Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Damaged Bridges	By : Gandalfs-Beard Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Harry/Hermione Views: 46850 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, all rights belong to Rowling and Warner Bros, nor do I make any money from the production of this work.

Chapter List
- 3
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- 5
White Christmas

As she sat at the heavy oak table in the kitchen of Number Twelve, wondering what the hell she was doing with her life, the girl with spiky bubblegum pink hair moodily poked her cold cup of tea with her wand and it started to bubble. She poked it again and turned it to ice. Tonks bit her lip and scowled, thinking that maybe it was just time to give up and move on.
Maybe Remus was right! Maybe he was too old for her - most of her girl friends seemed to think so.
Hell, Remus wasn’t even really her type - for the most part. Tonks was more accustomed to romantic engagements with members of her own gender than she was with blokes, though she had had a fling with a guy briefly at Hogwarts before she had fallen madly for a girl. And she had to admit that she’d had a bit of a crush on Harry Potter since she’d met him - there was something about his pretty green eyes that just pulled her in.
Harry’s feminine eyes easily explained why she had found him attractive. Tonks wasn’t entirely certain why she was so besotted with Remus. There was just something about Remus - a softness about him - an innate kindness which she found extremely appealing.
Tonks poked her cup of tea with her wand again; the ice melted and started to bubble once more.
“You’ll go blind if you keep playin’ with yer wand like that...”
Tonks nearly fell out of her seat and glowered at the intruder. “Bloody ‘ell Mad Eye! Don’t sneak up on me like that!” she grumbled.
“Heh! Just keepin’ you on your toes, Tonks,” the grizzled ex-Auror chuckled. “Yeh need t’stay sharp - keep your wits about you - constant vigilance...”
“Leave me alone Mad Eye! I’m not in the mood...”
“Too bad, Missy!” Mad Eye growled. “I gotta new job for us. Molly sent me a message. Seems like Potter’s stayin’ with Granger for Christmas instead o’ the Weasleys. And there’s no Protection Charms up at the Grangers’ place, so our work’s cut out for us...”
Tonks’s features brightened a bit at the idea of guarding Harry and Hermione, hoping she’d get a chance to spend a bit of time with them over the Christmas holidays. She wondered if they’d finally hooked up; they just seemed so natural together... not to mention that she could really use the extra ten galleons that she’d bet Mad Eye that they’d end up together.
“As long as we don’t ‘ave to rely on ‘Dung, we should be alright!” said Tonks, putting that thought aside. “Bloody bollocksed it all up the last time we put ‘im on guard duty!”
“Too right yeh are!” Mad Eye agreed. “We won’t be makin’ that mistake again. Anyway, I spoke with Dumbledore - seems this is the first he’s heard of it. Though he wasn’t too surprised considerin’ what happened last night an’ this morning...”
“What’s that then? What happened?” asked Tonks, interrupting Mad Eye with a frown.
Mad Eye hesitated, suddenly realising that he was treading on dangerous ground, given Tonks’s history. But it was too late; he had to tell her now.
“Seems some kid named McLaggen dosed Granger with a love potion last night at Slughorn’s Christmas Party and raped her...” Mad Eye began warily.
“WHAT?” Tonks leapt out of her seat, eyes bulging and sparks shooting from the tip of her wand as her hair flouresced brightly and turned crimson. “I’ll bloody rip the bastard’s balls off! Where is ‘e? ...”
“Calm down Tonks! It’s already handled. Potter already beat the crap outta him and McLaggen’s sittin’ in a Ministry holding cell for the time being...”
“He should be bloody castrated if you ask me!” Tonks fumed, vibrating angrily.
Mad Eye couldn’t help letting out a sardonic chuckle.
“Well McLaggen’s lucky nobody’s askin’ you then! ... And his cell is being guarded ‘round the clock, so don’t go gettin’ any ideas,” he added pointedly, his magical eye boring into Tonks. “Anyway, pull yourself together Tonks, and get your head in the game. Dumbledore’s counting on us to keep Potter and the Grangers’ safe, and to throw some wards up around the Grangers’ place...”

~o0o~
Hermione woke with a start in the middle of the night and bolted upright, her heart pounding against the wall of her heaving chest as she trembled and clapped a hand to her mouth, hoping that she hadn’t screamed this time. The last thing she wanted to do was wake her father with Harry in her room. The glowing blue numbers on her alarm clock indicated it was nearly four a.m.
Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes as she glanced at Harry who was stirring beside her.
“You alright, Hermione?” Harry murmured, as he rubbed his concerned looking eyes. Hermione nodded.
“I... I think so! Did I scream?”
“No... I only woke up because you moved.”
Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. “Good! That’s good! It... it wasn’t quite as awful this time... I could tell I was dreaming this time - it wasn’t quite so real, and... and his face, it, er... was a bit blurrier...”
