AN: Well, I figured since it's Christmas time, I'd write a Christmas themed story. I literally wrote this in two days. It's short, but very cozy. Probably has a few mistakes, but I feel the story will trump such 'minor' errors, hehe! Get ready for some toothaches, guys because it's just THAT sweet (yeah, I stole that from you, Joani *winks*)

This story has seven chapters; it's complete, but I'm not releasing it all at once.

Have a glorious holiday, people! Stay merry and bright!

"This is unacceptable!" Draco snapped the folder closed and threw it down onto his desk where it slid across to the other side. Miss Granger had to catch it to keep it from crashing to the floor.

He had upset her, he could tell. Her lips thinned, and she had stiffened.

"What is?" she dared to ask.

"Everyone missed their quotas for the season," he stated boredly.

"To no fault of our own. We worked our tails off—"

"I don't care if you worked your fingers to the bone, you still missed the quotas."

"Mr. Malfoy," Miss Granger started calmly— he truly admired her self control, unfortunately that was the only thing he could like about her. She had been hired to increase his business's potion production, and she had failed to reach the marks that he had set. It was such a pity too, she had come highly recommended— "We cannot help that there was a shortage of Polly Zong feathers—"

Draco leaned back into his chair. "Excuses," he interrupted without a care in the world. "You missed your mark, Miss Granger. You are fired, and Christmas bonuses have been canceled."

"Canceled?" she whispered, horrified over the thought. Draco found it strange that she reacted to the bonus cancelation over her being fired. One certainly trumped over the other.

"Canceled," he stressed with a smirk. "No work, no play. Good luck at your next job. I can only hope you put much more effort in your future than you did here."

"You can't cancel the bonuses!" she cried, standing up.

"I can't?" Draco challenged with a lift of his eyebrow. "That's funny, I thought this business is in my name. It is my name on the sign outside this building, is it not?"

"Yes, but—"

"Then, your statement is false." He waved her off. "Try to enjoy your holiday."

"Oh, but please reconsider, Mr. Malfoy! Neville Longbottom's daughter is sick, you see—"

"I'm sorry, but do I look like some charity worker to you?"

Her mouth clamped shut with a set of her jaw. "No," she emphasized slowly. "I was just thinking that since it's Christmas—"

"Maybe you should just stop thinking, for once, hmm? It really isn't your best quality." Draco than busied himself, choosing to ignore her, hoping she'd take the hint that he was through with her. The door slammed soon after, indicating her departure.

At the manor, he kicked off his boots and set up his feet, hollering for his house elf.

"You has called Dobby, sir?"

"Bring me some firewhiskey, it's been a tiresome, disappointing day— and turn that holiday music off, would you?!"

"Dobby just thought that the master—"

"What is it with the thinking today?!" Draco demanded. "If I wanted the blasted music on, I would have requested it!"

"Yes, master, Dobby apologizes."

Draco sighed when the music went off, content with the silence. Much better. He chugged his first drink of firewhiskey and dug into a book on experimental potions, trying to decide which one he wanted to introduce for the following spring.

He must had fallen asleep, because he had woken up a while later, slightly cold. The elves didn't stock the fire as hot during the night, since Draco was usually in a bed, buried under several blankets.

He rubbed his cold arms and stood up from his chair, yawning, readying himself for a long walk to his room. Draco jumped when he saw a body blocking his path at the doorway that separated the hall and his study.

"Merlin!" he gasped. He couldn't speak any additional words, his lips trembling in fright.

"Draco," the ghostly woman spoke softly. "Oh, my sweet Draco, what has become of you, but a bitter, lonely man."

"Moth-Mother?" he choked. "Is that… really you?"

"It is I, yes, darling. I heard you calling for help."

"Help?" Her statement confused him. "I never called for help?"

"Maybe not consciously, but your soul screams for it, sweetheart." She floated to him and sett her hand to his cheek.

He closed his eyes, letting a tiny smile form to his lips, relishing over his mother's warm touch. Oh, how he had missed it.

"Oh, Mother, you don't know how much I miss you!"

She nodded sympathetically. "I know, but you must go on. You cannot live in such bitterness and hate!"

"I don't know how," he admitted sadly. "After you died, all I had left was the business, and it seems even that's going to the pits! I'm at a lost, I really am!"

"And that is why I'm here, I'm going to make things all better for you!"

He lifted his head up, burrowing his eyes into her transparent ones. "You are? How?"

"I'm going to show you what you could have, if you'll only open your heart."

He suddenly felt very tired, and his eyes drooped close. Draco tried to open them back up, but they were too heavy with tiredness.

Hours later, sunlight streaked through the curtains, shining onto his face. Draco groaned and stretched himself into a wake. He sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He remembered the dream he had the night before and promised himself to lay off the booze for a couple days.

"Dobby?" he called out, climbing out of bed. The elf usually had breakfast ready for him, but he didn't smell the meal like he usually would. "Dobby?!"

"Hmm?"

Draco leaped away from the bed. The voice was not elf like, instead, it was female. He eyed the large mound over that was buried in a pile of festive-looking blankets. He wondered where the elves had gotten that hurl-fest, and would see that the bed set was burnt as soon as possible.

But really, what confused him the most was the woman who had been laying beside him. He didn't remember inviting anyone over for the night.

"Draco," the muffle sound of the woman's voice murmured groggily. "Come back to bed, dear. It's still early."

"And who are you?" he asked slowly, trying to recollect what exactly happened the night before. He only had three drinks. That certainly wasn't enough to bed a random woman off the street!

The woman lifted her head which was still semi-buried in the vibrant red and green blanket. "I'm your wife, silly!" she said with a chuckle.

"Uh…" He stepped forward, leaning over the bed, wondering if he heard her correctly. "Excuse me… did you just say wife?"

The woman pulled the blanket off her head, to look at him. "Yes," she answered firmly eyeing him over.

"Miss… Granger…?" He backed up far away, wanting to put as much distance between them as possible. "Wait… did we—" Draco pointed to her and thumbed to himself. —did you and I— How much did we drink last night?!"

That got her full attention, and she sat up in bed, looking like he was absolutely crazy."What on earth are you talking about?!"

He eyed over her messy, bushy hair, never knowing it was naturally so… wild. All the times he had seen her it had been neatly tied up into a perfect bun. "Merlin, Granger, your hair really looks awful in the mornings!"