Forgive and Forget (Chapter8)
Chapter 8: Secrets and Surprises
Forbidden Fruit a flavor has
That lawful Orchards mocks --
How luscious lies within the Pod
The Pea that Duty locks --
~ Emily Dickinson
"It'll be strange, not seeing you for two weeks," Hermione said to Draco as the two walked together through the gates of Hogwarts. They were just exiting the school grounds in order to Apparate home for Christmas Break.
"It's only two weeks," Draco replied with a shrug.
"Yes, but a lot can change in that amount of time."
Hermione chewed nervously on her lower lip.
"What are you so worried about?" he asked.
"Maybe... maybe I'm just afraid that after spending two weeks back at home with your parents, that you'll decide you don't want to be friends with a Muggle-born anymore."
Draco shook his head.
"That would never happen," he said vehemently. "Nothing could ever make me want to stop being friends with you, Hermione."
She stopped, staring at him incredulously. It was the first time she had ever heard Draco call her by her given name. It was strange hearing it come from his lips, but it sounded so right at the same time. She smiled at him, and he shifted awkwardly from one foot to another.
"Well, I'll see you in two weeks," he said, pulling his wand out from beneath the folds of his heavy winter cloak.
"Yes, see you then." Hermione grabbed her own wand, but then paused, saying, "Draco?"
"Yeah?"
"I know how much of a risk it is for you to be my friend, and... well, I just wanted to… to thank you for taking that risk."
"No problem," he said. "Unlike you reckless Gryffindors, we Slytherins are more calculated risk-takers. We only take one when we think it's worth taking."
Then he gave her a devious grin that made her heart do a funny little flip-flop in her chest.
"Besides," he added in his silkiest voice. "What's life without a little risk?"
And with a wave of his wand and a small crack! he was gone, leaving a decidedly flustered Hermione behind him.
Draco climbed out of bed, pulled on his robe, and looked out his bedroom window. The grounds of Malfoy Manor were covered with a layer of pristine white snow, which twinkled in the morning light. He grinned and then padded out of his room to make his way downstairs.
Not surprisingly, both of his parents were already awake, sipping their morning tea in the sitting room. They had always been early risers. His father lounged by the window, reading the Daily Prophet, while his mother stood off to the side, speaking to one of the house elves. She was issuing orders regarding the holiday gala that the Malfoys were hosting that evening. She turned to smile at Draco as he entered the sitting room, and he felt a small rush of relief at realizing that Christmas morning had arrived in quite the same way it always had at Malfoy Manor. It was nice to have something familiar in a world that had changed so much otherwise.
"Happy Christmas, Draco," Narcissa said, giving her son a warm hug after she had dismissed the House-elf. "I suppose you'll want to open your presents now."
She gestured towards the massive Christmas tree and the gigantic pile of presents beneath it, and Draco happily sat down to open his gifts. His parents had been as generous as any other year - they had given him designer dress robes and a new wizard's chess set with pieces made of heavy pewter and encrusted with emeralds.
Most years, Draco only received gifts from his parents (though there had been a year or two when he had been dating Pansy and she had sent him a few silly trifles). This year, however, there was a small pile of gifts that he was not expecting. Curious, he opened one and was surprised to find a nice broom servicing kit from Ginny Weasley. Another package revealed an assortment of candies and Weasley Wizard Wheezes products from Dean Thomas, and a third package revealed a new edition of the book Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, given by Luna Lovegood. He chuckled to himself when he read the inscription Luna had written inside the front cover:
I hope you enjoy the book, even if does seem to leave out the existence of several important creatures - including Nargles, Wrackspurts, and the Crumple-Horned Snorkack. At least the illustrations are quite lovely.
Happy Christmas,
Luna
Draco withdrew his last present from beneath the tree. It was wrapped in simple brown paper, and felt squishy when he squeezed it. He ripped open the paper and out spilled a beautiful knit scarf. It was warm and soft, yet had a masculine appearance to it, being dark green with a few stripes of silver. As he pulled it out of the wrapping, a small piece of parchment drifted to the floor. He picked it up and read:
Draco,
I hope you like the scarf I made you - I know you'll approve of the colors, anyway. And if you don't like it, I can always send you one of those cute little hats I knit for the House-elves instead, since you're always making fun of them. Ha! Have a Happy Christmas and I can't wait to see you again after break!
HG
Draco smiled and wrapped the scarf around his neck. As he did so, he thought he could detect Hermione's familiar scent - a delicate mixture of rose and sandalwood - wafting out of the knit fabric. He gazed back at the parchment in his hand, his eyes lingering on one phrase in particular: ‘I can't wait to see you again....'
"Why Draco, what a lovely scarf," his mother said, making him aware that his parents were still there in the room, watching him open his gifts. "Did some lovely girl from school make it for you?"
Hastily, Draco shoved Hermione's note into the pocket of his robe.
"Yes, Mother," he said, turning to face her.
"And she's a Slytherin, I see," Narcissa added approvingly, noting the green and silver colors of the scarf. "Is she anyone I know?"
Draco sat there sputtering for a moment, trying to think of the best way to answer her question. To his surprise and relief, his father came to his rescue.
"For heaven's sake, Narcissa," Lucius intoned, peering at them from over the top of his newspaper. "The boy is eighteen years old. He does not need his mother prying into his romantic affairs. I am sure we can trust Draco's judgment in such matters."
Narcissa pouted somewhat, looking put out, but then she gave Draco a sly smile.
"Very well, Draco. I'll let you have your little secrets for now. But I'm sure I'll find out who the girl is eventually."
Merlin forbid! Draco thought to himself, thrusting Hermione's note still deeper into his pocket. He was glad that she had signed it with her initials instead of her full name. He realized that she had probably done so intentionally, just in case one of his parents came across the note. It was just like Hermione to be smart and think of things like that.