Hermione trailed off, glad that the darkness hid her crimson cheeks, not quite sure how to tell Harry that there had been a moment at the very beginning which had seemed very real indeed. She was more certain than ever that her self-prescribed method of healing was starting to have an effect, though she had no idea how long it would take. Weeks? Months?
There was really no way to be sure. All Hermione was absolutely sure of was that when the nice bit of the dream - the part which felt the most intensely real - the part with Harry in it - when that bit of the dream eventually replaced the nightmare, Hermione knew she would be ready to move on.
As Harry anxiously returned Hermione’s gaze - her eyes shining wetly in the pale blue luminescence of her alarm clock - he felt an overwhelming, almost unbearable yearning. The words Hermione had spoken to her father echoed in his skull, “...All I need is for you to accept that I love Harry...” reminding Harry that Hermione had been the only one to ever send him letters signed, “with love.”
“I love you Hermione,” slipped quietly from Harry’s mouth before he even realised what he was saying, but he knew he meant it from the bottom of his heart, and wondered why he’d never said it before.
A smile crept to Hermione’s lips and her glistening eyelashes fluttered shyly.
“I love you too, Harry,” she whispered back, leaning over Harry and pressing her lips tenderly to his...

~o0o~
When Harry next woke, the first thing he saw was a blur of gold shining from the tawny locks spilling across his shoulder and upper chest, caught as they were in the rays of the cold winter sun beaming through Hermione’s window. Apparently London was experiencing a bit of respite from the rain this morning.
Harry could barely move with Hermione sprawled across his torso, both arms curled tightly around him. He lifted his head as much as he dared, trying not to wake Hermione, and saw that it was well after nine a.m. now. Hermione’s parents must have decided to let her sleep in as much as needed, and Harry was inclined to do so himself. The only problem was that Harry really needed to use the lavatory.
Resigning himself to the situation, Harry willed his urge to go into submission. He gently kissed Hermione’s bushy head and lay there wide awake for another hour before Hermione finally began stirring. But now that release from Hermione’s clutches was in near sight, Harry realised that he had another serious problem.
How was he supposed to hide the clear tent in his jeans? Besides his own personal embarrassment, Harry didn’t want to subject Hermione to a sight which would surely be a hideous reminder of her experience. While Hermione began yawning and blinking her eyes, Harry desperately tried to will his arousal into submission as he had his previous urge, but unlike his previous urge his arousal refused to submit.
Maybe he could make a run for it, make a mad dash to the bathroom before Hermione caught a glimpse. But Hermione’s languid awakening seemed to drag on and she appeared to have no intentions of releasing Harry just yet.
Hermione smiled and fluttered her eyelashes shyly again, as she had during the night.
“Good Morning Harry.”
“Er... ‘Morning Hermione,” Harry squeaked, grinning nervously, hoping that her eyes would remain fixed in their current direction. But he was betrayed by his reddening features.
“Are you alright Harry?” asked Hermione, suddenly looking a bit anxious, as if she were afraid that he was trying to escape.
“Never better!” he lied. “I just need to... er... use the loo.”
Well, that last bit wasn’t a fib at least, and Harry was relieved to see Hermione’s features brighten again.
“Oh... of course Harry! Sorry!”
Harry scrambled off the bed and darted towards Hermione’s door when she moved to let him up. His face blazed like a campfire, realising that he had failed miserably at hiding the bulge in his jeans when he heard Hermione’s nervous little giggle behind him.
He felt only slightly better when he finally returned to Hermione’s room, and he couldn’t quite meet her eyes, casting his own down in shame.
“Er... sorry about that Hermione! I... er...”
“Don’t be silly Harry...” Hermione inexplicably beamed. “It’s quite alright! Erections are a perfectly normal physiological response,” she said wickedly as she gave Harry a peck on the lips on her way to use the lavatory herself.
Blimey! Was Hermione trying to give him a heart attack?
Still, Hermione’s teasing cheered Harry right up, and by the time she returned, showered, dressed, and smelling of spearmint toothpaste and strawberry shower-gel, Harry was quite relaxed and sitting on her bed trying to wrap his mind around the ideas in a very interesting book he’d found on her bookshelf called The Holographic Universe. It almost seemed to explain how magic might work from a scientific point of view. Harry glanced up to see Hermione looking quite impressed.
“That’s a really fascinating book,” said Hermione. “It’s a bit New Agey, but it’s a good overview of some cutting edge ideas in the field of Quantum Physics written for people without a strong science background. But it’s also a great place to start for someone more accustomed to a rational, scientific view of the world who is trying to understand how magic could be real.”
