The annual Ministry Christmas ball was coming up quickly. The closer it became, the more excited everyone got. Thankfully, Hermione knew better. She'd been working in her department for nearly five years, so she had already gone to the event for four years running. This year, however, she had been particularly swamped with paperwork and had decided not to go.
Of course, as per usual every year, exactly twelve days before the party was set to take place everyone participated in the "Secret Santa" exchange. Well, more like forced, really. This year was no different. Hermione had drawn none other than her own boss, Draco Malfoy. To be honest, she was glad in a weird sort of way. She saw how people looked at him when he was in the same room; how they put their heads together and whispered about him as he walked by. She may not've known him on any sort of a personal level, but she knew he wasn't an idiot; he wasn't blind and he certainly wasn't deaf.
The change in his attitude from before the war was startling. Hermione had gotten the chance to be one of his favorite people to torment throughout grade school. He had been all about pureblood supremacy back in those days, and he took great pleasure in putting those who were below his opinion of supreme "back in their place". Hermione carried a burning hatred for him for a long time afterward because of the namecalling and harassment that he and his friends - if one would even call them that - bestowed upon her. Her, the muggleborn Gryffindor princess, brightest witch of their age and top of their class.
Now, instead of sneering down at her and looking at her as if she were no better than a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe, he would be nothing less than polite. His eyes were always the focal point to his expressions, and they shone with an honesty and sincerity that hadn't always been there. Instead of cracking rude, sarcastic remarks every time she was within hearing range, he would sometimes engage her in thoughtful and stimulating conversation. Hermione would be lying if she said that she wasn't enjoying, even if just slightly, the change. He was something close to a friend these days.
So, as stated before, she was glad. She had a feeling that, had someone else drawn his name they'd either blow it off completely or send him insulting notes or something else of the like. The thought made her blood boil and churn dangerously. Why couldn't people see that he's different from who he used to be? If he wasn't, Hermione was positive that she would have hexed him into oblivion by now.
And besides all of that, enough people made him and his family suffer. The Malfoy name was tainted; no one saw him as anything but the son of an ex-Death Eater or the "evil" arch-nemisis of Harry Potter. The funny thing about that last one was that the two hadn't even seen each other since the war had ended; Harry and Ron had jumped right into Auror positions and he had begun his Ministry of Magic work. Draco worked his way up to the head of his department fair and square - Hermione would know; she had been there at that time, too.
She was a witness to all of the overtime he put into it; all of the extra work he took on. One of his most admirable qualities, Hermione had to admit, was his ambitious attitude toward situations. Granted, Slytherins are usually known for that personality trait, among many others, but that didn't really mean anything to Hermione. The fact was that Draco Malfoy fought tooth and nail to get that position. The free ride he had gotten from his father's fortune onto the Slytherin Quidditch team in grade school just wouldn't cut it. This was the real world, and they were adults now. Not only would settling for bribery not get him anything, but it would give people another thing to talk about. Merlin knew they had enough of that.
So Hermione, needless to say, was not only glad to be Draco's Secret Santa, she was excited.
OoOoO
Hermione's first gift was easy enough to decide. All throughout their school career, Draco had been close to her as far as grades went. It was a commendable effort on his part, really, to try to compete with her, but she always managed to do just better than him at everything. The only subject he had ever had any hope of beating her in was Potions.
It was the only thing that Hermione had to study extra hard at. She vividly remembered those sessions in the library, her back aching from being crouched over multiple books about potionmaking and how to concoct certain brews, her eyes strained and dry from reading page after page of them, and her brain feeling overloaded with instructions and steps to many, many different potions. The long hours she put into those studies paid off, of course, but barely. Potionmaking came as naturally to him as breathing, and the two of them quickly began a rivalry of their own to see who would turn out to be the top of the class that year. Always, always it was her, but he was never too far behind. Only a few points separated their final grades each and every year.
So, to Hermione, it only made sense to give him this particular present. She had seen it when out shopping one day and couldn't refuse it; it was meant for him. She wrapped it in silver wrapping paper with a green velvet ribbon - yes, Slytherin colors - tied in a neat bow on top. A crisp envelope was strategically placed behind the bow, but it was still easily visible. Hermione hoped upon hope that he would like it.
She placed the rectangular package in front of his office door and waited just around the corner for him to arrive. When he finally reached his door, he dug around in his pockets for the key to the locked door handle, as he did each and every morning first thing. A nice flick of the wand and a simple "Alohomora" would've been nice, but there were enchantments placed upon all of the locks to make sure that people couldn't break into their offices and steal or copy information after the war ended. An idea, in fact, that had been posed by Mr. Malfoy himself. But that was besides the point.
Hermione peeped her head around the corner to see him produce a key ring from one of his black suit pockets. He flipped past each until he found the correct one. Hermione furrowed her brows in confusion, her coffee colored eyes narrowed slightly as he fiddled with it to fit into the keyhole. Hadn't he noticed her present yet? Because judging from the way he was acting, obviously not. He dropped the keys just before getting it into the lock. He swore under his breath and bent to pick them up when he finally saw the gift. He looked left and right, his gray orbs curious and suspicious, before cautiously picking it up. Hermione held her breath.
