Vienna, Austria

December 2008

When M and the spymaster had both delivered him the mission of retrieving an important artifact stolen from the Isle of Avalon itself, Harry Potter had nearly doubled over and laughed to their faces. Yes, he was a wizard, yes magic and flying brooms existed, as well as hexes and curses, but even he was skeptical of the existence of such a place, or at the very least he'd been certain it'd been exclusively mythical for the better part of a thousand years. Otherwise, why on Earth did no one in Wizarding Britain know about it? Nevertheless, here he was in a foggy and cold Vienna hunting for an old block of granite with runic inscriptions. Just about the best way to celebrate Christmas.

He was rather breathless as he barely escaped the three Wizards that were following him ever since he had left the extraction site several minutes ago. He'd made a few long detours before declaring it safe enough for him to leave the crowded and heavily-decorated commercial district of Wizarding Vienna, packed with last-minute Christmas shoppers and smelling strongly of ginger, mulled wine and apple custard while holiday music could be heard all over, happy Austrian carolers belting out O Tannenbaum like it would save all their lives. Harry approached a portly official-looking Wizard who stood by an 18-meter tall column depicting several Witches and Wizards looking upon a black gigantic magical bird, a phoenix, that carried a wand and a sword on each talon. He couldn't help but think that its craftsmanship was worlds better than the hideous victory fountain they'd installed in the middle of Diagon Alley, upon the one year anniversary of Voldemort's defeat… By Harry's own wand, that was. Words could not describe how much he loathed it, the mere memory of all the pain and loss he'd went through, and of all the war's casualties. A decade later and they were still rebuilding, the lot of them in England.

"Please wait a minute, sir." The Wizard spoke while referring to a watch-like device that had numerous astrological symbols and runes instead of numbers, and five different hands. Two hands started turning counterclockwise really fast until it stopped at two different symbols. "Very well, sir, you may go." He gestured towards the middle of the column. Harry entered through it feeling the cool water-like trickle of the automatic Disillusionment charm going through his body. A few more steps and he felt another sensation, recognizing his crossing of the magical boundaries that separated the muggle and wizarding versions of Vienna. Finally, he stepped out from the column, which was now the Pestsäule and into the famous Graben street.

Instead of feeling the warm effect of the charm wearing off, Harry was met with the cold and damp of the downpour of rain. He was only fortunate that his coat was already magicked to adjust to whatever weather the wearer would be experiencing and that the 'package' he just so carefully acquired was tucked safely in its inner pockets. He looked back at the entrance, making sure that none of them had followed him and then proceeded to cross the nearly empty street. The rain had gone heavier and everyone else was going indoors for shelter. Harry knew he couldn't return to his hotel yet, so he crossed a few more streets and cut into a corner before settling on a quaint café he'd been to yesterday: Der Leopoldine. It was all soft pastel colors in soft pinks and blues with golden swirls on the walls, attempting to mirror the fabulous and over-the-top decor of the imperial Habsburg palaces. Despite this, even he could recognize just how pleasant and cozy it was as he made to enter the establishment for the second time this week. A woman closing a bright-red umbrella was just beside him when he pushed the door open, her clothes were damp and so was her hair and the vanilla scent she carried, though he was certain it wasn't just vanilla.

"It seems like the London rain's following me," She said with a dramatic sigh, rolling her eyes, though a small smile played at the corner of her lips. She had an English accent, London, not particularly posh but definitely of the kind that was Oxbridge educated. He let her enter first. "Good thing I thought of borrowing an umbrella before I left my hotel… You'd think that because I'm English I'd always carry one around with me..."

"Yeah," He mumbled distractedly as he scanned for a vacant table. The café was packed and it seemed like the only available spaces were the checkered tile floor or maybe the area behind the counter.

"Oh, look!" She pointed out happily, "there's a table with two chairs by that window over there. Would you mind if we shared it? It would be selfish of me not to invite you, seeing how crowded this place is..." It was rather disconcerting to him just how much she spoke, a mile a minute, but Harry couldn't deny the urge to rest and enjoy a nice hot cuppa. Tomorrow he'd be returning to London and hopefully in time for Christmas Eve at the Burrow. Just the thought of Molly Weasley's cooking made his mouth water, until it dawned on him that he probably wouldn't be very welcome this year, not after he'd ended his decade's long engagement to Ginny.

"Sharing, sure..." He answered, his brief moment of optimism shattered by the reality of his stupid, brash decisions. He should've ended things with Ginny after Christmas, then he wouldn't be in this sad and pathetic predicament with no family to celebrate the holidays with… Hell, not even a home he had.

They each took their seats on the tight table by the window, the grand avenue's belle-epoque buildings decked with garlands and Christmas lights shining in shades of red, gold and green reflected on each raindrop that fell. It was just after nine o'clock, the night sky painted a heavy and ugly gray. He looked at her for the first time that moment and found that her face was much more pleasant than he'd expected. Had he even expected anything? It truly didn't matter when her big dark eyes looked at him unabashedly, as if trying to read the very depths of his soul. He felt a shiver down his spine but it was definitely not of the sinister type… There was something about her, something about the intelligent glint in her eyes, or the mass of honey-brown curls that framed her face, the crimson of her cheeks from the wet and cold that made him warm all over... comfortable. Yes. She was as comfortable as pastel-colored cafes or steaming cups of hot chocolate on a cold winter day. How odd.

"And I am Hermione Granger, in case you were wondering or wanting to confirm…" She rattled on, with an amused smile. "Of course you must be wondering how someone like you could be stumbling into me in Vienna of all places, that's fame to you, but I guarantee you I'm just like any other person… And I do appreciate my coffee well-made. This place has excellent reviews according to the staff at my hotel." He was taken aback for a moment. Famous? Was this crazy, cozy-looking lady really famous? A cooking show host no doubt, as he never in his life ever laid eyes upon someone like her. And he never watched cooking shows.

He was about to awkwardly grumble something out when he was saved by the arrival of a waiter, a redhead of all kinds of people, sporting a notepad in hand.

"Guten Abend, wie kann ich Ihnen helfen?" The man greeted with a smile, Harry and the famous woman before him both seemed to have at least one thing other than their nationalities in common as they both seemed to understand nothing of German, looking lost and stupid under the waiter's gaze.

"I'm sorry, we only speak English… Actually, I speak French, Greek, Italian and Latin too, but nothing of German, I'm sorry." She said, sheepishly. Harry slightly raised his eyebrows, impressed by her linguistic capabilities and the ease with which she bragged about herself, but impressively in a non totally arrogant way. Was that even humanly possible? For famous Miss Granger it seemed to be…

"Oh, not a problem, madam! Good evening, I am Tobias and I am your server tonight…" He handed them each a stylish menu and patiently waited for them to read through.

