Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the characters in this story.

Additionally, there are direct lines from 'The Polar Express' by Chris Van Allsburg and those are (obviously) not of my own creation, but rather leveraged to help tell this story because of the fondless I hold for the book and how it impacted my childhood. 3 If you have not read the book, I highly encourage you buy a copy this holiday season and read it!

*Written for Harmony & Co. Advent 2018*

December 24th, 2003

"So wait… you're telling me that they believe a man in a velvet red suit Apparates down their chimney to drop off presents?" Ron repeated for what was probably the fourth time in the last hour since Harry and Hermione had decided to give him an overview of what a Muggle Christmas was. His mouth was slightly agape and the corner of chocolate chip cookie he had just taken a bite of hung loosely from the side of his mouth.

"Ronald, for the millionth time, do not speak with food in your mouth," Hermione scolded from the floor where she sat in front of the coffee table with thick brown parchment and some twine she had transfigured into more suitable ribbon and bows for the presents she was wrapping. "But yes. Santa comes around on Christmas Eve to drop off presents for all Muggle boys and girls. Why are you acting so flabbergasted? You've seen his picture before, I'm nearly certain of it."

Lifting his hand the redhead waved off Hermione's etiquette reminder as if it was a gnat, but he had obviously taken the request to heart because he pulled the cookie from his lips into his mouth and chewed quickly before continuing his questioning. "Well yes, I've seen him. I guess I just assumed he was one of those things Muggles put in shop windows...like that Jesus fellow or the polar bear with the red scarf and bottle of fizzy drink. How was I supposed to know the one with the beard was a burglar?"

Harry, who had been listening to Hermione and Ron's conversation while hanging bulbs on the Christmas tree, burst into laughter to the point that he had to pause his decorating for fear of breaking the ornament he held. Ron had just unknowingly compared the Muggle messiah to a pop culture reference from a soda company, and while this was absolutely hysterical to him, he knew that the muggleborn witch in the room was not exactly thrilled that Ron had clearly not retained anything from their Muggle Studies lessons years prior.

"What?" Ron questioned when Hermione paused wrapping to lift both hands to cover her face as she shook her head. "You celebrated this, Hermione?"

"Of course I did," Hermione scoffed before dropping her hands from her face with a heavy sigh to straighten the small stack of children's books she had set in the center of the parchment moments before Ron called a beloved childhood figure a burglar. "A lot of Muggles do."

"Even you, Harry?" Ron pressed, glancing over his shoulder to look at Harry who stood in front of the freshly cut pine tree, hanging the last of the glass bulbs by hand. Ron had offered to show him a spell that would dress the tree properly in the blink of an eye, but Harry insisted that they do it the Muggle way, which was how the whole darn conversation had started. A Muggle Christmas was not something Ron had any familiarity with, despite the fact he had been friends with Hermione and Harry for going on thirteen years now.

"Sort of...I never really got traditional presents, but I saw Dudley open loads of them," Harry explained as he took a step back from the tree to admire his handiwork, which granted, would have likely looked more balanced with the placements had he used the charm, but there was something almost endearing about the way the tree looked when it was lopsided.

"Even the Dursleys believed that?!" Ron questioned in disbelief, "So, an old fat bloke breaking into your home is believable, but magic is out of the question?" The question was really more for Ron's own benefit than to be answered, because before either Harry or Hermione could try to explain the Muggle custom further, he pushed himself up off the couch with an affirmative statement that neither Harry or Hermione could argue: "Muggles are weird."

Harry chuckled in response because the truth was, to an outsider, the tradition likely did seem incredible odd, but it was widely accepted across multiple continents by this point so perhaps not having Santa in your traditions could mean you were the odd one now. Harry and Hermione had been so eager to adopt the holidays and traditions of the wizarding world that the Muggle ones they had grown up with got put on a back burner over the years. And now he had a chance to start making memories with his godson and turn these holidays he had dreaded as a child into something more special. How could he say no? Especially to the big blue …(sometimes brown or green) eyes of the most adorable little five year old he had ever met. Harry turned around just in time to see Ron snag one more cookie off the tray that Hermione had set out on the table closest to the fireplace. "Hey, if you eat any more of those there won't be any left for Teddy."

"I think he'll manage with three quarters of a plate," Ron teased, shaking the chocolate chip cookie at Harry, and when his friend made a move to snatch it from him, Ron quickly shoved the whole thing into his mouth, back peddling closer to the fireplace which was crackling with a low flames.

