Just a little Christmas one-shot from me to you! I own nothing. Enjoy!

Draco Malfoy hated Christmas. Once upon a time, it had been his favorite holiday. Present upon present was heaped upon him. His every wish and desire was granted by parents who didn't care that they spoiled him. And spoiled he had become. No one challenged his demands, nor did they deny his requests. For seventeen years, he had cultivated a habit of never hearing no.

And then Hermione Granger entered his life. They had been classmates since their first year at Hogwarts, but it took war, death, and destruction to make him realize that her blood status meant nothing. For so long, he had teased her and called her a mudblood, and she often ignored him. That made him want her attention more. Whenever he did get it, he never knew what to do with it.

Sitting alone in a pub on Christmas Eve, he thought of her - the one who got away. When the war ended and he became a free man, Hermione Granger was the first person he sought out. She had been apprehensive, and rightfully so, but she heard him out. She listened to his apologies, and even offered up a few of her own. After that, they met once a week for coffee. Hermione became a friend, one he so sorely needed.

"I ruin everything," he muttered, finishing his drink. He raised his hand to catch the bartender's attention and ordered another drink.

"Make that two," said the person who had only just taken the seat beside him. He looked to his right and stared. "Merry Christmas."

In a fog of alcohol and astonishment, he reached out to touch her. "Hermione," he whispered.

She placed her hand over his. "Hi, sweetheart," she replied.

"Are you...is this real?" he wondered.

The barkeep set a drink down in front of her. "He sees me," she said, taking a sip of firewhiskey. "So, what are you doing here on Christmas Eve? Doesn't your mother expect you at home?"

He shrugged, not caring what his mother wanted. His mother had been the reason they had broken up the year before. Pureblood protocol dictated that no Malfoy should marry a muggleborn. Hermione didn't fit into Narcissa Malfoy's grand plan, and therefore, she had to go.

"Why are you here?" he wondered.

Hermione sighed and considered the question. "Where else would I go?" she replied. Her parents were killed before they could flee England. Death Eaters had killed them shortly after she left for the Burrow. It wasn't until the war ended that she learned of their fate. As hard as Molly Weasley tried, Hermione never felt like a part of their family. She quickly distanced herself from the Weasleys. Her friendship and subsequent relationship with Draco had given her a sense of family once again.

"We don't talk anymore," he told her.

Finishing her drink, Hermione reached for her purse. "Can I give you your Christmas present?" she asked. It surprised him that she would want to give him anything. Nodding, he left a few coins on the bar and followed her outside. From her purse, she pulled out a small candy wrapped in silver foil. "George and I still talk from time to time, and he gave me this. It's supposed to show you a time in your life when you were happy."

Having accomplished her goal, she turned to leave. Draco reached for her arm, keeping her from going. "Wait. Why would you give this to me?" he asked. "And why do you have to go so soon?"

Hermione shrugged. "Just use it," she said. "You know where to find me when you're done."

He watched her walk away before Apparating to the small flat he owned in muggle London. Having had one drink too many, he found it difficult to shake off his coat and shoes. When he finally managed to divest himself of the garments, he laid down on his bed and popped the candy in his mouth. His eyes grew heavy, and he immediately shut them.

When he opened them, in his hand he held a simple diamond ring. The room, however, wasn't his. At least, it wasn't anymore. He was back in Malfoy Manor, in the suite he had grown up in. The room was still decorated with green bedding and Quidditch posters. Hermione had often called it cold and less than welcoming. They had already begun to look for a place to live after two years of dating.

The ring would be Hermione's Christmas present. This year, he would ask her to be his wife. The fireplace roared to life as the orange flames turned green. Quickly, he pocketed the ring and turned to face his visitor. A smile turned up the corners of his mouth. "Hey, I thought I was meeting you," he said, greeting her with a kiss.

"You're 45 minutes late then," she replied, wrapping her arms around his waist. "You know I'm not good at waiting."

"Is that your way of hinting that you want your Christmas present early?" he asked. Grinning, she nodded. "Too bad. I'm not giving it to you until tomorrow."

Hermione pouted, hoping it would work in her favor, but Draco was unwavering. "Please?" she asked in one final attempt at receiving her gift early.

Draco shook his head. "No," he said firmly. "Now, are you ready to go house hunting?"