Draco held it up to his ear and gently shook it. Apparently relieved by the sound he got - or rather, the lack thereof, Hermione thought - from it, he reached first for the letter. He shifted the shiny wrapped item in his arms and set his briefcase down. Hermione watched him carefully break the seal on the envelope and pull out the letter. His eyes flitted quickly over the words, but Hermione didn't need the parchment to know what it said; she had re-written it plenty of times until deciding on something simple.
Dear Draco,
It seems that I got you this year for the Ministry of Magic's "Secret Santa" exchange, and when I saw this I thought of you. I hope you like it. Happy early Christmas!
Best wishes,
Your Secret Santa
Draco's eyebrows knitted together, an inquisitive expression on his face as he reached for the ends of the bow. He pulled them loose slowly, letting the ribbon drop to the floor before his long, pale fingers moved to the edges of the wrapping. He tore it off reluctantly, and when the silver paper finally fell to join the ribbon at his feet, his expression had changed. Not to glee or ecstacy or even disappointment, no. It was the most peculiar things Hermione had ever seen.
The corners of his lips upturned into the smallest of smiles and his eyes shone with wonderment as he stared at the object in his hands: a thick book with a soft, deep blue velvety cover sat in his palms, the golden letters written prettily across the front and spine sparkling softly in the light, spelling out the title, The Most Complete Guide to Advanced Potionmaking, in an elegant cursive script. She smiled to herself, quietly sighing in relief, and walked to her own office, leaving an awestruck Draco Malfoy in her wake.
OoOoO
Hermione returned early from her lunch break. There was just so much to do! Everyone was scrambling around to buy last minute presents, and that left her department over their heads with paperwork. The branch of the Ministry her department helped with was public finances among other things, so they had a lot of work starting to stack up.
She came up to her office and stood in front of a medium shade of brown-stained wooden door with silver letters embossed in the center that bore her name, department, and position and a simple polished silver lock as she dug around in her small black purse for her keys. She located them after a short while and fished them out. She held the key toward the lock and it sprang to life. It transfigured itself into a much tinier version of her own head. Hermione was proud to say that at the same meeting that Draco had thrown out locks and keys, she came up with the idea of the lock transforming into the owner of the office. The trick to getting the door unlocked was achieved through a few things: one, a witch or wizard's magical signature; two, a spell that allows the lock to efficiently check for Polyjuice potion or any other means of a transformation that makes one appear as someone else; and three, an extremely effective mind-reading spell that goes through each and every childhood memory. If the lock discovered any of those three were different - or, in the case of number two, fake - then it would alert the ministry immediately and a spell would be put on the intruder that would freeze them in place until the help arrived. The only people that the lock allowed into the office besides its owner were their boss (on any occasion) or a co-worker, if the need were urgent or important. It was one of her more brilliant ideas, she had to admit.
Lock-Hermione blinked and looked around before her eyes zeroed in on real Hermione. "Good afternoon!" the lock said, smiling cheerfully, her silver eyes roving over Hermione from head to toe. "Wonderful day, today, isn't it?"
"Oh yes, of course." Hermione agreed. "Lunch was great."
"Really? Whatever did you eat?"
"A nice bowl of pasta," Hermione replied, "but I'm sure you already knew that."
"Indeed." The lock-Hermione said, bowing her head in acknowledgement. "Very well. Key please?" Hermione held it in front of her face. "Thank you, Hermione! Have a nice day." And with that, she changed back into a round lock. Hermione put the key into the slot and turned it, unlocking the door, and stepped inside. She hung her coat on the rack and went over to her large mahogony desk to sit down. She stopped dead in her tracks when she noticed a gorgeous tall, slender crystal vase that contained a single beautiful flower in it sitting on the polished desktop. She inches her way over to it and picked up the note that was placed beside it.
Dear Hermione,
Were you surprised at all when you saw my gift? It was something I saw today while out for a bit of lunch and I pictured how nicely it suited you. The florist allowed me to pick one out as I saw fit based on the descriptions. Since I knew about your love of reading, I didn't particularly think you'd mind. Attatched to the flower is a tag with its name on it. Happy reading!
Sincerely,
Your Secret Santa
Hermione narrowed her eyes at the letter, trying to place a name to the handwriting, but it was no use; the person who wrote it must have used a spell that made their writing look different. The only reason Hermione guessed that was because she had used one on her own gift, that way Draco wouldn't discover her right off the bat. Sadly, there were multiple spells that were good for that purpose, so she didn't even try to use a counter-charm on it. Hermione had even gone so far as to put a spell lock on hers, so she had no doubt that they had done that, too. She set the letter down and began inspecting the flower.
It had a thin green stalk that held up a head colored a deep shade of blue with its petals splayed out prettily about it. Hermione looked at the name. Blue Annul Salvia. Hermione went around her desk and sat down, pulling out her wand and murmuring a spell that conjured up a book of flower meanings from the Hogwarts library. It wasn't too big of a deal because she'd return it as soon as she was finished; she always did. It was an older book; the spine was beginning to crack and the cover was old and worn from use over the years, but it would do. She could read the title, which was still faintly visible (some parts were worn away, but Hermione was good at guessing when it came to things like that since she'd checked out so many books in conditions similar to, if not more extreme, that one so it was easy for her to put two and two together): The Complete Guide to Flowers.
She turned to the section of S flowers. She ran her finger down the edge of the crumbling pages out of habit, turning them periodically, her eyes scanning over the names until she reached Sylvia, Blue Annul. She tapped the name with her index finger and skimmed past the information, stopping at the meaning. Written across the yellowed, aged paper in faded black lettering were the words, I think of you. She stared at the page in utter shock.
