Disclaimer: Still not mine. Perhaps I should have a New Year's resolution to acquire them…

A/N This is the final chapter. Sorry for the delay in posting but I've been ill. Hope it's been worth the wait. And Happy New Year, if it's not too late to say it. :)

"I think that's enough, Ruth," Harry says, taking hold of her fingers in a bid to stop them travelling further down his chest.

"Rubbish. You can never have too many buttons undone."

"Undo any more and there won't have been a lot of point me putting this shirt on."

"You're saying that like it's a bad thing," Ruth whispers, seductively, before planting several soft kisses on the smooth skin she has exposed.

"Are you going to tell me then?" Harry asks, deciding it's time to turn the tables on her.

"Tell you what?"

He runs his hand slowly up her left leg, over the material of her skirt, and squeezes the top of her thigh. "If they are stockings."

"Harry!"

He laughs. "It's a bit late for righteous indignation seeing as you've spent the last twenty minutes snogging my face off and trying to get me naked."

"Me snogging your face off?"

"Yes, you."

Ruth pouts at him and he knows she's conceded the point.

"You weren't exactly fighting me off," she says, slyly.

Perhaps not entirely conceded the point.

"And I haven't been trying to get you naked, Harry."

He raises an eyebrow.

"Half-naked, perhaps. Not completely naked. I'm not that forward."

"Shame," he murmurs, and draws her into a deep, tongue-entwining kiss.

-x-

Finally disentangled from each other, they have returned to the kitchen. The food is ready and the smell of it appealing enough to keep them out of each other's arms, at least for a while.

"You're a complete softie where that dog is concerned," remarks Ruth as Harry pauses from carving the duck to throw a couple of small pieces of meat in Scarlett's direction.

"She deserves a little treat."

"Like I said, complete softie." Ruth emphasises the point by sidling up to Harry and giving his bottom a friendly pat.

He waits until she's distracted with dishing up the vegetables and then sneaks up behind her, sliding his arms around her waist and pulling her close to him.

"I was hoping for another kiss," he asks, as she attempts to wriggle out of his embrace.

"No, Harry."

"Just one kiss, go on, you know you want to."

"Harry!"

"Please. I'll undo a couple more buttons on my shirt."

"Idiot," she laughs and then capitulates. "One kiss."

He releases his hold on her enough so that she can turn around to face to him. He's true to his word and it is just one, delicate, sweet kiss but afterwards, he draws her close again.

"Can't have a kiss and not have a cuddle; it's compulsory," he states, pressing their bodies together.

Ruth is happy to indulge him and hugs him just a little more tightly.

-x-

Dinner is eaten at a leisurely pace; the food is excellent, as is the wine, and conversation comes easily to them. They stop to watch the Queen's Christmas message and then dissect it over Christmas pudding. It's the first year, for a long, long time that Harry hasn't had an advance preview of it so Ruth tells him which parts had got the upper echelons of the civil service palpitating, much to his amusement.

"HM always likes to throw in a couple of things that she knows will get the knickers of Whitehall's finest in a twist," Harry remarks, dryly. "Then there's a bit of too-ing and fro-ing as changes are suggested and the thesaurus plundered for suitable synonyms. She generally gets her way though, God bless her."

Ruth laughs. "I suspect it's revenge for the things she gets made to say at the opening of parliament."

"I suspect you're right." Harry takes a long sip from his glass and looks at her. "This is good, really good."

"Yes, it's very good wine."

"I didn't mean the wine, I meant this," he smiles and then motions with his hand between the two of them. "You and me, having Christmas dinner together."

"Ah," Ruth replies, mildly embarrassed. "Sorry." She looks away from Harry for a moment. "You're right. This is really good."

-x-

They are well into their second bottle of wine when Harry decides to start clearing the dishes. Ruth stands up to help and finds herself reaching for the back of the chair to retain her balance.

"You all right there, Ruth?" Harry asks, moving quickly to take her arm.

"Yes, thanks."

"Bit too much vino, eh?"

"You kept topping up my glass!"

"Well you kept drinking it," Harry teases, still holding on to her.

"I could accuse you of trying to get me drunk," Ruth shoots back, determined to play Harry at his own game.

"You could, but I wouldn't do that. I'm a gentleman."

Without really knowing how, or even if it was really his doing, Ruth once again finds herself in the not unpleasant position of being enveloped in Harry's arms.

"You see," he says, watching her, intently, "I could quite easily take advantage of you."

