This story was written for the lovely Shibalyfe for our Gryffindor Secret Santa Gift Exchange. You've been such a wonderful friend and I hope you enjoy this very very very cheesy Dramione. Inspired by little jujube Xx

Three Stockings and Twelve Reindeer

Draco sighed as he looked around the living room. There was something that didn't quite feel all that right, but he couldn't seem to put his finger on it. The large tree that stood in the centre of the room had the perfect dark green, thick foliage. The shiny gold and silver baubles that had been carefully placed on the branches were evenly spread about, catching the light of the icicle lights expertly strung around the tree. Even the two stockings hanging from the mantle sat perfectly, the crackling fire providing the perfect backdrop.

He supposed that it may have just been that he was used to having three stockings hanging from the mantle: his father's, his mother's, and his own. His own green and silver stocking was still there, but next to it was now a hand-knitted red and gold piece. His grey eyes wandered over to its owner, lighting up as he watched her reaching up to hook a candy-cane on one of the higher branches.

Even after seven years together, he still couldn't believe that he could call the beautiful brunette his wife. Hermione Jean Granger—no, Hermione Jean Malfoy, was undeniably the best thing that had ever happened to him. She'd been the first person to try to understand his actions in the war—even if he couldn't understand them himself—had been there for him when his father had been sent to Azkaban, and had convinced him that all would be well when his mother had announced she wanted to live with his aunt Andromeda rather than in the manor. She had even shown him that decorating the tree themselves rather than using house-elves could be more fun. Getting to spend another Christmas with her was more than he could ever ask for, and he shook his head to clear it of thoughts that anything could possibly be wrong.

"How does that look?" Hermione asked, adjusting the candy-cane so that it sat just right.

"It's fine," he said.

The brunette tilted her head, scrutinising it for a moment, before sighing. "I suppose. Alright, I just need to head upstairs for a moment… do you think you'll be right to keep going?"

Draco snorted as he took a glass icicle ornament out of a box and hung it on the tree. "Of course."

Hermione rolled her eyes and headed out of the room. He turned back to another of the boxes and opened the lid. It seemed to be full of decorations Hermione had brought with her when she moved in, and he rifled through the cheap plastic ornaments and handmade items. There were quite a few paper-link chains, a few felt shapes with glitter, and some plastic baubles with her name in it—also in glitter. He'd hoped that perhaps she might've forgotten those particular pieces; when she'd insisted she hang them up the year before, they'd received quite a few sniggers from their guests on Christmas Eve. He wanted her to be happy and feel comfortable, of course, but that didn't stop him from carefully pushing them towards the bottom of the box.

When he came across one item made of small twigs, however, his heart began to thud. Pulling it out, he turned the small handmade reindeer over in his palms. It wasn't one Hermione had made for Christmas; no, it was one he had made himself.

Sixteen years ago…

"I don't know why you are making me—"
"Shh. It's about time you two spent some time together. Quality time."

"You know we have the elves to do these things—"

"Shhhh."

Draco ignored his mother and father's argument, and the way the latter huffed as he sat down at the table. Ever since his mother had read him a story about a book making his own Christmas decorations, he'd been determined to make his own that year, and he wasn't about to let his father ruin it now. He smiled as his mother as she nodded and left the pair of them before turning back to the materials in front of him.

"Alright, what are we supposed to do with this?" his father asked, sneering at a piece of twine.

The eight-year-old picked up some of the small twigs their house-elf, Dobby, had procured for him and tried to stick them together. "We need to—make—why isn't this working?—to make reindeer," he said, huffing when the sticks wouldn't stay in position.

One by one, they slipped through his little fingers, landing in a small pile on the table. Draco bit his lip, trying to keep the tears welling in his eyes at bay. Whilst his father had been busy trying to weasel his way out of helping him, he had tried to make the reindeer himself. Each time he tried, though, the twigs would either snap or fall apart.

His father sighed and went to push his chair back. His mother cleared her throat though, and he tucked his chair back in and took out his wand instead.

"Here, you just need to use a simple spell—"

"You can't! The boy in the book didn't use magic. I don't want to use magic," Draco said, pushing his father's wand away.