"Who-?" Just as she was about to speak the question at the front of her mind aloud, her office door opened. Hermione pulled herself from her thoughts and unceremoniously shoved the book into a desk drawer. A tall man with high cheekbones and a curved jaw walked into her office, his blonde hair gelled back to sleek, shiny perfection. His suit was a dark shade of gray, and Hermione hadn't paid enough attention earlier to notice that it looked quite nice on him. It was fitted to his broad shoulders and had a stylish cut. He looked very professional with his sleek black shoes and slacks the exact color of his jacket, with a black tie around his neck. He stood in the open doorway, seemingly unsure of himself. "Good afternoon, Mr. Malfoy!" Hermione said brightly. "If you have a moment, you can come in."
"Thank you, Ms. Granger." Draco replied politely, walking onto the threshold of her office and closing the door firmly behind himself. He glanced at the vase before her but made no query.
"What brings you to my office?" she inquired curiously, gesturing toward the two chairs in front of her desk.
He sat down in one with a sigh, his stiff, business-like demeanor melting away as it always did when he was with Hermione. "Work's been rough, hasn't it?"
Hermione nodded and reclined in her chair, letting out a long sigh. "It's because of the season."
"I know." He said, leaning back and closing his eyes. It was only then when Hermione noticed the disturbingly dark circles under his bloodshot eyes contrasting with his pale skin and the small amount of stubble on his chin. He looked like he was ready to drift off at any moment.
"Sweet Merlin, Draco!" Hermione exclaimed in alarm, leaning across her desk to get a better look. "How much sleep have you been getting lately?"
"Enough." He answered softly. Hermione shook her head and made her way around the desk to sit in the other chair beside him. She took one of his hands in her own, ignoring how warm it was and how much larger it was than her own. Draco cracked open a surprised eye to look at her.
"Don't lie to me." She warned him quietly. He was sitting up now, all of a sudden wide awake. He didn't pull his hand away. "How many?"
He blinked. "Sorry, what?"
"How many cases have you worked?"
"Look, I really don't think it's necessary to-"
"Stop trying to get off the hook, Malfoy." Hermione snapped impatiently, interrupting him. She had stunned him to silence as his surname rolled off her lips. It had been a while since she'd addressed him by that. "How many?"
He groaned and reclined in the chair again, staring at the ceiling. "Four-hundred twenty-three." he said after a moment, his voice barely above a whisper.
"This week?" Hermione asked disbelievingly. She could barely get through one-hundred in a day! There was no way she could get that many cases done in only five days. He tentatively shook his head. "Today?" Hermione squeaked. He nodded slightly.
"Mhm..." He was beginning to nod off again, so Hermione let the subject drop and transfigured his chair into a couch. Draco felt the sudden change and began sitting up, blinking blearily. "I need to get back to my office to work." He said. Hermione would have nothing of it.
"You're done with work for today." She stated firmly, letting go of his hand and gently pushing him back down onto the pillow she conjured up.
"But-"
"No 'but's. Sleep." She draped a blanket over his body.
His eyes began to slide closed and Hermione moved to sit back at her desk. "Please..." she froze and turned to see him staring tiredly at her. "Stay."
Hermione gave him a warm smile, ignoring the blush settling into her cheeks and sitting back down beside him. "Okay," she whispered, scooting her chair closer to his and picking up his hand again. "I'm here." He nodded, his eyelids shuttering closed. As his breathing began to even out, Hermione found herself gazing at their clasped hands. To her surprise, his fingers slowly began to move, pushing their way through the cracks between her fingers until their hands were laced together. The somewhat intimate action momentarily distracted Hermione from finding out who her Secret Santa was.
But only momentarily.
OoOoO
Day two had come and gone faster than Hermione expected. She slipped herself under her sheets, her wet hair falling into her eyes, thinking about her day. She assumed that her present for Draco went over well; she had transfigured an old, dented piece of bronze into an elaborate, small dragon paperweight. With the help of a few other inchantments, she managed to animate it as well.
Speaking of gifts, she looked at the slim box sitting on her bedside table, sent by her own Secret Santa. It contained a simple silver bracelet with a clasp, embedded with tiny glittering diamonds. Though Hermione wasn't usually one to go for such blingy pieces of jewelry, there was something classic and pretty about it. It wasn't overwhelmingly flashy or anything like that, which was nice, and it was extremely light on her wrist. Admittedly, it was one of the most beautiful pieces of jewelry she had ever owned.
She pulled the chain on her lamp and the room grew dark, leaving her to her thoughts. She was growing curious as to who her Secret Santa was, and if he (she could tell by the handwriting, even with the spell) meant or even realized what messages the flowers represented. Truthfully, Hermione was flattered by it all and the air of mystery around it, but she couldn't think of anyone it could be. For some reason, Draco came to mind first.
Now, it was no secret that Hermione had slight feelings for her boss; or rather, not to her, at least. She wanted it to be him, but the chances of the two of them getting each other were slim. After all, everyone had to write their own names down and place them into a hat, drawing someone's name out one by one from the same hat after it had been shaken up. So, as badly as she wanted it, it positively couldn't be so.
It just couldn't.
