I'm With You by JacyEvans
Note from Liss: Today is jacyevans's birthday, so please join me in sending good cheer for her special day!
Title: I’m With You Author:jacyevans Rating: PG Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Notes: HUGE thanks to angel423 for taking the time to beta this for me. She is wonderful and amazing. Also, major love goes out to Liss for organizing this. THANK YOU LISS! <333
The wind blew softly through the old graveyard. The snow had begun to fall just a few moments ago, but the young man standing in front of this particular grave marker paid it no mind.
James Potter Born 27 March 1960 Died 31 October 1981
Lily Potter Born 30 January 1960 Died 31 October 1981
The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.
The words were burned into his memory, but still he stared. He just couldn't tear his eyes away.
Harry Potter shoved his hands into his pockets, fighting against the cold wind that was beginning to pick up. They'd called for snow this morning on the radio, with worsening conditions as Christmas Eve evening turned into night. He'd hoped the blizzard wouldn't reach the little village at Godric's Hollow, and couldn't help but smile wryly up at the sky. He was amazed at how he'd begun to think of this place as an entity unto itself.
Then the smile turned into a frown and he turned his attention back to his parents. Sighing, he pulled out his wand. The weather was only going to get worse; he should be getting home. While he knew the gesture was futile, he just couldn't bring himself to leave without leaving some sort of gift for his parents. They'd given his life for him. He could do that much for them.
Harry's frown deepened as he tried to remember the exact charm to conjure the wreath of Christmas roses, and the fact only made him more aware of Hermione's absence. Usually, his best friend accompanied him on this outing, ever since their first trip here together. Recently, Ron had also asked Harry if he wouldn't mind if he came along as well – Harry had simply grasped him by his shoulder and Apparated with him to the small cemetery in response, giving him as much of a smile as he could muster.
This year, however, both of his friends had other obligations that they just couldn't ignore. Ron was the Keeper for the Chudley Cannons and their schedule had them in Scotland until very late that night. Harry knew that as soon as he got back, he'd want to go home to Luna. Hermione was working for the Ministry and had tried for weeks to get out of her assignment – they were sending her to France to meet with a world-renowned Charms Writer to speak with her on her most recent findings on the Memory Charm and its effects on the mind. While at any other time of the year Hermione would have jumped at the opportunity - especially since she had only just recently gone to Australia to find her parents and reverse the Memory Charm she had placed on them for their protection - she balked at the thought of Harry being alone for Christmas. She wouldn't be back home until well after the New Year.
Harry shivered as yet another gust of wind passed straight through his coat. He really needed to be getting home. Harry knelt down in front of his parents’ grave and pointed his wand. He was about to murmur the charm that, he hoped, would form the wreath of roses when a familiar voice made him stand up so quickly that he almost fell over. He spun around, completely shocked.
"You know, you could poke someone's eye out that way. And I see you forgot your gloves again – I swear, I'm just going to staple them to the insides of your pockets."
Hermione slowly stepped out of the shadows, the snow crunching softly under her boots. She wore a smile on her face.
He stared at her, eyes wide, and blurted out, "What are you doing here?"
"Happy Christmas to you too, Harry," she said, but she was still grinning.
Harry threw her a dark look. "I only meant that I thought you were stuck in Paris until January."
"I was. But Mrs. Collet thought that I might want to come home to my family, particularly to a certain boy wizard who might be feeling a bit lonely during the holidays." Hermione reached out her hand and instantly, almost instinctually, Harry twined his fingers with hers. "That and-" She hesitated. Her voice went quiet, and she was almost whispering as she said, "We always come here together. I wouldn't let you do this alone."
Harry squeezed her hand in his, not saying anything in response.
Hermione pulled out her wand and waved it through the air in the familiar, but still intricate figure eight pattern and within moments, a blossoming wreath of roses fell into his waiting hand.
She shivered. "Go on. I don't want to rush you, but the weather looks like it's only going to get worse. The wind is picking up again. We should get back before the snow comes down any harder."
Harry nodded, then bent down and placed the roses on the snow, his hand still clasped firmly in Hermione’s. He tried to keep his voice quiet, but was sure she heard him whisper, “Happy Christmas, Mum, Dad.” He crouched there for a moment before standing and wrapping his arm around Hermione’s waist.
“Come on,” he said shivering. “It’s freezing out here. I have some hot chocolate back at home that’s calling my name.”
“Sounds fantastic,” Hermione said softly. She pretended not to notice the way he looked back over his shoulder, his eyes sad and distant, as they Disapparated.
------
The two of them appeared in his flat with a loud pop, and Hermione laughed as Harry shook the snow from his hair.
“You know,” she said as she shrugged out of her coat and placed it on the back of a chair, “You could have worn a hat.”
“I think the hat has run off with my gloves. The two of them appear to be having a torrid love affair.” Harry fought back the smirk that was involuntarily quirking at his lips as he shucked his own coat and placed it on the chair next to Hermione’s.
Hermione burst into hysterics. “A torrid love affair? Really, Harry, have you simply checked the back of your closet? And do you mind if I make us some of that hot chocolate – I’m freezing.”
“Not at all,” Harry said, following her into the kitchen. “And I would check the closet, but,” he smiled at her sheepishly. “The bottom of my closet is a bit of a mess. That’s where most of my clothes are.”
“Men,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes playfully. “Haven’t you ever heard of drawers?” She handed him a cup, still steaming, and Harry pressed his fingers against the sides, glad for the warmth. His fingers felt like icicles.
“Drawers. Hmmm,” Harry pressed a finger to his chin pretending to look thoughtful. “Nope. Never heard of them.” His eyes gleamed wickedly. “Maybe you could show me how they work some time.”
“Ha! Nice try, Harry, but I’m not cleaning out your closet for you.” Hermione took a sip of her hot chocolate, smiling smugly.
“Damnit,” Harry grumbled, but he was grinning.
There was a period of companionable silence, before Harry turned to Hermione and said, very quietly, but incredibly sincerely, “Thank you.”
Hermione’s brow furrowed. “For what?”
“For coming out into a snowstorm just to be with me when you could have been in France furthering your career. You didn’t have to do that, you know.”
Hermione stared at Harry for a moment before placing her cup on the counter and stepping over to the other side. She placed a hand against the side of Harry’s cheek. Harry was surprised at how his skin tingled where she touched him. Probably because her fingers were warm from her mug, he reasoned. He placed his hand on her shoulder and she seemed to lean into the touch.
“Yes, I did,” she said softly.
Harry was staring down at Hermione, straight into her eyes, and there was an intensity in her gaze that he had only ever seen when she was determined to figure out one of those particularly difficult problems that they had always been faced with. Her hand was still lying against his cheek, and his hand was still against her shoulder, and suddenly, without knowing why, but without knowing why not, he was leaning forward to kiss her. His lips pressed against hers gentle but sure, and Hermione stood up on her toes to press herself closer to him.
All too soon, she was falling back on her heels, and Harry pulled back just a fraction. Her thumb was rubbing against his cheek, and he felt warmth run through his entire being.
“You shouldn’t be alone on Christmas, Harry,” Hermione whispered, returning to their conversation.
“I’m not alone,” Harry said, and he then smiled. “I’m with you.”