Start 11-21-11 at 755pm

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Dramione(:

Just a little cute 9 page Dramione Thanksgiving one-shot about prepping for the meal, that no matter how hard I try to ignore, I just have to write! I hope you guys enjoy it, and I hope you all have a beautiful Thanksgiving with your lovely families! I know I will(:

Oh, and I know everyone has different ways of celebrating Thanksgiving, and everyone also has different meals. I don't know how everyone does it, but I know in Hawai'i we put our turkey into an Imu (underground oven) -most families at least, like my family has 2 turkeys- and my family has guava ham instead of ham with the pineapples. So since I don't know how anyone else celebrates it, I'm going to just describe Dramione's Thanksgiving meal at how my family cooks. Minus the Imu turkey of course(:

Too frightened to move from the couch for anything, he continued to watch the muggle clock on the wall. The last he glanced at it, the little hand had pointed to the 8, and the long hand was half past it. Now the little hand was on the 11, and the long hand was a quarter past it. Time seemed to be moving quickly, but it was as if he was still frozen in place. All sorts of different scents had been roaming in the tiny muggle flat, that he couldn't leave. Moving his darkened grey colored eyes, he continued to watch the tiny witch, run around like a chicken without its head. Inwardly, he chuckled at the metaphor. He remembered questioning the muggle-born what it meant, when she had first used it in front of him, and he still didn't quite understand it. How on earth could a chicken run without its head? Wouldn't the thing just be dead? And unless it was in fact, a zombie chicken, he doubted the thing would be able to run around. But now, watching her… he believed it. Hermione Granger, in fact, resembled a chicken running without its head.

Frizzy chestnut curls bounced around the sweating golden face he loved to look at, while a determined gaze had permanently set itself upon her caramel colored eyes. Furrowing those perfectly arched eyebrows of hers, he chuckled to himself. Just five months after the war, five months of announcing themselves publicly, and only fifteen months after being together, he still thought she looked beautiful. Wayward curls sticking to her drenched forehead, that set-look to murder anyone who gets in her way on her face, and grey sweats with a cut up emerald green t-shirt that oddly resembled a shirt he lost a couple of weeks ago, and he still thought she was the most beautiful person in the world. Even more beautiful than himself. And he was the most conceited person he had ever known.

"Hermione," he called out to her.

Freezing in her motions, Hermione looked up from the pot of boiling eggs, and potatoes that she was pouring salt into. "Yes?"

He chuckled again. Although she was staring right at him, he could see her eyes twitching to the muggle oven that held six pumpkin pies in it. "Are you alright my love?"

"Of course I'm alright Draco," her matter-of-factly voice that she often used when she was overstressing had returned. Lifting the bottom of the t-shirt, Hermione wiped away the sweat dripping on her forehead, giving her boyfriend of fifteen months a peek to the flattened tummy it was originally designed to hide.

"What are you doing now?" he asked, curious as to why on earth anyone would add six more pies to be baked, when she just pulled six out from the oven.

"I just put the last of the pies into the oven, and now I'm boiling the potatoes, and eggs for the salad. Oh shoot," disappearing from the watchful gaze of Draco, Hermione returned five seconds later after making loud banging noises, and turned around to the sink. Draco continued watching her until the water turned off, and she was now placing another pot on the stove. "And now I'm going to boil the macaroni noodles already as well. I'm going to make a macaroni/potato/egg salad. Of course I won't mix the salad until right before everyone arrives tomorrow, but it's easier to boil and peel everything now, so tomorrow I won't have to do it."

Draco nodded his head, as if pretending that he understood. "Love, why are you making twelve pumpkin pies?"

"Because, Draco," her eyes were rolling at him. Draco leaned back against the couch, because he knew that was never a good sign, especially when her voice was reaching that high pitch. "As I already explained to you, fourteen times," she emphasized the amount of times she had to answer this question for him, "I want to make sure that everyone will have a pie to take home, but so that we'll also have enough to eat here."

"Oh right," he nodded his head once more. He allowed her a couple of seconds to return to boiling the macaroni noodles, then decided to ask another question that he knows she's answered for him, fourteen times as well, "Love, who else is coming again?"