“Yeah...” Harry nodded, his brow furrowed in thought. “That’s what I was thinking too. It’s really cool. The explanations aren’t too difficult to understand - and the diagrams really help loads...”
Hermione eyed Harry thoughtfully for a moment. It suddenly struck her that Harry was a very visual learner.
“...I wish I’d taken more interesting classes like you, Hermione,” Harry sighed. “How am I ever supposed to defeat an evil genius like Voldemort with rubbish like Divination? I’m such an idiot! I think I’m going to quit quidditch and just focus on learning as much magic as possible from now on...”
Hermione felt her eyes stinging. Harry loved quidditch, and she couldn’t help feeling sad that he was considering giving it up, despite her own feelings about it as a very dangerous sport.
“You don’t have to give up quidditch Harry,” she said. “I’ll help you... Besides, you’re much better in important classes like Charms and Transfiguration than you give yourself credit for. You would have got more Outstandings on your OWL’s if you weren’t so distracted by everything else going on in Fifth Year...”
“Really?” Harry gave Hermione a skeptical look. “You’re not just saying that because we’re together now?”
“No!” Hermione shook her head vigorously. “I mean it Harry! You’re smarter than you think you are, and you actually put some effort in when you have the opportunity. You have to be brilliant at Charms to be as good as you are in Defence Against the Dark Arts, and the only reason you didn’t do better in Transfiguration is because it requires more focus and discipline to understand the theory than you had the time or energy for last year.
“And...” Hermione swallowed anxiously, her voice getting smaller. “And I think you’d be a Potions Genius by now if Snape hadn’t treated you so horribly all those years...”
“Come off it! You’re joking...”
“No, I’m not.” Hermione peered at Harry earnestly, steeling herself. “I... I’m really, really sorry for how I’ve been treating you about the Potions book, Harry. I was just really jealous of the ‘Half-Blood Prince,’ and the fact that you were using his or her notes to do well in class instead of my notes...”
Harry gaped in surprise at Hermione’s frank admission.
“It’s obvious that he or she was an extraordinary potioneer,” Hermione went on, “and I truly believe that you could have been just as brilliant at Potions by now if you’d been given a chance and a bit of encouragement. I... I hope you can forgive me Harry!”
Harry was stunned; it was hard to wrap his head around. Hermione thought he was smart - not just smart, but smart enough that he could be a Charms Genius and a Potions Whiz if he’d had a chance! Harry swallowed, suddenly feeling awful again and thinking that Hermione was seeing more to him than there really was.
“Of course I forgive you, Hermione,” Harry muttered, flushing guiltily. “I... I just hope you can forgive me! I spent nearly an hour looking for you by myself after the party. Then when I got back to the Common Room, hoping you’d be there, I got in a fight with Ron because he didn’t seem to care or want to help me find you. I was so angry... I... I forgot about the Marauders’ Map.
“I should have woken a professor up to help me find you, or... or done something, instead of waiting for you in the Common Room losing my marbles. I’m so sorry Hermione! I’m an idiot... I’m a fucking moron!”
Hermione bit her lip, tears welling in her eyes to see Harry looking so abject and full of self-doubt and loathing.
“You’re not, Harry! You’re not a moron!” she adamantly proclaimed. “Don’t say that about yourself! We all let our anger get the best of us and make us do stupid things sometimes... That’s how I ended up at the party with McLaggen instead of you! I was so angry at Ron, I didn’t think of asking you to be my date to the party instead.
“Besides, you’d just seen Snape apparently offering to help Malfoy kill someone. You weren’t exactly in the right frame of mind to be trusting any professors, or anyone else really, at that point. You were beside yourself!
“It’s not surprising in the least that you only wanted someone that you thought you could trust to help you, or forgot about the Map. Don’t blame yourself Harry... please don’t! It wasn’t your fault at all...”
Harry tried very hard to believe Hermione, but he couldn’t. Hermione could see the struggle in his pooling green eyes to accept it, and knew what he really needed to hear.
“I forgive you, Harry!” she said quietly. “I do! I forgive you! Please believe me!”
Finally Harry nodded and let out a little sigh, smiling wanly at Hermione.
“Thanks Hermione! I dunno what I did to deserve someone as brilliant as you...”
“You saved me from a troll.” Hermione smiled back, taking Harry’s hands and pulling him closer. “And that was just for starters...”
Hermione drew even nearer and Harry leaned forward to meet her lips with his own. The kiss grew deeper and steamier as their arms entwined around one another. They were both too engaged to hear the footsteps on the stairs. It was only when they heard a clearing throat that they both fell apart, blushing furiously.
Mr Granger rubbed at his forehead, looking embarrassed and slightly agitated at catching them in mid-snog, but appearing relieved to see Harry still in the clothes he’d arrived in last night.
