I want to thank my ever wonderful beta, HeatherQuynn. Because of you, my writing is getting better. I can't thank you enough for that.

I'd appreciate it if you leave a comment and let me know what you think. Happy reading!

**Disclaimer: All the characters from the Harry Potter series belong to J. K. Rowling. I am grateful that she allows us to play in her world. Logan belongs to Marvel. I am so grateful to start playing in this world. The line from 'A Christmas Carol' belongs to Charles Dickens. What a wonderful writer he is, classic Christmas story. All original ideas expressed within this story are mine. I am not making a profit from this. I am just happy to get the opportunity to write.**

The wind howled, rattling the windows and lone door of the cabin. It was a sound Hermione had become accustomed to, as it hadn't stopped since the evening Logan and she had arrived at his cabin. The snow swirled wildly in big puffy flakes. She was happily wrapped in a blanket, sipping on tea, and ready to crack open the book they were going to share, like they did every Christmas.

Logan was pacing around the room. With it being so cold out, he hadn't had a cigar in a few days. They'd only brought one pack of his favourite beer, and one bottle of champagne for her. Neither had intended on being stuck inside all day. In all their years together, this was the first time they'd been snowed in. Logan had long since dried up his drink, and had even cracked open her bottle of champagne. Poor man.

It wasn't that Hermione minded that he smoked, because she didn't. Hermione just didn't like inhaling it herself. On Logan, it tasted and smelt exotic; but for her, it smelt like burnt toast, and tasted like sour cabbage.

"Just go for a smoke. I can wait."

Logan grunted, regarding his girlfriend. Just because he was immortal, it didn't mean that he still couldn't freeze.

"I could come out if you'd like?" Hermione didn't like seeing Logan restless. This was when his pissy attitude started to form. Hermione reached for her wand. She could warm them both as they stood outside.

"No." he clenched his jaw. "I'm going out for a smoke."

He trudged out the door, sending a nasty chill through the cabin. Hermione bounded out of her blanket for another jumper. She hurried back to the warm safety of her blanket and teacup. She wondered how Logan had ever managed it. Then she remembers, the only reason he wasn't smoking in the building was because of her. She frowned.

They were both so very different, but also very similar. Logan would never admit it though. She bit her lip, gazing at her gift under the tree. She'd gotten him a rare set of cigars, but if the weather continued the way it was, he wasn't really going to properly enjoy them. Certainly, there was a spell that could clear the air for her; there had to be. That would be a much better gift than the cigars.

Hermione once again jumped from her blanket. She dug through her bottomless bag in search of her big book of one-off spells. As she skirted back to the comfort of her blanket, the door flew open. The force of the wind put out the dwindling flames in the hearth. She beelined for her blanket and wand. She looked up at Logan, whose one side was completely caked in snow.

A giggle erupted from her lips. "I wasn't aware that I was dating a man that was part snowman."

Logan scowled.

Hermione could only grin. She waved her wand. "Focillo."

The snow that crusted his side melted, and he was dry. He took one step forward and grumbled, "You let the fire die."

"I did not. You did, by opening that door."

Logan glared at the fireplace. "Where is all the wood I cut?"

"In ashes. You kept putting logs on the fire because you were bored." She didn't like where this was going.

His lip twitched, his fists clenching. If only she had caught onto his restlessness earlier. It wouldn't have gotten so far out of hand.

"I can come and help, if you'd like."

Logan sighed. "No. I'll get some wood."

Hermione reached for him. He took hold of her hand. Although he was warm, his hands felt cool next to hers.

He brought his lips to her hand. "The things I do for you." His eyes twinkled as his callused hand fingers caressed his skin.

"How long should I wait, before I call for a search party," she teased.

The corner of Logan's mouth turned up. Hermione was the only one he let tease him. Sometimes she did it mercilessly, sometimes just the odd chide here and there. Sometimes it drove him so crazy that he'd chase her around the cabin or her flat, but regardless of what he said, he enjoyed it. Anyone who could poke the wolverine in such a manner was alright in his books.

Hermione reached up to his cheek, her fingers playing with the whiskers of his muttonchops. "Truly darling, I'll help."

"No," he pulled her hand from his cheek and kissed it. "Stay here, and stay warm."

