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Following the end of the Second Wizarding War, Hermione Granger picked up her meager belongings and left Britain, escaping the chaos of the defeat of Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters.
In the three years that followed, she'd traveled extensively, to the United States, Italy, Spain, France, Canada, and Mexico to study runic magic with ancient practitioners. She'd spent time devising and developing a series of new warding structures for not only homes and lands, but wards that could extend to protect a person if cast or carved upon an article of clothing or piece of jewelry.
She'd kept up sporadically with the lives of her friends over those years, through snippets found in newspapers or when owls would find their way to her from England. For the most part, the only person she'd had regular contact with was Harry.
At first, he'd been angry with her decision to up and leave after the war. After several long letters and one hour long and expensive call from a muggle pay-phone, he understood that she wasn't running from him just trying to heal the damage wrought by years of fighting, the loss of her parents, and the heartbreaking loneliness she had been feeling.
Every year, Harry begged Hermione to come home for two different occasions. In May, for the celebrations held in remembrance of the Battle of Hogwarts, and for Christmas. She'd declined, repeatedly and fervently, much to the disappointment of her best friend.
She knew she'd been in love with Harry for years, and she couldn't bring herself to come home and see him with someone else. Since the night in the tent when they'd danced, she'd pressed her lips gently to his, he responded in turn and the two tumbled through a night of passion in each other's arms, she knew she'd not be content with another to love in his place.
She never said a word to Harry about her feelings, believing that their time together was brought on by loneliness, desperation, and the desire to simply be with someone in the dark hours they were facing.
But after her years away, she no longer had a reason to postpone her journey home. Despite refusing Harry's invitation home for the holidays, she'd made a spur of the moment decision to catch an international port-key back to London two days before Christmas. She'd received an invitation, as she always did, from both Harry and the Ministry of Magic to attend the annual Christmas Eve Ball held by the Ministry, and she hoped to surprise her best friends by making an appearance at the event. She'd sent a private RSVP to Minister Shaklebolt, knowing he'd hold her attendance in confidence until the evening of the ball.
Christmas Eve, 2001
Potter Manor
Kingsley Shacklebolt, dressed in resplendent navy blue dress robes, stood regally in front of the large crowd gathered to celebrate the holiday season in style. Champagne and elf-made wine were flowing freely, laughter was tinkling through the room as guests greeted each other throughout the room.
In the grand ballroom of Potter Manor, reopened by Harry in the last year for the first time since James Potter closed the manor in 1980, a small orchestra played traditional yule songs mixed with muggle holiday classics, as elegant hors-d'oeuvres were served. Harry stood next to Kingsley, taking in the sight. He'd unearthed portraits of his Father, Grand-parents, and even one of Sirius Black, and each had stressed the importance of moving forward with his life and celebrating his victory by giving to his community, through charitable donations, fundraising, and non-profit work.
He'd opened the Lupin Home, a foundation supporting children orphaned during the war, regardless of their parentage, and opened his home for this ball, as proceeds were being given to the Lupin Home for the upcoming year.
Deep in conversation with the Ministry regarding the next session of the Wizengamot that would be held in January, Harry missed the silence that was slowly spreading through the room, the gasps of surprise from the attendees that would have had him looking for the reason for the reaction.
Feeling a gentle tap on the shoulder, Harry turned to greet the guest requesting his attention. His vision narrowed, the room spinning wildly around him as he took in the person standing before him. His glass of whiskey slipped from his hand, shattering on the floor, but Harry didn't notice.
"Hermione" he whispered, reaching for her as if he wanted to check that the woman standing before him was real. He grazed his fingers over her shoulder, down her arm, grasping her hand for a short moment before remembering they were standing in front of the majority of the Ministry and prominent witches and wizards from all over the world.
Hermione wore a set of sleek silver dress robes. The neckline was high, curling around her throat in small lace strands, dipping in at her waist and flaring out over her hips, reaching all the way to the floor, leaving her back bare. Perched atop her chestnut curls was a small headband of twisted silver and pearl.
"Harry," Hermione said with a small smile, "It's good to see you."
"You said you weren't coming!" Harry exclaimed, "What are you doing here?"
"I wanted to surprise you," she responded, "I'll tell you all about it, but everyone is staring so perhaps we should get another drink for you and find a quiet place to talk."
Harry wrapped Hermione in a tight hug, not caring a single iota about the room full of people staring at them. He buried his face against her wild curls, inhaling the comforting scent of his best friend, the woman he'd loved since their time in a tiny tent, never forgetting the nights spent wrapped in each other.
Harry kept an arm draped around Hermione's shoulders as he guided her from the grand ballroom to a small sitting room down the hall.
A wide smile plastered across his face, Harry led Hermione to sit upon the large sofa, taking a seat next to her, his leg pressed against hers, feeling the heat of her body through the silken fabric of her dress.
He said nothing, just sat quietly enjoying her presence next to him. It was Hermione who broke the silence.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was coming back," she said quietly, squeezing his knee affectionately. "I missed you terribly and you always invite me home but I just wasn't ready before."
"It's okay, Hermione," Harry said, "You dealt with so much, you just needed time."
"I did," she replied, "But I spoke with Kingsley last week before I came back to London, explained my research and work on runic warding and he offered me a position working to develop new protection devices for the Aurors. I wasn't going to take it, at first." she trailed off before hurrying to continue, "But I knew it was time to come home. I've missed you all so much."