"Yes, well, as long as the girl is a Pureblood, I have very little opinion on the matter," Lucius said lightly, as he returned to reading the Daily Prophet.
Draco looked up at his father from the corner of his eye.
"I thought you said that we had to act differently now, Father. Didn't you say that we had to put those old notions of blood purity behind us?"
"But of course, Draco," his father replied, lowering his newspaper into his lap. "In the public eye we must appear to have left those notions behind us - they are no longer considered acceptable in the Wizarding world, now that the Dark Lord has been defeated. But behind closed doors...well, let us just say that we would not want to sully our bloodline by having our only son, the sole heir to the Malfoy fortune, marrying anything less than a Pureblood witch. Traditions are traditions, after all."
"Yes Father," Draco said quietly, running his fingers over the soft fabric of his scarf.
Lucius, satisfied with this response, retreated behind his newspaper once more, but Narcissa was observing her son very closely. Feeling uncomfortable beneath his mother's scrutinizing gaze, Draco rose to his feet, preparing to retreat from the room.
"Well, I'm going to the kitchen for some breakfast," he mumbled, heading for the door.
"But Draco, dear," his mother protested. "There's no need to go all the way down to the kitchen. Just have one of the House-elves bring your food to you in here."
Draco just shook his head at her suggestion.
"That's alright, Mother," he said. "I don't want to put them to all that trouble."
Then he left the room, leaving his parents sitting there staring after him with perplexed expressions on their faces. Narcissa turned to her husband, one golden eyebrow arched in confusion.
"Since when does he care so much about the House-elves?"
The Burrow was bustling and brimming with Weasleys on Christmas Day. Hermione had spent most of Christmas Eve with her parents, but had then Apparated over to the Burrow to spend the night so that she could wake up with the Weasleys on Christmas morning. She and Ginny stayed up late gossiping that night, so when the two girls finally dragged themselves down to open presents, the sun was already high in the sky.
"About time, sleepy-heads!" Ron teased them as they stumbled drowsily into the living room. "If you would have waited any longer to come down, we'd have kept all your presents for ourselves, wouldn't we, Harry?"
His dark-haired friend grinned and shook his head. Hermione thought that Harry looked happy, though a bit tired. She knew that the war still weighed heavily on his mind, and that training to become an Auror was a very exhausting business. He had also spent Christmas Eve at the Burrow. Although things were definitely cozier at Grimmauld Place now that Kreacher was more hospitable, Harry preferred not to spend the holidays alone. Besides, the Weasleys had long been a second family to him, just as they were for Hermione.
"Don't think you'll want to steal all of my presents, Ron," Ginny said cheerfully, perching on the couch beside Harry. "I think Mum and Dad bought me those pretty pink ballet shoes I've been eyeing for awhile. ‘Course if you really want, you're welcome to borrow them from time to time..."
Everyone chuckled as Ron threw a couch pillow in his sister's face. Then Fleur and Mrs. Weasley bustled into the room with trays full of hot tea and biscuits, and they all settled down to opening their presents.
Hermione received a new book from Harry, a few pairs of warm woolen socks from Mrs. Weasley, and a cute hat with matching mittens from Ginny. She also found a package of assorted candy from Dean and a copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them from Luna. Ron's present was a gorgeous red cashmere jumper. She had a feeling that Ginny might have helped him pick it out, but she loved it anyway. Her last present was a small box, wrapped in elegant silver paper. A bit of parchment was folded up with it, and she opened it to read:
Hermione,
I saw this when I was out shopping for my mother's Christmas gift and it made me think of you. And before you get your knickers in a twist, don't worry, it wasn't very expensive. Hope you're enjoying your holiday, even if it's inundated with Weasleys.
Happy Christmas,
Draco
Hermione glanced with some trepidation at the small velvet box in her hand. It was obviously a jewelry box. She scanned Draco's note once more, rereading the words ‘wasn't very expensive'. If he meant that by Malfoy standards, it could still be a very expensive gift indeed. Part of her was afraid of opening the box and finding some gaudy, sparkly piece of jewelry inside - and another part of her was afraid that it wouldn't be gaudy, but tasteful and perfect. Either way, she didn't exactly want her friends - and especially her boyfriend - to see it until she was sure. So before anyone could take notice, she shoved the note and the unopened jewelry box into the pocket of her fleece robe.
She waited impatiently while everyone else finished opening their presents, ‘oohed' and ‘aahed' over the cute baby clothes and blankets that Fleur had received from Mrs. Weasley, gushed over Ginny's ballet shoes, and dutifully admired Ron's new Quidditch gear. The whole time, she felt as if the little jewelry box from Draco was burning a hole in the pocket of her robe, just dying to be opened.
Finally, as everyone finished opening presents and made their way into the kitchen for breakfast, Hermione excused herself to use the loo. Alone in the tiny bathroom, she pulled the box and parchment out of her pocket. Draco had said that this gift made him think of her. What did he mean by that? Unable to resist any longer, she opened the box and gasped at what she saw inside.
It was a gold necklace, with a charm in the shape of a rose. It was simple, delicate, and by no means gaudy. In short, it suited Hermione perfectly. Smiling, she carefully took the necklace out of the box and secured it around her neck, looking in the bathroom mirror to admire the way the gold rose twinkled at the base of her throat. She glanced back down at Draco's note, her smile widening when she noticed, for the first time, how he had addressed it:
‘Hermione'.
He had addressed her by her first name, just as he had when they had parted before Christmas break. She stared at the parchment, liking the way her name looked when written in his precise, elegant script. Then suddenly she thrust the note back into her pocket and turned to look in the mirror once more, frowning at her reflection.
How was he able to affect her emotions this easily?
She had gushed over Ron's present - had promised him that she would put on the new jumper first thing after breakfast. And yet... and yet she had not had nearly the same rush of happiness at receiving Ron's gift as she had just now, opening Draco's. Hermione was no relationships expert, but she had a feeling it was wrong to be more excited about a male friend's gifts than your own boyfriend's.