There was a low growling sound, which Draco knew was coming from Hermione, but would have interpreted as Professor Lupin. "Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are coming, so they need one pie for the Burrow. Charlie is coming in from Romania, so he needs his own pie as well. Bill and Fleur are coming in later from her parents in France, but I promised Bill a pie also. Harry and Ginny needs a pie to take back to Grimmauld Place, and Ron can eat a whole pie on his own, so no sense in making him share the one his parents will be taking home. Fred is coming with Angelina, and George is bringing Katie. One pie per couple, seeing as although the twins have their own flat, they're always practically living at the girls flat. And don't forget that I promised Blaise and Pansy they could have one, as well as Neville and Luna. Also there's Sirius, who I'm sure wouldn't want to share with Harry and Ginny. As well as Remus and Tonks. Oh, and of course Severus. Plus your parents, and mine," Hermione seemed to be counting them all off on her fingers as she listed them. "Excluding our parents, that's twelve pies right there, so once these six finishes, I have another six to make."

Draco's eyes landed on the six unbaked pies sitting on the counter top, waiting to be thrown into the oven. Then he looked over at the six pies that were sitting on the cooling rack, waiting to be devoured. His mouth watered. "Maybe I should taste one of them, Hermione," he grinned, drool already pooling at the corner of his lips.

"If you come anywhere near these pies, Draco Malfoy, I will hex your bollocks off," she threatened, causing him to gulp, and quickly drop his hands into his lap. "Tomorrow needs to be perfect. Growing up, I would always help my mum and my aunts in the kitchen for Thanksgiving, and even at the Burrow, Ginny and I would always help Mrs. Weasley, but this is the first time, I'm doing it on my own. And everything needs to be perfect."

"It will be perfect, love," Draco gave a reassuring smile, but it only caused Hermione to squeal, and run to the refrigerator. "Why don't you just use your wand? Or use one of my house-" he stopped immediately. His eyes noticed how quick Hermione was to grab onto her wand, and glare at him. He suddenly remembered how his girlfriend of fifteen months felt about the enslavement of house elves. She did create S.P.E.W after all. "-appliances," he held in his sigh of relief as he quickly thought of the cover up. "We have an oven that would be able to cook all your sixteen pies at once, as well as the turkey, and all the hams."

Releasing the wand, Hermione went right back to shuffling around the kitchen, "Darling, I already told you… the staying up all night cooking while your house becomes engulfed in the rich aroma of all the spices, and mixtures of food, is what I love most about Thanksgiving. This is what it's all about. Slowly taking your time, ensuring that everything is cooked to perfection, and making everything yourself. I don't want to use magic for anything."

Draco fell silent. Allowing Hermione to continue whatever it was she was doing, he smiled. He loved this little tradition of hers, already excited for this to happen every year. Growing up, he never witnessed the makings of a Thanksgiving meal; he always fell asleep then woke up and played Quidditch with his friends until Dobby came to retrieve them. They would sit around the dining table of Malfoy Manor, and the house-elves would bring trays of food. There would be an already carved turkey, with Cornish ham, stuffing, bread rolls, corn, mashed potatoes, an egg salad, and gravy. Then for dessert they would be presented with pumpkin pie, and vanilla ice cream. Their goblets would be filled with wine, and no one would talk. That was how he knew Thanksgiving, but now… now he was smiling.

This was a Thanksgiving he was grateful for, and it hadn't even started yet. Sitting on the couch, frightened to get in the witch's way, but smiling as he watched her run around trying to cook everything to perfection, he could smell the food as it was being made, and he finally got to witness a Thanksgiving in the making. Six uncooked pies sat below six cooked pies, while the makings of a macaroni/potato/egg salad were all boiling on the stove top. A large pan of homemade marbled fudge was sitting in the refrigerator, while Hermione sat a pan of candied yams on the counter top. He could tell by the un-melted marshmallows sitting on it, that she only had to put it in the oven for a short while to finish it off. Sitting next to the stove in another large pot were the remnants of what he counted to be ten boxes of stuffing. The sinks counter top held two large untouched turkeys, and five cans of ham. He knew there was more food, but she told him that they weren't to be touched until morning came. They were simple foods, which if she were to cook now, would have to be reheated before everyone arrived, and that would take away the flavors of it. He trusted her judgment. After all, she knew what she was doing. He grew up eating the meals of house-elves all his eighteen years of living. Who was he to question it?

