Prologue

Hermione managed to find a feeling of sequestered security within the walls of her father's den that, conveniently and not surprisingly, had soundproof walls. The Granger women were notoriously boisterous.

Not that silence couldn't have been stirred to life by magic, but additionally, everyone knew to keep out of Adam Granger's den. It was sort of his sanctuary, sometimes his prison, but it was the only time he felt calm in a house full of relatives that were noisy and chaotic more often than not. Especially during the holidays.

She sighed, rearranging her paperwork in front of her, spreading and reorganizing it to her liking before a sense of warmth and laziness enveloped her, pausing her busy-bee ambition.

Hermione thought of how nicely the dark wood den contrasted to the hectic, tinsel-embroidered holiday decorating bonanza going on inside the house as she tapped the Ministry of Magic parchment logo with the tip of her dry quill.

Running a hand through her hair, she was just about to return to her case files when her telephone jingled in a high-pitched electronic tune.

"What do you want?" she immediately frowned, having glanced at the caller before flipping open the phone. "You promised me Christmas break off from you and that includes calling me. That was my bonus."

"Oh, shut up," the voice on the other end dismissed carelessly. "You really need a manual to finally remove that stick from your arse, don't you?"

"Oh, I don't know, if you could walk me through it, perhaps after I could find a nice replacement home for it," Hermione retaliated, tapping her quill tip against the parchment furiously now, making visible dents.

"We have a situation," the voice reported, a bit solemnly, "and Lucas expects us to take care of it."

"But I'm on my break," Hermione pouted, half to herself and half to the caller. "You did remind him that we have lives aside from our jobs. Vacations we love."

"Yes, I reminded him you were a selfish tight ass," the caller snapped, causing Hermione to drop her quill in annoyance. "But he said this was serious, and having read Lucas' owl, I completely agree."

"What is it? And make it fast; you're keeping me from oodles of jovial Christmas celebration," she sighed, leaning back against her chair as she closed the folder full of files marked 'work for home.'

"Hold on, then, I'll be right over."

"What? No," Hermione rushed to answer. "I'm at my parents' house. Plus—just don't come over. I can handle it over the phone."

There was a pause on the other end before the entire room flashed, followed by a resounding crack as a figure appeared in front of Hermione's desk, silhouetted against the light.

"Malfoy, goddamn it," she muttered, "I told you to tell me over the phone."

He smirked. "I know. Anyway," he continued, despite her growl, "Christmas seems to be in jeopardy this year and from the looks of your jovial celebration—" he looked around with an eyebrow raise, "—I can see how you will probably not be affected the least bit. But the Ministry's worried about the impact it'll have on the Muggle world, the Muggle kids, but importantly, the Wizarding world. It's—it's really quite phenomenal that this would even happen, I mean who knew…"

"Malfoy, what the hell are you talking about?"

He expelled a breath. "We just got an owl from up north for our monthly stat report and…"

"And?"

"And don't be too expectant of those presents under the tree this year," Draco raised his eyebrows in solemn resignation. "The elves are revolting against Santa Claus."

Hermione's mouth dropped open, followed by an eyebrow quirking in disbelieving shock. "What?"

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Author's Note:

I really, really love this one. Stay tuned, kids.

Beach.