Her frown deepened as she watched the rose necklace sparkle in the mirror's reflection. Draco had said this necklace reminded him of her, and now she could see why. She recalled that night in the classroom, when he had conjured a bouquet of roses for her, and they had shared that brief kiss beneath the mistletoe. Her eyes fell closed at the memory, an involuntary shiver wending its way up her spine.
That kiss had been a mistake, Hermione realized now. Even if it was the briefest little contact, it had elicited a physical response in her body that had startled her with its intensity. And the look in his eyes when she had pulled away from him... His eyes had been dark with some emotion that she had never seen in them before, something that both thrilled her and frightened her at the same time...
Instantly, Hermione's eyes snapped open, and she was faced with her own reflection once more. She should have realized that kissing Draco Malfoy - even a small peck on the lips - would be neither simple nor meaningless. After all, everything that occurred between them was emotionally charged in some way or another. She thought that even their heated interactions as children were proof of that, recalling the time in their third year when he had angered her so much that she slapped him across the cheek.
It didn't help matters that he was so attractive. On top of which, despite his nicer demeanor, he still exuded that bad boy charm, still had a slight edge to him that Hermione knew would always be a part of Draco Malfoy. She reasoned with herself that it was perfectly natural to be physically drawn to a man with that sort of personality. It wasn't as if she had any intentions of acting on that physical attraction.
A soft knock on the bathroom door made Hermione jump, shaking her from her thoughts.
"Hermione?" Ginny's voice called out from the other side of the door. "Everything all right?"
"Everything's fine, Gin," Hermione replied, flushing the toilet and running the tap so that her friend wouldn't be suspicious. "I'll be right out."
Hermione washed her hands in the sink and dried them on the little towel hanging from the rack. Before exiting the bathroom, she paused to glare sternly at her reflection in the mirror. She would have to be more careful at guarding her actions around Draco in the future. Adding physical attraction to an already intense relationship such as theirs was like one of those concoctions they were always being warned about in Potions class - volatile and potentially dangerous.
It greatly disturbed her that she found this danger more appealing than frightening.
The rest of Christmas Day was a mixed bag of experiences at the Burrow. There were certainly some high moments, such as listening to Bill and Fleur discuss the names they were considering for the new baby. Fleur was well into her second trimester and had developed that glow that everyone always talked about in relation to pregnant women. It was clear to everyone that Mrs. Weasley was practically beside herself with joy at the impending arrival of her first grandchild. But there had been low moments as well, such as when Mrs. Weasley realized that she had accidentally put out one place setting too many at the dinner table, and was later found curled up in the pantry, sobbing into one of Fred's old jumpers.
Despite the sad moments that occurred that day, Hermione was glad to be at the Burrow for Christmas. While Fred's absence still lingered like a dark cloud over the family, the Weasleys were a loving, irrepressible group of people who she had come to feel a part of. She wouldn't trade them for anything.
Thankfully, she did not receive many questions about the necklace Draco had given her. Mrs. Weasley had admired it while she and Ginny were helping her clean up after dinner, and Hermione had merely told her that it was from a friend at school. Ginny had given Hermione an oddly knowing look, but refrained from saying anything. To Hermione's relief, Ron didn't even seem to notice the necklace at all. For the first time, Hermione found herself feeling grateful that boys were usually oblivious to such things. She rather believed that if she started wearing a pink pygmy puff around her neck, Ron would ask her if she'd done something different with her hair.
That night though, as she and Ginny lay in bed, the secret was finally revealed.
"It's from Malfoy, isn't it?" Ginny whispered.
"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, though she knew exactly what Ginny was referring to. She rolled over in her small trundle bed so that she was facing Ginny; however, the room was so dark that she couldn't make out her friend's face.
"That rose necklace you're wearing. Malfoy sent it to you, didn't he?"
"Yes, he did."
Hermione hated lying, especially to such a close friend as Ginny. Besides, what did she really have to lie about - it was just a harmless gift from a friend, right? Apparently Ginny had the same question.
"Why didn't you tell anyone?" she asked.
"I don't know," Hermione said with a sigh. "I just... I didn't want Ron throwing a fit about it. You know how he reacts anytime someone so much as mentions Draco. I don't want Ron worrying that there's something more going on between Draco and I."
"Is there?" Ginny asked softly. "Is there something else going on?"
Before Hermione could respond, they were both distracted by the thump of Ginny's bedroom door being opened, followed by a scuffling sound at the foot of their beds. Her reflexes still fine-tuned from the days she spent on the run hunting Horcruxes with Ron and Harry, Hermione instantly grabbed her wand from the nightstand and leapt to her feet. Not able to make out anything in the dark, she advanced and found herself colliding with someone's backside.
"Ouch!"
It was Ron. And then -
"Ow, Gin, that was my foot!"
And Harry was with him.
Ginny apparently tripped over something (most likely Harry's foot, from the sound of things), because she then slammed into Ron, who then slammed into Hermione, causing her to drop her wand and topple sideways. Before she knew it, all four of them were in a tangled pile of arms and legs on the bedroom floor.
"Umph! Quit squirming!"
"Shh! You'll wake Mum."
"I can't see anything!"
"Ow, Hermione, you're sitting on my head."
"Gin, can you help me find my wand, love? We need some light."
"Just a second, Harry. I felt it around here somewhere..."
"Ginny, that's NOT my wand!"
"Oops! Sorry! Oh wait, here it is - Lumos!"
Instantly, a bright blue glow filled the bedroom, bathing the four friends with its light. Ginny handed the lit wand back to Harry, who was looking slightly embarrassed. Ron looked equally sheepish as he extracted himself from beneath Hermione.
"What's going on?" Hermione asked, rubbing her elbow, which had been bruised in the tussle.
