The Twelve Days of Stalkmas
A fanfiction by DramioneInLove
Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger
Summary: Hermione Granger receives twelve gifts from a terrifying stalker before Christmas...
Rating: R
December 13, 2004.
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Hermione stepped quickly into her cottage, muttering ferociously about snow and ice and fog that won't let one Apparate correctly. She shook snowflakes out of her damp brown curls and put away her Ministry files. As a war hero, a climbing member of the Magical Creatures Department in the Ministry, and Britain's most famous Muggle-born, Hermione often wondered what peace was like. However, her small but inviting cottage on the outskirts of Hogsmeade let her feel at home.
Hermione fed a purring Crookshanks and served herself a well-deserved glass of red wine before entering her sitting room and falling into the sofa. The day's mail was on the small table in front of her. She quickly went through the day's newspaper, then read a letter her parents were sending from Australia where they would be spending Christmas this year-on hot, sunny beaches, lucky them- then frowned as she noticed a small, crumpled packet nearby.
Wondering if someone had decided to send her a Christmas present before the time, she fondled it a moment. It did not seem dangerous. She snorted. As if! Being Hermione Granger, the Wizarding Postal Service took care of spying her each and every letter in case one decided to try to send the young woman something dangerous for her health. A few people out there were, after all, pining after Voldemort's presence.
She carefully took off the wrappings and was surprised to find a photo of herself along with a pretty, fresh red rose and a small card. Hermione's heart leapt in her ribcage as she looked at the magical, moving photo: it dated of several years prior, and showed her in a swimming suit on a beach in Australia. She was laughing, eyes leaking with tears of mirth, as her father chased her mother into the sea. She well remembered the event, as she had just found them and lifted the Memory spell placed upon them for their protection. However, no-one could have taken this photo, could they? None of her parents' new friends were wizards or witches, and none of her own friends had followed her to Australia.
Hermione picked up the tiny card and read,
On the First day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
An image of my happiness showing my beauty.
Now in a normal situation, Hermione would have smiled, but this was not funny in the least. Who had taken that photo? Why send it only now? Was somebody stalking her?
She shivered and decided to hide all of it in her office, in a shoebox where she wouldn't think of it anymore.
However, that night, the young woman went to sleep with an uneasy heart.
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December 14, 2004.
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Hermione didn't think of it anymore, but when she checked her mail the next evening, her heart hammered in her chest upon finding a second package that she immediately ripped open. This time, another rose and card were sent with a sheet of paper.
As she read it, Hermione realised with shock that the sheet of paper was a piano score, one of a muggle song that she had not heard since years; the fact that Baa-Baa Black Sheep, Have You Any Wool was on it was a real problem. This song had been Hermione's favorite as a child, and the three only people who could know that were her mother, father and grandmother, the last of who had died a few months ago. No-one else knew of this detail, as Hermione had not kept any muggle friends from the time she skipped around humming that piece.
It was thoroughly disturbing, and though she thought about it for hours on end that evening, she could not imagine who could send her a muggle piano score and a wizarding photo. The card had said,
On the Second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me,
A song my mother used to sing dutifully.
It was creepy. That night, before going to bed, Hermione double-checked her wards.
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December 15, 2004.
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Hermione was expecting a third package, but when she saw it sitting sweetly on the table like an innocent menace, she whimpered slightly, before commanding to herself to be a true Gryffindor and not some moaning wreck. She had helped Harry defeat Voldemort, for goodness' sake!
The rose and card came this time with a small tube of perfume left her thoughtful. However, when she carefully sprayed some on a handkerchief, she jumped back in shock. It was a sample of her own. Now, several people could guess that she wore perfume, but very few knew which one she wore, as Hermione commanded it in a tiny shoppe in wizarding Tokyo. She had discovered the scent three years back, when she had gone to study Japan's wizarding traditions. It was very expensive and rare as the shoppe was the only producer in the whole world, and it contained Veela hair, fairy dust, gold and unicorn sweat, among other strange things. Hermione had jealously kept the secret of where her perfume came from.
However, now she knew that her weird “true love” as he or she called him or herself was someone who knew her quite well; enough to either have smelled the perfume upon herself or to have been to her bathroom. That demanded closeness.
It was a reassuring thought. However, she did not sleep peacefully that night, rethinking the words over:
On the Third day of Christmas, my true love gave to me,
A delicious perfume that scents so good upon me.
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December 16, 2004.
.
Hermione sighed as she ripped the paper off her new present. She did not cast a glance at the rose, and instead picked up warily the plait made of human hair inside. Black hair, brown hair and red hair were plaited together to make a slim bracelet and she gulped, wondering where her stalker had picked it up.
On the Fourth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me,
A bit of my loved first and second family.