OoOoO
Hermione's eyes fluttered open, blinking in the bright sunlight pouring in through her window. She rubbed her hands over her eyes and sat up, looking around the room in a haze. What was today, again? She couldn't remember. Shrugging, she turned to get out of bed when she saw her alarm clock. The black digital numbers stared up at her. 9:34. Two words popped into her mind at that instant: I'm dead. She was late for work and her alarm had clearly not gone off.
She threw her blankets off of herself and flung herself from the bed, tripping over the twisted sheets wound around her ankles. She fell to the wooden floorboards in an undignified, ungraceful manner, smacking her forehead on the cold, unforgiving surface with a dull thud. She swore in a very un-Hermione Granger like way as she pushed herself up and rubbed the smarting spot. That's when she remembered. Yesterday was Friday, her conscience reminded her. She glowered, scowling at nothing in particular, crossing her arms over her chest and agitatedly blowing a stray hair from her face. I couldn't have thought of that any sooner? She thought sarcastically. I just wasted precious sleeping time. She glanced up ar her bed and sighed forlornly. Looks like it's too late to go back to sleep now...
A thought suddenly jolted her and she was on her feet, rushing over to her desk, absently waving her wand behind her to make her bed. She usually didn't like resorting magic to do things because she didn't want to rely on it for everything, but today was different. She had an idea, and she needed to get to her ink pen and paper before she forgot it.
She pulled the chair out and sat, uncapping a blue ink ballpoint pen and setting out a piece of stationary in front of herself on the desk. She touched the tip to the paper and began to write.
Dear Draco,
I thought you might be needing this. Only three more days until the Christmas ball and the big reveal!
Best Wishes,
Your Secret Santa
She attatched a small crystal vial of dreamless sleeping draught wrapped in a small rectangular package to the sealed envelope after she had addressed it. She had to stop her hand just before she wrote the return address; she had to remind herself that if he knew that much, he would instantly know that it was she who was his Secret Santa.
She moved over to her bathroom and sat at the chair before the sink, pulling out her brush and running it through the shiny corkscrew curls spilling freely over her shoulders, a thoughtful expression on her face as she contemplated the prospects of the Christmas Ball. She still didn't want to go, it was just that...
The idea of what Draco would do when he discovered that she was his Secret Santa really sounded appealing. Hermione's heart jumped up into her throat and she fumbled with the brush for a second. Why is that so exciting? It's Draco Malfoy, for Merlin's sake! She put the brush down and splashed her face with water after her next thought: Is that really such a bad thing?
Suddenly, there was a tap on her bathroom window. Hermione walked over and opened it. A small gray owl flew off into the distance, leaving a long, thin rectangular package in its wake. A maroon ribbon was tied around it, forming a perfect bow on top. Hermione knew who it was from before she even looked at the tag. She reached out, picked it up, and closed the window behind her before making her way to her bedroom. She sat down and read the tag. Written in the same altered script as before, the tag read:
Dear Hermione,
I noticed that the one you use is getting a little dull, and when I saw this I thought you might like it. I'll be seeing you in three days!
Sincerely,
Your Secret Santa
Hermione opened the box, moved the tissue paper out of the way, and smiled slightly. There, settled amongst the brown tissue paper, was a new quill.
OoOoO
Hermione zipped up her dress and examined herself in her full body mirror in her bedroom. It was a sleek silk dress that hugged her trimmed waist and curves with a sweetheart neckline. The bodice had a beautiful black lace pattern that formed elegant roses and intricate vines around her bosom and went over her shoulders to serve as pretty straps, faintly glittering in the light when she moved. She turned a little to look at how the lace from the straps went down her shoulders and lined the edge of the dress in the back, which dipped down in a U-shaped curve and stopped at her lower back, showing off her soft skin. The skirt met the bottom of the bodice just above her hips and fell straight down, the bottom of it just skimming the floor. There was a slit on both sides of the skirt that stopped at her knees. She wore black peeptoe heels that showed a glimpse of her toes, painted the exact shade of her dress with black French tips. Her fingernails were done up the sames way.
When she had gone to the store the day before, she had originally intended to stick to her minimum dress budget. After all, she really hadn't wanted to go to the ball in the first place, only changing her mind under the influence of the air of mystery that encircled her Secret Santa. Hermione had poked around in multiple stores, admittedly too anxious to get it all over with to actually try anything on. Besides that, she hadn't found any dresses she liked by midday, and she was growing worried. That's when she saw the dress on a mannequin in a shop window. She hurried into the store and asked a saleswoman about it. She had informed Hermione that the dress was an original, a small detail that had greatly discouraged her. Just as she turned to leave, the woman ushered her into a fitting room and had her try it on, sure that Hermione would love it. She had been right, of course. The only thing about it that was swaying Hermione's final decision was the color. It may have seemed like a petty detail to many onlookers and probably the saleswoman as well, but it was still a slight problem. Eventually, Hermione gave in and bought it, though, as well as a few nice hairpieces to go with it and exited the store.
She still couldn't believe she had actually purchased it. It was exactly what she had been looking for as far as the style and cut went, but it was just so...
Green.
Not a gaudy shade like lime or pea green, nor the normal shade of green, no; it was a deep forest green. Truthfully, Hermione couldn't help but admit that she liked it, and it was the perfect color for the Christmas ball.