"What are you doing now?" he asked her. The scent of freshly baked pumpkin pies reached his nose, as he watched her slowly pull two pies out at a time. Once all six finished pies were placed on a second cooling rack, he watched as she put all the new pies into the oven. Now another half hour of waiting for these pies to finish.

"Now," she grinned, turning to the sink, and grabbing one of the turkeys, "I start the turkeys. Once these pies are completed, I just put them right into the oven."

"What about the candied yams?" he asked her. Growing up, he had never eaten candied yams, as his house-elves never made them, until he went to Hogwarts. The years he would stay at Hogwarts for Thanksgiving, he had a taste of it, and now they were his addiction. "The marshmallows aren't candied yet."

Giggling, Hermione set the turkey back down. "I'm going to put them in with the last of these pies ten minutes before the alarm goes off," placing her hands on her hips, Hermione sighed. Looking around the kitchen, she silently thanked Merlin for giving her magic. Although she wouldn't use her wand to help her cooking go by quicker, or to prep anything for her, she didn't mind using it to make space on the counters or give her extra cooling racks. She knew that the extra room spell she used on the refrigerator, and inside her little dining room, would come in handy as well. She has to make a table that can hardly even fit four, be able to fit eighteen people.

"What are you looking for?"

Looking back at Draco, she sighed, "I don't know."

"You look tired, love."

"I'll sleep once the turkeys are in the oven," she nodded her head. "Well, more like take a three hour nap, before jumping awake to check on it."

"When do you put the hams in?"

"Once the turkeys are finished," hiding her yawn behind her forearm, she smiled at the approaching Death Eater. Funny how he still made her body quiver with just a simple look. "It doesn't take as long as the turkeys to cook, and as long as I plan everything right, they'll finish one hour before everyone arrives."

Wrapping his arms tightly around, Hermione's waist, Draco held her tightly against his chest. He could feel her breathing on his bare skin. "Everyone's coming at ten, right?"

"Mhmm," a grin set itself on Hermione's lips as she inhaled his fresh berry scent. She always found it sexy when he would use her soap. He thought it made him a bit of a prat, but she found it made him more masculine then he already was. To her, there was nothing cuter or manlier than a man who bathes in his girlfriend's soaps, and smells like her. "Growing up, we would always eat at home at ten in the morning, and then go over to one of my aunts houses until five. Then at seven, we would eat again at my own house."

Pulling away, Draco walked over to the sink. "Harry told me that in the muggle world, it's the man's job to cook the turkey."

"It is," nodding her head, Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, cocking an eyebrow at Draco. His eyes were resting on her once more. "If the man knows how to cook it."

"Then tell me," he insisted. Turning to the turkeys once more, he began to poke at one. He stared it, as if expecting it to just cook itself. "Tell me what I have to do to prepare it," he looked back at Hermione. There was something about her now. A glow that seemed to take over features, as her eyes lightened an entire shade. Dropping his hand away from the turkey, Draco took a fearful step back, nervous that he had just crossed some sort of Granger boundary.

"You really want to learn how to cook the turkeys?"

He nodded his head. "Yes. If it's the man's job, then I want to do it. You can tell me what I need to do."

"I have a better idea," maniacally grinning, Hermione took slow steps towards where Draco was now standing. "Since this is our first Thanksgiving together, Draco, let's make the turkeys together. Then next Thanksgiving you can be the man, and you cook the turkeys."

Draco grinned. He liked that idea. He liked it even better when he heard how she was already planning on spending her next Thanksgiving with him, and giving him the responsibility of cooking the turkeys. "Very well," placing his lips gently on hers, he noticed how even her lips were sweating. Remembering how the old him would have hexed any female who dare to put sweaty lips on him, he savored the salty taste. This was a moment that he could enjoy only with Hermione. "So what do we do?"

