Disclaimer: I own none of this! Not the characters, not the hp universe, probably not even the story idea. Alas, I'm in the holiday mood, so I just couldn't help it! I may be watching too many made for tv movies. Send help.

Despite the scalding heat, Hermione gripped her hot chocolate mug like it might spontaneously turn into a portkey and pull her away.

That is to say, tightly and desperately, hoping but sorely disappointed.

The large conference room currently housed the entirety of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, called together by department head Gawain Robards. The meeting was far from the professional affair she had expected. When she'd walked in, the sparkle of tinsel and garland assaulted her. Then she was handed the steaming peppermint and chocolate scented mug. (Delicious, though she was loathe to admit.) The soft tinkle of jingle bells seemed to come from every corner. Robards' secretary danced by with full size candy cane earrings swaying from her lobes. Christmas had arrived at the Ministry.

Cue the eye roll.

It's not that she was a Grinch or anything, Hermione enjoyed seasonal cheer just fine. It was just that this would be her first year since she finished school that she would spend the holiday single. Unattached. Stag. No matter how she phrased it, it meant the same thing: alone. Growing up an only child had taught her the simple joy of a quiet holiday, but in the last six years of being Ron's girlfriend, she'd grown quite accustomed to the organized chaos that was a Weasley Christmas. Hermione's holiday invitation hadn't been officially rescinded, but... would she still be welcome? She sighed and played it off like she was blowing to cool off her drink. She perked up in time to hear the end of Robards' announcement.

"And so, in the holiday spirit, we are bringing back a long overdue tradition: Department Secret Santa. Everyone's name is in this cauldron and you'll each get one- yes, Jeffries, it's mandatory. Our annual Christmas party is exactly two weeks away on Christmas Eve and we'll be exchanging gifts and revealing our secret santas then. Cheers!" He lifted his own mug. "Now come on up you lot, pick a name."

Hermione hung back, dutifully avoiding a run in with Ron by striking up a regrettable conversation. Tricia from the Wizengamot Administration Services office easily prattled on about her plans for the weekend which, apparently, now included shopping for her secret santa gift and how she so badly hoped that she picked some hunky bachelor so-and-so from the Improper Use of Magic office and plenty of other run-on sentences that Hermione only half listened to. Eventually she was able to extricate herself and, upon seeing the coast was clear of redheads, she went up to pick a slip of parchment from the cauldron. The name on the parchment caused her mouth to settle into an agonized scowl.

Draco Malfoy

Perfect. Just perfect.

...

"Trade with me," Hermione demanded as she marched into Harry's office soon after, lucky to find him alone.

"What?" Harry wiped his glasses on his robe and put them back on, squinting at Hermione's angry face.

"Secret Santa. I've drawn Malfoy and I refuse." She thrust her fist toward him. The parchment was no longer folded neatly, but instead sat as a crinkled ball between her index finger and thumb.

"Hermione..." Harry started with his hands up in a placating stance. He was using that tone of voice that reeked like the beginning of an argument.

"Harry, it's bad enough that I have to work with the ferret. Please?" She exaggerated a pout for good measure.

Harry grimaced and scratched his head. "Hermione, you know I'd do anything for you. And I don't even mind Malfoy much anymore, I've gotten used to him in the past couple of years working together. We... we actually went out for pints a couple of weeks ago to celebrate that illegal potions bust..."

"It's settled then. Get him a set of cufflinks with a rodent design and give him my regards the next time you get pissed together." Her arm was still extended with the parchment and it did not escape her notice that Harry hadn't moved to accept it yet.

"We did not get pissed, and if you tell Ginny otherwise I'll..." Harry cut himself with a wave of his hand. "We're off point. What I meant is that I'd be fine to trade you if I thought you'd be any happier with the name I picked." He let his words hang and watched her as she made the mental leap to fill in the unspoken words.

Hermione's face dropped. "You... you drew Ron." It wasn't a question.

Harry nodded. "Which would be worse for you?"

Hermione bit her lip. Getting a gift for Ron would be awkward to say the very least. Their break up was still rather fresh and she didn't want to send the wrong idea with a present. On the other hand, it was Malfoy. She thought for a while until finally scrunching up her nose in defeat.

"Fine," she relented. "I'll keep Malfoy."

...

As she returned to her desk, she noticed she had a visitor of her own. "Speak of the devil," she muttered as she recognized the blond hair bowed over her desk, inspecting a document. "Can I help you?" Her tone was just as harsh as she meant it to be. It was only half ten but she was already ready to put the day to bed and start on her weekend.

"Granger! I didn't see you there!" He jumped and spun, obviously startled, though she had to credit him for keeping his expression poised.

"It is my desk." Hermione rounded said desk and stood next to her chair, reluctant to sit down should he take that as an invitation to do the same.