Hermione fingered the elegant twisted bun she had formed at the back of her head, running her fingers over the small black glittering pins thar held it in place and tucking a few stray hairs back into it and fixating them there with the help of some magical assistance. A few honey colored ringlets framed her face, which she had done up with a little makeup. She wore mascara and had lined her coffee eyes with brown eyeliner, and her lips were a pinkish red color with the slight shine of lip gloss. She hadn't bothered with foundation and blush since her skin was blemish free, instead casting a little spell on it that gave it a natural glow. Little diamond earring drops dangled from her earlobes, shining in the light. Once she was finished with her double-checking, she reached over and grabbed the small black clutch and gloves on her bedside table before Disapparating to the party.
OoOoO
Having been well-practiced at the art of Apparation, Hermione landed with both feet firmly on the snow-covered ground. It was growing colder by the minute since the sun had already gone down and the stars and moon decorated the sky in its wake. She pulled her shawl tighter around herself in response to a bone-chilling breeze and casted a heating charm on herself. She stood in a grand rectangular-shaped courtyard with a circular cobblestone drive that led up to the beautiful mansion where the ball had been held every year for the past four years, the first having been on the first Christmas after the War was over. Hermione walked past the large round fountain she had come to love, running her fingertips over the polished white and black marble around the edge.
She walked up the marble front steps, admiring the tall columns on the porch that held up the overhanging porch roof and stopping at the arched front door, the black paint giving off a glossy sheen as if it had been painted recently thanks to a handy spell many painters in the wizarding world used. Light pooled onto the porch from the curtained windows, shadows moving on the other side of them as people made their way into the ballroom. Hermione took a moment to slip her hands into her black silk gloves, pulling them on until they stopped at her elbows, and reached out and took the shiny brass door knocker. It was in the shape of the Malfoy family crest, with the middle of the M as the knocker. She tapped it against the door thrice and waited for someone to let her in.
The door opened mere moments later, revealing a tall, willowy Auror with a curly brown moustache over his lip and a thick head of brown hair. He wore dark blue dress robes and had dark brown eyes. He weilded his wand, giving Hermione a once-over as he did so. "Invitation, please." He said in a gruff voice.
"Yes, of course." Hermione replied, fishing the envelope out of her clutch, extracting a crisp piece of parchment with elegant silver lettering on it with a green wax stamp of the Malfoy crest in the bottom right corner along with Draco's signature, and handing it to the man in front of her. The Auror looked over it quickly and handed it back to her.
"Very well," he said, "Enjoy the rest of your evening."
Hermione fastened her clutch back closed again and nodded, smiling warmly at him. "Thank you. You as well." He stepped aside and Hermione breezed past him into the entrance hall. The floor was genuine limestone, the walls hung with simple, tasteful wallpaper, and a refined silver chandelier with white crystals dangling off of it. As she made her way to the ballroom, she took in the ornate plush rugs on the floors in some of the side rooms and expensive tapestries hung in front of the windows, the svelte paintings hung on the walls with ornate frames and debonnaire furniture with intricate detailings. She passed a broad spiral staircase with gorgeous castiron railings on her left and to her right a small sitting room. She followed the sounds of chatter and the normal ambience of people dining and dancing to find her way: the chinking of silverware on porcelain plates and tinkling of glass cups in a toast; the tapping of heels on smooth tile and the swish of skirts over the floor; the laughter of a few after a good joke and the exchange of pleasantries. She hung her shawl on a coat hanger in a nearby closet, stashing her clutch away with it and making a mental note to remember to gather them before she left.
Hermione walked through the doorway into the ballroom and swept her eyes over the scene in front of her. Couples swayed and dipped and twirled across the generous dance floor in tempo with the lively Christmas tune the band, which consisted of a beautiful ebony piano, a melodic woodwinds section, a light and uplifted strings section, a strong brass section, and an assortment of percussion instruments, was playing on a large portion of the stage. Long tables with white tablecloths lined the walls, covered with all sorts of foods, desserts, and drinks with people seated in chairs on both sides of each of them. The high arched ceiling rose up far above their heads, candles lit in the chandeliers hung from it and setting the whole room in a bright, warm glow. Holly wreaths were hung on the walls and bright green garland and red ribbon was strung all around.
By far, however, the most impressive of it all to Hermione was the massive Christmas pine tree in the center of the room. It was at least twenty feet tall, if not taller, with silver garland wrapped round and round it and ornaments of all shapes and colors imaginable. Faeries twinkled within the branches, hundreds of thousands of little orbs of white light that reflected off of the ornaments; some of them drifted around the room, bobbing up and down slowly or simply hovering in one place. An antique-looking golden star topped it off, sitting on the highest point of the tree far, far above Hermione's head. That's when she noticed the small, multicolored packages underneath the lowest branches, settled atop a red and green woven tree skirt.
"It's beautiful..." she murmured softly, gazing at the tree in awe.
"You think so?" A familiar voice asked quietly. Hermione jumped and turned around quickly, finding herself face-to-face with Mr. Malfoy himself. Her breath got caught in her throat and her heart fluttered as she took him in. He wore a black fitted tuxedo, and his hair was styled carefully off to the side. Her eyes widened slightly at one minor detail, something she knew she shouldn't get so caught up in but couldn't help but notice...
The red tie around his neck. Red. Not green, not black, not even blue; it was red. Hermione soon found herself studying his face. He looked much healthier than he had a week ago, she noticed; his cheeks had regained their color and the dark bags under his eyes had disappeared. He looked so much younger again; his eyes no longer looked strained and his face was freshly shaven. He held himself like he was indeed a strapping twenty-two year-old and not a tired old man. Dare Hermione say it, he looked...handsome.