"It was his idea!" Harry said, pointing accusingly to Ron.
"Yeah, well, you weren't exactly arguing with me, were you, mate?"
When he received two impatient glares from his sister and his girlfriend, Ron finally explained.
"Harry and I were just thinking that maybe... that maybe we could have some time alone with our girlfriends this evening. You know, as in Hermione could come up to my room for a bit, and Harry could come in here with Ginny - just to talk of course."
Hermione's lips twitched at that. She knew how protective Ron was of his younger sister, even if she was dating someone he trusted, like his best friend. But as Ginny's closest confidante, Hermione happened to know that the littlest Weasley was doing much more than ‘just talking' with Harry these days.
"Ron, if Mum knew about this she'd wring our necks like wet dish towels," Ginny said.
"Yeah, well, it's pretty late so she and Dad are probably fast asleep by now. Besides, we'll switch back in a bit and she'll be none the wiser in the morning."
Surprisingly, Hermione actually found the idea appealing. Making love with Ron was usually a relatively tame affair - wonderful and enjoyable, but still tame. And since she seemed to be developing a bit of a taste for danger these days, she thought it might be nice to satisfy that urge where it was allowed - with her own boyfriend.
"I'm game," she said. Everyone stared at her, shocked at her sudden and uncharacteristic enthusiasm for breaking the rules.
"All right then," said Ginny, grinning and going to stand beside Harry, “me too."
"Ok," Ron said, tugging Hermione's hand and leading her to the door. "So Harry, you hang out in here and I'm going to force myself to believe that you are discussing politics with my sister."
"All right," Ginny said. "So when Harry and I are done -”
"Discussing politics," Ron cut in, a tight expression on his face.
"Right, when Harry and I are done ‘discussing politics', do you want him to just come back up to your room and knock?"
"Well wait," Harry spoke up. "What if Ron and Hermione are done ‘discussing politics' sooner than we are?"
Ron drew himself up to his full height and crossed his arms over his chest, glaring menacingly at his best friend.
"What exactly are you implying with that statement, Harry Potter?"
Hermione finally rolled her eyes and held out her hands to either boy to stop them from breaking out into a heated, and potentially awkward, argument about which of the two had the better libido.
"Look, we'll just switch back in exactly one hour, okay?" she said.
This seemed to placate everyone involved, and Hermione and Ron headed up the stairs to his bedroom. They didn't speak on the staircase to ensure that they didn't wake up any of the house's many occupants. Hermione was surprised that no one had woken up after the accidental collision in Ginny's bedroom. Then again, she supposed that if you got any sleep growing up in such a large family, you had to be a heavy sleeper.
Ron led her into his bedroom, and the instant he shut the door behind them, Hermione threw herself into his arms, burying her hands into his red hair as she planted her lips on his. Ron enthusiastically returned her kiss for a few moments, and then he pulled her away, looking pleased, but slightly dazed.
"Why are you stopping?" she asked him disappointedly. "Don't tell me you actually brought me up here to discuss politics?"
"No," he said, shaking his head, “of course not. I'm just surprised, is all. I didn't think you'd be this keen on shagging in my old bedroom, in a house full of people. Aren't you afraid of getting caught?"
"Isn't that part of the fun of it?"
Now Ron's eyes widened in disbelief.
"Come on, Ron," Hermione continued, sighing impatiently. "I'm not a stick-in-the-mud. I've had my fair share of daring moments throughout the years. I was the one who suggested starting the DA right under Umbridge's nose in our Fifth Year, remember? Besides, I am a Gryffindor, after all."
With that, she surprised him by pushing him onto his bed so that he was sprawled on top of his bright orange Chudley Cannons bedspread, staring up at her in complete shock. Except for their first, fevered kiss on the eve of battle, it was rare for her to be the initiator in their physical relationship. Grinning slyly, Hermione bent over and crawled up the length of his body, like a panther stalking its prey. She watched with satisfaction as the look in his blue eyes quickly shifted from bewilderment to desire.
"Do you really think I'm that much of a prude?" she asked, now wantonly straddling Ron's midsection.
Ron shook his head, momentarily too tongue-tied for words. Finally, he managed to speak, but when he did, his voice was strained because of the movements Hermione was making with her hips on top of his.
"N-no. Don't think you're a p-prude," he stammered. "It's just, ah... Merlin, Hermione! It's not like you to be s-so eager to take r-r-risks."
She smiled wickedly, bent over so that her lips were right next to his ear, and whispered, "What's life without a little risk?"
Breakfast at the Burrow found a disoriented Ron sitting at the table looking as if he had been hit with a very powerful Confundus charm. Hermione sat with a smug expression on her face as she buttered her toast, and Ginny and Harry were trying not to laugh every time they glanced at each other over the top of the juice pitcher. Everyone else at the table appeared relatively normal, except for Bill, who Hermione thought was looking a bit ill. He was very pale, and Fleur kept rubbing his arm in a comforting motion.
Hermione nudged Ginny, who was sitting next to her at the table.
"What's wrong with Bill this morning?" she whispered. "He looks like he's going to be sick."
"Oh, well you know how lately Fleur has been having those late-night food cravings?" Ginny whispered back. "Well, apparently Bill got up last night to get her a snack, but he accidentally came across Mum and Dad ‘discussing politics' in the pantry."
"Ew!" Hermione gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. "That's disgusting, Ginny! Poor Bill!"
"No kidding. Just glad it was him and not me. There are some things even a brandy and a Memory Charm can't cure."
Hermione watched as Mrs. Weasley came bustling by with a breakfast tray, rosy-cheeked and humming cheerfully. She placed the tray down on the table in front of her husband, who craned his head up to give her a kiss on the cheek. Upon seeing this, Bill turned a vivid shade of green, looking as if he might vomit.