"Uhm, I'd like a cappushino, please, no sugar and a chicken sandwich…"

"It's Cap-uh-CHEE-no, not cappushino." She corrected and a part of Harry immediately regretted even agreeing to sit with her. "I'll have a black coffee and a double slice of apple pie with ice cream." He also realized she had a big appetite.

"Is that all?" The waiter asked and the insufferable little know-it-all nodded, shooting him a smile.

"Actually, I'd like a bottle of sparkling water, please."

"Right away, sir. Excuse me…" After the redhead walked away with their orders she turned to look at him.

"You never told me your name…" Harry's effort to control his tongue and his eyes from rolling were herculean at least as he glanced at her once again.

"I'm Harry, I was raised between Surrey and Scotland, and before you ask, I'm in Vienna on business." She smiled a smile that warmed him all over, the irritating woman.

"What line of business are you in?"

"Are you always this nosy with people you meet?" She didn't look taken aback for a second, but rather there was a mischievous and borderline sassy look in her eyes. He absolutely hated it. And then she laughed, not the subdued ladylike kind of laugh. It was genuine, shameless, melodic and absolutely lovely. The kind of laugh very few people had, the kind that drew others in.

"I suppose it comes with the job, I am a journalist after all." A journalist, of course. Perhaps the Rita bloody Skeeter of the muggle world? Was that why she was famous? All of a sudden Harry felt an urge to jump, bolt away for dear life, but he couldn't… There was something about her that drew him in like a moth to a flame. She was nosy, insufferable, arrogant and also, to Harry's despair, beautiful and charismatic as hell.

He momentarily thought about how she didn't fit into what was normally his type, but quickly disregarded the ridiculous notion. He had to remind himself that he had just ended a long term relationship and that he was not looking for a rebound. He looked away and fiddled with the pink table napkin on his right. If only the server could hurry up so that there'd be something to focus on instead of staring at this crazy stranger.

Harry felt her eyes on him and he couldn't help but raise his eyes in order to meet hers. She was looking at him curiously, as though he were some specimen being observed under a microscope. It was highly unnerving, he hated the scrutiny, always had.

"Your scar," She leaned closer to examine, nevermind his right to personal space.

"What–oh..." Passing through the boundary must have erased the effect of the glamour he'd always placed on the mark on his forehead. It was always a precautionary habit, second nature. After all, that stupid thing made him famous and anyone would have easily recognized him.

"It's shaped like a lightning bolt, how very curious. It's as if someone carved it on you! Where'd you get that from? I've never seen anything like it... I got a few scars myself but nothing specifically shaped like yours. There's one where..." She continued, gesticulating like a madwoman. Harry wondered if she was always this loquacious to strangers. He craned his neck looking for the server who was now taking orders from another table.

"... anyway, I accidentally stepped on my cousin's pet badger–-who keeps a pet badger right? And then it had bitten me here and that's how I got this really ugly scar on my ankle..." Harry wasn't sure where she was heading with this and if she expected him to explain how he got his scar. It was fairly obvious he wouldn't be telling her about how some psychopath tried to off him as a baby, it wasn't exactly an 'afternoon at a café' type of conversation. He let her ramble on because there was something in the way she emanated this joyous passion about whatever she was going on about that was fascinating to him. He'd only been this passionate about something when debating Quidditch with Ron and the lads. The fact that he found her stories interesting baffled him. He let his vision linger on her until he angled his head a bit to look outside the window and across the street. What he saw alerted him, and all hopes of a quiet evening and warm meal melted away. He knit his eyebrows, in concentration, his jaw tightening from the tension.

Over there, across the street stood a familiar lanky figure among the waiting pedestrians. When the crossing light turned green, the crowd began to walk and Harry got a clearer view of the man: silver hair and a haughty triangular face carved with a perpetual sneer. It was one of the dark wizards who had chased him barely half an hour ago.

"Merlin's beard," He cursed under his breath as his staring had caught the dark wizard's attention, prompting the man to hurriedly walk towards the café.

"Merlin's what? What did you just say?" Hermione's voice brought him to the reality of his situation. A dark wizard coming towards him in a café filled with muggles. He was sure that the other two would be alerted into coming here as well and he knew he could easily fight them off but the package… Harry didn't think he could protect it while dueling with the three. He knew he was in deep shit, none of this was supposed to happen. This was supposed to be a very easy extraction.

"Hermione," His voice was firm, almost like a father about to deliver a scolding, still, it shocked him how her name rolled off his tongue so naturally, the mouthful that it was. He slid out of his seat and took her arm, pulling her off her seat in the process.

"What do you think you're doing?" She demanded, looking very displeased but heeding him anyway as he pulled her away from their table. "If you're trying to kidnap me, my agent will find out later. This isn't the first time this has happened in my field."

"Shush! I'll explain." He groaned internally and huffed. It was idiotic, but it was the only way he could ensure the safety of the package. He led her towards the kitchen of the café, ignoring the angry German protests from the staff.

"Why did you bring me here? I shouldn't have offered you a seat! You're being rude. Honestly!"

Harry brought his left hand inside his coat pocket and procured the package. It was rectangular in shape and had a width of two hardbound books piled on top of each other. It was messily wrapped in some sort of parchment paper and twine.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, bemused on how that thing could've fit from his inner pocket. She thought he was going to hit her with it or something worse but instead he held it out towards her.

"I have no choice. Keep this package for me and get away from here, quickly." A few screams could be heard from the outside now. And her heartbeat madly in her chest as she looked into his green eyes, desperate to know why.

"Harry, what's fucking happening?" Her voice was understandably panicky.

"Hermione, just please keep this for me and protect it with your life." He gave the package to her with one hand. Thinking that it was heavy, she received it with two hands. Surprisingly it was as light as a paperback.

"How–" She was holding it awkwardly, brown eyes wide.

"No time for questions, Miss Granger." Harry interjected, his right hand was noticeably on the right side of his pocket, about to take out something else. "Go, go!" He pulled her again towards the service exit. "Don't come back here. I'll find you later. I'll handle this. I know you'll get curious but I really must insist that you head straight to your hotel. You'll be safer there and keep the package safe. All right?" He instructed as he encouragingly pushed her towards the back alley and stopped the door with his hand. Hermione could only nod and was about to say something but he'd disappeared already, and the last thing she registered before running off was a loud resounding crack coming from inside the café.

Hermione was suddenly terrified by the prospect of some terrorist attack and it was just in her nature to investigate but she found herself compelled to do what he'd told. She brought the package up, wondering what importance it could possibly have to cause such a commotion. Perhaps she could look over it at her hotel, surely she could be discreet enough for Harry to never find out.

...