Her eyes slowly moved up to meet his, almost shyly, and he locked eye contact not a moment later. Her cheeks flooded with color of their own accord when she was met with twin gray hurricanes. She could feel herself drowning in their depths right where she stood, falling down, down, down into those eyes that seemed to be looking right into her soul. It took Hermione a second to remember that he had asked her a question and even longer find an answer in the muddled mess that was left of all of her logical thought processes. "Yes," she whispered breathlessly. Her voice seemed to snap him out of a trance, and before she could even blink his eyes were clear once more.
"Would you like to dance?" Draco offered, his voice sounding almost nervous. As if he's afraid I'll say no... He held out a hand.
Hermione smiled gently at him. "There's nothing I'd rather do right now." The corners of his lips twitched upward into a small smile in return. She took his hand and allowed him to lead the way to the dance floor. She placed her hand on his shoulder and laced the fingers on the opposite hand through his. She was extremely aware of the slight source of heat radiating off of his palms through her glove and on the small of her back, the way his fingertips had lightly brushed over her skin as they fell into place on her back. A new song started up, and they relaxed as they fell into the slow rhythm.
Draco was an excellent dancer, something Hermione would have never put to him prior to their friendship. He was always full of surprises just waiting to be discovered. He was sort of like a puzzle; once Hermione found a piece of him that made up who he was, it would lead to another and another. One day, Hermione hoped she would be able to see what all of the pieces added up to be; what the picture she had found was. "You look stunning, by the way." Draco said softly, twirling her carefully before pulling her back to him.
Hermione blushed. "Thank you." she said before adding, "And you clean up extremely well yourself."
"Thank you," he murmured. Hermione found herself moving closer to him, something he didn't seem to mind, assuming he'd noticed. He was so warm and he smelled so...good. He smelled of the forest; like trees and damp leaves mixed with something else. A subtle, underlying scent just beneath that, which Hermione had already guessed to be some type of cologne, something masculine and so utterly...him. There was no other way to describe it.
"You look great in red." Hermione blurted. She instantly wished she hadn't; wished she could grab those words and stuff them back into her mouth and pretend she hadn't said anything at all -
"As do you in green." Draco replied. Hermione looked up to see that he was smirking like the devil. "Slytherin colors, you know..."
Hermione giggled. "And red is a Gryffindor house color, unless you've forgotten." she reminded him.
"Touché." He spun her again before continuing. "Tonight only, I'll be a Gryffindork if you'll be a Slytherin."
"Gryffindor." Hermione corrected, her amused smile growing.
"What can I say? Old habits die hard." He joked. Hermione swatted his shoulder playfully. "Ouch! I was only joking!" he cried out loudly enough for only Hermione to hear, feigning pain.
Hermione let out a lighthearted laugh. "Alright then, ferret. Whatever you say..."
"Ferret? You haven't used that one in years!"
"Which is why now would be the perfect opportunity to start using it again."
"I call a truce, then. I won't call your lot Gryffindorks if you won't call me ferret."
"You've got yourself a deal, Malfoy." Hermione said. She was surprised how foreign his last name sounded rolling off of her tongue in place of his first name. He seemed to have a momentary pause in his movements as, apparently, the same thought ran through his head as well.
"We'll shake on it then, Granger?" It even sounded strange the other way around. Hermione shrugged off the thought and they stopped dancing long enough to shake hands before returning to their customary positions. They danced for two more songs, laughing and joking around a little before other Ministry officials cut in, taking them both in opposite directions of the dance floor. Hermione danced for about two hours with multiple partners, but none measured anywhere close to Draco's skill and grace. Finally, after Hermione felt nearly danced out, Draco made his way over and pulled her away. They fell into step almost the instant they started, matching each other's steps flawlessly. They didn't speak for one whole song, simply enjoying each other's company.
"Draco?" Hermione spoke up quietly.
His reply was instant. "Yes, Hermione?"
"Who do you think is your Secret Santa?"
He didn't answer for a few minutes. "I'm not entirely sure, but I think I have a good idea."
Hermione moved closer to him until she was flush against him and lowered her cheek to his shoulder. "Is this alright?" She could feel his pulse through her cheek and almost swore it had sped up.
"Yeah, that's fine." he replied slowly.
"Okay." She closed her eyes and allowed him to lead her.
"What about you?"
"What?" she asked, momentarily confused.
"Who do you think yours is?"
Hermione smiled into his collar. "I don't know just yet."
"Any leads?"
"Not really, but I can tell that he's really smart. He used a handwriting obscuring spell on all of his letters."
"So you know it's a guy. That's a start." Draco said.
"It doesn't give me much to work with, though. There are a lot of males employed in the Ministry." She paused and sighed wistfully, half because of the fact that she was exhausted and half because of the sheer fact that she really didn't know who it was and she wanted to.
"True." he said. "Look on the bright side; the big reveal is at ten o'clock."
"What time is it?" Hermione asked, lifting her head to look around them. Draco gently pulled her aside by the hand so they wouldn't get bumped into by other dancers and pulled out an old silver pocket watch with the Malfoy crest engraved on the front. "I didn't know you had a pocket watch."
He shrugged. "It's a family heirloom I inherited from my father after he passed away." Hermione squeezed his hand tighter and locked eyes with him.
Hermione remembered reading about it in the newspaper two years ago. "I'm sorry to hear that." she murmured, absently running her gloved thumb over the back of his hand.
