MERCY TREE

AN: The below is written as a thank you for all the lovely stories I've had the pleasure to read and enjoy here in the Harry Potter FF Universe.

Merry Christmas to all and a very happy New Year!

Trink

Draco reached out to touch the round silver ball that blinked with the reflection of the twinkling lights from his very first Christmas tree. Sure, he remembered trees from his childhood that his mother had decorated in the manor ballroom; great massive trees, embellished in crystal and emerald festoons of wizard design. Gaudy things, really and somehow gauche, despite the costliness displayed. And then there were the Hogwarts trees, also massive, that glittered from head to toe. But no…..none of them could compare to his little tree in front of him. Barely taller than Draco himself, it certainly wouldn't win awards for being imposing, yet it was perfect.

His eyes moved over the random glass balls to the handmade ornaments on his tree. Popcorn garlands, with no apparent regard to pattern, zig-zagged all over the place. Gingerbread men, some with misshapen heads or missing a currant eye, dangled precariously from the boughs. Tiny peppermint canes hung at strange angles, and homemade cut-out paper snowflakes, sprinkled with rainbow glitter atop blobs of muggle glue, were placed to cover any holes in the tree.

A muggle tree.

A beautiful tree that spoke of mercy, forgiveness, acceptance and love.

Deep love, he corrected himself as he gazed down at the curly head resting underneath his shoulder. His very own Christmas Angel, he grinned as he thought of the other topsy-turvy cherub atop his tree, while admiring the beloved girl presently curled up beside him, wearing his ring and bearing, not only his name, but his unborn child as well.

Why should he be so blessed to have this life? How did this miracle come about?

He never could pinpoint the day and hour when he first loved Hermione but he did remember when his loathing of her and what he thought she was died in his mind…and when he saw what she was truly made of. It was during her torture by his aunt's hand during the war. He saw her then with blinding clarity. He saw…..

…Courage

…Loyalty

…Nobility

All those blasted Gryffindor qualities his little witch had in abundance. And he could say with exact detail the very moment Hermione touched his heart for the first time. Bellatrix had stopped from her torture session with her to question the goblin. As Hermione had collapsed in relief and lain gasping for breath, she had turned her head and viewed Draco looking at her with ill-concealed horror and shame.

Draco would never forget what happened next. She had managed a glimmer of a smile and weakly mouthed the words, "I forgive you." Tears welled up in his eyes when he made out her words. How could she do that after all he had said and done to her over the years? After what she had just experienced in his home? How could she FEEL that?

He did not understand the girl.

After the war, he still had not understood her when she approached his family and thanked him for concealing their identities during their capture. He did not understand her when she testified for his mother at her trial. He did not understand her when after his mother's acquittal, she asked him out for a coffee.

He had many other moments of not understanding her that fateful summer. But on that day in September when he normally would have gotten on the train to go to Hogwarts, he finally comprehended the puzzle of Hermione Granger.

She was what he wanted. What he desired. What he had always needed in his life. Draco had fallen in love.

And Hermione had loved him back.

From September on, they were inseparable. Harry and Ron had surprisingly supported them; Draco figured Hermione had given them an earful of what the consequences would be if they didn't. He smiled; his lioness was as fierce as she was beautiful.

After their whirlwind September of new love, came October with even more passion and commitment from the couple. Draco knew he would never change his mind about her; Hermione said the same about him, so why should they wait for things?

They shocked and surprised both sets of parents and friends when they announced they had soul-bonded on Halloween. After the exclamations and demands for explanations had died down, they stated they had also planned a small wedding for the week after. Everyone they cared about attended. The Weasleys, Harry, Blaise, Theo, Narcissa, and the Grangers were all there.

Lucius did not come. No one asked him why.

Lucius did not make that mistake when he found out the first week in December that he was to be a grandfather. He flooed unannounced to Draco and Hermione's flat in London; quickly recovering his composure, Draco let down the wards to let his father enter their home.

Lucius hemmed and hawed at first. He was not familiar with apologizing in any degree, so his words came out stilted and clumsy, but Draco saw them for what they were. A hope for a new beginning. And because he himself had been the recipient of such a grace, Draco was able to show it to someone else who desperately needed it. Surprising his father, Draco grabbed him in a tight hug, the first they had ever shared, and told his father he forgave him. For everything. Evidently, it was just what Lucius had needed to hear; he hugged his son back fiercely and when Draco pulled back from the hug, he saw shimmers of tears in his father's eyes. Also a first.

Apparently, that gesture of love from his son opened a floodgate of backed-up affection and generosity. Lucius always prided himself at being the best; so if he was to be a grandfather, he was adamant that he would be the best he could be. Hermione did at times wish he would be a little less exuberant in the gift-giving; but she realized he was trying to make amends in the only way he knew.

Draco was momentarily interrupted from his reminiscing when Hermione jerked in her sleep.

"Okay there, Love?" Draco asked tenderly as he shifted to give her more room.

"No, don't move, I just had a falling dream, I think." Yawning, Hermione looked over at the mantel clock. "Oh, is it that late? Happy Christmas, Sweetheart," she murmured as she sleepily smiled at her handsome husband.

"Happy Christmas, Hermione. Now, go back to sleep."

"Don't you want to go to bed?" she mumbled, already half asleep again.

"Not yet. Soon, though," he whispered.

Draco glanced a look down. Hermione was already again sleeping the deep sleep of a pregnant woman. Smiling indulgently at his wife, Draco, wrapped his arms around her then gazed once again at their tree.

He knew he would never forget that year. What he had been. What he had been rescued from.

He would never forget what had been given to him. He would never forget that Christmas and the little tree before him that was such a symbol of the magic of love. Of forgiveness. Of new beginnings.

Quietly, as he pulled Hermione even closer to his body, he began to hum to himself the little song she had taught him the day they had brought their little tree home to decorate:

"O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree,

Your beauty green will teach me

That hope and love will ever be

The way to joy and peace for me.

O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree,

Your beauty green will teach me."