Unexpected

Le monde entire tres sailes d'esperance,

A cete nui qui lui donne un Saveur.

Peuple a genoux,

Attends ta deliverance

Noel, Noel

Hermione watched her breath hang in the air and pulled her coat tightly around her. Her stilettos clicked along the old, cobblestone-street as she made her way back to her small flat. The air was bitter cold and the mini-skirt she wore did nothing to protect her skin. Her flesh was now covered with goose bumps. From behind she heard a rowdy catcall and an expression shouted in French that was highly unflattering. Not bothering to look back she held out her hand in a very impolite gesture, one she was disgusted to be using, but knew would enhance her alias.

Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes in her deep misery. She was working as a war correspondent in a small town in France. She had been sent there partly because of her background in French culture and language, and partly because she had a knack for mastering different personas. She had a great passion for her work as an agent for the department of mysteries but sometimes it was more than stressful. As the title suggested, much about the department was mysterious. She knew of only a few other people working in the department, but mostly identities were kept secret.

Her assignment this time was a particularly hard one. Her identity was as a working girl, walking the streets for extra money but mainly spending nights in a men's bar as a waitress. It was the most uncharacteristic and difficult identity Hermione had ever been given in her four years at the department, but she wouldn't fail no matter what it took.

As Hermione continued to walk the long route home, she let her mind wander, seeking out her fondest memories. She had often taken solace in these memories during the daunting job, which was reaching the three week mark. Currently, she was lingering over the remembered taste of hot chocolate as she sat curled on a couch sharing a blanket with Ron. Harry had been on the floor going over charts for Astronomy, and Ron was pretending to read a book. It was a simple moment, very uneventful, but it brought a smile to Hermione's face as she recollected it.

Ron had found love right out of Hogwarts. He was married to a sweet, but simple girl who had been in Hufflepuff. They had dated for the last year at Hogwarts, and married soon after graduation. Hermione had attended their wedding with pure joy, but hadn't seen Ron much since. The friends got together from time to time, but her job didn't allow her much social time.

As for Harry, his presence had been scarce since they left Hogwarts. She saw him maybe twice a year, and somehow those moments were always extremely special. They were always able to pick up right were they'd left off, and enjoy a special day together. Yet, those meetings always left Hermione wondering how they had gotten to the places they were now. After the first year or two of meeting up she stopped living in denial about how she felt for him.

Her emotions were still fuzzy but she accepted that she always felt something more between them. And, she was always left with "what-ifs". What if we hadn't lost touch? What if we'd shared our lives and jobs? What if we'd dared to date? Unfortunately, at the end of each date she pushed all of the what-ifs aside and hugged her friend goodbye. It was a vicious cycle and she felt unable... or maybe unwilling to bring any further feelings or ideas into the equation.

The light and caressing noise of music broke through Hermione's reverie. She looked up and noticed that she stood in front of a small and humble cathedral. A choir of children stood on the steps filling the cold night with a beautiful sound. The powerful music drew Hermione forward until she stood before them, watching in awe. The tune was familiar and she recognized it as "Oh, Holy Night" in French. That's when something clicked and she let out a horrified gasp. It was Christmas Eve. Tears flowed freely from her eyes.

Minuit Chretiens, c'est l'heure solennelle Oul'homme dieu descendit jusqua nous

She stayed a few minutes longer, absorbing the blissful chorus, and then walked on. Her thoughts traveled to past Christmases. Sitting around a spirited tree and singing carols with her mum. She pondered what she wished she was doing right then. It didn't take long to come up with the ideal scenario. She would be at home, wherever that was, and her loved one would be there too. They would have spent the day laughing as they decorated the lovely tree that now sat in their living room. Warm scents would flow through the room and laughter would fill the space. Finally, when night came they would curl up together on the couch in front of a crackling fire. They would spend the rest of the night there until they drifted off to sleep, together.

She let out a long sigh knowing that instead she would return to her cold flat, maybe eat some apple sauce and drink some tea, and then go to bed.

Bam! There was no warning for what came next. All of a sudden Hermione was doubled over clutching her stomach, were she'd been hit. She felt bile rise to her throat, but did her best to force a recovery as she felt the tug at her arm. The ruff looking man was trying to take her purse. Hermione did her best to pull out the few fighting skills she knew. Her defeat was coming on fast when the attacker was flung backwards by a blow to the jaw. She then felt herself be pushed back, but she recognized it as a push to safety.