"Ron, do be careful!" Hermione said quickly just before the redhead backed into the ottoman, and she lifted her vinewood wand from the table and pointed it at the ottoman to move it out of his path before he toppled over the furniture. "But Harry is right, I made those for Teddy tonight. We have to leave some out for-"

"For Santer. I remember," Ron managed through his mouthful of cookie, which earned him a stern look from the curly haired witch on the floor. "I won't eat any more, promise… but mainly because if I don't leave now Tracey will be forced to talk to Tom while she waits for me at the Leaky and I don't really want the cold shoulder during out first Yule together."

"Can't say I blame her, you're about as punctual as a malfunctioning clock," Hermione teased with a well-timed eye roll as she rose from the floor, her hands smoothing the wrinkles from the parcel she had just wrapped. She moved past Ron and Harry toward the newly decorated tree, laying the first present beneath the low hanging branches.

"And to think, I used to wonder why we never worked out…" Ron laughed, his lips pulling into a sly smirk before he gave a pointed glance in Harry's direction and winked at the wizard. They all knew exactly why Ron and Hermione had ended their relationship for this final try, for it was no secret how utterly different they were. In all truth, it was absurd that they had even thought it a good idea to give them a try in the first place. The fact they had made it out of the multiple doomed attempts at a relationship without bursting any friendship between them to flames was nothing short of a miracle, something his sister happily pointed out to him as often as he would allow her.

When they did end things for the last time just before Valentine's Day, Ron would have bet twenty Galleons on Harry finally making a move on Hermione. It had been no secret between the two friends that Harry had once held feelings for Hermione in their youth. When Ron had made his intentions known that he was going to pursue Hermione during the summer between sixth and seventh year, Harry happily stepped aside so Ron could have his chance with her, which was something he would be eternally grateful for. Now, years later it was more apparent than ever that there was simply never going to be anything beyond friendship between he and Hermione.

Ron suspected his friend still held a candle for her now, despite the reassurance that this was not the case. And although he could not be certain, because Hermione would absolutely never tell him if it was the case, he had a feeling she might return those feelings for Harry. Throughout the years they had become as thick as thieves, something that used to bother him, but time had been kind to Ron and shown him how not to be a jealous ass. And most importantly, it showed him that losing your friends over your pride was truly not an option. Of course, had he made that bet he would have been several Galleons lighter by this time, because it seemed that Harry and Hermione were no closer to addressing the proverbial Hippogriff in the room than they had been back at seventeen years old.

"Ha-ha. Very funny," Hermione swatted at Ron's chest as she moved over to him, leaning up to press a chaste kiss against the high of his cheek as her arms wound around his neck for a quick hug. "Tell Tracey and Ginny hello for me. And your Mum Happy Yule," she instructed, waiting for a nod in confirmation from him before she let him go so he could fetch a handful of Floo powder from the bowl on the mantel.

"Are you guys sure you don't want to come? It won't be the same without you there," Ron questioned as a small bit of the green sand sprinkled onto the toe of his scuffed brown boots as it slipped between his fingers.

"No, we'll be alright here. Teddy will be by in an hour or so. Besides, from what George said you guys will have a houseful this year. He mentioned your Mum managed to get Charlie to come home, something about 'getting older and dying soon'," Harry chuckled, knowing full well the depth of the mum-guilt Molly Weasley was all too quick to place upon her offspring. "Besides, I'll pop over in a day or two… once Ginny and her newest conquest leave." It wasn't that he was afraid of running into his ex. On the contrary, he and Ginny had a perfectly civil relationship by now, but from past experience the Quidditch players she dated typically were not fond of Harry hanging around the Weasley homestead during the holidays. Especially since they were still friendly and enjoyed each other's company. The thing was, when Harry had finally decided to pull the plug on that relationship, Ginny was far from mad. In fact, she almost seemed relieved. They had just grown into different people. He was gone with work all the time, and she with Quidditch. Instead of growing up together, it seemed they managed to grow up apart. Under normal circumstances he would not let the opinion of some brawny Quidditch buffoon bother him, but this latest boyfriend was sticking around a bit longer than the rest, and he figured he ought to keep his appearances to a minimum, at least for now. Give the bloke a chance to be with his girlfriend without being in Harry's shadow. Beyond that, Andromeda had personally invited Harry over for a Yule dinner. She had told him it would be nothing as extravagant as Molly usually made, but it was another chance for him to be with his godson. and part of him was looking forward to the quiet a small Yule would bring.

"Don' remind me. Mum already owl'd all of us to remind us we needed to be nice. Like we would ever be anything but," Ron scoffed before tossing the handful of powder into the fireplace and the red orange flames instantly blurst into an emerald green as they cracked loudly to let them know that the magic had taken over. With one final goodbye to each of them, Ron stepped into the flames and departed to the Leaky Cauldron to collect his girlfriend.