Harry had just finished rounding up the three dark wizards when the Austrian Magical Law Enforcement squad arrived and started obliviating the muggle witnesses Harry had kept on lockdown.

"Were there any other Muggles who could have witnessed the entire thing and left the venue?" One of the Obliviators, a short man sporting an aubergine-colored ministry robe and an odd handlebar mustache, asked.

"Err...no… I locked everything down when they started coming in." He answered, making a mental note to obliviate her once this was all over. Hopefully, she followed his instructions and went straight to her hotel. And then it dawned on him, what hotel was she staying in? Just what he needed was another thing obstacle to deal with. "May I leave now?"

"Not yet, Herr Potter. I will have to ask you what business you have with these men. They're one of the most wanted criminals in Central Europe, responsible for the smuggling of priceless wizarding artifacts. And for them to have disrupted an entire muggle area because of you..." Harry didn't like the clipped and accusatory tone of the man's voice. He only sighed deeply and felt himself getting impatient.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you. It's top secret. I've already given you proof that I'm an Auror for the British ministry with direct authorization from your ministry to be here. What more do you need? Should I portkey you with me to London so that my superior could tell you the exact same thing?"

The Obliviator started smoothing his mustache and rereading Harry's badge and the parchment that the Ministry had provided for him. He grumbled in distaste, but even he had to recognize that there was nothing to justify detaining Harry for any longer. "Very well, Herr Potter, I'll be confirming this with both Austrian and British Ministries. Until then, I advise you not to leave the city or country within the next 24 hours otherwise we'll be deeming you an international fugitive."

"What the fuck do you mean?" Harry fumed. "Can't you bloody just accept?"

The Auror-obliviator ignored Harry's sudden outburst of anger. "Enjoy the rest of the day, sir and as we say in my language, Frohe Weihnachten!" The man returned to the rest of his squad, looking less pleased than his farewell would normally imply.

Harry left the newly repaired café muttering to himself and all of the sudden parched for a stiff drink. The rain was threatening to fall again as the temperatures went further down and he shivered into his jacket.

Meanwhile, back in her hotel room, Hermione Granger placed the package carefully on top of her bed and examined it closely.

"This could be a box of anthrax," She took it again and started shaking it. "Or a bomb! Oh, I'm in deep, deep trouble… Jesus bloody Christ, what did I get myself into? On your damn birthday of all days even! I could be endangering lives!" She bit her lower lip in frustration, going on full-on panic mode. And then it hit her, and she felt herself relax at least a bit more, "But then again, if it were anthrax or a bomb then the hotel security would've known when it went through the x-ray machine at the entrance and I'd probably be rotting in jail right about now!" And just like that, she started pacing around the room again, almost digging up a trench in the marble tiles.

Moments later Hermione decided to turn on the television and set it to the local news channel. She was waiting on any breaking news about what had transpired at the café earlier. It'd been almost an hour ago and there was no mention of it all. There was a mention of her upcoming press conference and premiere night, which made her beam. Of course, the excitement was short-lived. Her thoughts went back to the package. The intensity of her pacing increased, the frictional forces nearly creating a burn on the ornate Turkish rug in the sumptuous living area of the fancy suite her agent had arranged for her as a twisted sort of holiday gift, fancy rooms like this weren't really her normal. Suddenly feeling the tension on her shoulders, she decided to draw herself a bath with a few drops of rich Morrocan rose otto oil and ordered room service, a massive truffle burger with rosemary chips she'd been eyeing since her arrival and a local IPA brew because she was only human after all. She pinned her curls on top of her head and sunk herself deep inside the bathtub and let it rejuvenate her.

She remained in the bath for an hour after which she enjoyed her meal, even going as far as ordering a chocolate soufflé with vanilla ice cream and red berries to make up for the missed café meal from earlier. Determined to distract herself all through the day, she attempted to read a few more chapters of her current book and revised her notes for her interview for the millionth time. After staring at the same page for what seemed like forever, she put the book down in frustration and pouted almost like a little child. Her eyes traveled to the package now safely placed on the coffee table. There couldn't be any harm in peeking, could there? She was now quite certain it wasn't a bomb.

Hermione approached it again, her thoughts getting wilder and more fantastical by the minute.

"There could be drugs in this." She mumbled, the cogs in her brain trying to double the effort into figuring whatever was inside. "Could Harry be a drug dealer? Maybe he owed people and they were chasing him…" She gasped at the prospect. "Or maybe he stole the drugs… but then again he's probably too good-looking to be a drug guy…" She tried to shake off the image of his messy dark hair, his unkempt beard and the greenest eyes she'd ever seen hiding behind a pair of glasses. "Oh, don't be stupid Hermione," she muttered to herself, "you shouldn't stereotype drug dealers, I mean, blame the movies for bloody stereotypes and not teaching people any better… He should be claiming this back... did I tell him where to find me?" Panic rose inside her, "Oh, bloody hell! I'm probably caught in between some drug syndicate plot and he's probably dead by now! I hope he doesn't mention that I have it or else they might kill me next? What do I do with this package? Where do I hide if I'm next?" The relaxing bath she just had seemed to be an age ago already.

Hermione glared at the package now, as if challenging it to do something wicked. She gave herself a minute or two before giving in to the stupidest of ideas.

"Well, it's now or never, Hermione. If you open this and it blows up then it's your fault anyway." Slowly she loosened the twine, the anticipation killing her. Once that was done, she took three deep breaths and removed the parchment wrapper. This was too thrilling, a Cheshire cat smile played on her face and oh, if anyone caught the shine in her eyes. She had something illegal in her hands and entirely out of the ordinary. It was haphazardly wrapped in four different layers of wrapper and once she'd gotten to the last one, the Cheshire cat smile faltered with no hopes of resurrecting on her face. A huge bubble of disappointment enveloped her and she felt almost cheated.

The content of the package was a granite stone with writings that looked like something the Vikings would've used. She placed the stone back on the table and sank to the floor, eyebrows furrowed and frowning deeply.

"Ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!" She exclaimed, feeling much like a fool for all her unwarranted panic and despair. Still, some thoughts gnawed on her: Why was Harry carrying this? What's his connection to this stone? What line of business required him to carry a heavy piece of ancient stone? Wait, but it wasn't heavy at all... It was actually light. For something made of granite stone, it should be much, much heavier!

"Hmm, curious. Very curious, indeed." She whispered, though she still wasn't entirely able to shake off all her disappointment.

...

An alarm reverberated through the room causing Harry to groan. There was a good pounding on his head from the drinking last night. His eyes were still closed when he tried to pat his hand on the side table for the snooze button. He was stuck here for the day and there was that other conundrum of having to track down that Hermione Granger because she had his package, which should be delivered into safer hands.