Well, Hermione could say one thing about Christmas with the Weasleys: it was never boring.
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Forbidden Fruit a flavor has
That lawful Orchards mocks --
How luscious lies within the Pod
The Pea that Duty locks --
~ Emily Dickinson
"It'll be strange, not seeing you for two weeks," Hermione said to Draco as the two walked together through the gates of Hogwarts. They were just exiting the school grounds in order to Apparate home for Christmas Break.
"It's only two weeks," Draco replied with a shrug.
"Yes, but a lot can change in that amount of time."
Hermione chewed nervously on her lower lip.
"What are you so worried about?" he asked.
"Maybe... maybe I'm just afraid that after spending two weeks back at home with your parents, that you'll decide you don't want to be friends with a Muggle-born anymore."
Draco shook his head.
"That would never happen," he said vehemently. "Nothing could ever make me want to stop being friends with you, Hermione."
She stopped, staring at him incredulously. It was the first time she had ever heard Draco call her by her given name. It was strange hearing it come from his lips, but it sounded so right at the same time. She smiled at him, and he shifted awkwardly from one foot to another.
"Well, I'll see you in two weeks," he said, pulling his wand out from beneath the folds of his heavy winter cloak.
"Yes, see you then." Hermione grabbed her own wand, but then paused, saying, "Draco?"
"Yeah?"
"I know how much of a risk it is for you to be my friend, and... well, I just wanted to… to thank you for taking that risk."
"No problem," he said. "Unlike you reckless Gryffindors, we Slytherins are more calculated risk-takers. We only take one when we think it's worth taking."
Then he gave her a devious grin that made her heart do a funny little flip-flop in her chest.
"Besides," he added in his silkiest voice. "What's life without a little risk?"
And with a wave of his wand and a small crack! he was gone, leaving a decidedly flustered Hermione behind him.
Draco climbed out of bed, pulled on his robe, and looked out his bedroom window. The grounds of Malfoy Manor were covered with a layer of pristine white snow, which twinkled in the morning light. He grinned and then padded out of his room to make his way downstairs.
Not surprisingly, both of his parents were already awake, sipping their morning tea in the sitting room. They had always been early risers. His father lounged by the window, reading the Daily Prophet, while his mother stood off to the side, speaking to one of the house elves. She was issuing orders regarding the holiday gala that the Malfoys were hosting that evening. She turned to smile at Draco as he entered the sitting room, and he felt a small rush of relief at realizing that Christmas morning had arrived in quite the same way it always had at Malfoy Manor. It was nice to have something familiar in a world that had changed so much otherwise.
"Happy Christmas, Draco," Narcissa said, giving her son a warm hug after she had dismissed the House-elf. "I suppose you'll want to open your presents now."
She gestured towards the massive Christmas tree and the gigantic pile of presents beneath it, and Draco happily sat down to open his gifts. His parents had been as generous as any other year - they had given him designer dress robes and a new wizard's chess set with pieces made of heavy pewter and encrusted with emeralds.
Most years, Draco only received gifts from his parents (though there had been a year or two when he had been dating Pansy and she had sent him a few silly trifles). This year, however, there was a small pile of gifts that he was not expecting. Curious, he opened one and was surprised to find a nice broom servicing kit from Ginny Weasley. Another package revealed an assortment of candies and Weasley Wizard Wheezes products from Dean Thomas, and a third package revealed a new edition of the book Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, given by Luna Lovegood. He chuckled to himself when he read the inscription Luna had written inside the front cover:
I hope you enjoy the book, even if does seem to leave out the existence of several important creatures - including Nargles, Wrackspurts, and the Crumple-Horned Snorkack. At least the illustrations are quite lovely.
Happy Christmas,
Luna
Draco withdrew his last present from beneath the tree. It was wrapped in simple brown paper, and felt squishy when he squeezed it. He ripped open the paper and out spilled a beautiful knit scarf. It was warm and soft, yet had a masculine appearance to it, being dark green with a few stripes of silver. As he pulled it out of the wrapping, a small piece of parchment drifted to the floor. He picked it up and read:
Draco,
I hope you like the scarf I made you - I know you'll approve of the colors, anyway. And if you don't like it, I can always send you one of those cute little hats I knit for the House-elves instead, since you're always making fun of them. Ha! Have a Happy Christmas and I can't wait to see you again after break!
HG
Draco smiled and wrapped the scarf around his neck. As he did so, he thought he could detect Hermione's familiar scent - a delicate mixture of rose and sandalwood - wafting out of the knit fabric. He gazed back at the parchment in his hand, his eyes lingering on one phrase in particular: ‘I can't wait to see you again....'
"Why Draco, what a lovely scarf," his mother said, making him aware that his parents were still there in the room, watching him open his gifts. "Did some lovely girl from school make it for you?"
Hastily, Draco shoved Hermione's note into the pocket of his robe.
"Yes, Mother," he said, turning to face her.
"And she's a Slytherin, I see," Narcissa added approvingly, noting the green and silver colors of the scarf. "Is she anyone I know?"
Draco sat there sputtering for a moment, trying to think of the best way to answer her question. To his surprise and relief, his father came to his rescue.
"For heaven's sake, Narcissa," Lucius intoned, peering at them from over the top of his newspaper. "The boy is eighteen years old. He does not need his mother prying into his romantic affairs. I am sure we can trust Draco's judgment in such matters."
Narcissa pouted somewhat, looking put out, but then she gave Draco a sly smile.
"Very well, Draco. I'll let you have your little secrets for now. But I'm sure I'll find out who the girl is eventually."
Merlin forbid! Draco thought to himself, thrusting Hermione's note still deeper into his pocket. He was glad that she had signed it with her initials instead of her full name. He realized that she had probably done so intentionally, just in case one of his parents came across the note. It was just like Hermione to be smart and think of things like that.