"You c-could," she stammers, not in the least bit averse to being taken advantage of by Harry.

"Is that what you want?"

His lips brush over hers as he speaks and Ruth's already shaky legs become decidedly jelly-like. She knows that if it wasn't for him holding on to her, she'd be in a heap on the floor.

"Ruth?"

She looks up at him as he says her name and Harry realises that their flirting, and his teasing, has left them balanced on a knife edge. And the moment he understands that, Ruth also reaches the same conclusion. Harry decides he sees enough doubt in Ruth's face to reign in his desires.

"I think we should go for a walk, get some fresh air," he suggests. She sighs; whether with relief or disappointment isn't clear to him. "I wouldn't really take advantage of you; not unless you wanted me to. And I don't think it counts then, does it?"

She wants to sound exasperated but ends up laughing. "Oh, Harry."

"Sorry." He presses a soft kiss to her forehead. "We'll load the dishwasher and then go for a quick turn around the block. Scarlett could do with the exercise as well."

Ten minutes later they are standing in the hall discussing the suitability of Ruth's boots for the snowy weather.

"They're fine, Harry."

He looks doubtful. "You sure? They look more like a fashion statement than practical footwear."

"Suddenly you're an expert on female fashion."

"I do have some knowledge of women's clothing."

She gives him a very Ruth look. "I'm not sure I want to know." Then she continues, "trust me, Harry. These boots will be fine."

"OK," he says, giving in, "but at least let me find you something warm to put on under your coat."

He disappears upstairs and when he returns, he's wearing a thick, black sweater. "Here," he says, holding out a navy cotton jumper, "put this on."

Once they are ready, they head out into the cold night air with Scarlett in tow. It's been snowing on and off all day and there is now several inches coating the pavements, roads and cars. Ruth wishes she hadn't been quite so adamant about the suitability of her boots as her toes soon feel chilled and she is certain damp is creeping in, making the feet of her tights soggy. She says nothing but holds on tightly to Harry's arm.

-x-

By the time they get back, it's snowing heavily again and it's a relief to get indoors. Scarlett scampers about the hall, dragging her lead behind her, evading Harry's attempts to remove the waterproof jacket he had put on her before they went out. Ruth sits on the stairs and takes her boots off whilst surreptitiously watching the antics of man and dog. Eventually, Harry wins the battle; he leans on the newel post, slightly out of breath.

"That dog runs rings around you," Ruth remarks, trying not to laugh.

"She's just a bit excited about having a visitor."

"Of course."

"It's true. She's a very obedient dog, aren't you Scarlett?"

The dog trots up to Harry and sits down by his feet.

"See?" he says, rather smugly.

The effect is then ruined when Scarlett decides Ruth is more interesting and goes to sit beside her on the stairs.

-x-

They are back in the living room, snuggled up together on the sofa. The television is switched off after they both decided there was nothing on that appealed; certainly nothing that appealed more than talking to each other. Or flirting.

"What did you promise Santa Dimitri?" Harry asks, gently twisting a lock of Ruth's hair around his fingers.

"What do you mean?"

"For helping out. I hope it didn't involve a kiss under the mistletoe. Or a flash of stocking top."

"A flash of stocking top? You, sweet, old-fashioned thing."

"Don't be cheeky."

She playfully nips his ear. "You love it really, don't you?"

"I refuse to answer that on the grounds that you may be right. And stop avoiding the question."

Ruth kisses him, lazily. "Silly man. I didn't promise Dimitri anything. He wanted to help. As did Tariq and Beth. It's not just me who cares about you."

He's quiet for a moment as ponders what she's told him. "You didn't promise them a kiss from me did you?"

Ruth laughs. "Absolutely not. The only person you're allowed to kiss is me."

"I think I can cope with that."

-x-

Ruth wakes, still on the sofa but now curled up against Harry with her head resting on his shoulder.

"Sorry," she says, rubbing her eyes and sitting up. "I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"That's all right."

"What time is it?" She answers her own question by looking at her watch. "It's nearly ten. How long have I been sleeping?"

"I'm not sure," Harry lies. "About an hour or so." One hour and seven minutes, to be precise.

"What about you? Have you been asleep too?"

"Dozing, off and on."

She frowns. "Really?"

"Yes, really."

He hadn't slept at all; the rare privilege of watching her at peace had proved to be irresistible and he had held her close, enjoying every minute.