Harry had been slightly relieved when Ron arrived at Grimmauld Place earlier. He had just set the tree in the stand and was tidying up the fallen needles from the hardwood floor in preparation for Hermione's arrival and was nearly bursting out of his skin with nervous energy, which was really quite silly considering the amount of time they had spent together over the years. She was no different than the girl he had met on the train so long ago, except now… now she was single. And he was single. And she was staying the night in his flat at his request-separate rooms, of course! And there was absolutely nothing stopping him from finally telling her how he felt about her, which meant he was perpetually on the verge of running away and/or puking since Ron had so graciously pointed out this fact approximately three days prior as a sort of afterthought as they did some final holiday shopping.

Since the war, the three of them had gone on to lead very different lives, despite always keeping in close contact. Ron had started with Harry as an Auror but left only three months after passing the exam to help George in the shop. Hermione was already on her way to becoming the youngest member of the Wizengamot to hold an elected seat, in addition to balancing politics with her work in the Department of Magical Creatures. And Harry, well, he was still on the street team, per his request. Still working to capture the last remaining Death Eaters who had gone into seclusion post war. Kingsley was pressuring him to move to desk duty so he might work up into management, but Harry was not quite ready to settle down into a slower pace. The fighting, the tracking, the duels. They all gave him a sense of closure on a gigantic chapter of his childhood. Although the older he got, the more the offer sounded appealing, he had to admit. Because with desk duty, it also meant he would get to spend his afternoons eating lunch with Hermione, as was tradition any time Harry was in the office.

Harry glanced over to Hermione, who had moved to the sofa to rearrange the small plate of cookies so they looked perfect for Teddy's arrival, and his heart seemed to skip a beat. Hermione was no longer the bushy haired girl he had run the castle halls with what felt like a lifetime ago. Long gone were the days of knee socks, pleated skirts, and brewing forbidden potions in bathrooms. She was stunning, although to be fair Harry had found her appealing even back in their youth. "You know… I don't think Teddy will mind if they're not perfectly placed."

Hermione glanced up, peering through her thick brown eyelashes at Harry. "I know… I just want it to look tidy, and…I don't know….perfect for his first Muggle Christmas morning."

Harry nodding, understanding that same feeling all too well. "You have literally cleaned every room since you've arrived, and although I cannot be certain, I think I heard you in Teddy's room a minimum of three times arranging this," Harry teased as he slipped his hands into his back pockets. He watched as Hermione stuck out her tongue at him in a childish return, her nose wrinkling, and his heart stuttered. Her doe eyes, the light smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks, the way the firelight seemed to make her hair glow. It was all too much. He had to physically resist the urge to reach across the small space between them and pull her into his arms. Instead, he laughed, the only semi-logical option at this point, and flashed her a toothy grin before he looked behind himself to the small pile of toys that they had left to wrap, hoping that maybe if he didn't look at her for a moment his heart would return to a normal rhythm. "We...uh...should probably finish before he shows up… unless, of course, you're keen on him having his gifts early."

"And ruin the magic of Christmas morning? Absolutely not," Hermione scoffed before straightening up, brushing her hands on the denim of her jeans to rid them of cookie crumbs. "This is your fault though...we would not be on such a tight timeline if you had just wrapped the gifts last week like I suggested."

"Buuuuut you do it so much better than I do," Harry's voice held a singsong drawl as he moved over to the couch opposite of her spot on the floor from earlier by the coffee table, and he sat down with his elbows resting on his kneecaps. When all he earned in response to his joke was a hard look as Hermione moved back toward the coffee table, he feigned innocent. "Or… maybe I was a bit of a slacker."

"I'm thinking the latter one," Hermione remarked, kneeling down on the hard wooden floor in front of the coffee table. She unrolled the thick brown parchment over the cleared coffee table before she dragged her wand across the paper, using an altered severing charm to make a clean cut. "Hand me that one-no, no, that one," she instructed, pointing toward the unwrapped gifts, and took the large box when Harry held it out for her. "What were you doing anyways? I know you were home."

"Keeping tabs on me, Hermione?" Harry joked, leaning back on the couch as he watched her begin to wrap the gift with the finesse of someone who had done this job many times before. He could have wrapped the presents as instructed, but he knew it would never be up to par with her standards; beyond that, this gave him another reason to spend more time with her.

"Hardly," Hermione scoffed as her cheeks tinted pink at his accusation. She was not keeping tabs on him, per se. She could not help it if the papers wrote about him still! She subscribed to the Daily to keep tabs on whether the reports were factual…and if she happened to stumble across an article on her best friend, she was obviously obligated to read it to make sure it too contained no errors, right? "You were in town this week, so one could deduce you had returned from whatever mission you were on last weekend."