"Yes, well, as long as the girl is a Pureblood, I have very little opinion on the matter," Lucius said lightly, as he returned to reading the Daily Prophet.
Draco looked up at his father from the corner of his eye.
"I thought you said that we had to act differently now, Father. Didn't you say that we had to put those old notions of blood purity behind us?"
"But of course, Draco," his father replied, lowering his newspaper into his lap. "In the public eye we must appear to have left those notions behind us - they are no longer considered acceptable in the Wizarding world, now that the Dark Lord has been defeated. But behind closed doors...well, let us just say that we would not want to sully our bloodline by having our only son, the sole heir to the Malfoy fortune, marrying anything less than a Pureblood witch. Traditions are traditions, after all."
"Yes Father," Draco said quietly, running his fingers over the soft fabric of his scarf.
Lucius, satisfied with this response, retreated behind his newspaper once more, but Narcissa was observing her son very closely. Feeling uncomfortable beneath his mother's scrutinizing gaze, Draco rose to his feet, preparing to retreat from the room.
"Well, I'm going to the kitchen for some breakfast," he mumbled, heading for the door.
"But Draco, dear," his mother protested. "There's no need to go all the way down to the kitchen. Just have one of the House-elves bring your food to you in here."
Draco just shook his head at her suggestion.
"That's alright, Mother," he said. "I don't want to put them to all that trouble."
Then he left the room, leaving his parents sitting there staring after him with perplexed expressions on their faces. Narcissa turned to her husband, one golden eyebrow arched in confusion.
"Since when does he care so much about the House-elves?"
The Burrow was bustling and brimming with Weasleys on Christmas Day. Hermione had spent most of Christmas Eve with her parents, but had then Apparated over to the Burrow to spend the night so that she could wake up with the Weasleys on Christmas morning. She and Ginny stayed up late gossiping that night, so when the two girls finally dragged themselves down to open presents, the sun was already high in the sky.
"About time, sleepy-heads!" Ron teased them as they stumbled drowsily into the living room. "If you would have waited any longer to come down, we'd have kept all your presents for ourselves, wouldn't we, Harry?"
His dark-haired friend grinned and shook his head. Hermione thought that Harry looked happy, though a bit tired. She knew that the war still weighed heavily on his mind, and that training to become an Auror was a very exhausting business. He had also spent Christmas Eve at the Burrow. Although things were definitely cozier at Grimmauld Place now that Kreacher was more hospitable, Harry preferred not to spend the holidays alone. Besides, the Weasleys had long been a second family to him, just as they were for Hermione.
"Don't think you'll want to steal all of my presents, Ron," Ginny said cheerfully, perching on the couch beside Harry. "I think Mum and Dad bought me those pretty pink ballet shoes I've been eyeing for awhile. ‘Course if you really want, you're welcome to borrow them from time to time..."
Everyone chuckled as Ron threw a couch pillow in his sister's face. Then Fleur and Mrs. Weasley bustled into the room with trays full of hot tea and biscuits, and they all settled down to opening their presents.
Hermione received a new book from Harry, a few pairs of warm woolen socks from Mrs. Weasley, and a cute hat with matching mittens from Ginny. She also found a package of assorted candy from Dean and a copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them from Luna. Ron's present was a gorgeous red cashmere jumper. She had a feeling that Ginny might have helped him pick it out, but she loved it anyway. Her last present was a small box, wrapped in elegant silver paper. A bit of parchment was folded up with it, and she opened it to read:
Hermione,
I saw this when I was out shopping for my mother's Christmas gift and it made me think of you. And before you get your knickers in a twist, don't worry, it wasn't very expensive. Hope you're enjoying your holiday, even if it's inundated with Weasleys.
Happy Christmas,
Draco
Hermione glanced with some trepidation at the small velvet box in her hand. It was obviously a jewelry box. She scanned Draco's note once more, rereading the words ‘wasn't very expensive'. If he meant that by Malfoy standards, it could still be a very expensive gift indeed. Part of her was afraid of opening the box and finding some gaudy, sparkly piece of jewelry inside - and another part of her was afraid that it wouldn't be gaudy, but tasteful and perfect. Either way, she didn't exactly want her friends - and especially her boyfriend - to see it until she was sure. So before anyone could take notice, she shoved the note and the unopened jewelry box into the pocket of her fleece robe.
She waited impatiently while everyone else finished opening their presents, ‘oohed' and ‘aahed' over the cute baby clothes and blankets that Fleur had received from Mrs. Weasley, gushed over Ginny's ballet shoes, and dutifully admired Ron's new Quidditch gear. The whole time, she felt as if the little jewelry box from Draco was burning a hole in the pocket of her robe, just dying to be opened.
Finally, as everyone finished opening presents and made their way into the kitchen for breakfast, Hermione excused herself to use the loo. Alone in the tiny bathroom, she pulled the box and parchment out of her pocket. Draco had said that this gift made him think of her. What did he mean by that? Unable to resist any longer, she opened the box and gasped at what she saw inside.
It was a gold necklace, with a charm in the shape of a rose. It was simple, delicate, and by no means gaudy. In short, it suited Hermione perfectly. Smiling, she carefully took the necklace out of the box and secured it around her neck, looking in the bathroom mirror to admire the way the gold rose twinkled at the base of her throat. She glanced back down at Draco's note, her smile widening when she noticed, for the first time, how he had addressed it:
‘Hermione'.
He had addressed her by her first name, just as he had when they had parted before Christmas break. She stared at the parchment, liking the way her name looked when written in his precise, elegant script. Then suddenly she thrust the note back into her pocket and turned to look in the mirror once more, frowning at her reflection.
How was he able to affect her emotions this easily?
She had gushed over Ron's present - had promised him that she would put on the new jumper first thing after breakfast. And yet... and yet she had not had nearly the same rush of happiness at receiving Ron's gift as she had just now, opening Draco's. Hermione was no relationships expert, but she had a feeling it was wrong to be more excited about a male friend's gifts than your own boyfriend's.