"Yes, well I came to see if you had the Lornridge file so I could look at it before you turn it in." Something about his stance seemed off. Like his usual arrogance had taken a slight blow.

"We went over that one last week. I turned it in yesterday."

"Right. I meant the Shabbley one. My mistake."

"I've only just started on that. Not much to see yet."

"Right, right," he repeated and drummed his fingers against the desk.

Deciding she had waited long enough, Hermione sat in her chair and folded her arms across her chest. "Malfoy, what are you really doing here?"

Malfoy looked around, seeming to run out of excuses, and sat opposite her. "Fine. This Secret Santa business..."

Hermione stiffened. Did he know she picked him?

"I have no clue what to get," he finished in a lower tone, as if they were conspiring together. He needn't worry about being overheard, she thought. Although she wasn't graced with her own office, the next nearest desks were several paces away and largely empty at the moment.

So he didn't know she was his secret santa, but he still hadn't really answered her question. "Congratulations. Me neither. Why would you come here to tell me that?"

Malfoy lifted his hand from her desk to rake through his perfectly coifed hair. "Merlin! You are supposed to be the brightest witch here, are you honestly this thick?"

Her eyes bulged as she caught his meaning. "You're asking for help?"

Malfoy shrugged. "Simply soliciting a muggleborn opinion. My person is muggleborn."

"And this is how you ask?" She replied hotly. "Coming to my desk uninvited and insulting my intelligence? You could have tried a nice approach."

"Uninvited? Really? We've worked together for months now, how else do you expect we get anything done? It's not like I'm showing up at your flat in the middle of the night."

Hermione blanched at the implication.

"Anyway, I did try nice," he huffed. "You're the one giving me sarcasm and suspicion."

"Hardly." She regained her composure and eyed him through narrowed lids. "Harry was raised by muggles, ask him. I heard you two are nearly mates now."

He shrugged again. "I'm asking you."

Hermione raised an eyebrow in silent question.

"It's... she's a woman." A slight pink glow appeared on his ears momentarily.

"Aha..." She let the corners of her mouth curl up.

"Aha nothing. Are you going to help me or not?"

"You like her." Hermione delighted in Malfoy's reaction. He practically spluttered.

"I didn't say that!"

"You didn't have to."

"Because it's not true!"

She was sporting a full Cheshire smile by that point. "It's an office Secret Santa. Why else would you care so much?" When he didn't answer, she turned and tapped her radio with the tip of her wand.

"On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me..."

"I'll help. But you owe me now." The Shabbley file went flying in Malfoy's direction and he caught it without batting an eye.

"What is this noise?" He said in a scoff.

"Muggle Christmas music. It relaxes me. Puts me in a generous mood. If you didn't notice, I just agreed to help you."

"This is you being generous?" He held up the file, thick with uncompleted work.

Hermione nodded. "If we get enough done on that we can skive off work and use the rest of our Friday to shop for your witch."

...

The Shabbley file took longer than either of them expected. They were only about halfway through when Hermione realized they'd missed lunch and it was way past dark.

"Monday," she promised him, because she couldn't stomach the idea of voluntarily spending time with Draco Malfoy on the weekend.

"Monday," he affirmed, probably thinking the same thing. So when Monday came around and she found him at her desk first thing in the morning, she could hardly call it uninvited this time. He had a strange demeanor about him, and as she approached she noticed what he was staring at.

Two potted trees flanked her desk and... was that a cage sitting atop her incoming mail tray?

"Granger!" He breathed, startled again by her appearance.

"Malfoy. You really must stop being surprised by my presence at my own desk." She surveyed her mail tray. Yes, it was definitely a cage, and even more curious was the grey and brown bird inside the cage. "Did you bring all this?"

"No," he shook his head and pointed to a parchment sticking out from under the cage. It was a type written note which simply read From your Secret Santa.

Hermione looked around dumbly. "Did you see anyone leave it?" Another shake of his blond head, but he was starting to look amused now.

"You've got an overachiever. Gifts aren't supposed to be exchanged until next Friday." Malfoy went over to one of the trees and rubbed a leaf between his fingers.

"What even is this?" Hermione looked from tree to tree.

"Something in the citrus family?" Malfoy offered, barely able to hide a snigger. She glared at him. "Hell, I don't know. Some bloke, presumably, thinks your Christmas wish is a partridge and a pair of trees?"

Hermione spun on the spot. "What did you say?"

Malfoy cocked his head to the side. "Come on, it has to be a bloke. What kind of witch would give this to another witch?"

"No, I mean, you said that's a partridge?" She clarified, taking a closer look at the now agitated bird.

"I'd wager. It's a gamebird." He rubbed his chin. "Larger than a quail, but smaller than a pheasant."

Hermione moaned as realization dawned. "A partridge and a pair of trees. This isn't just an early gift. This is the first of twelve I'll get every day until Christmas eve..."