Harmione One Shots

The Best Christmas Gift

Summary: Hermione struggles to come up with a last minute Christmas gift for Harry when, almost by magic, one is suddenly and unexpectantly thrust upon her...

Ship: HarryPotterxHermioneGranger

All credit goes to IckleRonnikens on Ao3

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Harry Potter was running late.

He had showered, dressed, and got his briefcase together for work in quite a hurry, and had made his way down the narrow staircase of Grimmauld Place, then down into the kitchen, where it smelt like bacon and eggs and Christmas. It was, after all, that time of year. He thought it stupid that the Ministry was making everyone in his department work right up until the twenty-fourth, when this was supposed to be a time of peace, when there was no danger in the world, and now was the time to be relaxing and celebrating the end of a very tough year, instead of working.

Hermione Granger was sitting at the kitchen table in her nightgown, sipping her coffee and reading the morning edition of the Daily Prophet when Harry arrived, and it made her look up.

"Morning," Harry said briefly, he went over, picked up a piece of toast, kissed her on the cheek, and then turned to go.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Harry," she said, stopping him in his track, "we need to talk."

"Oh," Harry spun around to look at her with a face, "that can't be good."

He bit into his toast and stood there awkwardly for a moment, as Hermione folded the newspaper, put it aside, and looked up towards him with a frown.

"You need to tell me what you want for Christmas," Hermione said, sounding serious, but a great sense of relief rushed over Harry, "I don't want to just get you socks and underwear again."

"Actually," Harry said, pointing a finger at her, "socks and underwear would be great! I love new socks, they are just the best, and that Dobby, he knew best, huh? Didn't he?"

He grinned at her stupidly and a small smirk threatened to form around the edges of Hermione's mouth, which was pursed in a serious manner.

"That might be the case," Hermione said sternly, "but I want to get you something meaningful, Harry. What do you really want?"

"All I want for Christmas, is you!" Harry sung in a smooth voice, dancing his way back over to her, leaning back down and giving her another kiss.

Hermione didn't look entirely impressed.

"You already have me, Harry," she said tilting her head at him with a smirk and tapping the diamond ring on her finger, (she at least still looked flattered by his advances), "I want to get you something special, something different..."

"Well, there is something," Harry reminded her, as he pinched another piece of toast, and patted her on the shoulder.

"What? What is it?" Hermione asked, sounding slightly desperate.

"You already know, because, I've already asked you, and you said no," Harry said, biting into the toast smug, "don't tell me you've already forgotten what I asked you for my birthday this year, Mrs Potter–"

"Oh Harry, not that again..." Hermione sighed, scrunched her nose at him, and shook her head, "no, I want to get you something more romantic than that."

Harry shrugged his shoulders and pecked her on the cheek one last time.

"I'm sure you'll think of something," Harry said, as he rushed across the room for the door, "but I'd better be going or else I'm going to be late for work."