He could hear his mother chuckling and he gave her a small glare, but it only served to make her laugh even more. His father pinched his nose but put his wand away. Picking up the twine again, he snapped his fingers for the twigs.

Draco handed over the pile, wary that the pile was getting smaller. He watched as his father fiddled with the pile for a few moments, his worry that he'd have to send Dobby out for more twigs growing as the man seemed to have as trouble as he had. His father's eyes were furrowed as he fumbled with the twigs, often muttering curses under his breath.

"Pass me some twine," he said, snapping his fingers.

The boy did as he was asked, passing the string to his father. His worry soon turned back to hope as his father somehow managed to tie it around the twigs to first form a body, then legs, and soon a head and antlers. It wasn't quite as perfect as the deer the boy had made in his book, but it looked spectacular.

His father grinned as he put the reindeer ornament on the table. "There, done."

"Now we have to decorate it," Draco said, sliding over some ribbons and little black beads for the eyes. "He needs a collar. Oh, and some friends," he added, sliding over the rest of the twigs.

Draco half expected his father to object or complain. When the man took the items with only so much as a small grumble, however, he found himself smiling.

"Watch carefully, Draco, because you'll be making your own," he said.

His mother watched on as together, the pair continued building and decorating the reindeer. They made twelve in total, and although Draco's didn't look quite as nice as the ones his father had made, he found he didn't care.

"Alright, now they can be hung up," his father said, leading them out of the dining room and into the main living room. "Make sure you place them evenly… no, not there, up a bit."

By the time they were done, their carefully elf-decorated tree now looked a whole lot better. He couldn't have done it without his father, and even though he knew the man would often be busy, he vowed he would make sure he made him make more decorations the following year.

His eyes stung as he continued turning the reindeer decoration in his hands. The twelve reindeer had turned into just the one over the years, with some broken or lost during house cleanups and others 'accidentally' burned by his aunt Bellatrix in one of her tempers. As he hung the one that had survived on the tree, he finally realised what felt so off.

The tree needed more reindeer, whether they were made with his father, or with a son of his own.

"You weren't planning on hiding those, were you?" Hermione asked as she entered the room.

Draco quickly wiped his eyes so she couldn't see and smirked. "What? These things? Wouldn't dream of it," he said, motioning to the box of her old decorations.

She raised an eyebrow, but her mouth was lifted into a rosy smile. In fact, as she walked closer to him, her smile grew and her face seemed to glow.

"The tree's not complete without them," she said. "But, how about we take a small break first? I have something for you."

It was his turn to raise an eyebrow as he said, "Before our work is done? Are you feeling alright?"

He smirked as she swatted his arm and held out a wrapped parcel she'd been concealing behind her back. He took the parcel, curious as to what was inside, and began to tear open the paper.

"A stocking? I've already got mine hanging up," he said, pulling out a small hand-knitted red and green stocking. "This wasn't meant for one of your elves, was it?"

Hermione swatted his arm again, this time a little harder. "Of course not," she said, but her smile never left her face. "We won't need it until next year, though. Check what's inside."

Draco hesitantly placed his hands inside the soft material, feeling all the way to the toe of the stocking. His hand enclosed around something smooth and flat, and he pulled it out to find a black and white photograph.

"Is that a…" He couldn't find the words as he stared at the little alien-like creature moving around.

"Our baby, yes. I'm pregnant, Draco, I'm finally pregnant. I wanted to tell you on Christmas Day, but you seemed a little down. Besides, I couldn't wait any longer," she said.

Draco looked up at her, not bothering to hide the tears that welled in his eyes this time. A grin broke out on his face as he wrapped his arms around her and spun her in a circle. He didn't know how she knew he needed this, but he supposed it was just another of the reasons that made her so wonderful.

"Alright, alright, how about finishing the tree now?" she eventually said, pulling back to reveal happy tears of her own.

He sighed as she nodded at the box of her homemade decorations but made little other fuss as he helped her hang them on the tree. He knew that in the coming years, he would finally have more that matched his own.