"It's time for the Morning Mayhem with Leonie and Jonas here on Antenne Wien 105.9. Brought to you by Koffee Magik, saving the tired world one cup of coffee at a time!" The alarm clock radio started. Harry groggily rolled out of his bed, looking for his glasses.

"Guten Morgen! It's 3 minutes past 8 on Christmas Eve here in the wonderful city of Vienna, have you finished your Christmas shopping yet? I'm Jonas Koch and right now it is indeed Christmas because I'm currently surrounded by two lovely women: my co-host Leonie Lang and our very special guest, Hermione Granger." Harry's eyes suddenly widened upon hearing her name. He turned up the volume.

"Thank you for that, Jonas, and as you've mentioned we have a very special guest. She's a world-renowned journalist and she's in town for the week for the premiere of her latest documentary 'The Holodomor Terror' at the Vienna International Film Festival. Of course, we've already known her for award-winning titles such as 'The Life and Times of Chernobyl' and 'Istanbul, A Tale of Three Cities' among the latest. Hallo Hermione!"

"Good morning! Thank you so much for having me on this show, Leonie and Jonas!"

"Wow, those are heavy titles to hear in the morning but very, very important as it pertains to one of the darkest corners of history. What made you choose the topic of what is considered one of the biggest contemporary human genocides, Hermione?" Jonas started.

"Well this was a topic I became interested in upon reading the articles by the Welsh journalist Gareth Jones, who discovered the terror in the Soviet Union in the 30s and I began to do my own research from there…" She began to answer with that enthusiasm now familiar to Harry. He couldn't help but smile, even though as the presenters said, the topic was serious and rather sanguinary sort. As someone who had experienced war and many atrocities up front, Harry couldn't help but wonder just why these things interested Hermione so. Perhaps he could ask her this in person before he retrieved his package and was forced to obliviate her.

Harry drifted on and off with the 30-minute interview. He was trying to look for clues on where she'd be after.

"Well, that's it for today. Thank you so much for the very compelling interview, Hermione, and thank you for the Vienna International Film Festival tickets you provided. Now, in the next five minutes we'll be gifting first callers with several of these!"

"Thank you for your time as well and especially for this wonderful apple strudel. This is heavenly! Where is it from?"

"We knew you'd like it! It's from the Demel bakery, a few blocks down from our station."

"Oh, jolly good!"

"Well, that's it for now. Don't forget to listen back to us again tomorrow. This is the Morning Mayhem with your hosts Leonie and Jonas here at the heart of Vienna. Enjoy the holidays!"

And with the mention of the apple strudel, Harry now had a good inkling on where he could find her. He couldn't help but chuckle and roll his eyes as he recalled the giant plate of pie she'd ordered the previous evening at the café and didn't get to eat. Hermione Granger and her appetite… it would be the death of her. With that, he finished getting dressed and headed for the door of his suite, anxious to find the insufferable little know-it-all.

...

The Bakery was found a few blocks from Naschmarkt, Vienna's biggest and most famous inner-city market. Harry stood in front of a bottle-green storefront with gold-lined window panes displaying today's freshly baked pastries. The topmost border embossed with Die Demel Bäckerei Est. 1849 in a classic Clarendon serif. The place was well-lit and decorated, like most establishments in Vienna seemed to be and soft jazz music played in the background, adding to the cozy feel. The place smelled of sweets and coffee, but not in an overwhelming way. As he entered, his eyes immediately scanned for any sign of wild curly hair, only to find her dressed in a bright red coat sitting by a large window to the right, pen and paper in hand. Harry didn't know why, but all of a sudden he felt a warm feeling take over him, a feeling that was a peculiar mix of joy and anticipation. He shouldn't however, be feeling these things. He had two very straightforward tasks to accomplish with Miss Granger and those consisted of retrieving the damn artifact and obliviate himself and any exposure to magic from her memory.

There was an ornate oval mirror with sculptures of little doves and he couldn't help but run a hand through his perpetually messy hair for some reason and try to straighten the wrinkles on his shirt… That was one charm he was still yet to learn from the Weasley matriarch. He walked toward her, Hermione's back to him and slid into the booth seat across from her.

"You're a very easy famous person to find…" He told her smoothly, wearing a cheeky grin as she stared back at him wide-eyed from surprise.

He watched with a smirk as her wide-eyes sharpened and her eyebrows furrowed in annoyance.

"Your package is at my hotel…" She responded, pointing her chin upwards haughtily and frowning. He thought she was absolutely adorable.

"I'm actually quite hungry this morning, didn't get anything to eat last night after all, you know, that whole ordeal…" He drifted off with an air of nonchalance. "You wouldn't mind my company, would you? It's just the two of us in this café and it would be rude for me not to make you company…" She rolled her eyes at his parodying her.

"A rather boring package that was, don't you think? And here I thought it could be something worth writing a novel about…" Harry chuckled and shook his head.

"Boring indeed, but a man's got to work… So you looked inside didn't you?" Hermione shrugged, but even she couldn't help the rise of the corner of her lips into a smile.

"I thought it could be drugs, maybe… Figures that it wasn't, you are quite boring." Harry was about to give her a good comeback when a waitress arrived carrying Hermione's brunch of delectable-looking apple strudel with ice cream, tea and a side of Ischl tartlets, which were really cute biscuits of Christmas motifs with jam sandwiched inside. Bless the woman and her obsession with sweets! Hermione eyed him knowingly as her eyes followed his hungry gaze to her food, she smiled wickedly. "So, I gather you listened to my interview…"

Harry nodded, still staring at the sweets set out between them on the table.

"I'm intrigued actually, by this interest you seem to have for horrible disasters and war."

"It's not the disasters and the war that intrigue me, Harry," she responded, used to receiving this kind of comment. She looked pointedly into his eye and continued: "It's actually people who interest me, especially people who fight through adversity…" Only then she had realized just how green his eyes were, an utterly unique and dare say beautiful shade, Hermione had never seen eyes quite like his, they were striking and even surprising as they hid behind oval-framed spectacles that could very well belong to her granddad.

And that's when from the corner of her eye she spotted his clever hands try to steal one of her Ischl cookies but they weren't fast enough as she slapped his hand away, making him drop the biscuit back on the plate.

"You can order your own!" She exclaimed in outrage, pulling the plate closer to her and popping a biscuit inside her mouth, making him watch as she reveled in its delicious taste, and as the buttery cookie all but melted on her tongue. She couldn't help but moan, it was something she often did when eating, totally beyond her control, but that moan made Harry's eyes widen and his smile falter, only for him to stare at her in what seemed like wonder. Hermione couldn't help but blush as she swallowed, sheepishly trying to hide it behind her steaming cup of tea.