"It's fine." he muttered, though his eyes had lost some of their brightness. He pressed the button on the top. "It's nine fifty-seven." he said.
Hermione gave him a small smile. "Three minutes, Draco. Are you excited?"
A corner of his mouth quirked upward. "A little."
"Come on, then! Let's get seated now before they're all gone." Hermione said. Draco smiled despite himself and Hermione led him across the room to the tables and they moved around to sit in the first two chairs they came across. Draco made his way in front of Hermione and pulled out her chair for her, pushing it in for her as well. She gave him a curious look as he seated himself beside her. "Why'd you do that? I'm perfectly capable."
"While I know better than many that you are most certainly capable of seating yourself, my mother raised me to be a gentleman. Thus the gesture was deemed necessary." Draco explained, a smirk sliding onto his face.
"I see." Hermione stroked her chin mock-thoughtfully. "Very interesting..."
The sounds of silverware tapping on drink glasses interrupted their conversation, and they refocused their attention to the stage. Percy Weasley, the new Minister of Magic, stood front and center with an amplifying charm on his voice. "Good evening everyone and happy Christmas!" The bubble of chatter quickly died down. "I would personally like to thank each and every one of you all for all the hard work you did this year. Without your efforts, the Ministry wouldn't have been able to accomplish as much as it has this past year. Let's hope next year will be just as fruitful, if not more so." Clapping ensued after that statement. "How's everyone enjoying the ball so far?" More applause followed, coupled with a bit of whistling. "Good to hear. Let's not forget to give a big thank you to Mr. Draco Malfoy for allowing us to hold our celebration in his own home once again this year. His generosity is greatly appreciated." A few people clapped politely all around; everyone else was silent. Their blatant rudeness made Hermione's blood boil in anger. She looked over to see that, while he appeared to be taking in all the attention humbly to everyone else, he had both of his hands balled up into fists in his lap underneath the table so tightly that his knuckled were white.
Hermione inconspicuously reached over underneath the table and covering the fist closest to her, using her fingers to pry it open and rubbing soothing circles into his palm. They looked at each other for a long moment, his gratitude written across his face and shining in his eyes. Hermione offered him a warm, albeit small, smile. "Now onto the more entertaining portion of the night. Who's ready to discover who's been sending them anonymous presents for the past twelve days?" Loud cheering erupted throughout the ballroom. Percy waited for things to settle down before continuing. "Then without further ado, I present you with your Secret Santas!" He waved wand in a broad sweeping motion around the room in front of him, and little scraps of folded pieces of parchment appeared above everyone's heads and floated down into their laps. Hermione and Draco both caught theirs one-handed, their other hands still intertwined under the table.
They reluctantly released the other's hand and looked at each other, their folded parchment in their hands. It had become their ritual for the past three years running to open them at the same time. "Ready?" Hermione asked, her face getting hot as she looked at the aged paper in his hands.
"On three." Draco said.
Hermione nodded her agreement. "One."
"Two..."
"Three!" they said in unison, opening them. Hermione proceeded to nearly sever hers in half in her haste to unfold it, and it seemed that Draco had also had a similarly close call. She watched with baited breath as black ink began to appear on the blank parchment. Her heart skipped a couple of beats when the name Draco Malfoy appeared in front of her. They looked up at exactly the same instant.
"You got me?" Hermione asked him, her heart fluttering around in her chest.
His face colored for the first time Hermione had ever witnessed, his cheeks turning an extremely light shade of pink. "And you me?"
"Yes." she whispered. They stared at one another for the longest time, both waiting for the other to make a move. Hermione took off her gloves slowly, carefully, one finger at a time, and placed them in her lap one after the other. The right one came off first. She could feel Draco watching her, curious as to what she was doing. Then, she pulled on the left glove, pulling it over her hand and revealing more and more of her arm...
She heard his sharp intake of air as the glove came off, revealing a thin glittering silver diamond bracelet clasped around her wrist. She fingered it lightly and looked up, her cheeks flooding with warmth for the umpteenth time that evening. "You know..." Hermione mururmed, watching how the light reflected off of the tiny gemstones, "I hoped it would be you." Her voice was barely an audible whisper. She looked up at him, taking in his shocked expression. He quickly slid into his old mask of indifference, but Hermione could still she the surprise in his eyes.
He stood up abruptly, taking her hand and pulling her away from the table in long strides. She barely had enough time to register what was going on, luckily grabbing her gloves before he got too far away, before they were out of the ballroom. He marched down the long hallway and up the stairs at that same brisk pace, causing Hermione to gather her dress and practically jog to keep up with him. "Where are we going?" she asked. He didn't provide her with an answer. Up the spiral staircase they went, then down another hall and passing five closed doors before coming to the very last one on the left side. Draco stopped so quickly that Hermione nearly bumped into him and by some miracle didn't trip in her heels. Since he wasn't replying to questions, she decided to observe. He fished around in his pocket and pulled out his keyring and flipping past many keys before reaching an old brass key. He glanced up at her briefly before jamming it into the keyhole in the brass doorknob and unlocking the door.
