Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling et al. Any characters, situations or locations you recognise are the property of these individuals and corporations. No money is made from the writing of this story.

This story was written as a prize for SusanMarieR at The Maple Bookshelf. Thanks must also go to LadyStiff for cheerleading and to TycheSong for her fabulous beta work. This story is complete in four chapters, plus an epilogue.

"I hope you have a Merry Christmas, Hermione."

Hermione Granger threw her arms around her best friend, Harry Potter, and returned his wish. This was the first Christmas in four years that they would not be spending together. She had hoped to invite Harry home to her house this year, but while she was waiting for her parents' answer, their other best friend, Ron Weasley, had invited Harry to his house.

'C'est la vie,' Hermione thought. She could use these next three weeks wisely. There was homework to complete, new movies to see, old friends to catch up with – contrary to popular belief, Hermione actually did have two or three close friends in the Muggle world, as well as several acquaintances she could hang out with at any time – and of course, she had her family to spend time with.

Speaking of family to spend time with, she wondered if her parents would be opening their home to any disadvantaged member of society this year. Her parents were quite wealthy – not in-your-face, over-the-top, stinking rich – but Hermione enjoyed the comforts of an upper-middle class lifestyle. To that end, her parents often housed foster children, or poor students, or even on one occasion, a young couple with twin babies who had fallen on hard times and were facing homelessness. That couple had lived with the Grangers for a year while they got back on their feet. Victoria and Charles Granger believed that since fate had smiled upon them, they should give something back. They were values they also instilled in their daughter.

Hermione and Harry pulled back from their hug just as Draco Malfoy walked past. The blond Slytherin had his trademark sneer planted on his face, but Hermione could not help think that it was not as malevolent as usual – almost as if there was no true malice behind it. It was certainly still derisive, but there was an air of – resignation? – about it too. She turned back to her friend as he watched Malfoy's retreating back. A scowl had formed on Harry's face.

"I wish there was some way to spy on him over the holidays," he said. "If he is up to something, now would be the perfect time for him to act on it since he's away from school. His master will probably spend the holidays coaching him in dark spells and torturing innocent Muggles."

"Oh, Harry, let it go already. Yes, Malfoy is a sodding little cockroach who probably has delusions of glory on the dark side, but as I have repeatedly told you, he would not yet be marked. He is only sixteen." Hermione was getting very tired of this argument with Harry, and she did not want their last conversation for three weeks to end with them sniping at each other. "Now, make sure you get all your homework done, and owl me. I want a letter at least every four days," she said with a smile.

Harry's face relaxed again. "Yes, Hermione, I promise," he said. With a final hug, the friends parted – Harry to floo with the Weasleys back to their home in Devon and Hermione to meet up with her parents in the station, on the other side of the barrier from Platform 9¾.

Hermione waited patiently for her turn to go through the barrier. An attendant was there to ensure that one hundred teenagers did not just materialise in a giant heap on platforms nine and ten in Kings Cross Station. Hermione was curious to see Malfoy's platinum blond head ahead of her in the line. She wondered what on earth he would be going through the Muggle entrance for. Her thoughts drifted away, contemplating what activities she could undertake during her break.

'Today is Saturday; we will do something as a family tomorrow. Then if I spend Monday through Wednesday on my homework, that will all be done and I can just revise essays and stuff in the evenings while we relax. That leaves two and a half weeks of fun, fun, fun! I wonder if I can go and stay at Grampy's for a few days...' Hermione's thoughts were cut off when the attendant cleared his throat. She was surprised to now find herself at the front of the line. With a small, apologetic smile, she pushed her cart forward and ran at the barrier.

Following the brief moment of seeming displacement as she 'melted' through the wall, she found herself back in the bustle of Saturday afternoon London. She took a deep breath and smiled, loving the atmosphere of hundreds of people on the platform, all rushing to their destinations, but still maintaining that polite, very British demeanour – apologising when they bumped into each other and such.

