Harry was in a mood that could not be dampened, not even by Hermione's grandmother and her tendency to be free, colorful, and vocal with her opinions. He was actually getting a bit used to them; it helped to see Jake get treated the same way. It made Harry think it might be the way Berti treated people she liked, she certainly seemed to like Jake, and he wouldn't mind having Hermione's grandmother like him.

He was almost aglow with a happiness that he would not have been able to even fathom in the days before he and Hermione were together. She redefined life for him in so many ways. He was having one of those moments when the world transfigured itself for her influence on him. This time, it was a very specific catalyst that made his world's axis tilt. His conversation last night with Hermione would not be forgotten any time soon. It was too amazing, too monumental, too bloody fantastic. He almost wished he had a pensieve. He never wanted a detail of the night to fade from his memory.

Hermione had finally learned about the vision he'd had in Trelawney's class. Or maybe it was just his mind being fanciful, like Hermione said. He might admit that was just as likely, and if Hermione leaned toward that interpretation of the divining arts he was apt to think that it was the correct one. In any case, he told her what he'd seen. He couldn't blame her for panicking a little at first, he had too, but when she sat with it a while she was far more amenable to the possibility it presented than he'd dared dream. Wonder of all wonders, she'd said she wanted that future, too.

No amount of 'tisking' from Berti was going to squelch that flame's luminosity inside him.

Although at the moment, Berti wasn't recriminating him or giving him the shrewd eagle eye. She was mixing the filling for a pie, humming a Christmas tune to herself as she did so. Harry was basting the turkey on the counter space a few paces to her left. They'd fallen into a fairly companionable silence. He even kind of liked her humming. It kept at bay any tension that might have seen fit to creep up in silence and she had a decent voice besides. Sometimes Aunt Petunia hummed to herself, but it was like the sick mewlings of a dying cat.

Hermione had fallen asleep on the couch. He liked that, too. He smiled to think of her sleeping a room away while he busied himself in the kitchen with her grandmother. It was all just so ruddy normal, almost more normal than he knew how to handle. But with the Grangers, it was getting dangerously effortless to let himself feel apart from his scar and his fame.

The sound of a yawn made Harry look toward the living room only to see Miranda shuffling into the kitchen in pajamas and slippers. She blinked sleepily, for a moment looking very much like sleep-mussed Hermione with her hair all out of place. "Happy Christmas, Mum," she said as way of greeting.

"Happy Christmas, Miri."

Miranda looked at Harry. "You're up awful early."

"Mmm hmmm," Berti hummed smartly.

Harry gave a crooked smirk. "Actually, I haven't been to bed yet."

"Oh… would that have anything to do with Hermione on the couch?" Miranda asked with a smile. "Kick you out of bed, did she?"

Berti grunted. "No, I did. Though I would think you'd be a little less unconcerned to find your daughter on Harry's couch in the wee hours of the morning. And if you profess faith in that dog of Harry's again I may just have to have your head examined."

Harry and Miranda exchanged a knowing look, though Harry's was tinted pink with a slight blush.

"No, I was thinking more of Jake, actually," Miranda said with a straight face. "He had a talk with Harry, you see." Miranda glanced toward Harry again and winked.

Harry almost grinned. Instead, he turned to Berti and concurred. "Yeah, he did."

"Put a mortal fear in Harry should he even look at Hermione the wrong way," Miranda added.

"Really terrifying bloke, Jake," Harry threw in at once.

"All right, now you two are just funning with me," Berti interjected into their bantering.

Miranda came up to the pair at the counter and ran an errant hand through Harry's hair, much as she was wont to do with Hermione's. Harry didn't even brace or tense anymore when Miranda unexpectedly touched him. He continued to tend to his cooking task with a light feeling in his chest that he'd never associated with Christmas before… it was usually a sensation he connected with Quidditch. That moment when his fingers closed around the snitch and won his team the match. The feeling in his chest now was very like that, but it was lasting longer and permeating deeper than the snitch catch feeling did.

Miranda took up a third chore in the kitchen, and for a time the three of them worked quietly; no one wanted to wake Hermione.