“Er... How about a late breakfast, you two? Your mum and I have already eaten, Hermione, but she’s ready to make some more for you both if you’d like.”
“Er...” Harry began.
“That sounds lovely, Daddy!” said Hermione. “Just tell Mum that Harry needs a shower and a change of clothes. We’ll be right down.”
“Right!” Mr Granger nodded, sharing another awkward look with Harry. “See you both in a minute then.”

~o0o~
Harry was grateful that the Grangers’ seemed just as fond of a proper fry-up of a breakfast as most Britons, despite their penchant for sugar-free sweets and drinks, and pleased to see that being sugar-free didn’t extend to orange juice at least. He and Hermione both dug into their eggs, bacon, sausage, and crumpets with abandon, much to Mrs Granger’s delight.
Harry and Hermione were both cheerfully washing and drying dishes in the kitchen when the doorbell rang. Mr Granger glanced up from his copy of The Guardian as his wife went to see who it was.
“Hello, can I help you?” Mrs Granger’s voice carried from the foyer into the kitchen.
“Er... Mrs Granger?” A vaguely familiar voice answered.
“Yes?”
“Are Harry and Hermione available?”
“I’m sorry. Do they know you? Whom should I say is calling?”
“Oh... er... Sorry, Ma’am! Yeah... I’m Tonks. A friend of Harry’s...”
“Oh!” Mrs Granger’s voice took on a distinctly cooler tone.
“...Cousin I mean!” Tonks added quickly. “I’m sorta Harry’s cousin...”
Harry and Hermione quickly dried their hands and dashed to the front door to save Tonks from any further embarrassment. Looking rather flustered, Tonks let out a sigh of relief to see them both.
“Wotcher Harry, Hermione.”
“Hi Tonks!” Harry grinned.
“It’s alright Mum,” said Hermione. “She’s Harry’s Godfather’s younger cousin...”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Mrs Granger. She brightened considerably when it seemed that the spiky-purple-haired teenage girl wearing a ripped T-shirt emblazoned with a picture of The Clash wasn’t her daughter’s rival for Harry’s affections. “Please, come in dear. So, do you go to Hogwarts too then?”
“Graduated some years back, Ma’am. I’m older than I look... I’ll be twenty four in January. Though, I do sorta work for Dumbledore these days...”
“Hello, who’s this then?” asked Mr Granger, who had just appeared with his newspaper tucked under his arm.
Tonks turned a bit pink again, wearing a slightly intimidated expression that reminded Harry very much of his own when he’d first met Hermione’s impeccably groomed father properly, yesterday.
“Name’s Tonks sir. I’m sorta Harry’s cousin - his Godfather’s younger cousin... first cousin once removed... or second cousin... I dunno! My mum was Sirius’s first cousin... Blimey! I can never keep thatsortathingstraight....” Tonks trailed off, mumbling, her face blazing with embarrassment.
“Oh, well, nice to meet you Tonks,” said Mr Granger politely. “I take it you’re making a holiday call then? Would you like some tea?”
“Er... thank you, but that’s okay. I shan’t be too long today - just a quick visit - though I wouldn’t mind hanging around with Harry and Hermione a bit this Christmas, if... if that’s alright?” Tonks glanced at Harry and Hermione.
“Of course it’s alright, Tonks,” said Hermione quickly, biting her lip sadly. She felt just as bad for Tonks since Sirius’s death as Harry did.
“Yeah, we’d love to have you over, Tonks,” Harry agreed, “if Hermione’s parents don’t mind, that is.”
“Not at all,” said Mrs Granger kindly, as she started adding two and two together in her head. “Christmas is time for family. Of course you can visit with Harry. I take it your Godfather’s death was fairly recent, then, Harry?”
“Er... Yeah! Not so long ago,” said Harry, sounding slightly hoarse. “The end of last school-term, before the summer holiday... Anyway, thanks Mrs Granger. It’ll be nice to hang out with Tonks for Christmas.”
“Yeah! Thanks loads, guys!” Tonks beamed, her hair brightening.
“Come along then, dear,” Mrs Granger said to her husband. “Why don’t we let Harry and Hermione and Tonks catch up on things!”
Mr and Mrs Granger returned to the kitchen as Hermione led Harry and Tonks upstairs to her room for a bit more privacy.
Tonks peered around Hermione’s room with almost as much interest as Harry had last night. Tonks chortled at the poster of Einstein, and grinned when she spotted all of the stuffed animals; she knew it - Hermione was a real softy underneath that brainy exterior.
“Cor - nice room Hermione,” said Tonks, feeling a bit more cheered than she had in months.
“Thank you Tonks!” Hermione beamed, pleased to see Tonks looking a bit less morose than she had been recently.
