Disclaimer: I don't own HP, just this plot. :)
A/N: An HP Chirstmas story for my Malfoy (the other stories are in my profile – obviously) series! Enjoy! :D
Christmases at the Manor were large and extravagant affairs. A grand ball would be held on the 24th, with the crème de la crème of the pureblood wizarding world in full attendance. There would be a mountain of presents for the hosts, guests trying to outdo each other in expressing their own family's affluence. The tables would be overflowing with food, the house elves' best dishes on display. Musicians would be hired, of course – the elite loved their dancing. The party would last into dawn and in the morning, after brunch on Christmas day itself, the Malfoys would proceed to their Christmas tree, the mountain of presents waiting to be conquered.
After the second War, Malfoy Christmases seemed to have lost a bit of their sheen. Personally, Mr. Malfoy didn't mind. He always thought there was something wrong with the way they spent the holiday – something superficial about it all. Christmas at the Manor was always a bit colder than at Hogwarts, a bit too shiny and impersonal for his taste.
When he was a child, Draco prized his presents the most. As an adolescent, all he wished for was peace and the feeling of safety within their household. Now, as a grown up man, he found himself wanting nothing but happiness for the most important person in his life.
"Father!" said the blonde-haired thirteen year old coming up to him. "Why aren't you in the ballroom?"
"I felt a bit light-headed. I needed to rest," he explained, patting the younger Malfoy's head.
"Well Mother's looking for you. She said you haven't said hello to some of the guests yet."
"Tell her I will be there shortly. There is something I must attend to first."
He watched his son walk away and Draco thought with certainty, I can and will never hurt him. I love him the most.
***
"Malfoy."
"Granger."
It was funny how – even after all these years – he still referred to her by her maiden name. He wasn't quite sure why. Perhaps it was because in his eyes, she would always be Hermione Granger, the muggleborn know-it-all, the one he had spent seven of his growing-up years with. Or perhaps it was the independent aura she gave off, one that suggested she needed no man to complete or fulfill her. Hermione had always been so self-sufficient. Then again, it could also be out of force of habit. Draco was a changed man but there were some things he found hard to let go. Calling her 'Granger' could be one of them. Of course, there was always the fact that when he fell in-love with her, she wasn't quite married yet.
"Seventeen years," she said ruefully.
"Seventeen," he replied evenly.
"It's a pretty long time."
"Quite."
"It's a pretty long time to stay in-love with someone."
"I never knew I had it in me," he chuckled.
"Nor did I."
Hermione proceeded to walk among the tombstones and Draco followed quietly behind her.
"You've done well for yourself. Congratulations. I'm proud of you. I don't think I ever got to tell you that," she said warmly, turning around to face him.
"Thank you. I take it you've done well yourself. Of course, we always knew you would. Know-it-all."
"Git. But thank you nonetheless."
"Would you like to sit?" he asked, pointing to 'their' bench. Hermione nodded with a smile and both made themselves comfortable.
"How is your wife?"
"She is well."
"That's good."
Draco glanced at the former Gryffindor and said, "Why do you ask? I thought you'd already know how she is. You've seen her recently, after all."
"Still can't hide anything from you, I see," Hermione replied with a little laugh.
"I figured she would come see you. I'm sorry for any inconvenience it might have cost."
"It was no big deal. I kind of welcomed it in the end."
"Why?"
"She gave me the ring." The brunette smiled for a moment before proceeding, "What was it for?"
"I think you're smart enough to figure that one out, Granger," he smirked.
"Of course. What I can't figure out is why it reached me fifteen years too – ah – late."
"Fate."
"You believe in it?"
"There's no other way to explain why we're here now."
For a while, the couple reveled in their silence. Draco could not help but smile at the way things had always felt so right with him and Hermione Granger. It was amazing, the way they could be completely silent with each other but still know how the other felt or what the other was thinking about. They were always so good with one-liners, simple statements that held, for them, the whole world. She knew him and he knew her. They were strange in that way.
"Things are not as well as they seem to be," he said with a slight frown.
"I could tell. Why?"