The door opened, revealing a beautiful study. It had dark stained floorboards with a regal-looking green and black plush rug that had a picture of the Malfoy family crest woven into it and green wallpaper with an artsy design on it. A black marble fireplace instantly lit on the right side wall, adding some light and warmth to the room. Bookshelves with rows and rows of neatly stacked books lined all the walls and an antique mahogony desk stood proudly on the front wall with a matching chair with a dark green satin cushion on the seat. An old, well-kept couch was positioned in front of and facing the fireplace, also seeming to go with the other furnature. An oil painting of Salazar Slytherin - surprisingly not animated - sitting at a desk that looked identical to the one in the room (Hermione didn't doubt the fact that it was most likely the same one) was hung over fireplace mantle, a beautiful golden frame around it.
Draco released her hand and walked inside, and Hermione filed in silently after him, closing the door softly behind herself. He began pacing, running a hand through his hair. Her feet were aching from her heels, so she moved slowly toward the sofa and cautiously took a seat, slightly afraid of breaking it. She sighed gratefully as soon as her weight was off of her feet and she moved to take her shoes off. Thinking better of it, she decided to quietly ask, "May I?"
Draco looked over at her, his eyes focusing on her face. He looked deep in thought, but a look of understanding crossed his face and his eyes softened. He wordlessly walked over to her and kneeled at her feet. "Allow me." He murmured gently. Hermione blushed deeply but nodded all the same. He took them off slowly, carefully, almost as if he were afraid she would break if he made a wrong move, but neither of them spoke. As he began to pull the heel of the shoe off of her right foot then sliding it off of the front of her foot, Hermione thanked all the Gods she knew of for the fact that her feet never smelt terribly after wearing any sort of footwear. That would've been embarrassing.
"Thank you," she said, watching as he stacked them side by side by the door. He shrugged in response and moved to continue his pacing back and forth across the length of the study. Hermione leapt to her feet, ignoring the groans of protest they emitted in response, and managed to just catch the sleevecuff of his jacket from where she stood at the edge of the sofa. He stopped abrubtly, spinning to look at her with startled eyes. "Draco..." Hermione whispered. The intensity of his gaze gave her the confidence to move closer to him. "What is it?"
"Did you really mean what you said in the ballroom?" There was an entirely new quality added to his voice as he spoke, something she had never heard before. It was written across his face as well, but in his eyes was where it really showed. For the first time since she had been newly acquanited with him (and even as far back as when they had been childhood enemies, but she really hadn't paid him any attention other than repaying his cruel treatment of her with extreme loathing) she saw vulnerability.
And the truth was, she felt that right then, too.
She reached up slowly and cupped his cheek in her hand, running her thumb over in his smooth skin. He took a small step closer; they were flush against each other. Hermione could feel his warm breath upon her face, and she could smell a sweet dessert of some kind on it. All other thought was erased from her mind as she stared at his face. His lips...
She didn't know how exactly it happened, only that their lips met in a rough and needy kiss. She moaned softly against his lips, giving his tongue the proper opportunity to slide in. Her hands tangled themselves in his hair, her fingers rubbing circles into his scalp, and his hands roamed her waist, sending electrifying tingles up and down her spine and causing her skin to catch fire at every place his piano-player like fingers touched as they skillfully trailed their way across the exposed skin of her back. Fireworks burst behind her eyelids as the need for air became too much, and they pulled apart. They simply stared at each other, both gasping for air and taking in the other's red, swollen lips. His hair was tousled beyond belief, but he still managed to pull it off as sexy anyhow, and he stared at her with shining eyes. A fire seemed to have lit somewhere within him, setting his whole face aglow. As Hermione stared at him, her eyes scrutinizing every inch and detail of his face in an attempt to burn the moment to memory, she couldn't help but smile. Her eyes locked with his. "So," he started in an attempt to sound casual, his voice a few octaves deeper and hoarser than before, "that's a yes?"
Hermione let out a breathless laugh. "Of course it is."
"Just making sure." Draco said, grinning profusely.
Hermione's hands made their way back down to his neck and settled themselves there. A contented sigh escaped her lips and her smile softened as she looked up at the man before her. "Happy Christmas, Draco."
His gray eyes twinkled brighter, displaying his happiness. All of his protective walls were down, no masks were being used to disguise emotions. It was simply Draco being Draco and Hermione being Hermione, nothing more and nothing less. It was perfect. "Happy Christmas, Hermione." All of a sudden he let out a chuckle and pointed above them. Hermione's eyes followed his to see a green and red mistletoe plant growing from the ceiling, no doubt due to a spell.
"I suppose this means you'll have to kiss me again..." Hermione trailed off.
"I would think so, yes." He laughed. He leaned down and kissed her lips tenderly, reaching up with one hand to gently caress her face. Hermione happily reciprocated it.
OoOoO
She still hated the Secret Santa gift exchange after that; she thought it was a waste of time and money on her part, but that was okay. She knew that once she got home and tucked herself away in bed curled in those strong arms she had come to know and love, she decided she was able to come to terms with it. After all, in the end, she had the best present out of them all waiting for her each and every year.
OoOoO
Author's Note
Urghh. I know that it's not Christmas anymore, but I've been working on this story off and on in my spare time since the Christmas holidays and I decided that I couldn't wait a whole year to post it. Did you like it? Hate it? Please, please, please tell me what you think!
-Caitie Manda
P.S.
For all of my Bittersweet readers, have no fear; the next chapter should be up within the next couple of days. Sorry for the delay, but I'm working on it. I've been trying to make my chapters longer, too, but I didn't think you guys would especially mind that. With that said, I bid you all a good night! :)