Emerald eyes were drawn to her flushing cheeks, and her brown eyes purposefully avoided his, paying careful attention to the brown parchment she was wrapping around a Muggle train set Harry had picked up in France. His heart swelled with a giddiness he had not felt since he was a teenager. She had been keeping tabs on him! His eyes dropped to the floor as he willed his heart to stop racing, silently reminding himself to play it cool and not confess his ulterior motives to her. "Well… It's like I said. You're better at this sort of stuff than I am."

"Then what are you good at, Harry?" Hermione challenged, glancing up as she tapped the last flap shut.

"I've been told I'm an excellent cook, a really great best friend… umm..." Harry pursed his lips in quiet thought and he reached up to tap his finger against his chin, which earned him a quiet laugh from the witch across from him. "...an excellent snog." The last descriptor was mumbled, in a voice he was certain would have been too quiet for her to hear. It had been a playful thought that crossed his mind. Under other circumstances he would not have hesitated to poke fun at the countless stories about his supposed sexual prowess that the magazines published, but since it was just the two of them, both hopelessly single in a small warm room with mugs of finished mulled wine sitting on the sofa table where they sat, the implication felt far too forward and he instantly regretted it.

"An excellent snog?" Hermione squeaked, her voice ticking up an octave in surprise as her eyebrows rose. Her hands froze mid-air with the ribbon hanging limply betwixt her fingers as she lifted her eyes to find Harry's once more. No. She had to have misheard him, right? That's not what he said.

"I was joking," Harry rushed to say, his eyes widening infinitesimally, as if realising the potential grave error he had just made. "Because… you know. The...articles...the uh...witches..." Circe, Harry, what the bloody hell were you thinking? You invite a witch over, have a plan to express how you've been utterly smitten with her since sixth year, but instead choose to bring up how women make (false) claims about your snogging abilities. Real bloody smooth.

Hermione gulped, looking down at the nearly perfectly wrapped present on the table in front of her. "Right… the articles," she replied with a small laugh, hastily tying the green ribbon in a bow before she placed the perfectly wrapped present on the ground next to her.

"They're lies, you know?" Harry hastily explained, feeling the need to further clarify his poorly timed joke. But it seemed he was only managing to make himself look like more of a dunderhead than before.

"You're not...an excellent snog then?" Hermione replied back, her lips pursing together as she tried to contain her own laughter.

"What?" Harry blushed a deep crimson, "Merlin, no...I mean, I don't know! What I meant to say was-" Reaching up, his hand moved to adjust his thick-framed glasses higher up his nose, hoping to conceal the slight tremble in his hand. "-they never kissed me…so they would never know if I am...an excellent snog."

"Harry, are you feeling alright? You seem off...maybe even a bit tense," Hermione questioned, glancing up to her friend. Big brown doe eyes twinkled in the soft light of the room at him as her head cocked ever so slightly to the side, laughter dancing across her face.

Tense? That was quite the word to describe the tightly wound coil that had settled in Harry's gut the moment she walked through his front door with her overnight bag slung over her shoulder. She had worn the jumper-his favorite fucking jumper. It was cream with mulberry trim and as soft a red rose petals. He could not help but admire the way it complimented her coloring and made her eyes pop. And, of course, she had paired it with a pair of black jeans that hugged her just so. She had no idea what she was doing to him by simply just being… well. Herself. So was he off? Sure. Tense? Abso-fucking-lutely, but that didn't seem like it was going to change anytime soon, at least not within the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours. "Yeah… sorry. I think it's just the holidays...I always feel a little off this time of the year," Harry explained, looking down to his hands in his lap before back up to her once more with a small smile and crimson blush on his cheeks.

"I know what you mean… We can commiserate together later once Teddy's in bed." Hermione gave him a sympathetic smile before raising up on her knees and she pointed to the next gift to be wrapped. "That one next, please," she instructed Harry as her hands went to the bottom of her jumper, curling around the hem of the soft fabric and she began to tug up. "It's a bit warm in here, isn't it? I forgot how quickly Grimmauld Place heats up in winter… I swear it must be some sort of enchantment."