It was a short time later that Jake dragged himself out of bed. He announced his arrival with a cheerful, "Morning and happy Christmas one and all." Harry looked toward Jake and snorted to see the man standing with arms spread wide like he was addressing the Great Hall when it was packed with students. It only added to the comical effect that he was in his own pajamas and sporting a serious case of bed-head.

From behind Jake, Hermione grumbled from beneath the blanket.

Miranda chuckled.

Jake lowered his arms, glanced back at the blanket his daughter was clearly using for cover, then he turned back to those assembled in the kitchen. "What's with her? Is it feasible that our Hermione is losing her enthusiasm for Christmas?"

"Not likely," Miranda replied. "She's just knackered; she was up all night with Harry."

Jake looked critically at Harry a moment, then he scratched at his chin.

"No worries," Harry said on impulse, "I'm mortally afraid of you right now."

Jake blinked, puzzled, and looked toward Miranda. Something he saw in her face clued him in, because his eyes became playful and he fought a smirk. "Ahhh… yes, very good, then."

"The lot of you have gone spare," Berti bemoaned loudly.

Hermione groaned again, this time with more of an aggressive edge.

"As soon as the turkey's in the oven I think we can start in on the presents," Miranda said with a look around the kitchen and the respective state of their unfinished tasks. When she was done with that she looked toward the living room and her expression grew more thoughtful. "Though we'll have to brave waking Hermione. That won't be pretty."

Jake shuddered in agreement and sat down at the kitchen table. "Send in Harry. She won't cause him physical damage. I'm not too sure I'd come away so lucky if I tried to wake her."

"I think that's a brilliant idea," Miranda agreed immediately, "what better reason to have a boyfriend on hand than to throw him to the wolf?"

'To the lioness, actually,' Harry thought with a rush of affection, but aloud he said, "All right, I'll go wake her."

"Godspeed, son," Jake gave him a wave, teasingly suggesting Harry might never return.

Hermione had burrowed completely under the covers to block out the light from the window. Harry smirked at the sight of the mound of covers beneath which Hermione was ensconced. He knelt down next to the couch and began to tug at the blanket… only to be met with resistance. When he pulled harder a grumpy groan issued forth.

"Mione, time to get up."

Her disembodied groan turned plaintive.

Harry pulled more insistently at the covers and finally uncovered Hermione's head. Her hair was even wilder than usual after being ruffled under the blanket, looking rather like she'd been in a windstorm… if there was such a thing, it was bedsheet-blown. She looked up blearily at him and glowered. "S'too early, Harry."

"Yeah, I know, but the rest of the family wants to open presents and you're right in the middle of Christmas or else I might just let you have a lie in."

Hermione blinked and glanced toward the tree. She yawned. "Oh… yeah… Christmas." With that she rose to a sitting position and pushed the covers off to one side. Harry's mouth ticked in amusement and he stood to properly fold the blanket and drape it over the back of the couch.

"Well, look who's finally up," Jake said as he led the procession of adults from the kitchen into the living room.

"Happy Christmas, everyone," Hermione proclaimed around a massive yawn. Then she took Harry's hand and pulled him down to the floor. Harry, perplexed, went along and ended up sitting on the floor next to the tree beside Hermione. Her purpose became clear when Berti, Jake, and Miranda sat down on the couch, taking up the length of the piece of furniture.

In what was clearly a well-practiced family tradition, Hermione proceeded to sort through the presents until everyone had been given one. The one in Harry's hand was from Miranda. When Jake started to rip into his gift Harry saw that the others followed suit and he did likewise. His present turned out to be a movie. He puzzled over the title a moment before he looked up to see Miranda watching him.

"When Harry Met Sally?" he asked curiously.

"An American movie that Ben claims is the essential film on relationships, and I have to say I quite enjoyed it myself. It's centered around the age-old question, can a man and woman ever just be friends."

Unbidden, Harry's eyes went to Hermione. She turned her gaze down to her lap and the half-opened gift lying there as she fought back a smile.

"Well, a little late for this pair," Berti remarked lightly.

"I hope you like it," Miranda finished, disregarding her mother's aside.

"It sounds interesting, and I'm sure I can make Hermione watch it with me. Thank you."