Out of the corner of her Auror’s trained eye, Tonks caught sight of an open rucksack by Hermione’s bed with a t-shirt perched near the top which she had seen Harry wearing on more than one occasion. Tonks tried to hide her smirk, feeling a swell of happiness for Harry and Hermione.
“Oi, you know what, Hermione? Your mum is right about family - and you and Harry feel more like family to me... Enough with the Tonks stuff. That’s just for people I work with and casual friends. Call me Dora from now on alright - both of you.”
“Oh, er, are you sure?” asked Harry. “I thought you didn’t like your first name.”
“Yeah, well, Nymphadora makes me sound sleazy - like some tart ‘oo poses for Naughty Witches magazine! What self-respectin’ person would like a name like that? ... I dunno what the hell my mum was thinking! She’s the only one who calls me by my full name even though she bloody knows I hate it!
“But Dad always called me Dora, and I like that. And I only ever let my girlfriends or boyfriends call me Dora usually, and Sirius too when the rest of the Order wasn’t around.”
“Right then! Dora it is,” said Harry, grinning. “So... er... I’m guessing that this isn’t strictly a social call today though. What’s up, Dora?”
“Yeah, well it’s a bit of both really!” Dora replied, looking slightly embarrassed. “I would’ve come around anyway, once I heard about McLaggen... I’m really sorry Hermione! That’s really ‘orrible what happened to you!”
There was a pained look in Dora’s eye that suggested there was a bit more behind her sympathy for Hermione’s ordeal, but then she turned to Harry and grinned.
“And good for you, Harry! Mad Eye told me he heard that you gave McLaggen a good thrashing! I thought about paying that bastard a visit in his holding cell at the Ministry myself, but Mad Eye wouldn’t let me.
“Anyway, the other reason I’m round here is because you’re not at the Weasleys,’ where there’s loads of wizards and Protection Charms up. As soon as Molly told Mad Eye you were here instead of there, Mad Eye spoke to Dumbledore... and so Mad Eye and me are gonna be on guard duty and throwing up a load of wards here too.
“And there’s just one other thing that Dumbledore suggested that he thought would be helpful seeing as Harry is still underage...” Dora reached into one of the pockets of her jeans and retrieved what looked like a stamp with a Ministry Seal on it, then she reached into her other pocket and pulled out a Ministry Parchment with Harry’s full name on it.
“What’s that?” asked Harry, his brow furrowing.
“This, Harry, is your freedom!” Dora grinned at Harry again. “I ‘ad to sneak into the Child Services Department at the Ministry late last night to find this... It’s an Emancipation Form for you, Harry. As soon as I stamp it, that’s it, no more Trace for you...
“You’ll be just as free to perform magic without being tracked by the Ministry as Hermione or any other wizard who’s seventeen or over.”
Hermione gasped.
“Are you kidding?” said Harry, suddenly feeling a bit weak at the knees. “This is a joke, right?”
“Nope! According to Mad Eye, Dumbledore says it’s a Christmas Present for you, to make up a little bit for some of the rubbish he’s put you through, and so you can protect yourself outside of school without worryin’ about Scrimgeour’s lot runnin’ you down...”
Harry swallowed, feeling a surge of nervous excitement. He couldn’t believe this was happening. Dumbledore was really trying to make good on his promises; Harry had been willing to give him one more chance, but he hadn’t been so sure that Dumbledore would follow through. And this... emancipation was beyond all expectations.
Dora placed the Emancipation Form on Hermione’s mahogany desk and lifted the stamp dramatically.
“Drum roll please!” she said to Hermione with a wink.
Hermione was all too eager to comply. Grinning, Hermione tapped out a rhythm on her desk... and the stamp in Dora’s hand slammed onto the form. When Dora lifted her hand once more, the form was emblazoned with the Golden Seal of the Ministry, which seemed to briefly glow before the luminescence faded.
“Er... is that it?” asked Harry. “I don’t feel any different. Shouldn’t I feel different?”
“It’s not something you really notice,” said Dora. “But once it’s gone, it’s really gone, and it can’t be put back on you. You’re free Harry. Go on... try a spell. You’re fine as long as I’m here anyway - me being an Auror and all.”
Harry felt his breath quickening as he wondered what spell he ought to try. He felt like casting his Patronus, but that seemed a bit too big of a spell; Hermione’s parents would probably be alarmed if a glowing stag rampaged through their house. Something small and simple would be best.
Then it occurred to him. The first spell which had got him in trouble with the Ministry - a spell which he himself hadn’t performed at all. If he could cast a Hover Charm without receiving a Ministry warning half an hour later, Harry could be certain that he was free.
Harry pointed his wand at his rucksack, and it rose about a metre from the floor, where it hovered for a minute before he released the spell. Then he, Hermione, and Dora spent the next forty minutes listening to a cd which Dora had selected from Hermione’s collection.