Harry could feel a large lump forming in the base of his throat as he watched the jumper lift slowly, peeling away from her shapely hips, and her head disappeared as she lifted the fabric higher and higher. Underneath he could see a white camisole that was worn, but it appeared the garment had other ideas in mind than staying in place. Clinging to her jumper, the white camisole began to lift, first exposing the buckle to her pants, and it began to inch upwards. The sunkissed skin of her stomach came into view first, causing Harry's breath to catch as he internally debated if he should tell her… I mean he really ought to...but…

His eyes moved in time with her movement, watching as her belly button came into view. Small, round… perfect. Just like everything else about her. When the camisole made no attempt at releasing its hold on the jumper, he could not help but feel the tiniest bit guilty he was watching… until, of course, the cups of her bra came into view. Harry wasn't sure if the garment could even qualify as a bra! It was...lacy, and barely there. He could see the outline of her pink nipples through the sheer gray fabric and his mouth instantly went dry. His wide eyes froze, watching as the sensitive skin began to pucker as it was exposed to the hot air in the room. "I...Hermione I-I…I'm just going to pop into the kitchen!" Harry's voice cracked, reminiscent of when he was a prepubescent boy, and he averted his eyes from the glorious sight of his best friend's breasts as he rose from the couch, his shins knocking against the table and sending it right into Hermione's midsection. "S-Sorry! I-I'll get us some refills on the wine...Uh…and maybe open a window. It is a bit warm."

He did not bother to wait for a reply as he gathered the empty glassware from the table and darted from the room, socked feet sliding along the waxed hallway floor as he moved down the set of stairs that led to the kitchen. His heart thundered beneath his chest. He was twenty-three years old, far from a teenage boy, yet here he was, literally fleeing the scene after seeing an accidental flash of Hermione's undergarments. What the bloody hell was wrong with him?

Hermione's hands tugged down the bottom of her camisole after she let her jumper fall to the floor. With him suddenly fleeing from the room, coupled with the fact that Ron had been there when she arrived earlier in the evening, she was beginning to doubt the confidence she felt before arriving there. She had been almost certain his invitation to stay with him was more than just him being friendly. Over the past several weeks she could not help but notice every time he placed his hand on her during lunch, or the way he would often find the small of her back when he would escort her through the Ministry. The touches, although not unwelcome, were far from necessary. Even Willa, her secretary, had asked if there was something brewing between her and Harry! Then there was the way he would look at her when he thought she wouldn't notice. A smoldering heat to his gaze that sent a jolt of energy straight from her heart to her core, and made her mouth instantly dry. Which might explain the seemingly strange behavior leading up to this point, but here she was. Finally alone with him in his home, and Harry had yet to even try to make a move on her.

Hermione looked up to the small pile of gifts left to wrap and with a heavy sigh she quickly sliced her wand through the air before adding a flourish to the wrist movement and directing the end of her wand to the brown parchment. One by one the gifts floated up, creating a small queue in the air as they waited to be magically wrapped and decorated. Pushing off the floor, she picked up her discarded jumper and set it on the back of the couch before placing the gifts one by one underneath the newly decorated Christmas tree while thoughts of doubt swirled in her mind.

Perhaps she made it up? What if she had thought these gestures were more than they were and Harry was simply being friendly? Three weeks ago she had been set on spending this Christmas alone in her flat. With no parents, no boyfriend, or anywhere to be, she had long come to terms with being alone on Christmas for the first time ever. She had planned to make the most of it and enjoy the holiday with a specially selected bottle of red wine, baked chicken and some green beans. She had even picked up a small treat for Crookshanks: Niffler liver-his favorite. Nothing extravagant and just the way she had come to prefer her time. Of course, when Harry had heard of her holiday plans over a plate of cold chips and pints of ale post-work at the Leaky, he about fell off the barstool in his hurry to invite her with him to Andromeda's.

At first she declined, knowing that this was Harry's first time having his godson spend the night on Christmas Eve and the start of some timeless traditions Harry hoped to make with the boy. She couldn't just insert herself in that. She had heard for weeks leading up to his invite that this was something he was looking forward to, but he simply would not take no for an answer. Of course, when he had pointed out that, "you might as well be his godmum anyways with how often you visit him. He should have both of us there… godmum and goddad," she almost spilled off her own barstool with the weight of his words. Her heart had been soaring and her head was lost in the clouds, because she had happily accepted.

Of course, now she thought it silly, because maybe it had all been in her head. Maybe she was projecting whatever feelings she had for him into their friendship and he felt as much for her as he might about any other witch on the street. Hermione let the doubt cloud her thoughts for a moment, allowing herself to be disappointed in her own childish hopes while Harry was out of the room. When the sound of his footsteps thumping along the staircase once more rumbled into the room, letting her know he was coming back, she pushed the feelings down and smiled at him when he walked into the living room with their glasses, full of the mulled wine she had made earlier on the stovetop.

"Already done?" Harry questioned in surprise as he looked under the tree. "Gave up on the Muggle way?" he teased, slowly setting the glasses of wine on the coffee table before he grabbed a throw pillow from off the corner of the couch and tossed it on an armchair across the room before he took his normal spot on the furniture.

