Merry Christmas Rachy. I apologise for my crappy, half attempt at a Scottish accent : )

Disclaimer: I own nothing that you recognise.

Of Brooms and Snow.

It was Christmas Eve and one Hermione Granger was having a 'heated discussion' with her long time boyfriend, Oliver Wood. Now, why would such a happy couple be arguing on Christmas Eve? Due to flying, or rather, Hermione's lack there of. Usually this didn't upset Oliver too much, he mentioned the topic every once in a while but it had never escalated this far. Oliver, always being the patient and rather calm half of this relationship, usually let it slide. Not this time though, much to Hermione's displeasure.

"I don't know why you can't understand it Oliver, I just don't fly," Hermione said, walking into the kitchen.

"Because I just can't, are you frigh'ened of the broom?" Oliver replied, following her.

"No, I am not frightened of that stick."

"It's no' a stick and you know that. Just tell me why you refuse to hop on my broom?"

Hermione stifled a giggle at this, "I'll hop on your broom anytime Oliver, you know that."

"Hermione, you know wha' I mean."

"It's not that I'm frightened of the broom, it's just that I don't trust the broom, Oliver."

"You don't trust the broom?"

"It's a small strip of wood that you're suppose to dangle from half way up in the air."

"It's not the broom that decides if you fall or not it's your flying capability."

"Well then I'm definitely not getting on that, I have zero flying capability."

"Aah, bu' I do love."

"Well, yes, you have more then enough but.."

"Bu'...?"

"I s'pose there is no excuse is there?"

"None love."

"So I s'pose I'll have to fly with you?"

"Yes love."

"Calling me love doesn't get me any less pissed off."

"I know love."

"Humph," Hermione concluded and walked angrily to their room.

"Ready for this then love?" Oliver asked Hermione in their chilly back yard.

"Ready as I'll ever be," she grumbled.

"All right then," Oliver replied happily, motioning for Hermione to get on the back of the broom.

Hermione placed one leg on either side of Oliver's broom, standing a little behind him with her arms folded. Oliver chuckled at this and dragged the annoyed witch closer.

"Unless you wan' ta fall off your going to have to put your arms around me love."

"Fine."

Hermione did as she was told, snuggling her cheek into the crook of his neck for good measure.

"Happy?"

"Very love, don't worry I'll be nice and slow."

Suddenly, Oliver kicked the pair and the broom into the air and slowly began to climb higher. Hermione dug her nails into Oliver's sides which made Oliver chuckle again.

"You can let go of me a bit love, I won't let you fall."

"Promise?" Hermione whispered in his ear.

"Promise."

Hermione slackened her grip a bit, but still clung to Oliver. Nuzzling in a bit more Hermione finally let herself feel what Oliver felt. The wind through her hair and on her face, the fresh smell and the pretty, twinkling lights that belonged to houses and street lamps. Whilst realisation washed over Hermione she brushed her lips against Oliver's cheek, her silent way of letting him know she shared the feeling with him and at that, Oliver smiled. Sometimes Christmas miracles do happen.