Her frown deepened as she watched the rose necklace sparkle in the mirror's reflection. Draco had said this necklace reminded him of her, and now she could see why. She recalled that night in the classroom, when he had conjured a bouquet of roses for her, and they had shared that brief kiss beneath the mistletoe. Her eyes fell closed at the memory, an involuntary shiver wending its way up her spine.
That kiss had been a mistake, Hermione realized now. Even if it was the briefest little contact, it had elicited a physical response in her body that had startled her with its intensity. And the look in his eyes when she had pulled away from him... His eyes had been dark with some emotion that she had never seen in them before, something that both thrilled her and frightened her at the same time...
Instantly, Hermione's eyes snapped open, and she was faced with her own reflection once more. She should have realized that kissing Draco Malfoy - even a small peck on the lips - would be neither simple nor meaningless. After all, everything that occurred between them was emotionally charged in some way or another. She thought that even their heated interactions as children were proof of that, recalling the time in their third year when he had angered her so much that she slapped him across the cheek.
It didn't help matters that he was so attractive. On top of which, despite his nicer demeanor, he still exuded that bad boy charm, still had a slight edge to him that Hermione knew would always be a part of Draco Malfoy. She reasoned with herself that it was perfectly natural to be physically drawn to a man with that sort of personality. It wasn't as if she had any intentions of acting on that physical attraction.
A soft knock on the bathroom door made Hermione jump, shaking her from her thoughts.
"Hermione?" Ginny's voice called out from the other side of the door. "Everything all right?"
"Everything's fine, Gin," Hermione replied, flushing the toilet and running the tap so that her friend wouldn't be suspicious. "I'll be right out."
Hermione washed her hands in the sink and dried them on the little towel hanging from the rack. Before exiting the bathroom, she paused to glare sternly at her reflection in the mirror. She would have to be more careful at guarding her actions around Draco in the future. Adding physical attraction to an already intense relationship such as theirs was like one of those concoctions they were always being warned about in Potions class - volatile and potentially dangerous.
It greatly disturbed her that she found this danger more appealing than frightening.
The rest of Christmas Day was a mixed bag of experiences at the Burrow. There were certainly some high moments, such as listening to Bill and Fleur discuss the names they were considering for the new baby. Fleur was well into her second trimester and had developed that glow that everyone always talked about in relation to pregnant women. It was clear to everyone that Mrs. Weasley was practically beside herself with joy at the impending arrival of her first grandchild. But there had been low moments as well, such as when Mrs. Weasley realized that she had accidentally put out one place setting too many at the dinner table, and was later found curled up in the pantry, sobbing into one of Fred's old jumpers.
Despite the sad moments that occurred that day, Hermione was glad to be at the Burrow for Christmas. While Fred's absence still lingered like a dark cloud over the family, the Weasleys were a loving, irrepressible group of people who she had come to feel a part of. She wouldn't trade them for anything.
Thankfully, she did not receive many questions about the necklace Draco had given her. Mrs. Weasley had admired it while she and Ginny were helping her clean up after dinner, and Hermione had merely told her that it was from a friend at school. Ginny had given Hermione an oddly knowing look, but refrained from saying anything. To Hermione's relief, Ron didn't even seem to notice the necklace at all. For the first time, Hermione found herself feeling grateful that boys were usually oblivious to such things. She rather believed that if she started wearing a pink pygmy puff around her neck, Ron would ask her if she'd done something different with her hair.
That night though, as she and Ginny lay in bed, the secret was finally revealed.
"It's from Malfoy, isn't it?" Ginny whispered.
"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, though she knew exactly what Ginny was referring to. She rolled over in her small trundle bed so that she was facing Ginny; however, the room was so dark that she couldn't make out her friend's face.
"That rose necklace you're wearing. Malfoy sent it to you, didn't he?"
"Yes, he did."
Hermione hated lying, especially to such a close friend as Ginny. Besides, what did she really have to lie about - it was just a harmless gift from a friend, right? Apparently Ginny had the same question.
"Why didn't you tell anyone?" she asked.
"I don't know," Hermione said with a sigh. "I just... I didn't want Ron throwing a fit about it. You know how he reacts anytime someone so much as mentions Draco. I don't want Ron worrying that there's something more going on between Draco and I."
"Is there?" Ginny asked softly. "Is there something else going on?"
Before Hermione could respond, they were both distracted by the thump of Ginny's bedroom door being opened, followed by a scuffling sound at the foot of their beds. Her reflexes still fine-tuned from the days she spent on the run hunting Horcruxes with Ron and Harry, Hermione instantly grabbed her wand from the nightstand and leapt to her feet. Not able to make out anything in the dark, she advanced and found herself colliding with someone's backside.
"Ouch!"
It was Ron. And then -
"Ow, Gin, that was my foot!"
And Harry was with him.
Ginny apparently tripped over something (most likely Harry's foot, from the sound of things), because she then slammed into Ron, who then slammed into Hermione, causing her to drop her wand and topple sideways. Before she knew it, all four of them were in a tangled pile of arms and legs on the bedroom floor.
"Umph! Quit squirming!"
"Shh! You'll wake Mum."
"I can't see anything!"
"Ow, Hermione, you're sitting on my head."
"Gin, can you help me find my wand, love? We need some light."
"Just a second, Harry. I felt it around here somewhere..."
"Ginny, that's NOT my wand!"
"Oops! Sorry! Oh wait, here it is - Lumos!"
Instantly, a bright blue glow filled the bedroom, bathing the four friends with its light. Ginny handed the lit wand back to Harry, who was looking slightly embarrassed. Ron looked equally sheepish as he extracted himself from beneath Hermione.
"What's going on?" Hermione asked, rubbing her elbow, which had been bruised in the tussle.