"I think I'll have some of those too…" He motioned for the waitress then, his eyes purposefully avoiding Hermione and Hermione too embarrassed to look at him, concentrating on the small feast before her, rather desperately.

When the waitress finally came by Hermione tapped Harry's hand and immediately he turned to look at her.

"Ask for the Kaiserschmarrn… I'll share my strudel with you if you share some of yours with me." Harry's eyes sparkled at her proposition, borne out of pure gluttony.

"How have your teeth not rotten yet?" He asked her with a hearty laugh. "Or your liver melted…?"

"My parents are dentists, that's why!" She cried out defensively, a humored twinkle in her eyes. "Sweets are better than sex, I'll have you know."

"They're almost as good, you mean."

"I whole-heartedly disagree, they're better…"

"Merlin's beard, I pity you… No boyfriends treated you right?" Hermione scoffed. "No wonder you're so uptight!"

"You men think so highly of yourselves, but most of you can't find a clitoris to save your lives. Therefore, the sweets are better. And I am not uptight!" Harry got so distracted laughing that he missed the waitress's shocked expression from listening in to their little spat. "He'll have the Kaiserschmarrn, please, and tea with just a spot of milk. Thank you!" The waitress scribbled the order on her pad and hurried away before Hermione could bossily add anything else.

"That's exactly what uptight people tend to respond anyway…" He said, his cheeks red from laughing at her. Hermione was happy to please as yesterday he'd looked downright miserable and unpleasant. Today, she actually rather liked him… "I saw you were writing when I got here, ideas for a new book?"

"No, actually, a card for my parents… It is Christmas Eve after all. I only hope it'll arrive in Menorca on time, they moved there after retirement. Do you have family in Vienna, what are your plans for the holidays?" Harry shrugged as he watched her enjoy her strudel, she was a bit messy at it, what with some powdered sugar staining the corners of her lips. He fought the urge to brush his fingers over it to clean her.

"My parents actually died when I was a baby, I was raised by my uncles, but the relationship with them has always been rubbish…" She looked at him curiously as he spoke, watching as his features darkened a bit as Harry mentioned his parents' fate and his upbringing. By the looks of it, it hadn't been a pleasant one. "The last few Christmases I spent with my fiancée's family, but that's all over now so I really don't know…" Hermione nodded in understanding, playing with the seams of her cloth napkin.

"Like I told you, my parents are living in Menorca, Spain. They retired and decided to completely uproot their lives and change. My childhood home in Oxford was sold, their practice too and now they live happily naked on the beach. As I had no inclination to spend Christmas naked with my parents, I politely declined and decided to come here." Harry nearly choked at his laughter once she described being naked with her parents and Hermione too found the humor in it, and suddenly their loud and unabashed laughter rang throughout the bakery, their faces turning red and shoulders shaking uncontrollably, until the laughter died down and they were left breathless, red-faced and looking at one another with sparks of happiness in both sets of eyes. Harry hadn't the heart yet to obliviate her.

"Does that mean we are two lonely fucks this Christmas?" Hermione chuckled dryly at his wording, but ended up nodding.

"I wonder, could we two lonely fucks perhaps spend Christmas together?" He couldn't for the life of him say 'no' to her. He was irrevocably caught in the web of the famous Hermione Granger. And for all intents and purposes, she did still have that blasted artifact in her possession.

…

An hour and a half later, the two stepped out of the then crowded bakery. Hermione with a very full and content stomach and Harry with a lighter wallet because she talked her way into making him pay for everything.

"That was bloody unfair." He sulked as he let her lead the way into the street. She rolled her eyes at him, something he noticed she did quite often.

"It was your fault that I wasn't able to eat my apple pie yesterday so it's only fair that you pay for my breakfast." She defended herself while reading the street signs as they walked along the block.

"You better pay for my lunch," He warned her before he stopped almost tripping over her the minute she came to a sudden halt, taking out a small Vienna guide book from her purse. "Where are we going anyway?"

"I'm figuring it out." She bit her lower lip while scanning through the book. That only made him stare at her lips, and without her noticing he felt his cheeks grow warm. He had to admit he enjoyed being with her and was even thankful for the company really. She was a bit mental at times but she was fun, and pleasant, though he wasn't in a hurry to let her know any of this. He miraculously managed to look away a second before she looked up and nearly caught him. "Do you have any place, in particular, you'd like to see?"

"I was only here for a job. I didn't think I'd be stuck here for another day and spend it with a famous stranger of all people. I'll leave you to it, oh famous Hermione Granger." He teased. She glared at him momentarily, but even then she was entirely adorable.

"You're incorrigible." She rolled her eyes and then closed the guide book for a while. "And you still haven't told me what your occupation is and why you were carrying a huge block of stone..."

He grinned and then unexpectedly leaned closer, whispering against her neck: "If I told you I'd have to kill you." Hermione ignored the slight shiver that went down her spine, as well as the goosebumps that arose from the absolutely tempting warm breath that touched her skin, contrasting with the cold winter breeze. "There was something about that package, Harry, it looked ancient..." And then she faked horror and consternation. "You're here to kill me, aren't you? You're some black market thief slash smuggler!"

"Err, I-of course not." He was a bit taken aback. "Your imagination is ridiculously wild."

"... and whatever happened in that café wasn't on the news. I know and heard something after you forced me out. The café, the package, the whole commotion–those aren't hard to miss. Especially in a crowded place full of last-minute Christmas shoppers...aha! I've figured it out!"

"Figured what out?" He echoed uncomfortably.

"You're a secret agent, aren't you?" She conspiratorially whispered, an excited glint in her eyes. "Of course you are, it makes complete sense, to be honest! That's the only way everything that happened in the café could've been hushed!"

Harry ignored the weird and cool sensation of dread that settled in the pit of his stomach and simply shook his head. "Let's just go."

"Admit that I'm right, Harry, or is it Bond, James Bond?" She urged, the stupid grin on her face and sparkle in her eyes only increasing, which made him pull a Hermione and roll his eyes at her antics.

"Have you bloody hit your head? My name is Harry!" He replied, confused and annoyed. And then she laughed at him.

"Oh, come off it Harry, don't tell me you don't know who James Bond is."

"Er, no."

"Jesus Christ Harry, do you bloody live in a cave? He's only the most famous fictional British Secret Service agent. You quite look like a younger version of him but with green eyes and a less dapper, more scruffy look." She eyed Harry closely, he sure looked good and ready in action with his fur-lined aviator jacket, dark trousers, and boots combo. Better than the coat he wore yesterday. Harry shook his head at her again.

"Let's not waste time. Have you figured out where we're going, yet?"

Hermione decided to let her teasing to rest, her eyes glinting, which made him positive that there would be more of her prying later. "Actually, I have everything planned out."