Hermione pushed her cart through to the grand lobby area of the old station. Her parents had owled her that they would meet her by the newsstand there. As she approached, she stood on her tiptoes, trying to see above the crowd and spot her Mum and Dad. Finally there was a shift in the thousands of bodies in front of her and the tall, handsome body and face of her father came into view. She smiled happily, a smile that froze when the shift of the crowd brought another tall body, but definitely not so handsome face into the picture. 'Is that Professor Snape?' Hermione thought incredulously. She quickened her pace, becoming even more worried when Professor McGonagall was revealed to be standing next to her mother. It was not until she was a mere ten feet away from the odd group that she noticed the presence of Draco Malfoy.

"Hermione!" her mother called as soon as she spotted her daughter. Hermione's looks had all come from her mother, Victoria. She had once overheard her father complain to her mother that he found it very difficult to deny Hermione anything, or even discipline her for wrongdoing when it was Victoria's face in front of him with a pleading or contrite expression. He was finding it more difficult the older she got and the more her face became exactly like her mother's. As Hermione got older, she also learned when to use this information best to her advantage – usually while out shopping for books or when pleading to be allowed to spend the night at a friend's house.

Hermione was engulfed in a double hug from her parents. She greeted them happily, once again content in her parents' arms. A part of her worried for a second as to how much longer she would be able to bask in this parental love – the war was heating up and she would have to talk to her Mum and Dad about it soon. Their safety was her top priority. Which brought her back to, why were her professors and her tormentor-in-chief standing here too?

"How was your trip, Love?" Doctor Charles Granger asked.

"It was okay," Hermione replied. In fact it had been rather trying. She was not comfortable being around Ron at the moment. He kept pushing his 'relationship' with Lavender Brown in Hermione's face and today, she really just did not want to deal with it. She had spent most of the ride sitting with Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood, just reading and chatting. She would have spent time with Harry if he had not spent the entire ride with Ron, but he was also getting on her nerves what with his constant theorising about what Malfoy was up to, along with that stupid book...

"I guess you know everyone here," Doctor Victoria Granger commented, gesturing to the other three members of their little cluster.

"Yes, good afternoon Professors," Hermione said politely. "Malfoy," she acknowledged; a slight insolent tone to her voice. Professor McGonagall returned her spoken greeting, Professor Snape simply nodded. Malfoy did not acknowledge her greeting at all until a sharp nudge from Professor Snape garnered a curt "Granger", from his lips.

"Perhaps we should return to your home, Doctor Granger," Professor Snape said to Charles. "It is unwise to stay in the open for too long, someone may come to investigate Draco's whereabouts."

"Of course, we can leave immediately," Charles replied. The group was guided to a small waiting room off the main lobby by Professor McGonagall.

Hermione was starting to feel a little nervous. As soon as they were in the room, Hermione whipped her wand out of her sleeve and pointed it at turns between all the occupants. "Identify yourselves," she demanded. Her parents came close to her and whispered in her ear the pet name she had been called since she was a toddler. This routine had been established during the previous summer in line with the guidelines set out by the Ministry and they understood why Hermione might be uneasy right now. They had been involved in this little endeavour for the last several days, and Professor Dumbledore had warned them their daughter might react like this.

Professor McGonagall puffed up with pride at her student's order. It would be unlike Hermione not to question them before she allowed them to take her anywhere. She too bent forward and whispered the comment she had written on Hermione's latest Transfiguration essay. Once Hermione was satisfied that she, too, was indeed who she appeared to be, the Professor went to stand next to the Grangers. It left Professor Snape and Malfoy standing, staring at the brunette Witch.

"Do you really think you would still be in one piece, Miss Granger, if in fact I wished you harm?" Professor Snape sneered.

"Perhaps you are trying to lull me into a false sense of security, Sir," Hermione retorted.

"Put your wand away, Silly Girl," the Professor commanded sharply.

"Not until I am satisfied you are who you say you are," Hermione persisted.

"Do you believe Professor McGonagall would not have confirmed my identity already?" Professor Snape asked snidely.

"That theory is peppered with holes, Sir," Hermione replied. Her wand was still levelled at the professor. "You may have managed to pass her security questions. You may have placed her under the Imperius curse. It is doubtful, but she may have taken you purely on your word. You have not demonstrated to me, that you are in fact Professor Snape, beyond your mannerisms and remarks."

