Chapter 78: A Kiss Before Christmas
Elian mentally kicked himself. Of course. Cho Chang had stayed behind to kiss Harry. How had he forgotten that detail? He couldn't be expected to remember every moment of the original story, especially when he was living his own chaotic version of it. No wonder Harry had been shooting him those frantic looks earlier. He'd completely misinterpreted them.
The D.A. meetings always ended late, and the corridors of Hogwarts were mostly deserted at this hour. Most students had retreated to their common rooms or turned in early. A few dedicated scholars, like Hermione, might still be in the library, but tonight, she walked beside him, their path meandering not toward Gryffindor Tower, but toward one of the castle's many interior courtyards.
Hogwarts had several small, secluded gardens, places for students to find a moment of peace. As they walked, Elian's sharp eyes picked out shadowy figures in alcoves and behind statues—couples stealing private moments, wrapped up in each other. It was a stark reminder of the normal teenage life that persisted even under Umbridge's thumb. He found it surprisingly touching, and a little shocking in its openness.
Hermione, however, seemed completely unfazed, striding past without a second glance.
"About the holidays," she began abruptly, her voice cutting through the quiet. "Do you… have somewhere to go?"
The concern in her tone was genuine. "My parents left me the house in London," Elian answered. It was the truth, though the thought of returning to the empty, quiet building on Carnaby Street felt less like going home and more like entering a museum of his old life.
Hermione frowned, her steps slowing. "I've been thinking. I don't think you should go back there." She bit her lip, wrestling with something. "I think you should talk to Professor Dumbledore. Maybe go to the, um… the Phoenix…" She trailed off, clapping a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with alarm. She had almost said it. The Order of the Phoenix was a secret.
Elian looked at her, amused by her sudden panic. "The Order of the Phoenix, you mean?"
"How do you—?"
"Professor Dumbledore told me," Elian said smoothly, his tone casual. "He even asked me to join. I declined."
Hermione stopped walking altogether, staring at him in the dim torchlight. "Dumbledore invited you? And you said no?"
"Yes."
"But why wouldn't you?"
"Why would I?" he countered, his expression serene, as if turning down the legendary Albus Dumbledore was the most natural thing in the world.
The sheer, baffling audacity of it left Hermione momentarily speechless. Then she remembered the golden sparks of his shields, the way he moved without a wand, the ancient feel of his magic. Kama-Taj. Of course. He walked a different path.
"Elian," she said, her voice dropping to an urgent whisper. "You know you're being called a 'new prophecy' by some people out there? By the Death Eaters? If you leave Hogwarts, you'll be a target. With the Azkaban breakout, there are more of them loose than ever. They're going to get braver. Harry… he has protection at his aunt's house, for some reason. But you… you're different."
The flood of worried words struck him. He hadn't thought of it, not properly. He'd been so focused on his own growth, on the System, on navigating Hogwarts, that the vulnerability of his position outside its walls hadn't fully registered. Her fear for him was etched clearly on her face, and it warmed him even as it brought the danger into sharp focus.
"I see," he said softly, his earlier nonchalance fading into sincerity. "You're right. I'll think about it. I know about the Order's headquarters. If I need to, I'll speak to Dumbledore. I promise I won't be reckless." He offered her a small, reassuring smile.
Hermione studied his face, looking for the truth behind the words. She saw it, and some of the tension left her shoulders. She opened her mouth to say something more, to plan or argue further.
Suddenly, Elian moved. He closed the small distance between them in a single, swift step. His face was suddenly very close to hers.
"Merry Christmas," he murmured, his voice low. "Early present."
Then he kissed her. It was brief, just a soft, firm press of his lips against hers, lasting only a heartbeat. Before her stunned brain could even begin to process the sensation—the warmth, the slight shock, the flutter that erupted in her chest—he was gone. He had already stepped back, a faint, unreadable smile on his face, and then he turned and walked quickly away, his footsteps echoing softly before fading around a corner.
He didn't dare stay. If he waited for her reaction, he was fairly certain he'd be hexed into next week.
Hermione stood frozen in the middle of the empty corridor. A strange, tingling numbness spread from her lips through her entire body. Slowly, she raised a hand to touch them. Her face, she was sure, was cycling through every shade of red and white imaginable. Her ears felt like they were on fire.
She looked around furtively, her heart pounding. The corridor was empty. No one had seen. A dizzying mix of outrage, shock, and a giddy, bubbling joy warred within her. Finally, the joy won, settling into a persistent, secret smile. She couldn't suppress it. All the way back to the Gryffindor common room, through the portrait hole, and up the stairs to her dormitory, the smile never left her face.
The fifth-year Gryffindor girls' dormitory housed three: Hermione Granger, Parvati Patil, and Lavender Brown. Hermione entered to find the other two already in their nightclothes.
"Hey, Hermione," Parvati said, looking up from her bed. "What's with the grin? You're giggling to yourself."
Lavender sat up, her eyes gleaming with immediate interest. "Yeah, Hermione. Spill. You look like someone who just got a N.E.W.T. in Happiness. Did something happen? With a boy?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Hermione said, too quickly, climbing into her four-poster and pulling the curtains partway shut. "I just remembered something funny from earlier."
It was a pathetic excuse, and it fooled no one. Parvati slid off her bed and padded over to Hermione's, pulling the curtain open. "Hermione, your face is the colour of a Weasley sweater. It's Elian, isn't it? We're not blind. It's not like Lavender and Ron."
Lavender let out a good-natured laugh. "It's true! Everyone can see how you two are together. Come on, tell us! Did he finally say something?"
Hermione shook her head, burrowing deeper into her pillows. It was… indescribable. If he'd confessed, she could have said they were together. But he'd just… kissed her. And then run away. The coward. The wonderful, infuriating, heart-stopping coward.
Lavender and Parvati exchanged a look. With a synchronized movement, they launched themselves onto Hermione's bed.
"If you won't tell us the truth," Parvati declared, grinning, "we'll have to tickle it out of you!"
"Parvati, get her other arm!" Lavender chirped.
"Oh, stop it, you two! Don't!" Hermione protested, but she was laughing now, unable to stop. The three of them tussled playfully in the dormitory, the sounds of their carefree laughter a bright, defiant counterpoint to the darkening world outside.
Meanwhile, in the boys' dormitory, Harry lay awake in the dark. His mind was a whirl of the kiss with Cho—sweet, awkward, filled with the ghost of Cedric—and the looming dread of the holidays at Privet Drive. He sighed, rolling over.
And on the other side of the room, Elian lay perfectly still in his own bed, staring at the canopy above. A soft, system-generated chime that only he could hear had just echoed in his mind. A new mission prompt hovered at the edge of his consciousness. He focused on it, letting the words resolve.
System Mission Updated: The Safeguard.
Objective: Secure your personal safety during the Christmas holidays. The threat level has been reassessed as 'Elevated'.
Suggested Paths: 1. Accept Dumbledore's offer of sanctuary. 2. Fortify your ancestral location. 3. Establish a mobile defensive protocol.
Reward: Upon successful resolution, affinity with Mystic Shields will increase.
Failure Consequence: High risk of lethal engagement.
Elian's lips, which still tingled faintly, set into a firm line. Hermione's worry had been valid. The System had just made it official. The holiday, it seemed, would not be a rest.
(End of Chapter)
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