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ᗩ/ᑎ ᑭ.O.ᐯ
It had been a few years since Voldemort was defeated. Harry was starting his new job at the ministry as a Auror and you were coming off your eighth year with Hermione, completing your schooling and starting off as a reporter for the Daily Prophet.
You and Harry had been friends since first year. Nowhere near as close as he was with Ron and Hermione, but closer than he was with Dean, Seamus, and Neville. You'd consider him an attractive man, all things considered, and he'd complimented your beauty a few times across the years, but neither of you really took any step further in the relationship.
Harry was caught up in Cho and then Ginny, but neither of those relationships ended up working out, for their own respective reasons.
Ginny went on to get a professional position on the Holyhead Harpies, playing as their star chaser, Ron was helping George run the joke shop, and Hermione was working in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.
Everyone was busy, but with Ron and Hermione figuring out their relationship, Harry felt kind of alone. So, he turned to you.
You were always willing to hang out with him when you had time. Going for a drink at the Leaky Cauldron or strolling through Hogsmeade or even just chatting at Grimmauld Place, where Harry currently lived.
"You aren't going to decorate for Christmas?" You chided, coming in out of the cold and kicking off your snow covered boots.
Harry laughed, handing you a mug of hot chocolate to warm your freezing hands. "I live alone, why would I need to?"
"Have some holiday spirit, Potter!" You teased. "Mrs. Weasley would have your head for not even getting a tree."
"She'd have my head for not eating three meals a day,"
"Oh, you shouldn't've said that. Now I'm gonna make it my personal mission to bring you breakfast every morning before I go to work."
"Please don't do that," Harry said, but he was smiling.
You shoved the side of his head and he motioned for you to follow him up the creaky stairs to the drawing room on the first floor.
He'd really fixed up the place since moving in. He'd gotten rid of that terrible portrait of Mrs. Black, dusted away all the cobwebs, and gotten rid of the other unflattering decor and furniture.
He kept some of the classic features, though, like the gas lamps and velvet curtains.
You noticed he'd hung photos along the stairs. Pictures of him, Ron, and Hermione, one of him and Sirius, one of the whole Weasley family, and he even had one of the Dursleys (though you noticed Mr. Dursley was practically cut out of the photo expect for an arm, a leg, and part of his stomach).
You stopped at the last one. It was of four guys standing arm in arm, laughing at the camera. "Harry, what's this photo? Who are those guys your with?"
Harry backed up a few steps to see what you were looking at and laughed. "That's not me. That's my dad and his friends."