"We've missed you too," Harry said, smiling. "I knew you'd come back eventually. I was waiting for you."
Hermione stiffened, unsure of what Harry meant and not wanting to misinterpret his words.
Harry turned his body, facing Hermione. He took one of her hands in his own. "Hermione Granger," he said with a smile, running a hand through his black hair, "I don't know what's going to happen tonight, or tomorrow, or next year. But I know that I want you by my side. I have spent every day, every night of the past three years missing you, thinking about those nights on the run, wanting nothing more than to sweep you up in my arms and kiss you senseless, and maybe you're not ready for that and maybe you don't want that anymore, but as long as you're home, I am happy."
Hermione wasted no time, launching herself into Harry's arms, curling against him as she sat in his lap, pressing a fierce kiss against his lips before dropping her head against his shoulder. Harry ran his hand up her back, rubbing gentle circles on her skin, pressing small kisses to her collar and shoulder as she trembled in his grasp.
Hermione raised her head to look Harry in the eyes, "I'm home," she whispered softly, "I'm home."
Christmas Morning, 2002
Potter Manor
Harry rose early, flicking his wand casually to light a fire in the cobblestone fireplace of the master bedroom at Potter Manor. A smile graced his lips as he took in the sight of the petite woman curled against him in sleep. Chocolate curls cascading over her shoulders and down her back. Her face soft in the sunlight peeking through the curtains.
Presents were piled at the foot of the bed, and Harry knew his family elves must've been busy intercepting owls this morning. He gently shook the slumbering woman awake.
"Harry," she groaned, burying her face against his chest, "Five more minutes."
"Hermione," he laughed, tickling her sides, "Get up love, it's Christmas!"
Hermione rolled over with a huff, kicking off the blankets and sheets before bolting upright with a grin.
"Oh! I'm so excited!" she exclaimed, jumping from the bed to wrap a thick robe around herself. "Come on!"
Harry rose to his feet, padding to the foot of the bed where the stacks of gifts awaited their attention. A tray with warm biscuits, jam, and honey appeared moments later, causing another huff from Hermione who still didn't like the idea of house elves, although she knew the Potter elves were paid, well taken care of, and adored Harry.
The two quickly made their way through the mountain of gifts. Harry received several quidditch items from members of Dumbledore's Army, joke products from Fred and George Weasley, family photos from Ron and his wife Lavender, including their newborn daughter, Rose. He wasted no time pulling on the warm maroon Weasley sweater he received every year from Molly.
Hermione sat amidst a pile of books, quills, and parchment. Fred and George had recently developed a product utilizing some of her runic wards, and she had received a small chain bracelet the two had designed to prevent "sneak attacks" as Hermione liked to call the Weasley twins jokes and pranks. She had also hurridly donned the sweater from Mrs. Weasley, a beautiful eggplant color, the H on hers identical to the H on Harry's own sweater.
A small package rested in her hands, wrapped in elegant golden paper with black ribbon. She held it out to Harry with a smile.
"I saved this one for last, I hope you like it," she told him, eagerness in her eyes.
"Wait," he said quickly, pulling a small package out of the pocket of his robe, placing it gingerly in her hand. "Open this first, please Hermione."
Hermione peeled back a corner of the wrapping paper, an elegant navy blue with shimmering silver stars throughout. A small gasp left her lips when she realized she was holding a small ring box in her hands.
Turning to look at Harry, she found him on one knee, smiling at her like she held the sun.
"Hermione," he said, "You've been my best friend since I was eleven, and I love you so much. I want to spend the rest of my life showing you how wonderful you are, how much you mean to me."
Hermione was openly crying, tears running down her cheeks as she smiled widely.
"Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?" Harry asked, "Will you marry me?"
Hermione scrambled across the floor, crawling into Harry's lap, "Yes!" she laughed, "Yes, Harry, I will!"
Harry wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his chest as he kissed her lips, "Oh thank god." he whispered. "I love you so much, Hermione." He plucked the ring from the box Hermione had left abandoned on the floor where she opened it. The ring was a beautiful opal set in a rose-gold band, diamonds circling the gem to look like small flower petals.
"This was my Mum's," he told her, "It was one of the only things that were left when she died."
Hermione wiped her eyes, still smiling, as Harry slid the beautiful ring onto her finger.
She climbed off his lap and plucked the present she'd given Harry off the floor, pressing it into his hands.
"Open this now," she said gently.
Harry tore into the gift, dropping the paper onto the floor as he stared at the frame in his hands. His eyes lifted from the photo to look at Hermione before he staring again at the small picture in his hands.
"Is this?" he asked, tears in his eyes as he looked at Hermione.
She nodded, placing herself back in his lap, pulling his arm around her to rest his hand against her stomach.
"It is," she said softly, kissing him on the cheek.
"Well, this is the best Christmas of my life, then!" Harry exclaimed, pulling Hermione into another round of kisses that left them both laughing and breathless.
"How long?" he asked her after they'd settled down.
"I'm four months, now. I found out a few weeks ago but wanted to wait to tell you on Christmas," she said, "It felt right."
Harry pulled Hermione close, hand resting gently against her stomach as he whispered, "Happy Christmas, Hermione."
"Happy Christmas, Harry."