"Why, that's right fetching," Jake held up a blue sweater from Berti for everyone to admire.

"Glad you like it, Jake.

"What a beautiful housecoat, Hermione," Berti fawned over her own present. "And it's so soft, too. My old one is nearly threadbare, so this new housecoat isn't a moment too soon. Thank you, dear."

"You're welcome, Gram." Hermione turned over the gift in her lap, one from Harry, while he watched her reaction. When she read the title of the thick, encyclopedic book and took in the picture on the cover she smiled.

"What have you got there, Hermione?" Jake asked.

Hermione looked up. "The Everything Fact Book on Big Cats."

Harry didn't doubt there were three relatively quizzical looks to that, but he was concerned only with Hermione's response to the gift. She turned her head to look at him and smiled, her eyes speaking to their shared secret, then Hermione at once began to flip through the book. She stopped on the section on the jaguar and slipped quickly into engrossment.

Feeling more confident, Harry turned to his next present, a bulky thing from Jake. When Harry tore the paper away it revealed a soccer ball, white and pristine.

"Thought you and I might try our hand at a bit of football," Jake explained to Harry as the younger man pondered the gift. When Harry looked up to regard Jake Hermione's father said, "I might not have much hope of going one to one with you in your sport, but we could have ourselves a man to man football match if you like."

Harry, oddly, found he liked that idea very much. More than he would have thought he would, and he couldn't say what made it sound so appealing. But it did. "That sounds great."

"I rather thought so, too. There was a time when I wasn't half bad at football either, if you can believe that."

"What sport does Harry play?" Berti interjected casually as she admired a set of earrings from Miranda.

"Lacrosse," Jake answered without hesitation and with a convincing smile. He'd obviously formulated that cover story before Christmas morning.

"Hmm, well that's nice. Oh, I best check on the pies. Don't let me interrupt anything." With that, Berti got up off the couch and went into the kitchen.

"Harry?" Miranda said lowly and questioningly when Berti was out of the room. Harry looked to Miranda and saw she was holding up a honey-colored dress he'd bought her… but while she was holding the dress she was meaningfully fingering the silver bow that had been affixed to the box.

Harry glanced toward the kitchen to make sure Berti was still occupied. "The seamstress who made it was a witch," Harry explained. "The threads and material are magical. When you put that on it will always be a perfect fit."

Miranda's expression lit up. "Oh, well that's just devilishly clever! I have to say, a real smart lot, those magical folk. Imagine how much you'd save on clothes if you didn't 'stress the seams', so to speak."

Jake looked closer at the dress. "I imagine once lunch is here I'll wish my trousers were like that."

Hermione laughed.

"Thank you very much, Harry. It's not only a beautiful dress, but I'll never have to fear it will be relegated to the back of the closet should I suffer too much of good living." Miranda said the last with an amused smile.

Jake threw a look over his shoulder and verified that Berti was still in the kitchen. He turned his attention back to Harry. "Think you may have time enough to explain these?" He held up two rectangular pieces of paper decorated with tiny figures darting around the front.

"They're tickets to next year's Quidditch World Cup."

Hermione gasped.

Jake's eyebrows rose, though whether it was more for Hermione's reaction or learning the nature of the gift was hard to say.

"I thought you and Miranda might like to go. Of course, there's no telling who the teams will be yet, but you said you'd like to see a Quidditch match so I didn't imagine the teams would make that much difference."

"I certainly would like to see a match, and you're right on the teams, makes no matter to a regular bloke like me. This ought to be dreadfully exciting to watch."

Miranda nodded. "Yes, I'm sure you'll have a wonderful time, but maybe you'd rather take Harry to this match." Miranda turned to smile reassuringly at Harry. "I'm very touched that you'd buy a ticket for me, but surely you'd be better company for Jake than me. I think you boys could make a real smashing day of it. And I dare say Jake would find you much more entertaining than he would me."

"She's right on that count, son," Jake threw in before Harry could protest, "and besides, if Miranda and I were to go who would have the patience to spend half the time explaining it all to the dunderhead nonmagic fellow? I could do with having an expert on the subject on hand. What do you say, care to make it a blokes' day on the town?"