"Since when?" He asked as they started walking again.

"Since we stepped out of the bakery." She replied.

"Then why did you bloody stall?"

"I reckoned it would be more polite to ask you."

"And if I had suggested something?"

"We'd still follow my plans, of course." He couldn't help but chuckle at just how absurdly bossy she was. Hermione took his arm and pulled him along. "Come on, 007, we can catch the next tram!"

They sat at the backmost seat of the tram, not too close but not too far away from each other either. A middle-aged woman entered carrying a few groceries while reprimanding her two young children to stop fighting, a young couple brazenly eating each other's faces off four seats away, and old man listening to football highlights very loudly from his pocket radio. They stole glances from each other suddenly feeling taciturn and awkward. The tram started moving and for a while they both sat in pleasant silence just looking out of the window towards the streets and buildings they passed.

"I propose that we play a game, a Q&A of sorts," Hermione said, minutes later, turning her gaze to him and breaking their silent bubbles.

"What sort of questions?" There was uncertainty in his tone.

"Any direct questions, something that'll let us get to know each other more since we're spending the day together. And you have to answer honestly. Come on, James, it's going to be fun!" She chuckled at his amused reaction to her new nickname for him, unknowing that James was coincidentally his middle name and also the name of his late father. Maybe one day he'd tell her, just for the rather selfish satisfaction of seeing a surprised and amused expression on her face. Harry reluctantly agreed to her proposition.

"All right, Miss Granger, let's do it..." She beamed at him then composed herself, running a hand through her wild curls. By now he was quite obsessed with the light-brown ringlets that framed her face like a lion's mane. It was different, unique even, and just so utterly wild like her.

"I'll start, then, ladies first." She thought for a moment, biting her bottom lip for a split second. "Have you ever been in love, Harry?" Her cheeks reddened a bit with her question and he found it quite endearing.

"Wow, well…" He breathed out, not knowing quite well from where to start or how on earth to answer to such a thing. He didn't even know for sure, to be honest… but he was a Gryffindor for a reason, so didn't stall for long. "Remember how I mentioned a fiancée?" Hermione nodded and then gestured for him to continue. "Her name's Ginny and we've been together since we were teenagers. She's my best mate's sister and at first she was someone who was off-limits, so naturally, I fancied her a lot. She's beautiful, smart, cool, sporty, and very popular; practically perfect, really. We both were on the Qui–umm, Football team and we both sort of just happened. Everyone supported our relationship, her family to me is my surrogate family, like I told you my relatives are rubbish…" She nodded, remembering. "After school and when we were older, I thought it was just natural that I propose to her. I mean, her mum was bloody planning our wedding ever since we got together and was only ready to unleash those plans. She immediately said yes but the two of us thought to wait around a bit cause we were starting our careers. Then last year, she told me she was ready and I thought, yeah, it's the perfect time. She and her mum started all this planning but we couldn't agree on the date and at the same time I was enjoying my job, all the traveling it entailed, and just the thought of having to quit in order to settle down and start a family… We were twenty-six, I'm twenty-seven now… It started to feel way too soon. And Ginny always hated my job and she kept putting on pressure for me to leave... We argued for a long time and then called it a night. The next day I ended our engagement because I realized something in between our argument." Hermione barely blinked as she paid attention to his story, the journalist that she was.

Harry continued: "I realized that we had grown to be two different people going on two wildly different paths. I couldn't be what she expected me to be, still can't. She's always had this idea of me being some great hero and that our lives are going to be this perfect glamorous, fairytale thing. For me, in the beginning, it all was so ideal and perfect I'd be marrying into this huge family that loved and adopted me when my own flesh in blood didn't, and they are still so dear to me. But then, deep inside I only wanted like an official acceptance into that family, do you understand?" Hermione nodded. "We were only each other's romantic projections, you know? Have I ever been in love? Ten years ago I would've said yes but now, I'm not sure anymore, Ginny and I changed so much through the years... I suppose that's normal considering we were kids when we started, but I felt there should be more to life, you know? Did I answer your question?" Harry had felt like something was loaded off his chest, all of the things he'd been bottling up inside of him for so long, things he hadn't fully said to Ginny as not to hurt her so much. He looked at Hermione closely, anticipating her reaction.

"In a way, you did and I got a good story out of it. If you'd given me a plain yes or no, I'd still try to goad an explanation." She lightly responded then squeezed his right arm, eyeing him sympathetically. "Now it's your turn to ask me a question."

Harry gathered his thoughts and then finally asked, "What is something you are certain you'll never experience?"

Hermione grew silent, biting that lower lip of hers again, and then her eyes drifted to the young couple still stuck in their little world of kissing and passion seated ahead of them on the tram. Without hesitation, she answered: "Finding my soulmate".

Harry's eyes slightly widened in surprise, as it wasn't remotely close to what he'd been expecting, though he couldn't even pinpoint what his guess would be. He waited for an explanation but she only raised an eyebrow and laughed softly. He nudged her with his elbow.

"What?" She asked.

"You're only giving me that after what I've told you? Come on, play fair! Explain, tell me more..." He insisted.

"Fine, fine…" She sighed deeply and continued: "Don't get me wrong, I do believe some people have soulmates but not everyone. I think it's rather complicated... I don't want an image of a certain person in my head as the one. I don't want to wait and let fate decide who I should end up with or be that girl stuck in a tower waiting for her mythical prince to arrive only to grow old, bitter and lonely. Should I keep rejecting every relationship until the one magically appears right in front of me? The whole notion of it is a fantasy, a romantic projection. I think it makes sense not to cling to foolish ideas. I think the reality of love is more impressive, more real! I'm talking about a relationship that you build brick by brick, all the pretty stuff, and all the ugly stuff. It's not something that depends on some cosmic force pushing you together and giving unrealistic expectations that everything is going to be very smooth and easy. I want something realistic, the difficult things that you try to work out together. I'll never meet my soulmate because I don't think he exists in the first place." She answered passionately.

"You know, that's actually the one plausible thing I've heard you say today…" Hermione hit him on the arm and he snickered, with a smile, breaking the tension and the gravity of both their confessions. Were they confessions?

"Anyway, next question, Harry: if you could choose another profession aside from being a secret agent, what would it be?"

"You're never going to stop with that whole secret service agent thing, are you?" He questioned, with a roll of his eyes while mussing up his already untidy hair. He paused for a moment and then smiled at the thought. She liked seeing him like this, stripped of his armor. "I think I'd be a teacher. I used to teach a group of my friends, a-a, subject and they thought I was fairly good. My favorite professors had encouraged me a lot and helped me realize my potential back then. I think I'd like to be able to do the same. There's something rewarding about inspiring the next generation…" He got distracted with the way she was oddly looking at him as if analyzing him like a therapist, it made him feel a bit self-conscious and he couldn't help but squirm a bit under her gaze. "What?"