Ruth looks around, unsure as to what to do. "I, er, I ought to go."

"You don't have to," he replies, already missing her as she stands up. "Not yet."

"I should, Harry." She smoothes her hands over her skirt to distract herself from looking at him, from seeing the sadness in his face. "I need to get my things."

Harry follows her out into the hall. "Please Ruth. You're welcome to stay. I have a spare room."

She stops and turns slowly until she's facing him. "I don't want to sleep in your spare room."

He tries, unsuccessfully, to hide his disappointment. "Oh."

"If I stay, and I do want to stay, I want to sleep in your room, in your bed…with you."

It feels like the world has shifted on its axis, just a little. But as it starts to spin again, Harry knows he has to be pragmatic.

"This might be the only night we have together, we-"

"Don't say that!"

"We have to be realistic, Ruth. This time next year I could be in Wormwood Scrubs."

She's standing right in front of him, gripping his arms. "You won't! I won't let them do that to you!"

"And I won't let you sacrifice yourself for me," he replies, fiercely. "Not again!"

"Don't you understand, Harry? I can't be apart from you any more."

He's confused. "What? What do you mean?"

"I can't be apart from you, not again, Harry," she repeats, fingers digging into his biceps as she speaks. "So I won't be sacrificing myself. We'll get through this, together. You have to trust me. And the others."

There's silence as he tries to make sense of what she's saying. Finally, he understands. She has a plan; he should never have doubted that, or her. He should never doubt her again.

"You've got something in mind, haven't you?"

She blinks a couple of times, trying to quell the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. "There are various things going on, Harry. Information is being collated, analysed. Different options are being considered…"

"Members of the Board of Inquiry are being nobbled?"

A small gasp of laughter escapes her lips. "You might think that, I couldn't possibly comment."

"No, of course you couldn't."

She smiles at him. "Let's go to bed."

-x-

Ruth is woken from a particularly nice dream involving her, Harry, a warm, secluded beach, and very few clothes, by movement beside her. Cool air tickles over her naked back, making her shiver. A cold hand slides over her stomach making her shriek.

"Harry, you're freezing!"

"I had to let Scarlett out," he explains, ignoring her protests and snuggling closer. "Like me, she's at that age where she has to get up early for a wee."

"What did you do? Go out in the back garden with her?"

"The snow is really deep, almost up to the top of her ears, poor thing. I had to clear some of it for her."

"Didn't you put any clothes on?"

"My dressing gown."

Ruth gives up the unequal struggle with Harry and tugs the bedcovers tightly around her hoping it'll warm both of them more quickly. "Was that it?" she asks.

"My coat and my wellies."

"What a sexy image. Didn't you put your trousers on?"

"Well I wasn't expecting to have to go outside."

"You should be careful, Harry. Going out in this weather with no knickers on. You get could get frozen assets."

"You'll just have to warm them up then, won't you?"

"You'll be lucky."

He's in the middle of saying 'that's what I'm hoping' when she interrupts him.

"What's that noise?"

"My low temperature alarm," Harry replies, deftly shifting position so Ruth ends up lying underneath him. "I still need warming up. A lot of warming up."

"It sounds like my phone."

"It is. I noticed it was beeping when I came back upstairs."

She's quiet for a moment, torn between checking her mobile and submitting to the very welcome attentions of Harry who, she has discovered, is good at a lot more things than kissing. Very good.

"I'd better check it."

He mumbles 'leave it', more interested in placing delicate kisses on her soft skin.

"Harry, it might be important."

He relents, reaches over to the bedside table, retrieves her phone and hands it to her.

"It's a text."

"I guessed that much," Harry says, resuming his exploration of her body.

"From Santa's helper."

He laughs. "What does it say?"

"'Happy Boxing Day. OMP has been extended until 07:00 hours 27 December.'"

"OMP?"

"Operation Mince Pie."

Harry looks at her. "Dimitri?"

She nods.

"I'll have to find a way of saying thank you to him. And Tariq, who I presume is his little helper?"

Ruth puts the phone back on the bedside table. "Yes, he's been busy photoshopping surveillance photos. Apparently, you've had a very dull Christmas." She hooks her arms around his neck, "very dull."

-x-

By the early hours of the 27th, Ruth knows how Harry got the scar on his left hip; she knows why the little toe of his right foot curls in, and she also knows why there's a patch of mottled skin on his lower back. But, most importantly, she knows what it's like to be loved by him, completely.

The End.