Hermione's laughter blended in nicely with Draco's groans of disgust. Somewhere in there though, his own chuckles could be heard. Wiping her turkey innards covered hands on the bottom of her shirt; she took a step back, and enjoyed the scene in front of her. They were now preparing their second turkey, and candied yams were already in the oven. Draco had both his arms completely emerged in this turkey, pulling out all of its insides. She had never been any more in love with him as she was in this very moment. Grey colored eyes, swimming with a melted silver that softened every time they landed on her, stared intensely down at the task in hands, or more so the task his hands were in. Pale blonde hair that he once used to drown in overpriced hair products fell messily over his face, causing him to blow a breath of air at it every couple of seconds to get it out of his way, and making her contemplate tying it back with a rubber band. And she would have to… if she weren't in love with the way his hair fell messily over his face. Sweat glistened his pale, perfectly chiseled chest, glittering as if he belonged in the town of Forks. Standing in the kitchen with his arms deeply emerged in a turkey, wearing nothing but his black and green flannelled pajama pants, Draco Malfoy looked down right sexy. This was a side of him that no one else had ever seen, and her heart pounded loudly in her chest, making her determined to make sure that no one else would ever see this side of him. This homemaker side of Draco belonged to her, and no one else.

"I love you so much, Draco Malfoy!" Hermione stated, wrapping her arms around Draco from behind. Pressing her lips to his slightly damp back, she didn't care that she was now covering him with the inside guts of a dead turkey.

Not bothering to clean off his arms, Draco turned around. Grinning as he pressed his lips to the bushy curls, he wrapped his arms around her as well. "And I love you as well, Hermione Granger."

Hermione was smiling. Her sappy heart just did a couple of circus flips. A reaction it has every time he tells her he loves her. "Happy Thanksgiving, my love."

"You stole my words right out of my mouth," he chuckled. "Happy Thanksgiving, darling."

The oven began to beep, and Hermione squealed. Pulling away from Draco, she ran to the stove, "Hurry up and finish stuffing that turkey. We can put them in now."

Hermione pulled out the candied yams, and all the pumpkin pies, while Draco continued to quickly stuff the second remaining turkey. It took all of two minutes before the two turkeys were in the oven, and Hermione was wrapping foil over the twelve already cooled down pumpkin pies. Leaving the remaining six on the cooling rack; she placed the candied yams next to them. Knowing how anal his witch was when it came to dishes in the sink, Draco began to wash all the dishes Hermione used throughout the night. Watching Draco from the corner of her eyes, she could only grin like a love sick child, while humming softly to herself. The eggs and potatoes were peeled, and placed into a bowl with the cooked macaroni noodles. Once everything was washed and put away, Hermione made sure that the only things left on the counter tops were the finished baked goods, the pans with the canned hams, and the pot filled with stuffing. Checking on the two turkeys in the oven, she finally let out a breath of relief. They were closer now.

"What is there left to do now?" Draco asked.

They were lying in their bed, with an alarm set for two hours right next to them. Allowing Draco to press against her, Hermione relaxed against him. "About half an hour before the turkeys finish, then we just take the hams out of their cans, and throw them into the pans. Then we glaze them with the guava jam, and throw them into the oven once the turkeys are completed. When we take the turkeys out, take out all the stuffing, and throw it back into the pot with the rest of the leftover stuffing, and add in another can of turkey broth. Boil the corn, make the mashed potatoes, open the cans of beets, make the gravy, and prepare the salad."

"Guava jam on the ham," an erotic moan escaped Draco's lips, "That sounds so good."

"It is," she nodded her head, grinning proudly. "It's a recipe that my uncle gave to me when I was younger."

"Oh right, I forgot to tell you, but Blaise said they're bringing over a Jell-O-pie."

Hermione flinched. In all honesty, she hadn't expected them to bring anything. From what she learned from the Weasleys, and from Draco, purebloods don't bring anything to a dinner party that they're invited to. She didn't flinch because they were bringing anything though – that was sweet of them; she flinched because Pansy is bringing food in general. "A Jell-O-pie?" her voice squeaked.