“Usually I prefer something with a little more oomph,” said Dora when she found a cd to her liking. “But this’ll do. She’s a witch you know, and she’s better than Celestina Warbeck any day of the week...”
The soothing buzz of gentle synthesizers and Enya’s lilting voice filled the air while they waited for a Ministry Warning which never arrived. Hermione squealed when the cd was finished and flung her arms around Harry, squeezing him tightly.
“Oh Harry! This is wonderful! I’m so happy for you!” squeaked Hermione.
“Blimey! I can’t believe it!” Harry couldn’t stop grinning. “This is bloody brilliant! Thanks loads Dora! I hope you don’t get in trouble at the Ministry for this!”
“Nah!” said Dora, beaming at Harry’s excitement. “Even if anyone found out, the worst they could do is sack me! And to be honest, I really don’t care. I’m not a big fan of working for the Ministry at the moment with the lot who are in charge... The only real reason I’m still there is for the Order, really.”

~o0o~
The next few days were among the happiest that Harry could recall in quite some time, and Hermione’s spirits were greatly lifted as well. For a few shining moments of joy, Harry was able to almost forget the weight of the world which he bore on his shoulders.
Hermione found it difficult to be depressed or dwell on the recent turn her life had taken at Hogwarts and the darkness which haunted her dreams, with an exuberant, Trace free Harry at her side. Indeed, each night Hermione’s nightmares shortened and faded, becoming more and more like a nasty scab - painful, but bearable with the knowledge that it would eventually fall away.
And Dora - Harry and Hermione’s “secret escort” - she couldn’t be happier for the welcome respite from her own darkened mood of unrequited love. The day following her first visit, she and Moody led an excursion to Diagon Alley for a last minute bit of Christmas Shopping.
Diagon Alley was slightly less dismal with Christmas decorations up, holly wreaths hanging from lanterns and colourful displays in the windows of shops which remained open. Hermione made a beeline for Flourish and Blotts, and Harry was perfectly happy to oblige.
Harry browsed the bookshop cheerfully, determined not only to find Hermione the perfect gift, but also to find something to help advance his own knowledge. Two books caught his eye. Taking advantage of the fact that Hermione had her head buried in a book which appeared to be written in French, Harry snuck up to the counter to purchase the books he’d found for her, and have them gift-wrapped; he also bought some comics and a graphic novel for Dora, knowing how much she liked cartoons.
Harry returned to browse a bit more, leaving his initial purchase up at the counter. He was perusing the aisle of schoolbooks, looking at some Third Year texts, trying to decide which subject to try and catch up on when Hermione found him.
“What are you doing Harry?”
“I really want to learn more,” Harry muttered, “I’m sick of doing useless stuff like Divination...”
“Well, you don’t really need to waste your money on schoolbooks from previous years, Harry,” Hermione pointed out, quivering with excitement at Harry’s eagerness. “There’re always spares at school, and you can read mine when we’re at home. ... Anyway, if you really want to try something new, I’d recommend Ancient Runes. You’ll find loads of useful stuff applicable to defensive magic. And I’m more than happy to help you learn it.”
“Brilliant!” Harry grinned. “Thanks Hermione...”
“Anyway,” Hermione interjected, eyes gleaming, and bouncing on her toes as she clutched the book in her hands tightly to her chest, “I’ve found something for you! I know presents are usually supposed to be a surprise, but I just HAVE to show you... I just wish I’d thought of looking for something like this last year when you were having such an awful time with Snape...”
Hermione held out the book for Harry to see and his stomach clenched, making him feel slightly nauseous, when he read the title,Occlumency and Legilimency: Unveiling the Mysteries of the Mind. He didn’t want to upset Hermione when she looked so thrilled, and he tried to think how to carefully word his feelings. Finally he just decided to be straightforward about it.
“Er... I’m sorry Hermione, but you know I hate Occlumency don’t you?”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Only because Snape wasn’t teaching you properly. Snape is the last person in the world who should have been teaching you, Harry. You need to be able to control your emotions to be good at it, and Snape can’t control his feelings about you, any more than you can control your feelings about him.
“Snape’s mind would have been just as vulnerable to invasion as yours was after your sessions together. And frankly Harry, you should be jolly good at Occlumency once you get the hang of it - because of your incredible strength of Will. You were able to shrug off the Imperius Curse completely after only a few tries when the fake Professor Moody put you under last year in class. That’s precisely the sort of skill you need to master Occlumency and Legilimency!”
“Oh! Er... Wow!” Harry’s eyebrows shot up. Then he gnawed on his lower lip as his face reddened.