"Nothing, really, just trying to imagine you as a teacher..."

"And what do you think?" Hermione smiled at his question, a naughty glint in her eyes because she knew exactly what she would think if thrust into a classroom where the tall, dark and mysterious Harry was her professor. She wouldn't dare say a word of it to him. "I think it's your turn to ask and you should use your opportunity wisely…"

"Very clever, you…" She simply shrugged sporting a most infuriating grin. "Why did you choose to become a journalist?"

Hermione smiled and then with a sparkle in her brown eyes responded: "When I was a girl, I snuck up in the middle of the night to watch some telly. Nothing was on except this documentary about the Holocaust narrated by Elizabeth Taylor and Orson Welles. Of course back then I didn't know what it really was about, I think I was ten or eleven years old. Anyway, I could still remember the feeling of waking up to reality as I absorbed everything about the film. It evoked a certain awareness, it evoked emotions from me. I didn't realize that I was crying until the lights suddenly came on and my father had caught me. I think he wanted to scold me for going past my bedtime during a school night but he saw the tears on my face... All I could say or think between my cries were: why? He tried to explain it to me very simply but I knew I wanted to know more. I've always been curious, I've always loved reading and learning about everything there was to learn. I think studying is the one thing I'm truly good at, actually... So the very next day I began my quest to learn more about the Holocaust in the library and then after that there were many, many other History-related obsessions: the Bronze Age, the Middle Ages, and witchhunts, World War I, to list a few, and from there I kept on reading and researching. The more I work, the more I research and the more I'm reminded of that documentary. I can still remember the narrator's voice saying: 'Believe me, it can happen again'..." She imitated the narrator's deep, masculine voice. "I think that film made me realize that I never wanted to forget about the horrors of this world, and it made me see the importance of making History and knowledge more accessible to people. I believe it's important to never forget so we can try to not keep messing up time and again. I've written a few books in my short career, but I think my documentaries are a bit more significant in that regard, not everyone reads, but a lot of people watch and listen. I have so many stories to tell the world, stories that we should never forget. Stories that remind us that the world is shaped by the people who suffered and persevered because they believed in a future we all could live in." Harry deeply admired the idealism and passion in her voice and in her eyes, he remembered feeling that very sensation during the world in his world, even if it was mixed with an overwhelming struggle for survival. "I think it's my job to do this, you know, to be this storyteller."

For a long moment they just sat there looking at each other, allowing their mutual answers to settle in and be processed in their brains.

"We're getting off at the next stop." She spoke silently as they both calmed down.

…

Much to Harry's amusement, Hermione had brought him to a park which was actually a cemetery called St. Marxer Friedhofspark. They had asked a couple of locals and followed the signs before actually reaching the place. It was a bit of a long walk but they both enjoyed the serene atmosphere and being surrounded by leafless wintery trees, Christmas lights hanging on them, waiting to be lit as soon as the sun set on the horizon. Harry had to admit that many of the graves were beautiful works of art, sculptures of angels and flowers, difficult names engraved in the tombstones as they went. It almost felt like they had walked into an old film set, but it wasn't at all gloomy or scary. Harry wanted to ask her where they were headed but didn't want to break the moment they were having. They soon reached the top of a hill where on a clearing to the left stood a broken pillar with a mourning angel beside it. He followed her closely to it, intrigued by her fixation to it. The area looked beautifully maintained despite the season, and many flowers and cards were deposited at its feet in a sign of reverence and admiration. Harry read the words on the pillar:

W. A. Mozart

1756-1791

"I can't believe I'm here. This place is beautiful." Hermione kneeled in front of the pillar, her fingers tracing the letters.

"So, was he your ancestor or something?" He asked, curiosity getting the best of him.

"What–" She turned around, absolutely shocked by his question. "Are you serious?"

"No, I'm Harry." He joked, letting out a dry laugh, but the attempt at humor escaped her entirely. His heart sank as he once again came to the realization that she would never understand the pun. Hermione Granger had never heard of his late godfather Sirius, nor had she any idea of the existence of magic and of the wizarding world Sirius had belonged to, that Harry also belonged to. He hated to think that he'd have to obliviate her later, erase himself and this beautiful day from her memories. It almost physically hurt...

"You don't know who Mozart is?" She inquired. Harry sighed deeply, a part of him cursing the Dursley's lack of cultural refinement and attention to him in general, that rendered him a complete idiot when it came to knowledge of the muggle world.

"Am I supposed to?"

"He's one of the most famous classical composers in the world! Don Giovanni, The Magical Flute, The Marriage of Figaro, among his famous operas… Have you ever heard of those?" She asked incredulously.

"I'm sorry, I haven't." He replied, concerned that he had somewhat upset her now. She frowned slightly, but her eyes were sympathetic. "I'm afraid my education didn't focus at all in the arts or music, so in those departments, I'm rather lacking… And my relatives weren't much for music either…"

"No, it's fine but you should listen to his works sometime." She insisted, sitting cross-legged on the ground. "One of my best childhood memories was going to Covent Garden with mum and dad to watch 'The Magic Flute', it was absolutely magical! The sounds, the colors, the characters…"

"So, why his grave? Why come here out of all the places you could have visited in Vienna?" He followed suit.

"It's not entirely sure if this was his grave. Mozart was always one of my favorites. I promised myself that I would go try to visit places that honored him. Of course, I could've brought you to his house which they turned into a museum but I think it's going to be packed with tourists and I've read about this place. It just feels more appropriate and we can both relax before all the festivities." She said, leaning her head on his shoulder, the events of the day beginning to take their toll. A glance at her wristwatch informed her that it was nearly four pm, and the sun was already setting around them, filling the sky with shades of pink, orange, and lavender.

"Festivities?" He asked, liking the feel of her so close to him.

"It's Christmas Eve, Harry. We have to go to the Christmas market later!" She exclaimed with excitement in her voice. "Eat and drink the traditional Viennese Christmas food, make the most of it while we can..." She replied.

"You're thinking about food already? With that brunch we just had?" He peered at her, shaking his head.

"Well, all the talking and walking made me hungry again." She answered, linking her arm with his and snuggling even further into his shoulder like a lazy cat.

"It's a good thing you're paying then."