"Didn't want them to pop by early and ruin the surprise," Hermione explained as she reached up to tuck her curls behind her ear. "Did you need to heat it up or was it warm still? I used a stasis charm but I'm not certain how long it will hold temperature," Hermione questioned as she made her way across the room, and she plucked her glass from the table before moving to the opposite edge of the couch from Harry.

"It's not as warm as earlier, but I think it's fine," Harry explained, leaning over to pick up his own glass and take a small sip. The warmed wine was more delicious than he remembered. He had not had mulled wine since he was living with the Dursleys, as it had been one of his aunt's favorite holiday drinks. When Hermione had told him she was going to make them a batch, he almost told her not to, thinking the smell might bring up some bad memories, but it seemed to be having the opposite effect.

Hermione nodded in agreement, letting the spiced liquid dance across her tongue as she took another sip before setting the glass down behind her on the table. They sat in silence for a moment; the air lingering between them felt thick with unspoken words. Hermione had tried to start a sentence several times, but each moment she opened her mouth it seemed utterly wrong. "What time did you say Andromeda would be by with Teddy?" she questioned, glancing over to Harry. Of course, she knew exactly what time the tot was supposed to show up, but she was trying to fill the empty words between them with something other than awkward silence.

Harry looked up from where he had been watching the warmed wine swirl in his glass and over to the mantle where a large clock ticked quietly. "Uh… within the hour. Andi is trying to have him here before six so we can do dinner and bath before bed… She still had to prepare the feast for tomorrow and do some last minute shopping. Kind of hard to surprise him with gifts when he's nipping at her heels all the time," Harry laughed, glancing across the couch to Hermione.

"Oh good! I have time," she said before standing once more. "Don't go anywhere. I wanted to give you your gift before Teddy arrives," she explained, handing him her drink as she passed in front of him, their legs brushing, and she disappeared from the room, running upstairs to fetch the gift from her overnight bag.

"Hermione, you didn't have to get me anything," he called out into the house as he listened to her footsteps run across the second floor toward the guest bedroom he had prepared for her. Leaning over, he set both glasses of wine on the table before he settled back further into the couch. "I don't really need another broomstick servicing kit, ya know. I can buy my own."

"Harry James Potter, if you are going to complain about my gifts, I will just stop getting you anything," Hermione scolded as she walked back into the room with a small red package in her right hand.

"No, no no!" Harry back peddled quickly with laughter lining his words, "I'm sorry."

"And…?" She passed in front of him again as she moved to the couch, this time sitting with her back against the arm of the couch and her socked feet rested next to his thigh. The red box was still held in her grasp, not yet ready to hand it over until a proper apology was given.

"And I swear I'll never complain about one of your gifts ever again," he added as he reached out to snag the box from her hand. She pulled back, brows lifting in a silent request for continuation. "And you're...the best?"

"Thank you. You're too kind," Hermione smirked, allowing him to snag the small box from her hands, and she leaned back against the arm of the couch, smiling nervously as she watched him handle the box that was far too small to be the typical gift she gave him.

Harry shook the box lightly, listening to see if the contents inside rattled, but when no noise was given his brow furrowed and he glanced over to the witch. What on earth had she gotten him? "Should I be cautious opening this? It's not from George and Ron's shop, is it?"

Hermione's brown eyes rolled at his question and she shook her head. "Just open it already!"

"Alright, alright!" Harry looked at the unassuming box. It was no wider than the palm of his hand, and sat about three inches high. He made quick work of the beautiful green bow that held the lid shut and he tossed it onto the coffee table before the lid followed. Harry's brow wrinkled further as he looked inside. He had...seen this somewhere before, he knew it was familiar but…

Hermione lifted her hand to hide her smile as she watch him carefully empty the box into his other hand, watching as he turned the old watch over in his hand, his fingers moving to touch the old engraved metal. "It was my father's," she explained, leaning forward so she could wrap her arms around her shins and rest her chin on her kneecaps. "Before you say you can't accept it, you have to… mainly because it's rude not to, but…" Her brown eyes took on an almost far away look as she watched his thumb slide across the soft brown leather band. "I don't have much left to remember them by. Some jewelry...a couple old photographs… but that watch…my father wore that watch almost every day when I was a child. It doesn't feel right, letting it sit in box in my bedroom, and you're really the only sort of family I have left anyways. It seems right that it should go to you. When you mentioned breaking your last one on that mission in Aruba I knew this would be the perfect gift… But maybe don't take this one on missions with you."

Harry couldn't look at her, not yet. His eyes were glued to the watch's face. Watching as the thin black hand ticked around the face, underneath a beautiful sapphire blue background that reminded him of the spring skies from their youth. Merlin...he couldn't even begin to imagine what she was thinking, gifting him something so fucking personal to her. She had been off and on with Ron for nearly four years and never once gave him something with so much meaning! "Hermione...I can't accept this."