Laughing at the fear in his girlfriend's voice, Draco shook his head. "A family recipe from Blaise's mum. He's the one who's making it. I explained to them that it's a muggle tradition to bring something, and Pansy got all excited saying that she read something about muggles loving something called casseroles, and she wanted to try it out-" laughing harder at the obvious fear in Hermione's face, he shook his head once more, "-but Blaise mentioned his mums Jell-O-pie, and Pansy immediately said that that would be better."

"Oh thank Merlin," came the sigh of relief. Smiling, Hermione shook her own head this time as she thought back to the first time she tried Pansy's cooking. "I love Pansy and all, but," her body shuddered, "She should not be allowed to touch a stove, oven, or even a microwave."

Shuddering at his own memory, a serious glazed look fell upon Draco, "Or a toaster."

"I'm just happy they don't have toasters in the wizarding world," Hermione exclaimed. "I still don't understand how she managed to set my flat on fire just by making toast."

"I don't want to talk about Pansy's cooking anymore," he suddenly said. "I want to actually be able to eat in the morning, and not have any nightmares about food. Let's talk about something happy," feeling the vibrations of Hermione's chuckling, he grinned. "Is Molly still bringing the cornbread that she promised me?"

Laughing, Hermione looked up at him. "Is that all you can think of?" he had a goofy grin on his face. When he didn't answer, she laughed more. He was lost in a dreamland filled with the promising melting of Mrs. Weasley's magical cornbread. "Yes, she's still bringing it. And Ginny's bringing her pineapple upside down cake."

Hearing the beautiful news of the Weaslette bringing the cake that always melted in his mouth, Draco sighed. It was a soft, beautiful sigh. "And Bill owled us today, saying something about Fleur's mum making some sort of croissant. They're bringing a tray of it."

"And the twins told me that Katie and Angelina made some sort of pumpkin bread pudding. Since Tonks knows we would all rather eat Pansy's cooking than hers, and Remus is no better, they're bringing the wine, and Sirius is bringing wine as well."

"Severus said something about a yam filled pastry as well. An old family recipe of his."

Laughing, Hermione shook her head, "And Charlie's even bringing this dragon meat minced pie. And Neville and Luna are bringing something from Luna's family as well. Knowing her family though, it may be a fruitcake."

"It seems like tomorrow is going to see us all fat, and waddling."

"I'm happy I told Mum and Dad not to bring anything, then. I don't know how we would've been able to eat it all."

"And I'm glad Mother and Father are too old schooled pureblooded to bring anything on their own. We're already being overstuffed as is. Just talking of all tomorrow's food is making me feel like one of those turkeys."

And just like that, they each fell into a comfortable silence. The aroma of a roasting turkey overpowering the scent of the baked pumpkin pies, and the melted marshmallows, wallowing over into their shared bedroom. The softness of Hermione pressed against the thickness of Draco, curls on skin, and arms wrapped around chest. Heart beating against heart, and similar thoughts in two completely separate minds. Promises of friends, and family all thrown together in their tiny shared flat, making them both smile. This was their first actual Thanksgiving together, and they loved every anticipating second of it. Hermione had her parents, and the Weasleys along with Harry, Neville, Luna, Sirius, Remus and Tonks. Draco had his parents, his godfather, and his two best friends who were dating. Draco had Hermione, and Hermione had Draco. Tomorrow, their dining room would be filled with people they loved, and nothing less.

"This is my first real Thanksgiving," Draco ended up shyly admitting. "Growing up, the house-elves cooked everything, while I played Quidditch with Blaise and Pansy."

"My cousins and I used to sleep while our parents cooked everything, until I turned eight, then I would stay up until they put the turkey in the oven. But then I went to Hogwarts, and I missed it," Hermione also admitted.

Pulling her in closer, Draco relaxed his body even more. "I hear that muggles say something they're thankful for right before they eat," when Hermione nodded her head, he leaned his head down, and kissed her forehead, "I'm thankful for you."