It hit home then, with an extreme violence, and she yelped, throwing the plait in horror far from herself, making Crookshanks glance up haughtily as he strutted past the sailing missile. If she was not wrong, her stalker had managed, Merlin knows how, to pick up hair from Harry, the black, Ginny or Ron, the red, and her parents or herself, the brown.
Hermione was leaving next morning for several days, as she must meet French ambassadors in Paris for the Ministry, but she swore that when she would return, she would tell Harry about this.
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December 20, 2004.
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Hermione had had little time to think about her mysterious stalker these past few days, but had come to a reassuring conclusion. One of her friends might have a crush upon her, and had decided to send her the packages, as no stranger could possibly be aware of her habits, such as wearing her secret fragrance, or could have got hair out of her friends. She even found it quite cute now, actually. That, however, did not stop the wave of sickness flush through her as she noticed four new packages in her sitting room.
Four new roses came with, in order:
On the Fifth Day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
An assortiment of my favorite candy.
Indeed, a bag full of treats came with that one.
On the Sixth Day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
A selection of my loved ones' favorite tea.
She blanched as she opened the fine wood box. Lady Grey, her favorite. Mint tea, that would be Ginny. Ron and Harry both loved English Breakfast. Her mother preferred chamomile, and her father liked nothing better than lemon tea. All of it was in the blasted box. She gulped and set it aside.
On the Seventh Day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
To write my thoughts a pretty diary.
She gazed at the dragonhide-clad book. The parchment inside was of the most beautiful ever, creamy and crispy and delicious. She could already imagine ink flowing from her quill across those fresh pages. Then she snapped out of it, and tossed the offending present to a side.
On the Seventh Day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
A book to chose the name of our future baby.
That one smarted. She stared in horror at the book, complete with every single child's name you could find. Now this was getting out of hand, really.
Hermione knew the song. And she wondered anxiously what would happen when the twelve days were through. Then she mentally slapped herself. If a friend was kidding around with her, she'd smile sweetly and tell them it wasn't possible. Did she really need to imagine a plot against her life every time something out of order happened?
On the Eighth Day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
A jewel that will magnify my prettiness surely.
She hissed out a breath of surprise when she picked up the diamond and gold necklace. Merlin, but who was mad enough to...? She'd hate to return this to her friend, whoever it was. It seemed to fit her neck perfectly. However, she fought the itch to try it on. Instead, Hermione gathered all this new evidence in a box on which she slammed the lid.
Of course, it was only because she forgot to do it before that she ensured every door and window was locked before going to bed.
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December 21, 2004
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Hermione made up her mind as soon as she saw the new package sitting innocently upon her table. Tomorrow, she would mention this to Harry.
On the Ninth Day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
Something that will suit me perfectly.
She almost buckled over in disgust as she brought the sexy nightwear out of it. It was black, bordeaux and scanty. Never would she wear something that showed off that much, even for a lover. The tiny thong that came along with it was her size, but seemed at least two times smaller. She wouldn't put it on even if she would look damn hot. The ensemble was her size, exactly, from the breasts down to the garters that were tucked in the box as well. She didn't see a tag anywhere, which only meant that her mysterious friend had had it done on command.
That thought made her as uneasy as the fact of receiving such a present itself. It meant that the person had money, and that he didn't mind spending it on such courses.
That night, not only did she double check everywhere, but she put up a few more magical wards.
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December 22, 2004.
.
She regretted telling Harry now. He had instantly leaped out of his skin, swearing and yelling. Of course, he had right away thought of something that Hermione hadn't. It might just be a Death Eater who had sent all these things to her, as part of a terrible revenge plan. Maybe luring her into tender thoughts of her mysterious sender. Trapping her. Before murdering her.
Hermione had rolled her eyes and pointed out that such a thing was ridiculous. If anything, Harry's reaction had made her even more sure yet that this was only a prank or a person in love with her and going out of his or herself to please her.
The newest addition to her collection made her rethink that, though. Discarding the red rose, she read.
On the Tenth Day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
Something that I want absolutely.
The something in question made her face fall. It was a pass that gained her access to the top secret files in the Ministry library. She'd been trying to get one for a few weeks now, and despite her being who she was, hadn't obtained one yet, as the Ministry had to make sure her request was right and that she wouldn't go meddling with pieces of paper that could change the course of Wizarding History. Of course, she only needed access to check up a few laws dated from Merlin himself to help her in her actual work.
Few people knew of her request, and even fewer were friends to her. That meant that she was stalked indeed.
Hermione nibbled her nails and forgot to have supper that night.
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December 23, 2004
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Hermione entered her cottage with rosy cheeks, her arms full of Christmas presents. She'd been to Muggle London with her parents, then to Diagon Alley. She would spend Christmas Eve at the Weasley's, then in the morning come back to her home, and leave in the evening of Christmas Day to spend a few days at her parents' house.