“Er... the only thing is, Hermione, as much as I hate this bloody connection to Voldy - it hurts like hell for one thing - it’s jolly useful knowing what he’s thinking about and doing,” Harry admitted ruefully.
Hermione’s eyes widened, and she looked even more excited, if that was possible.
“That’s why you need to learn Legilimency too, Harry! You’ll be able to block Voldemort from your mind with Occlumency, but you’ll be able to get a much better look into his mind with Legilimency!”
Harry’s jaw dropped.
“Wow!” he said again after his brain processed that stunning bit of news. “That’s fantastic, Hermione! Thank you! That’s the best gift I could possibly think of...”
Hermione beamed and pulled Harry into a tight hug, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “You won’t regret it, Harry,” she whispered in his ear. “I promise!”
The next stop on their jaunt around Diagon Alley was Scribbulus Writing Instruments for the calligraphy brushes and special ink required for Ancient Runes. “...And you don’t need chisels for doing Rune-work on stone, as all you need is your wand for that...” Hermione told Harry.
Finally, they ended up at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, to reassure Fred and George that all was forgiven and there were no hard feelings, but the Twins were nowhere to be found. Verity the shop-clerk told Harry and Hermione that they were taking the week off for Christmas.
And much to Harry and Hermione’s great pleasure - and Dora’s as well, for that matter - there wasn’t a single bottle of love potion in sight; in place of the sign which had previously been over the display was an enormous poster - a Public Service message warning of the dangers of the illegal use of love potions, and directions urging wizards and witches to contact the DMLE to report any signs of such illegal use.
“Good for the Twins. That makes up for their part a bit,” Dora muttered. “Could use a few more posters around like that if you ask me.”
Harry and Hermione couldn’t agree more.
Back at home, Hermione’s parents were thrilled to see Hermione’s improved mood over the remaining days before Christmas, and Mr Granger and Harry gradually found themselves feeling a bit less awkward around each other. Except for one instance in particular. Harry and Hermione both blushed furiously when they overheard Mr Granger whispering to Mrs Granger his hopes that Harry would one day - in the future - ask his permission to marry Hermione.
When Christmas Day finally arrived, it couldn’t have been more perfect. Harry and the Grangers woke up to find the garden blanketed in white and snowflakes swirling steadily down from pearly-grey skies above.
And under the twinkling Christmas Tree amidst the pile of presents were enormous stockings containing the usual assortment of gifts that Harry and Hermione had grown accustomed to receiving from the Weasleys.
Hermione carefully unwrapped one of the presents from Harry, wondering what on earth had possessed him to buy such an enormous book. She gasped with shock and her hands began trembling slightly when she saw that it was over three hundred and fifty years old.
“What is it dear?” asked her mother when Hermione took a deep whiff of the aged rusty-red leather binding and traced her fingers along the gold embossed lettering.
Too speechless for words, Hermione handed the book to her mother before wrapping her arms tightly around Harry and whispering in his ear, “Thank you Harry! It’s lovely!”
“I hope it makes up a bit for all the stupid presents I ever got you,” Harry murmured back.
Hermione giggled and gave him a peck on the lips. “Don’t be silly Harry! I treasure every gift you’ve given me...”
Harry and Hermione both grinned at the stunned expressions on her parents’ faces as they examined the heavy ancient tome which bore the title, Mr. William Shakespeare's Comedies, Histories, & Tragedies: The Illuminated Wizarding Edition. They both looked up at Harry, wondering just how well off he was.
Mr Granger simply couldn’t help himself. “This... this must’ve cost a fortune, Harry. Non-magical editions of Shakespeare’s works from this era go for millions of pounds at auction...” he said weakly.
“Er...” Harry flushed with embarrassment. “I... er... I didn’t know that! It... it was a bit expensive I suppose, but not being a wizard, Shakespeare isn’t in very high demand in the wizard world...”
Mr Granger couldn’t help being curious as to the actual cost, but he knew that it would be rude to press further and decided to maybe ask Harry some other time. Mrs Granger peered at Harry thoughtfully.
“We named Hermione after the queen in The Winter’s Tale, did you know that, Harry?”
Harry glanced at Hermione’s reddening features in surprise. “Er... no! I didn’t know that either.”
“Well, it’s not the sort of thing that comes up in casual conversation, is it!?” Hermione squeaked, sounding a bit defensive.
Harry grinned. “No, it’s not. Very true Hermione! But I always knew that somehow you were royalty. Just to think, Malfoy should’ve been bowing and scraping at your feet...”
“Oh shut up!” said Hermione half-heartedly, blushing furiously, but unable to help looking extremely pleased.
Harry picked up the other present, which by the shape of it appeared to be a more normal sized book, and passed it to Hermione.
“It’s really for all of you,” said Harry, glancing at Hermione’s parents again while she was daintily unwrapping it.