The years prior and immediately following the War were difficult for the Malfoys. They were, quite literally, caught in between. As an old pureblood family, they were looked upon greatly by wizards everywhere. They were rich and powerful, with influence extending to both the good and bad side. When the War broke, everyone expected them to follow the Dark Lord. It was in their blood. Halfway through it all, something changed and they withdrew into the light. Theirs was an act that few understood. Their old friends saw them as traitors who turned their backs on the Lord they had sworn to serve. Their former enemies saw them as just that – enemies. No one seemed to trust them anymore, on either side. It stretched on for a few more years until people everywhere finally picked up all the pieces. When this was done and everyone had finally let go, it was only then that the Malfoy family saw themselves finally rising from the ashes.
Draco Malfoy, the former Slytherin bad boy, found himself working in the Ministry of Magic as a governor like his father. It took him a few years to get there but he prided himself in having worked for his position – something Lucius Malfory never did. Most of his money was invested in the United States and other countries outside Britain. At the time that the investments were made, the Malfoy name remained to be a pariah. Still, everything seemed to be working out for Draco and his family. They found themselves welcomed and loved by society, maintaining a lifestyle close if not at par with the other Malfoys before them.
"I am losing."
"Losing?"
"Money – a lot of it actually," he said quietly.
"Is that even possible? For a Malfoy, I mean."
"Times have changed Granger, remember that," he smiled sadly.
"Yes but – "
"My investments, they're all offshore. With the recession the States is experiencing – well, let's just say it could put a huge dent in our Gringotts account."
Hermione made a face, one that showed just how much she doubted his previous statement. The woman knew him far too well for her own good.
"You're not telling me everything," she said at last.
"Smart."
"Losing money because of the economic recession? You're richer than the queen, Malfoy! There's got to be some other reason."
"My money, most of it is invested in finding a cure."
"A cure?"
"I'm sick, Granger."
Wordlessly, Hermione took his hand. Her small act of comfort both surprised and pleased him. In the years they had known each other, never had they had any intimate form of contact. To have her smooth tiny hand over his in a way that could only be described as comforting made his heart swell with the love he'd been harboring for her all these years. It was a small thing, really, but coming from her, it was worth so mcuh more.
Draco sighed as the brown-haired woman beside him let go of his hand at last.
"I have to go now," she said in a whisper. "My family – they're waiting for me. Looking for me probably."
"Don't let me keep you," he replied. "I never could. Even if you were – are – the only one – "
"Ssshhh."
Hermione stood on her toes and lightly placed her lips on his. "Don't. It will turn out fine in the end."
"Thank you."
"Why?"
"For still being here for me."
"Back at you, Malfoy," she said with a small grin.
"It was nice seeing you again, you know."
"Ten years – I never imagined we'd be where we are."
Hermione turned to walk away from him when her own personal curiosity got the better of her.
"But – before I go, I have to ask."
"Yeah?"
"Where are we? In the scheme of things, I mean."
"I don't know," he replied sadly.
"You don't?"
"But I know I could never hurt my son."
"Nor could I, come to think of it."
They stared at each other for a while, weary smiles on their lips. It was sad, the way things could have been different if only they had made different choices. If the time had been better, if they hadn't started out on different sides, then maybe, just maybe things wouldn't have been so difficult. Hell, things would have been easier if they hadn't come to this place at the same in the first place.
Yet no amount of 'what ifs' or 'maybes' could change the fact that they were where they were, in the middle of a graveyard on Christmas Eve, wishing that they could spend Christmas every year with the person in front of them. In their heart of hearts, they knew, of course, that they couldn't. He was Mr. Malfoy and she was Mrs. Weasley and that was the way things would always – perhaps – be.
"Draco."
"Hermione."
"Happy Christmas."
"Happy Christmas."
They turned around at the same time to apparate to the places they now called home.
***
"Draco, where've you been? I've been looking all over for you!" his wife said, tugging at his cloak. "The guests are almost gone! You should have told me you were feeling a bit ill, I could have made you a potion of some sort."
Astoria Malfoy glanced upward at her husband and saw something sticking out from behind his ear.
"Love, there's something in your hair! A leaf or insect – "
"It's from the graveyard," Draco replied quietly.
Graveyard. Afternoon walks. Hermione Granger. Seventeen years ago. War. Falling in love. Ring. Insctiption. DM and HG. Forever.
All of a sudden, Mrs. Malfoy felt all the Christmas spirit drain away from her.
A/N: Well, I'm not so sure if this was any good. I HOPE it was. Haha. Review? :)