"It was his idea!" Harry said, pointing accusingly to Ron.
"Yeah, well, you weren't exactly arguing with me, were you, mate?"
When he received two impatient glares from his sister and his girlfriend, Ron finally explained.
"Harry and I were just thinking that maybe... that maybe we could have some time alone with our girlfriends this evening. You know, as in Hermione could come up to my room for a bit, and Harry could come in here with Ginny - just to talk of course."
Hermione's lips twitched at that. She knew how protective Ron was of his younger sister, even if she was dating someone he trusted, like his best friend. But as Ginny's closest confidante, Hermione happened to know that the littlest Weasley was doing much more than ‘just talking' with Harry these days.
"Ron, if Mum knew about this she'd wring our necks like wet dish towels," Ginny said.
"Yeah, well, it's pretty late so she and Dad are probably fast asleep by now. Besides, we'll switch back in a bit and she'll be none the wiser in the morning."
Surprisingly, Hermione actually found the idea appealing. Making love with Ron was usually a relatively tame affair - wonderful and enjoyable, but still tame. And since she seemed to be developing a bit of a taste for danger these days, she thought it might be nice to satisfy that urge where it was allowed - with her own boyfriend.
"I'm game," she said. Everyone stared at her, shocked at her sudden and uncharacteristic enthusiasm for breaking the rules.
"All right then," said Ginny, grinning and going to stand beside Harry, “me too."
"Ok," Ron said, tugging Hermione's hand and leading her to the door. "So Harry, you hang out in here and I'm going to force myself to believe that you are discussing politics with my sister."
"All right," Ginny said. "So when Harry and I are done -”
"Discussing politics," Ron cut in, a tight expression on his face.
"Right, when Harry and I are done ‘discussing politics', do you want him to just come back up to your room and knock?"
"Well wait," Harry spoke up. "What if Ron and Hermione are done ‘discussing politics' sooner than we are?"
Ron drew himself up to his full height and crossed his arms over his chest, glaring menacingly at his best friend.
"What exactly are you implying with that statement, Harry Potter?"
Hermione finally rolled her eyes and held out her hands to either boy to stop them from breaking out into a heated, and potentially awkward, argument about which of the two had the better libido.
"Look, we'll just switch back in exactly one hour, okay?" she said.
This seemed to placate everyone involved, and Hermione and Ron headed up the stairs to his bedroom. They didn't speak on the staircase to ensure that they didn't wake up any of the house's many occupants. Hermione was surprised that no one had woken up after the accidental collision in Ginny's bedroom. Then again, she supposed that if you got any sleep growing up in such a large family, you had to be a heavy sleeper.
Ron led her into his bedroom, and the instant he shut the door behind them, Hermione threw herself into his arms, burying her hands into his red hair as she planted her lips on his. Ron enthusiastically returned her kiss for a few moments, and then he pulled her away, looking pleased, but slightly dazed.
"Why are you stopping?" she asked him disappointedly. "Don't tell me you actually brought me up here to discuss politics?"
"No," he said, shaking his head, “of course not. I'm just surprised, is all. I didn't think you'd be this keen on shagging in my old bedroom, in a house full of people. Aren't you afraid of getting caught?"
"Isn't that part of the fun of it?"
Now Ron's eyes widened in disbelief.
"Come on, Ron," Hermione continued, sighing impatiently. "I'm not a stick-in-the-mud. I've had my fair share of daring moments throughout the years. I was the one who suggested starting the DA right under Umbridge's nose in our Fifth Year, remember? Besides, I am a Gryffindor, after all."
With that, she surprised him by pushing him onto his bed so that he was sprawled on top of his bright orange Chudley Cannons bedspread, staring up at her in complete shock. Except for their first, fevered kiss on the eve of battle, it was rare for her to be the initiator in their physical relationship. Grinning slyly, Hermione bent over and crawled up the length of his body, like a panther stalking its prey. She watched with satisfaction as the look in his blue eyes quickly shifted from bewilderment to desire.
"Do you really think I'm that much of a prude?" she asked, now wantonly straddling Ron's midsection.
Ron shook his head, momentarily too tongue-tied for words. Finally, he managed to speak, but when he did, his voice was strained because of the movements Hermione was making with her hips on top of his.
"N-no. Don't think you're a p-prude," he stammered. "It's just, ah... Merlin, Hermione! It's not like you to be s-so eager to take r-r-risks."
She smiled wickedly, bent over so that her lips were right next to his ear, and whispered, "What's life without a little risk?"
Breakfast at the Burrow found a disoriented Ron sitting at the table looking as if he had been hit with a very powerful Confundus charm. Hermione sat with a smug expression on her face as she buttered her toast, and Ginny and Harry were trying not to laugh every time they glanced at each other over the top of the juice pitcher. Everyone else at the table appeared relatively normal, except for Bill, who Hermione thought was looking a bit ill. He was very pale, and Fleur kept rubbing his arm in a comforting motion.
Hermione nudged Ginny, who was sitting next to her at the table.
"What's wrong with Bill this morning?" she whispered. "He looks like he's going to be sick."
"Oh, well you know how lately Fleur has been having those late-night food cravings?" Ginny whispered back. "Well, apparently Bill got up last night to get her a snack, but he accidentally came across Mum and Dad ‘discussing politics' in the pantry."
"Ew!" Hermione gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. "That's disgusting, Ginny! Poor Bill!"
"No kidding. Just glad it was him and not me. There are some things even a brandy and a Memory Charm can't cure."
Hermione watched as Mrs. Weasley came bustling by with a breakfast tray, rosy-cheeked and humming cheerfully. She placed the tray down on the table in front of her husband, who craned his head up to give her a kiss on the cheek. Upon seeing this, Bill turned a vivid shade of green, looking as if he might vomit.
Well, Hermione could say one thing about Christmas with the Weasleys: it was never boring.
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