"Harry, you can't give it back. I already told you."

"But-"

"Absolutely not. It's a gift. Besides, he would have wanted you to have it anyways...To say thanks for looking out for me after all these years. He always did like you best," she informed him playfully. "Now put it on. I got the band resized but I had to guess on the length. I want to make sure it fits."

Harry paused, still unsure if he should accept, and Hermione seemed to sense his reluctance to accept the gift. She moved across the couch until her knees hit the outside of his thigh, and she sat back on her heels, nimble fingers sliding the watch from his hand as she undid the buttoned cuff on his flannel to expose his left wrist. "Harry. I want you to have this… He would have wanted you do have it to if he could remember," she reiterated as she latched the watch around his wrist, brown eyes drifting up to find his.

Harry's voice was lost, his mind losing all ability to make any sort of noise as he watched her, gulping to try and dislodge the lump in his throat that was obviously preventing him from saying anything in the moment. She looked so...happy. Her smile reached her eyes, the soft glow of the firelight making her curls look like they held strands of gold, and of course, what truly made it difficult was the distance between them. She was inches away, her hands still holding onto his forearm as they looked at one another. Harry could not remember the last time he had seen Hermione this happy. Sure, between the end of the war and the present there were moments she had been happy: twirling around the ballroom at the Ministry Galas, sitting smooshed between him and Ron at the Hogwarts annual alumni Quidditch showcase, or even the last time he had given her an old book he had wandered across in his travels, but not like this. It had been ages since he had seen her smile reach her eyes and suddenly it was as if the rest of the world didn't matter, because in this moment all he could think about was how all he wanted to do was spend the rest of his existence on earth making her look just like this.

His free hand rose in time with his body as he twisted to face her, and before he could talk himself out of doing something so bold, his lips met hers. His hand cupped her cheek, the tips of his fingers brushing against the thick curls that framed her face as he pulled her toward him, his other hand moving to capture one of hers in a soft hold. The logical half of his brain was sounding the alarm bells, telling him how utter fucked he was because he just kissed his damn friend of thirteen years. Beyond that, he had not even gotten confirmation that she reciprocated his feelings! But the other side of his brain, the impulsive one that had often gotten him in trouble, howled at the moon with a devilish pride that he had finally gotten the courage to do just this.

Hermione's heart felt as if it had skipped two beats, and her brain backfired. If she were in a cartoon she was sure that there would be small streams of smoke erupting from her ears because her face felt exceptionally hot as a deep crimson blush blossomed over her cheeks. This was exactly what she had been hoping for since receiving his invitation, and now here it was, quite literally smacking her in the face, and all she could do was freeze and try to allow her brain to catch up to what was happening in front of her.

When Hermione made no move to kiss him more, nor do anything beyond make a small squeak in surprise when he first pressed his lips against her, a heavy reality crashed down around Harry and he pulled back, emerald eyes darting between Hermione's with rising uncertainty. Oh...bollocks. He had really mucked it up this time, hadn't he? "I...I…" he began, stumbling to get the right words out as color rushed into his cheeks, and he let go of her cheek and hand to slide his hands through his unruly black locks nervously. "Hermione I'm so sorry...I...I-"

Sorry? He was… sorry? Hermione gulped in confusion, her mouth opening to silence his hurried apology, but when she simply could not get a word in edgewise, she knew what she needed to do. Reaching out, her hand curled around the center of his button-down and she pulled him towards her in one smooth motion as she brought him in for a kiss. This time, her eyes closed and her lips moved against his as she slid her other hand through the side of his hair.

Harry was no legilimens, despite Dumbledore and Snape's best efforts, but he was fairly certain what this meant. His hands dropped to her waist, carefully guiding her over his legs until she sat straddling his waist and he settled back over the couch. Kissing Hermione should have felt odd. Anytime he had snogged someone new he had always found it awkward in the beginning. Teeth clashing, the hurriedness of something new, but this felt… right. Like they both had been waiting for this exact moment for ages and everything prior was just practice. His tongue swept across her bottom lip as his head tilted to the side, silently asking for her to part her lips and allow him to deepen the kiss, something Hermione was more than happy to obliged to.

Every molecule of his heat sunk through her skin to warm her bones as they kissed, his hands holding her hips firmly in place on his lap, not daring to tug her closer to seat herself in the natural position that locked her hips in with his. It wasn't until he felt a small tug against his shirt that he released his hold on her waist and Hermione scooted down his thighs until her body was flush against his. His heart beat so hard that he was certain she could feel it rattle her chest as she wound her arms around his neck, her fingers carding through his hair as their tongues brushed against one another.