"Draco-"

He continued though, not wanting her to interrupt him. "I'm thankful for you, noticing me in our sixth year. I'm thankful for you holding me while I cried about being a Death Eater. I'm thankful for you not judging me for bearing the dark mark. I'm thankful for you forgiving me for all that I've done to you over the years at Hogwarts. I'm thankful for you accepting me for all that I am. I'm thankful for you holding onto me during the war, and keeping me close to you. I'm thankful for you not letting me go afterwards. I'm thankful for those letters you wrote to me every day we were apart during seventh year. I'm thankful for you bringing me here to live with you. I'm thankful for you helping me to gain a friendship with Ron and Harry, and everyone else who I grew up being enemies with. I'm thankful for you showing my parents that muggle-borns, and muggles are perfect to be with. I'm thankful for you showing me how to cook a turkey. I'm thankful for you being patient with me. I'm thankful for you introducing me to your friends, and your family. I'm thankful for you showing me how to love somebody with all that I've got. I'm thankful for knowing that in just a mere couple of hours, I'm going to be sitting in a room filled with all of the people that I love. I'm thankful for you,Hermione Granger. I'm thankful for having the chance to get to know the beautiful-wonderful-smart-creative-bright-intelligent-sexy-book smart-strong-beautiful woman that you are today. I'm thankful for everything that you are, Hermione Granger. I'm thankful for you!"

"Draco!" the tears were gracefully falling from her eyes. She had nothing better to say. There were no words to describe how she felt the exact same about him. There was nothing she could do that would top his speech. For once, Hermione Granger was speechless. "I love you. I can't steal your words, or put it in any other way. I can't explain my feelings in any way better than you just did. But I can say this. This is the best Thanksgiving I've ever had. This is just our first Thanksgiving together, and when we're surrounded by our friends, and our family, and all the people we love, I'll just be looking up at you with the amazement I always feel for you, and all I'll be able to think is how thankful I am to experience this with you. Watching you with that turkey in the kitchen Draco, I want it to be Thanksgiving every day of our lives. Even if we didn't have our friends and family with us in the morning, the day would still be perfect. As long as I have you by my side this Thanksgiving, this is my favorite Thanksgiving yet. And I'm thankful just to have you with me."

"I don't know," though he would deny it – even to Hermione – tears were now staining Draco's cheeks as well. "That beat my speech by a landslide," cupping her cheek in his hand, he smiled warmly down at her. "I love you Hermione!"

"I love you Draco!"

Everyone has something to be thankful for. For a muggle child, it could be a baseball bat or a Barbie. For a magical child, it could be a broom or a wand. For some it would be friends, or family. Some would be thankful for waking every morning, and some are thankful for their jobs. Parents are often thankful for their children, and some are thankful for their riches. Then you have Draco Malfoy; the one who's thankful to get the second chance to make friends, and right his wrongs, the one who's thankful to have someone love him through all his flaws, the one who's thankful to be lucky enough to have the one muggle-born he spent all of his years bullying to the point that she punched him. You have Draco Malfoy, who's thankful just to have Hermione Granger. Then you have Hermione Granger; the one who's thankful just to have the boy she once punched, finally notice her, the one who's thankful to have a room filled with people she loves, but be able to spot the love of her life out of all of them, the one who's thankful to have the chance to witness the withdrawn bad boy laughing while de-gutting a turkey. You have Hermione Granger, who's thankful just to have Draco Malfoy.

A/N: REVIEW please! (: Sorry about that little Forks thing in there. I just watched Breaking Dawn, and had to do it(: - so corny, I know! I'm a corny person when I'm not smutty(: so tell me… what is everyone thankful for? I'm thankful to be able to have my nieces instead of having cps throw them into a stranger's foster home. I'm thankful for my brother, and my parents. I'm thankful for my writing, and this site (no lie, I love reading what everyone else is thinking up) and I'm thankful for my nephews being at my aunties instead of a stranger's foster home!

Okay: So I re-edited this, and I got comments and personal messages about this story… yes, I know that Thanksgiving is an American and that Brits don't celebrate it because it's an American thing, but there is also no such things as dragons guarding banks or goblins or house-elves or magical wands… this is called fan-fiction people, and in my world, Dramione is allowed to celebrate their first Thanksgiving together and be all fluffy about it! There were a few good reviews where people actually like this, and some were even kind about how Brits don't celebrate it but they still loved it anyways, and I thank you guys(:

Pau 11-21-11 at 1037pm

(Re-edited 5-30-12 at 1137am)