"If you're sure, Miranda…"

"Course I am," Miranda replied, then her gaze shifted to Hermione. "What is it, honey?"

Hermione was still staring gape-jaw at the tickets in Jake's hand. "Oh… I… nothing."

Jake frowned at Hermione's expression and he eyed the tickets a bit more warily. "What's the trouble? These tickets weren't illegally procured, were they?"

"No, it's not that, just…" Hermione turned to address Harry, "weren't those terribly expensive?"

Jake and Miranda blinked; they had no notion of the price of Quidditch World Cup tickets. Hermione's shock to the gift was the first clue they had as to real the monetary value of Jake's present.

Harry shrugged. "Not so much as you'd think, actually. I asked the Quidditch shop owner in Diagon Alley how I'd go about getting two tickets, I just wanted to know where to go, but he started contacting people right there and then, the name 'Harry Potter' got thrown around a bit, and before I knew it…" Harry gestured at the tickets.

"I didn't realize you were quite that… famous," Miranda mused aloud.

Jake hefted the tickets thoughtfully. "After that shopping trip to the magic store alley, I'd believe it." Jake looked up at his wife. "There didn't seem to be a single person there that didn't know Harry on sight."

"You get kind of used to it," Harry muttered, twitchy at the turn of conversation. It caused his abnormal existence to intrude upon this pocket of normal he'd discovered in Hermione's family.

"What did I miss?" Berti asked jovially as she rejoined the family after making certain none of their food was in peril of being ruined. Harry was almost relieved to have Berti show up, as it meant all discussion about Harry's undesired fame in the wizarding world would come to a screeching halt.

"Just remarking on how Harry appears to have figured my size perfectly," Miranda said as she held up the dress.

"Well, of course you'll have to try it on to know that, but it is very pretty nevertheless."

Miranda merely smiled and nodded.

"Here you go, Harry," Hermione said as she handed him a small package, "this one's from Gram."

Harry was feeling relaxed and comfortable again, the topic of his status in the wizarding world completely out of mind, and he turned to tearing the brightly colored paper from his present. He cleared away enough wrapping to expose the front of the box, and he stared at it with a crease on his brow as he tried to figure out what it was.

When he did figure it out, his eyes went saucer-wide and heat suffused his face so instantaneously and so hotly that it felt like he'd ducked his head into a blazing furnace. As though the box meant to jump up and bite him, he slapped the paper back over the cover of the box and looked up in something close to panic.

Unfortunately, his reaction had gotten the attention of everyone in the room.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, her tone laced with concern for the state he presented. "What did you get?"

"Nothing!" he yelped.

Hermione pursed her lips, scrutinizing the clues and concluding that it was most certainly the opposite of nothing. Blast him for having such an astute girlfriend.

"Mum," Miranda intoned wearily and dreadfully, "what did you get him?"

Berti just lifted an eyebrow.

Hermione leaned over and tried to pry the haphazardly concealed gift from Harry's hands. He wouldn't let her have it at first, for a second he resolutely shook his head to say Hermione wouldn't get it from him without brute force and maybe a hex or two, then he surrendered to complete humiliation and loosened his death-grip on the small box.

Hermione took the gift from him, brushed aside the wrinkled wrapping paper, read the logo on the box that had rattled Harry so, then her eyes went wide to match Harry's. "Gram!" she turned to look at her grandmother in borderline horror, her own complexion turning scarlet, "you got Harry condoms?!"

Jake very nearly ripped the new tie he'd been trying on and looked up sharply. Miranda gave a piteous groan.

"There is nothing wrong with safety, Hermione," Berti lectured, unruffled by the presumptuousness of her present and the ripple effect it had had on everyone in the room.

"Mum, really," Miranda grumbled.

"They're fifteen, Berti," Jake groused.

"You're as old as your soul, I say, and these two aren't a set of teenage souls, I can tell you that."

Before anyone else could speak there was a resounding knock on the front door. Harry leapt to his feet with an agility and speed nearly enough to compare to that of the jaguar. "I'll get it!" He all but fled from the family gathering.

"Who on earth could that be on Christmas morning?" Berti's voice trailed after Harry's retreat.