Forgetting about the gift for the time being, Hermione nodded. "Ready to give your mother a heart attack because you intend to live in sin with your muggleborn girlfriend?"

Laughing, they stepped into the fireplace together and floo'd to their first appointment.

His eyes snapped open and he sat up. He sat in the flat they planned to buy together. They had broken up on Christmas when Narcissa Malfoy swore that he would be cut off and disowned if he proposed to Hermione. Unable to live without his family's money, he did the cowardly thing and ended his relationship. Despite Hermione's offers to provide for him, he couldn't allow it. He wouldn't live off of her Ministry salary, nor could he be content to sit at home all day long while she worked.

It didn't register that it was late, well past midnight, when he put his shoes back on and left without his coat. When they had met in the pub, Hermione told him that he would know where to find her. And so, he began to walk. It was colder than it had been earlier as snow began to fall. His feet led him to the flat she had lived in when they broke up, and he prayed that she still lived there. A small sigh of relief passed his lips when he saw her name printed neatly beside the doorbell.

Once, twice, three times, he rang the bell. An irritated voice, thick with sleep, asked who was there. "It's Draco," he said nervously.

There was no sound on the other end of the intercom. The front door clicked open, and Draco entered. Racing up the stairs, he reached her third floor apartment in a matter of seconds. He tried to catch his breath as he knocked on the door and waited for it to open.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione asked, arms crossed over her chest.

His brows furrowed as he breathed heavily. "You said...in the pub...find...you," he replied, holding his side. "Ow, cramp."

Rolling her eyes, she invited him in and shut the door. "Did you walk here without a coat?" she asked. "Honestly, Draco, you could've caught your death. Now what's this about a pub?"

"You...it wasn't real?" he asked dejectedly. "But I...no. You were there. You said it was real."

Concerned, she sat down beside him. "What was real, Draco?" she asked, her voice soft.

"You gave me something, something that showed me the happiest day of my life," he told her. "It was Christmas Eve, and I...I should have proposed that night. I should have told my mother that I didn't care about the money or the company or what she thought. I shouldn't have let you walk away from me."

Hermione stared at his hand as it held her own. "I wasn't in a pub tonight," she told him.

Draco sighed. "I should have known," he muttered, letting go of her hand. "I'll just go. Sorry if I woke you."

It wasn't until he reached the door that she stopped him. "Wait," she said. His hand rested on the doorknob, but he made no attempt to turn it. "Were you really going to propose?"

Slowly, he turned. "I was," he confirmed.

"Even though you knew your mother didn't approve."

A sheepish grin spread on his face. "Yeah," he mumbled.

"But you didn't ask because she threatened to cut you off," Hermione continued. "You chose money over love."

He finally moved away from the door to stand in front of her. "It was the biggest mistake of my life," he confessed. "We don't see each other anymore. And I bought that flat we were going to buy. I've made enough money in the past year that, even if she did cut me off, we'd be okay. When I thought I saw you earlier tonight, I thought it meant you'd forgiven me. Because I want to be with you. You're all I want, Hermione."

"I never cared about the money," she told him as tears began to burn her eyes. "It didn't matter to me if you were rich or poor. All that mattered was that we loved each other. It hurt, Draco, to think that you loved your family's wealth more than you loved me."

He shook his head frantically. "No, that was never it," he replied, cupping her face with his hands. His thumbs swiped across her cheeks, catching any tears that fell. "I just...you know me. I'm a coward, especially when it comes to my mother. Until last year, I was the only family she had left. Now she's lost me too. You always said I was your family, and now I'm in need of one too. I still love you, Hermione. Do you think you might, someday maybe, love me again too?"

She placed her hands on his chest, feeling his heart beat rapidly against her fingers. "I used to hate you, and I wanted to hate you again for breaking my heart. All I did was miss you," she admitted.

Leaning down, he kissed her tenderly, stopping himself from deepening it. "So, can we try this again?" he asked. "I don't want last Christmas to be our last Christmas."

Her hands moved up, her fingers stroked his jaw. "I'd like that," she replied.

"What do you think it was though?" he wondered. "Who brought me here?"

Hermione shrugged. "A Christmas angel, perhaps," she guessed. "I don't know. Merry Christmas, Draco."

He kissed her once more. "Merry Christmas, love."

The End