She hummed happily, even as she opened her new package.
On the Eleventh Day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
An invitation card to a famous party.
Her eyes widened. It was a card to acceed to the Opera Night in the Carnival of Venezzia in January. She swallowed thickly. This cost, by all means, at least one hundred Galleons. She cursed herself and her stalker.
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December 25, 2004
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Hermione was almost drunk as she tiptoed into her own cottage, giggling as Crookshanks shot her a disgusted glance. The Weasley's surely knew how to throw a party. It was four in the morning, but Hermione had decided still to let Arthur Apparate her back home, as she wanted to be up early to leave for her parents' house.
She stilled.
This time, there was no package whatsoever. Instead, a note was nailed with magic to her sitting room door, along with a rose.
On the Twelfth Day of Christmas, my true love gave to me...
That was all. Hermione frowned, wishing in her alcohol-foddled brain to sober, and finally erupted into the sitting room.
Someone was sitting in her sofa.
The man rose, and Hermione's eyes widened as she recognized him.
“Hello, love,” smirked the beautiful young man. “You're late. I was expecting you a few hours ago.”
“You!” she spluttered, wavering on her heels. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Why, love,” he smiled, stepping towards her. “It is the last day today, remember? Did you like my other presents? I chose them with care, you know.”
“Get out,” she spat. “This isn't my idea of a good joke, you know.”
“Who said it was a joke, Hermione?”
“Get out,” she repeated, louder this time. “Right fucking now.”
“Such fire,” he whispered. “You see, honey, I do intend to leave. But with you. We'll go back home, and you'll fall in love with me.”
“As if,” she laughed.
“No-one said you had a right to refuse, dear. Because we both know, deep down, that you love me as much as I love you. And that is hell of a lot, darling.”
“You utter bastard! How dare you!”
“Many will call it Stockholm Syndrom,” he continued, ignoring her, “but we know otherwise, don't we?”
“Fuck you!”
He almost purred in delight.
“I wasn't expecting you to do that so quick, honey. Now, we are leaving!”
He grabbed her arm and she screamed, before they both disappeared from the cottage.
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The Daily Prophet
December 24, 2005
WAR HERO WEDS FORMER DEATH EATER
Yesterday, in France, the famous Hermione Granger said yes to her year-old fiancé, Draco Malfoy. While many people have voiced doubts about the union, and further about the reasons of such a wedding, the two lovers say that they are very happy. Indeed, our reporter can witness Draco Malfoy looking down with love to his new wife Mrs Hermione Malfoy, and she returning his gaze. Almost a year ago, the announcement of their engagement by Draco Malfoy surprised many, especially since Hermione Granger had apparently disappeared since several weeks. However, they could be seen together this summer, truly in love. The new Mrs Malfoy in in adoration with her husband, compared to what had been said by friends. Said friends had reported to the Ministry that Hermione had been receiving gifts last Christmas from a mysterious stalker, facts that the Malfoy couple accept. Only, they both precise that Hermione was already in love with her so-called stalker and that Draco, when he revealed himself, found them both in love.
Hermione Granger, according to love specialist C.A.Bluebird, has not been spelled nor cursed, neither fed potions to fall in love. It is out of her own will. Friend Harry Potter contests, saying that Hermione was abducted by her stalker, Draco, and is under the effects of Stockholm Syndrom, fact that both the Malfoy spouses deny. They are not-see page 3.
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Harry Potter folded the newspaper on his lap, brow furrowed in anxiety. Across of him, Ron pouted and gestured to the paper:
“Your theory is farfetched, you know.”
Harry sighed and pinched his nose.
“I know, Ron. But it is the truth! Hermione disappeared, quit her job then appeared in love with Draco fucking Malfoy.”
“Don't think so,” muttered Ron. “She did send us a letter saying that she was travelling around the world with a friend. Besides, the Aurors checked the Manor. They weren't there. It is not like he shut her in a blasted dungeon or something. She's in love, admit it.”
“But her stalker...”
“She says herself now that she was absolutely delighted finding out it was Draco, man! That is why they left, to celebrate their found love and whatnot...”
“Please, Ron, you can't be stupid enough to think...”
“I'm stupid, Harry? Don't think so.”
Ron got up in a huff, smacked a Galleon on the table of the restaurant to pay his lunch and marched off, leaving Harry alone. The Chosen One sighed and looked at the paper, before muttering to himself,
“Perhaps...perhaps they are right...”
He sighed, paid his own lunch and left.
And with Harry approving this version of the story, Hermione lost her last protector, the last person to suspect the truth.
But it didn't matter, not really.
She was in love, was she not?
FIN