Snow had fallen on Hogwarts, creating a white blanket of wonder. Ice crystals hung from the castle turrets, glistening like glittered cones. Birds chirped on occasion, as if creating their own form of Christmas music. For Hermione Granger, it was bliss. Freedom—from everything. Silence.
Hermione had awoken that Christmas day to find the castle blanketed, slumbering in peace. Arising from her bed, she threw off her red and gold covers and immediately bundled up. Opportunities of peace and comfort rarely came in these days of war. Grabbing a quick bite from the Great Hall, she wandered outside. Ahhh, she thought, finally, a moment for me.
Suddenly, a snowball soared through the air. With a graceful arc, the snow reacted to gravity and moved down, landing itself in Hermione's bushy hair.
"Ow!" Hermione exclaimed out of shock. Her hands automatically went to her hair, attempting to brush the snow out of it. "Who did that?" Turning around slowly, her heart plummeted. So much for peace. A young man leaned against a tree insolently, smirking as he brushed the snow off his hands.
"What do you want, Malfoy? If you can't see, Im busy."
"Now, now, Granger. Where are your manners? Oh, yes, I forgot, little mudbloods like you haven't really been taught proper decorum. Well, I suppose I could expect as much," were the words that came from the beautiful aristocrat's mouth. The mouth arced gracefully, forming a perfected smirk – from years of use and practice, no doubt.
Hermione watched his red mouth, fascinated. Such a beautiful mouth, ruined by ugly words. "Well, I hate to inform you, Malfoy," She spat out his name with such venom the boy almost blinked – almost, Malfoys were always poised – "But you were the one to start this tête-à-tête. So unless you have a reason for this conversation, I suggest you sod off."
The boy smiled, a real smile. Hermione frowned in confusion. She had never seen the boy smile before, really smile. Yes, smirks, and yes, snarls, but never a real smile. The boy saw the direction her eyes were looking at, and his gray eyes twinkled, turning an ice-silver, matching the icicles on the castle perfectly. "Well, Granger, to be honest, I have a little… information, I suppose, that may help out Pothead. But if you really feel that my presence is too painful for you to bear, I suppose I could just leave and let the Death Eaters have their fun with him…" Turning around gracefully, Hermione watched the boy's blond hair move towards the castle doors.
"Wait!" Hermione shouted, running towards him. Grabbing his arm, she turned him around and looked directly into his eyes. "What is it that you have to tell me?"
Draco's eyes looked intently at Hermione- so much that she almost felt the heat between them. He looked warily around them, muttering "silencontineo." A transparent bubble surrounded the two of them; now no one could hear them speaking. Grabbing her arm, Draco began speaking rapidly, intently. "The Dark Lord has figured out that Potter's been going after the Horcruxes. He's set up an ambush for the next horcrux Potter's after, tonight. Most of the Death Eaters will be there. You have to tell him, Hermione, as soon as possible, or else…The Boy Who Lived won't be alive for much longer. And that would be too dreadfully ironic."
Hermione's lips formed a perfect "O". Now, it was the boy's turn to look at her lips in fascination. So beautiful, so much like the girl in front of him. Suddenly, his brain (treacherous glob of jello as it was) snapped back into attention, focusing on the girl's reply.
"Why are you telling me this?" was the reply from the girl's mouth.
Draco forced himself not to roll his eyes. Of course the Gryffindor Princess wasn't about to take the advice of the boy who helped kill Dumbledore. One little mistake…
"Hermione," the boy paused, surprised at how easily her name came out of his mouth, "I've killed before. There's no glory in it, no purpose. Murderers- that's all the Death Eaters are. This Christmas," he paused again, considering his words, "I was left here to lure you into a trap. One third of the trio, left all alone at Hogwarts because her parents are dead and her friends are off fighting! But Im sick of this war. There's no point. All of Voldemort's followers have been tricked into thinking that blood differs." Draco glanced at Hermione's finger, where she had a slight cut. "That doesn't look muddy to me. And I can't fight for a cause I find stupid."
" Thank you," Hermione breathed, reeling from Draco's revelation. She hesitated, unsure of whether to say the word she wanted to.
"You're welcome," the boy replied. Taking her head softly between his hands, he bent his head and kissed her head. "Happy Christmas, Granger."
With a twirl of his robes, he was gone, leaving a stunned Hermione Granger staring after him.