda pinched Hermione's cheek. "You'll be sure to leave out the best parts."

"God forbid my love life remain private." Hermione laughed.

She shouldn't have been at all surprised when Harry embellished the story, but she certainly was.

I know this is being published all at once, but I would greatly appreciate reviews if you feel so inclined to leave your thoughts on each chapter.