“Oh!” Hermione gasped when she saw the book. “I’d forgotten... Professor Slughorn mentioned... but I never really...”
Harry couldn’t help laughing. It was so unusual for Hermione to speak in less than full sentences. And once again, the looks on the faces of Hermione’s parents were priceless as they peered at the second book that Harry had given their daughter.
“My word!” said Mr Granger, looking a bit awed. “Potioneer Extraordinaire: A Biography of Hector Dagworth-Granger...” he murmured to himself. “I’ll have to do a bit of research into the family tree...”
Eventually all presents had been opened and the wrappings tidied up. After a very light breakfast, Mrs Granger accepted Harry’s offer to help with the cooking, and was surprised to find he was quite expert at it.
“...It’s one of the chores at the Dursleys I really don’t mind doing...” Harry offered as explanation when he was asked. Hermione frowned slightly at that, suspecting that Harry liked cooking for the Dursleys mostly because that was the only way he could be assured of getting enough to eat.
The sounds of Christmas Cheer filled the Granger home as the day wore on. When Dora arrived shortly after noon, she and Harry were both surprised when Hermione took to the grand piano in the living room and began playing Christmas Carols.
“Blimey! She’s really good! Did you know she could play?” asked Dora, who fancied herself a bit of a musician as well.
“No idea!” said Harry, shaking his head in amazement.
Finally, around teatime, Christmas Dinner was served, and the feast laid out looked magnificent enough to rival anything which had ever been served up by the Hogwarts House-Elves or Mrs Weasley...

~o0o~
Mrs Weasley hummed along to the warblings of Celestina Warbeck emanating from the wireless as she peeled carrots by the kitchen sink while her children squabbled behind her. She was trying and failing to ignore the French girl’s complaints about Warbeck’s “...‘orrible seenging.” Movement in the garden caught the corner of Mrs Weasley’s eye and she looked up to catch a glimpse of two figures shuffling through the snow towards the house.
“Arthur,” she shouted, stunned when she saw who was approaching. “Arthur... it’s Percy! But Scrimgeour’s with him. Why on earth would Scrimgeour be with him?”
Mr Weasley’s eyes narrowed. He drained the rest of his brandy snifter and stood up to take a look for himself.
“Dumbledore... He warned me about this,” Mr Weasley muttered.
“What? He knew Percy was coming to visit? And what is going on between you and Percy anyway? There has to be more to it than his concern about your financial status... I mean, most of the kids are out of the house now, making their own way in the world, and we’re doing just fine! Can’t you two just patch things up?”
Mr Weasley hesitated, not sure if Molly would believe him, then decided he might as well tell her the truth.
“That boy’s got his head stuffed too full of nonsense about blood-purity ever since he joined the Ministry.” Mr Weasley scowled. “He thinks it’s my promotion of pro-muggleborn legislation, and pushing for more muggleborn representation on the Wizengamot which has been keeping me from ‘getting ahead’ at the Ministry.
“It’s all part of his own bid to get ahead at the Ministry, distancing himself from us... from me. You know Percy’s greatest ambition is to be Minister one day! How am I supposed patch that up?”
Molly looked shocked.
“Well,” she said after a pause, “maybe if we show him that we still love him, he’ll listen to us and we can talk some sense into him. Just try and be civil this time... please!”
“I’ll try... No guarantees, though!” Arthur sighed. “Percy’s not here for his health... I don’t doubt Scrimgeour dragged him along to get a foot in our door...”
“Why would Scrimgeour...?” Molly never got a chance to finish her question as the knock on the back door indicated that the Minister and Percy had arrived.
Mr and Mrs Weasley opened the door, and there was a painful moment of silence. Then Percy said rather stiffly, “Merry Christmas, mother,” as he and his father shared cold looks.
“Oh, Percy!” Mrs Weasley peered at her son sadly, then without warning threw her arms around him in a tight embrace. Percy’s features briefly flickered with emotion before hardening again when he spied Fred and George glowering at him.
Rufus Scrimgeour observed the familial interaction keenly for a moment before addressing Arthur Weasley.
“Merry Christmas, Arthur!”
“He’s not here!” said Mr Weasley frostily.
“What?” Scrimgeour looked slightly taken aback.
“Harry Potter,” snapped Mr Weasley. “If you’re looking for Harry Potter, then he’s not here. If you want to speak to Harry that badly, you’ll have to go through Dumbledore...
“Arthur, please... We were friends once...”
“That was before you allowed Umbridge to stay on as Senior Undersecretary, Rufus, and started locking up people you know are innocent! Now, do something about that, and maybe... just maybe, Dumbledore might let you talk to Harry Potter, and we might be able to be friends again. Until then, forget it...”
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Damaged Bridges