Harry broke the kiss, his mouth running a hot trail of kisses down her delicate jaw and across the column of her neck as his fingers danced at the hem of her camisole, waiting for any sign that she might want him to stop.

Hermione shivered as his mouth ran across her pulse point, and his name was whimpered as she felt his teeth graze her skin. Her fingers curled in his hair, short nails scraping lightly at his scalp as she rocked her hips against his, feeling the evidence of his desire for her through their jeans. Hermione would never consider herself a weak person, but for the first time in her life it felt so fucking good not to be in control of what was happening. Just allowing them to follow the most basic primal instinct and give in to whatever had been building between them.

Harry's right hand moved slowly; the rough pads of his fingertips touched her skin first and he let out a shaky breath against her throat. She was soft, more than he had thought, and while the skin on her neck tasted divine, he wondered if perhaps she might taste better elsewhere. He knew they did not have the time for him to explore every inch of her body, like he wanted to, but damn if his mind didn't wander with the possibilities. Slowly, making sure to drag his wide spread palm across her skin, Harry moved his hand over the curve of her ribcage and around until his fingers brushed against the swell of her breast through the lacy gray bra he had seen moments ago. He felt Hermione keen in his arms, her back arching to press more of her breast into his palm as he cupped her breast, testing the weight of it in his hand as the pad of his thumb dragged across the soft fabric in search of her nipple.

Just as his name tumbled from her lips, his own personal form of encouragement he was sure men would wage wars over if given the chance, the sound of his Floo activating stilled both of them. Harry's brows pinched together as he tried to remember why he had even allowed access in the first place, the synapses of his brain misfiring, but before he could ponder the thought further Hermione quickly pushed herself out of his lap. Blinking, Harry looked up to her, confused, until the rest of the room came into view. The tree, the presents, and the plate of cookies. Fuck! Teddy! Harry stood quickly, his hands smoothing down the wrinkles in his flannel, rethreading some of the buttons that had come undone in their kiss, and he quickly reached into his pocket to adjust his growing problem in his trousers. "S-shit."

Hermione lunged for her jumper and frantically pulled it on as she walked away from Harry. They needed space, right? Perhaps if there was plenty of space between them Andromeda might not notice the kiss-swollen lips, the messed up hair or the practically electric-charged air that filled the small living room. Her head shot up at Harry's swear, and she watched as he adjusted his tenting jeans, wincing slightly at the adjustment, and a small blush crept across her cheeks as an odd sense of pride swelled through her. She had caused that...she...Hermione Granger, the insufferable swot, had made him lust after her. She couldn't believe it, because despite having matured so much since Hogwarts, part of her still felt like Harry might not truly ever be interested in her because she would always be that girl to him.

The roar of the fire grew, and green flames licked at the top of the high mantle as the image of an older woman and a small child appeared instantly in the fireplace. Stepping through the flame and onto the hearth, Andromeda released her grandson's shoulders and laughed as the wild boy instantly darted across the room towards Harry.

"Uncle!" Teddy shouted, blue eyes wide with excitement. His hair was golden blonde today, and thick with curls that flounced with each hurried step he took towards his most favorite uncle. Throwing his arms in the air once he got close enough, Teddy bounced with excitement and jumped straight into his uncle's arms with no fear, thin little arms wrapping around Harry as best they could. "I get to spend the night!"

"Teddy, Uncle Harry knows," Andromeda reminded the overly excited five year old as she brushed soot from her blouse. When Hermione and Harry had first met the witch, both of them had been quite shocked at how much she looked like her older sister. She and Bellatrix shared far more physical characteristics than not, but as time had passed and more time was spent with her it became more and more apparent just how different she was. And how far uglier Bellatrix had been, on the inside and out. Andromeda had shoulder-length light brown hair that fell in curly waves reminiscent of her elder sisters, and soft wide eyes so blue that it was easy to see why the young boy in Harry's arms often mimicked them.

Stepping further into Grimmauld Place, Andromeda looked around the decorated room, a small smile curving on her painted lips as the warmth of Christmas seeped into her. When Hermione came into view, she could not help but notice the almost disheveled appearance of the normally well put together witch. Messy hair, jumper askew, and cheeks still flush. Her eyes snapped back to Harry, watching as he lifted her grandson further up into his arms, enveloping the small child in a big bear hug. He too bore the same appearance. (Although to be fair, Harry's hair always appeared unkempt.) Slowly the puzzle pieces in the room seemed to snap together in her mind, and a slow knowing smirk replaced the warm grin she bore seconds earlier as she turned back to Hermione, reaching out to place a single hand on the witch's on the shoulder so she could pull her attention away from the adorable scene of Harry greeting his godson. "Hullo, Hermione dear. It's so nice to see you."