…

The next stop on Hermione Granger's Vienna itinerary was the Natural History Museum where the end of their afternoon was spent. Afterward, they finally entered the much anticipated and nearby Christmas market on Maria-Theresien-Platz, a large public square with a huge monument of Empress Maria Theresa towering over four sets of statues. It was already six in the evening and the sky was pitch dark, though the lights and decorations of the Christmas market stalls kept the place alight. The place was already crowded with people who had decided to somehow enjoy Christmas Eve outside rather than in formal dinners indoors. Families went along with happy children munching on candy apples and cookies, lines of people waiting to board the large carousel and Ferris wheel that had been set up for the duration of the Christmas holidays, everyone in high spirits.

"This looks and smells absolutely delicious." She gushed as she balanced two plates of grilled Käsekrainer sausages and white bread rolls. Harry snickered, he was carrying paper cornets of roasted chestnuts and almonds and a large homemade pretzel for each of them. The two luckily found a free table next to a Christmas punch stall, alcoholic Christmas punch and Harry couldn't help but laugh as Hermione's eyes brightened even more.

"I'll go get us the punch, please try to refrain from devouring everything while I'm gone." He placed the food on the table and winked at her before approaching the stall. He was back nearly five minutes later as the line wasn't as short as he'd hoped. She was halfway through her pretzel but he didn't blame her, his stomach was rumbling from actual hunger.

They ate in silence for a while, enjoying the food and taking in all of the Christmas cheer, lights and caroling around them, before it was Harry's turn to look at her and actually start talking.

"You know, yesterday I had been certain Christmas would be terrible this year because I'd be spending it alone, but against all odds, I met you, and it's been wonderful really… I suppose I just wanted you to know…" He was blushing profusely, avoiding her eyes at all costs. Expressing himself and his feelings had never been easy, he and Ginny had argued about this many times over the years, but despite everything, Harry felt comfortable with Hermione, vastly different as they were from one another. When he finally raised his eyes to meet her she was downing his cup of punch, after having downed her own and was smiling at him so beautifully and so obviously tipsy that he nearly laughed.

"Harry, what's that blasted stone all about?" She asked him, deliberately brushing off his sentimental words as to not make him feel nervous. He was glad she understood, but at the same time cursed her curiosity. "I've been dying to know since yesterday!"

"If I told you, you'd think me crazy…" Hermione scoffed and urged him to go on as she munched on her roasted almonds. "It's a magical artifact from the Isle of Avalon. Apparently the inscriptions on it are a part of three tablets that keep the druid people safe and hidden from the rest of humankind. Their magic is much more rudimentary, but at the same time is so intricately linked with nature that it's extremely strong. The inscriptions on the stone are part of some sort of enchantment that is said to be powerful enough to resurrect the dead even… It had been stolen for the wrong purposes and the poor, lonely sod that I am, I was given the mission to retrieve it from a mafia of Austrian artifact smugglers." By the end of his tale, Hermione was laughing so hard that Harry began to laugh as well, though the little voice in his head kept repeating: If only you knew...

"You're more creative than I pegged you for, James Bond." She finally said, finishing off the last of her food. "How about a bit more, punch?" She suggested with a wink and Harry shook his head at her.

"To be honest, I could actually use some more too, but are you sure you can handle it?" Hermione rolled her eyes at him and refrained from cursing. He got up sporting a smug grin and went on his way, Hermione staying behind guarding their table.

Harry was getting in line at the Christmas punch stand when he caught sight of the most beautiful and delicate ornaments displayed on the one next to it. He had little use for Christmas decorations as he never set up a tree to begin with, but upon laying his eyes on a crystal hand-painted ornament with depictions of Viennese buildings similar to the ones they passed by all day, Harry just knew he wanted to gift Hermione with it. He stepped out of the line and chose the prettiest he could find, with Christmas 2008 written in perfect cursive letters at the foot of it. He had the ornament wrapped in bubble wrap and newspaper before it was put inside a box and neatly covered with a Santa Claus-themed gift paper. Harry discreetly pulled out his wand to cast a charm over it, so that the delicate crystal would never, ever break. He wanted her to have even if a small piece of today forever, to compensate for the memories he'd be forced to take away and keep just for himself for as long as they both lived.

More than ten minutes had passed when he returned to Hermione with more punch, the ornament safely tucked inside his jacket, three times smaller than its actual size so that she wouldn't notice.

"Oh, good! I was beginning to think you had abandoned me here…" She said, once he took his seat across from her and handed Hermione her drink.

"Don't be silly, I would never leave without saying goodbye…" She nodded at this, but she couldn't help the pang of sadness in the pit of her stomach reminding her that the day was nearly over and she would probably never see her James Bond ever again. Unbeknownst to Hermione, he felt the absolute same.

…

It was just before midnight when they stumbled into the darkness of Hermione's hotel room. She'd gone a bit overboard on the punch as the night progressed, and they were both exhausted from their busy day. Once inside she immediately kicked off the boots that had begun to hurt her feet from all the walking they'd done and hopped onto her bed, patting the spot next to her for him to sit.

"I'm not having sex with you if that's what you're thinking…" He told her, on a more serious note, watching as she began to unbutton her blouse in front of him.

"I wish this day wouldn't end…" she admitted, with a sadness in her voice. "I like you, Harry…" she dragged on, wordlessly inquiring about his last name.

"It's Potter. Harry Potter…" She smiled hugely at the way he said it, like any decent secret agent would. He looked at her with a puzzled expression.

"I never thought I'd one day be a Bond girl…" She trailed off, nodding at nothing in particular midst her drunk and sleepy haze. "Your artifact is over there…" she pointed towards the coffee table in the sitting area of her suite. "I guess I'll die of not knowing…"

Harry couldn't help but laugh at her dramatics.

"You're absolutely lovely, Hermione Granger…" He told her, as he all but tucked her in, fluffing her pillows and pulling the soft covers over her. He walked over to the granite stone and for once didn't curse its existence as it had been what brought them together in the first place. He slipped it inside his jacket, pulling out his gift for her in its wake.

It was finally midnight as he glanced at the vintage gold clock on her mantelpiece. He sighed deeply, dreading what would come next before slowly making his way back to the side of her bed. She was fast asleep already, slightly snoring even and the fact that she couldn't be completely quiet even in her sleep was terribly endearing to him. Hermione Granger was one of a kind, she was kind, and it made her all the more beautiful and memorable to him. He set the ornament down on her nightstand and tucked a stray brown curl behind her ear.

"Happy Christmas, Hermione…" he whispered, pulling out his wand and pointing it to her forehead, she didn't even stir. Harry stood there for what felt like a small eternity, but simply couldn't do it, a simple spell he'd done many times before. There was a big part of him that thought her special, thought that this Christmas Eve they shared was special and was selfish enough to want her to remember it-him-too.

Harry sighed once more and slipped his wand up his jacket sleeve again. He took three careful steps back, out of her possible line of vision and activated the portkey buried deep inside his jeans pocket. His heart felt light and heavy all at once.

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