Professor Snape narrowed his eyes at the diminutive Witch. "We have no security questions between us, Miss Granger. Just how do you propose I satisfy your criteria to prove my identity?" he drawled.

Hermione's eyes glinted with mischievousness. Professor McGonagall's answer gave her an idea. "Please relate the comment you wrote on my final Potions homework essay at the end of last year." Professor Snape's eyes widened fractionally and for a moment, Hermione fancied she saw a flash of annoyed dismay cross his face. She knew it was him now, but the opportunity to have him say this aloud was too good to pass up. "Sir?" she prompted.

Professor Snape's jaw clenched fleetingly, before he closed his eyes and seethed: "It has only taken five years for you to desist on regurgitating the words of others, and finally inject your own thoughts and theories into your work. Your conclusion is correct and is one of only two in the class to reach it. Grade: Outstanding," he quoted.

Hermione smirked in triumph before turning her wand on Malfoy, the last person in the room to still have his identity unconfirmed. He merely looked at her in indifference. "Well?" she asked.

"Well what?" Malfoy taunted.

"Third year, just before the Gryffindor/Slytherin quidditch match, you were boasting about what your father would do to Hagrid, what was my response?" she asked, smirk still firmly in place. She was rewarded with Malfoy's demeanour paling and a scowl forming on his features.

"You wouldn't dare," he snarled.

"Oh yes I would," she growled back. The pair stared at each other for several seconds, neither willing to back down. Like she had realised with Professor Snape, she had no doubt that this truly was Malfoy, but she was enjoying his discomfort at having to admit something he would prefer to keep quiet. He mumbled something under his breath. "Sorry?" she replied loudly. "I didn't quite catch that."

"You punched me in the face," he gritted out through his teeth.

For a moment Hermione considered making him repeat what she had called him, but she felt that might be pushing her luck. She would likely be hexed over it. And now that she was satisfied that everyone was in fact who they said they were; she was burning with desire to know just what was going on. She put her wand away as Professor McGonagall produced a flatware plate from her robes. She held it out for everyone to grasp – 'obviously a portkey,' Hermione thought, reaching out to grab hold.

"Hang on," Malfoy called. "She hasn't identified herself yet," he argued, pointing at Hermione.

Professor Snape pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Draco, I wish for this infernal day to be over. You know very well that this is Miss Granger, stop stalling and get over here so we can leave."

"Not until I am convinced she is who she says she is," Malfoy responded stubbornly. Professor Snape muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like 'Teenagers!'

Charles looked between the two young people. "He's right, Hermione. You insisted that Draco identify himself to you, you should return the courtesy," he instructed. He looked at Malfoy, encouraging him to ask his question.

Malfoy thought for a few seconds before a devious grin stole over his mouth. "Second year, just after Christmas, I was in the Hospital Wing getting treated for a cold and there was a curtained off bed right at the end with a little sign reading "Hermione Granger". Being concerned at what might have befallen my year-mate," sarcasm was fairly dripping from his tone as he said this, "I peeked in. What did I see?"

"No, no there is no way you saw that," Hermione argued, her eyes wide with horror at the thought of her nemesis holding this sort of information. "You couldn't possibly know that and not have shouted it to the entire castle!"

"I may have been sworn to secrecy by the two professors here, and Madam Pomfrey. Consequently, I can reveal my knowledge since everyone here knows it anyway." Malfoy's smugness irked her. "What did I see?" he repeated.

"A cat," she spat at him.

"More details, please."

"Fine, you saw me having been turned into a cat," Hermione elaborated.

Hermione's parents sported small smiles. They had been shown photographs by Professor McGonagall of their daughter's plight. Until then, they had had difficulty in grasping the situation. Professor McGonagall had assured them that Hermione would suffer no permanent damage; she just had to wait three weeks for the correct antidote to be brewed. Victoria and Charles had had a wonderful time that summer gently teasing their daughter about it.

Malfoy now moved to also grasp the plate that Professor McGonagall was holding, his moment of fun over. The six people in the waiting room disappeared as the portkey was activated, along with their luggage and one very disgruntled half-kneazle. They materialised moments later in the dining room of the Granger's terraced residence in London.

Thank you for reading. Reviews are welcome. Another update will be coming soon...