Hermione stood back against the wall as her rescuer, a very shabby looking man with long hair and torn clothes, recovered her purse. When the fight was over the attacker lay unconscious. The rescuers lip was cut, but otherwise he looked okay. His breathing was a bit labored as he held out her purse. She clutched it to herself, still unsure how to react. She had to admit she was surprised that this man had done this for her. Hermione always tried not to be judgmental, but she was only human. This man looked quite like a hobo, giving Hermione the feeling that he'd be more likely to mug her than the man who had.

Hermione looked up, noticing that the man who had saved her was now half way down the deserted alley. She chased after him, and called for him to wait. His pace picked up a little, and Hermione was feeling the pains of running in heels. Before long, the man sat down in front of a fire burning from a trash can. She took a moment to consider, and then sat down next to him, readjusting her skirt. They sat together for a few minutes in a very awkward silence. Finally, Hermione cleared her throat.

"Um...I just wanted...I thought you should know..." she faltered. It wasn't like her to be so clumsy with words. "Well, thank you."

"Someone had to help," he muttered. She was a little taken aback. There was something about his voice...

"No, no they didn't. Plenty of people would have just walked on by. Especially someone--" she broke off, horrified at what she might have said.

"Especially someone as poor as me." he finished for her. She blushed.

"No, that's not what I meant!"

"What are you doing out on the streets at this time anyway? Don't you have customers?"

Hermione sat in shock as she slowly remembered her undercover identity. She pushed aside her anger at what he was implying, and decided to take up qualms with herself instead. How ridiculous that she had sat there judging him when--when--what must he have been thinking of her? He must have seen how upset she was because he didn't wait for an answer.

"Never mind, I'm sorry, that was mean. We're on the same boat,"

"I suppose we are. We don't get much respect, huh?"

"That's not what I meant," Hermione was starting to feel a bit confused. His voice was also starting to sound distinctly familiar.

"Oh...ok. Um, what did you mean?"

"I didn't know it was you at first, but I did know that man was a Death Eater..." Hermione gasped, but did not interrupt. "He clearly believed you were carrying important files with you, which I don't know that you were, but I knew I better stop him from stealing your bag just in case,"

The pieces were starting to fall into place. What did he mean he didn't know it was her? Did they know each other? Did this man work for the department?

"Wait, I don't--"Before she could finish the man turned to her, and met her eyes.

"Hello, Hermione. It's been too long." The green eyes that met hers left nothing to the imagination. It was Harry. For some reason she couldn't explain, Hermione began to cry. She let Harry gather her up into a hug, filling her with comfort and love. She couldn't believe how happy she was to see him. Through her tears she repeated his name over and over.

"It's ok, 'Mione, its ok," he said soothingly, as her tears ebbed away. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to be so ruff, but I wasn't sure..."

Somehow through exchanged half sentences they understood each other perfectly. It was the essence of their everlasting friendship.

"I missed you Harry..."

"I'm so sorry,"

"It's been hard not seeing you as often as I'd like."

"I'm so, so sorry, Hermione."

She didn't know why but he kept repeating these sentiments. Anything he had to be sorry for, were her faults too. She couldn't understand it.

"Harry, why are you sorry? You didn't do anything you know." she said, finally.

"You're right; it's something I didn't do."

With that, he leaned forward, and tenderly brought them together in a kiss. It was a moment before Hermione responded, only because she had to pinch her arm to ensure the reality of the dream she was now living in. After that, she poured her whole heart into kissing him back, throwing in all the emotions she'd held back for so long. Finally, they pulled apart to breathe.

"Now, why didn't we do that when we met up at that romantic villa in Italy last year?" Harry asked, his smile matching hers.

"Because friends don't do that."

"But a hobo and a prostitute do?"

"Ahem, a less fortunate man, and an entertainer," she said, tipping him a wink.

"Right, exactly." They kissed once more and then fell into a peaceful silence. For the first time Hermione realized she could still hear the faint sound of the children's choir floating in from the distance. Finally, as she drifted off into sleep, Harry's arm around her, she came upon the most wonderful realization of all.

She sat in front of a crackling fire, in the arms of her love, perfectly content. Her Christmas dream had come true.