"I'll warm you when you come back." Hermione gave him her best smoulder.

Logan laughed. Hermione trying to be sexy was always adorable. She didn't need to try to be sexy though, she already set his flame alight just being herself.

"Be good, kid."

Hermione yanked on his leather jacket, pulling him down to her lips. She nibbled at him hungrily. Logan met her lips, her tongue, and their rabid rhythm for a time. She was so delicious, smooth like a nice bourbon. He would always struggle to rein himself in. Logan gently pushed her away.

Hermione licked her lip. "Stay warm."

Logan pressed a single kiss to her forehead, before stomping back out into the storm. Hermione cast another warming charm before cracking open her spell book. There had to be something. She wanted to find it before he got back. The book was nicely split into categories. She found it under household safety, Scutum Fumi. Studying the motion making the few delicate twirls it required, until she was confident she had the movement down.

"Scutum Fumi," she spoke confidently. The room filled with the tobacco scent she so loved on Logan. Hermione grinned. It worked, but of course it had.

The door slammed open. Logan carried a precariously tall load of wood. He and the wood were so caked in snow, you could just barely tell that there was a human beneath.

Hermione flicked her wand, casting the warming charm again.

Logan grunted his thanks. Tossing the wood next to the fireplace, he moved the wood, creating a large pile in the hearth.

"Incendio." the flames flew passed his shoulder, setting the logs ablaze.

He shook slightly, his gaze shot over his shoulder. "Be careful where you aim that thing."

"I haven't hit you, yet." Hermione was always confident in her spell casting, especially with spells she used regularly.

"The key word there is yet." Logan pushed himself from the floor.

It had been 3 years, not once had she hurt him with her spells; unless, you count the time she tried to heal him after he had fallen from the sky. Her healing skills weren't the best, and she hadn't exactly been gentle.

Hermione scuttled over to the tree, taking her package from beneath it. "I want you to open this right now."

Logan quirked an eyebrow. Hermione had always been a stickler for traditions, never letting him open any gifts until they had read a few chapters of 'A Christmas Carol', and he had to do voices.

Logan took the gift without a second thought, tearing through the ribbon and paper. He stared down at the intricately hand carved box, knowing exactly what was going to be inside.

"Well, are you going to open the box?" Hermione looked like she was about to burst. The last time she was like this, she had told him about a new job she'd gotten at the Ministry.

Logan frowned. Did that mean what he thought was in the box wasn't cigars? Not that he would get much of a chance to smoke them, anyway. He lifted the lid. His eyes went wide, as he recognized the lion on the company logo. There were eight cigars in the box, each one was easily worth five grand.

"Why the hell did you spend so much money?" These were the kind of cigars you smoked with a vintage single malt whiskey, in bed, with a fine woman lying next to you.

Hermione giggled, knowing he loved them. The longing look told her everything she needed to know. Hermione took one from the box.

"Accio matchbox."

"What are you doing?" Logan's voice was strained. This was the worst kind of tease.

"Don't you want to try them?" The matchbox fell gently into her hand.

"Of course I do, but this is neither the time nor place."

Hermione grinned. "Any place can be the right place." She pulled a match from the box.

"No," his hand covered the matchbox, so she could not strike the match. "I promised I'd never smoke in front of you."

She pulled his hand off. "It's a promise you no longer need to keep."

Logan's brow furrowed. "Did you take a sudden liking to cigars?"

Hermione chuckled. "No, but I did find a spell, so they won't bother me."

Logan dropped the box of cigars, pulling Hermione flush to his body. His lips crashed down to hers, with a fervor that made her head spin. The spice of his mouth filled her own: the scent of nutmeg wrapped around her. She met his rhythm eagerly, happy that she could finally give him something that he could truly appreciate.

She pulled away to breathe, his fingers still tangled in her hair. She bit her lip. "Will you still read 'A Christmas Carol' with me?"

"Of course." he grinned. His lips fell against hers, as he lifted her bridal style back to the couch. She hummed as he pulled away. His eyes twinkling with glee. Hermione was surprised to find him reaching passed her for the novel. He tenderly pulled her into his chest as he opened the book.

She felt the rumble of his chest as he read the opening lines, something that Hermione always did.

"Marley was dead, to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that…"