Written for the Christmas Challenge on Granger Enchanted. Prompt: Hermione gets what she wants for Christmas, the one man she's always thought was out of reach.

Hogwarts at Christmastime was truly a sight to behold. The air was heavy with the intoxicating scent of pine. Fairy lights danced in every corner, giving the halls an enchanting glow. Evergreen trees floated about, their boughs heavy with magical ornaments of gold and silver.

Hermione sat on the steps at the entrance to the dungeons admiring the holiday decorations. In her hands she held a Christmas gift. She traced the swirl pattern on the wrapping paper lazily with her finger.

The gift was for Draco Malfoy. Hermione was sure she'd lost her mind, but she needed to give him this gift. She needed for him to laugh at her and dismiss her. She'd lived with this impossible crush for far too long. Maybe it was more than a silly crush and that's why she couldn't shake it. She was going to take back control of the situation and rid herself of these unwanted feelings. She should be focusing on Ron; he was who she should want, not Draco. She had a plan: what she needed to remove Draco from her head and possibly her heart was rejection. Give him the gift, get rejected, and move on. Yes, it was an excellent plan indeed.

That's not what she wanted, though. She wanted Draco to hold her, to kiss her, and to tell her she's beautiful. It was such a simple yet unreasonable thing to want. She blamed Mrs. Weasley. Though unintentional, this was all her fault.

It had now been over four months since the wedding—and the start of her crush—but she remembered it clearly …

Fleur was the most beautiful bride Hermione had ever seen. She glowed with a combination of physical beauty and the true happiness of marrying the man she loved. Hermione watched as she glided across the dance floor in the arms of her new husband.

Hermione took a second to absorb the moment. It was a day of bliss in times of such sadness and she wanted to remember it to remind her why she fought by Harry's side. It was so that everyone could live and love, so they could be free to find happiness. She wanted that. She wanted Harry to be free and she wanted Ron to love her like she thought she loved him.

Lost in thought, she didn't realize that almost every guest was now on the makeshift dance floor until Mrs. Weasley came running over to her. "Hermione, dear. Hurry up and find a partner."

Realizing that Ron was getting ready to dance with Fleur's little sister, she said, "Oh, no, that's okay. I'll just sit this one out." He was probably obliged to dance with her; as a groomsman it was only proper that he dance with one of the bridesmaids.

"Oh, dear, you can't. You have to dance. It's wizarding tradition that all guests dance the second dance with the new couple. It's considered bad luck not to."

Hermione looked around nervously. There was no one left; everyone had a dance partner.

Mrs. Weasley grabbed her hand and dragged her along. "Come on, sweetie, I've found someone. Remember, it's just a dance. You don't want Bill and Fleur to have bad luck, especially in these times."

Reaching their destination, Mrs. Weasley stated, "Draco, Hermione needs a partner."

No. Not Malfoy. Of all people she didn't want to dance with, he was right there on the top of her list. So what if his family had taken up Dumbledore's offer of protection. So what if he'd been nothing but polite since arriving at the Burrow. It didn't matter that he had found her secret reading spot. And the only reason she'd let him stay and read with her each day in silence was because she hadn't wanted to start a fight. She still did not want to dance with him.

She couldn't believe that the Order had sent him here. It was some rubbish about separating him from his mother for their own protection. The Order was up to something, but no one would give her a straight answer.

Malfoy silently extended his hand to her.

"Good, good," Mrs. Weasley said as she turned to locate her husband. "You two hurry up so we can start." She shooed them as she hurried away.

Reluctantly, Hermione took his hand, surprised he would lower himself to touch her with all his ridiculous ranting over the years about dirty Mudbloods. She rolled her eyes at the insanity of the whole situation as he led her to an open spot on the dance floor.

Standing in front of him, she looked around for Harry and Ron. Ron was laughing with Fleur's sister, totally oblivious to her predicament. Harry, however, caught her pleading gaze. He began to move in her direction, but Ginny stopped him and whispered something in his ear. Harry gave her a sympathetic look before taking Ginny into his arms.

"I don't think anyone's coming to your rescue," Malfoy said, bringing her attention to him once again.

She gave him a look of disdain and crossed her arms in front of her. "Let's just get this over with."

"Granger, dancing requires touching."

With a huff she unfurled her arms and stepped closer to him. He placed a hand at her waist and raised the other. The warm hand on her body startled her. Had she really thought his hands would be cold? She positioned a hand on his shoulder and rested the other in his open palm. The music started.

He was an excellent dancer. His mother had probably insisted on lessons. Well, there was at least somethingto be said of a rich Pureblood upbringing: it was nice to dance and not have your toes stepped on.

He guided her effortlessly across the floor. She was floating like she was lighter than air, her feet barely grazing the floor. It was so unlike dancing with Victor Krum. Victor was sweet, but he had lugged her around as if she weighed a ton while counting the steps aloud.

Dancing with Draco was purely breathtaking.

The heat of his palm seeped through the thin fabric of her summer dress robes. It slowly radiated upwards to her stomach and heart. It felt like electricity. The pulsing current made her heart beat faster. Unconsciously, she moved closer to him. Taking in his scent, she felt the warmth of his entire body course through her.

The music stopped and she held on to him for a moment longer than necessary. When she let go, it was with the smallest of sighs. She wanted to look up at him to see if he was affected, but she couldn't bear to look him in the eyes.

As she contemplated the surface of the floor, he leaned in and whispered, "Goodnight, Granger." Then he was gone.

She watched as he briefly gave his congratulations to the happy couple, but she didn't see him again for the rest of the evening. She danced five times with Ron, once each with the other Weasley boys, and twice with Harry to try to replicate or eradicate what she had felt when she danced with Draco. It didn't work. The dances with Ron were pleasant but paled in comparison. She chided herself for even comparing the two. Ron wasn't perfect, but he was right choice for her. She was going to just forget about Draco.

It hadn't worked. Forgetting wasn't possible. She'd tried, but to no avail. It was worse now that they were back at Hogwarts—she could have forgotten him if only she didn't have to be around him all the time. But he was once again the so-called Prince of Slytherin and always made his presence known. She wasn't sure what lies had been concocted by the Order regarding Draco, but it seemed they wanted it understood that he had not changed sides. All she really knew was that she had been told not to mention seeing him at the Burrow this past summer.

Harry had returned as well. She was surprised that he had agreed to come back for seventh year; Remus must have convinced him to return. He refused to talk about it in detail with her, but his resolve to stay seemed to be wavering. Hermione wondered if he would return again after the upcoming Christmas holidays.

The sound of a door opening broke her from her thoughts.

Draco would be coming up the stairs soon on his way to the Great Hall for breakfast, always last minute so he could make a grand entrance. She hoped he would be alone, preferring to be humiliated in private. Hermione thought it was pathetic that she knew what time he went to breakfast. She hadn't been trying to learn his schedule—it had just happened. At some point she had become aware of his existence at every moment.

Over the past few months he'd visited her at the library six times to ask her questions about Advanced Potions. Each time it had been a late Friday night and the library had been empty. Draco would spin the chair around with his wand and then straddle the seat, his crossed arms resting on the back. He'd never brought any parchment or quills to write down the answers. Maybe he just has a very good memory, she thought.

They'd patrolled together twice, the last time only three days ago. She scolded herself again for the conversation they'd had while patrolling. She'd told him stories of her childhood Christmases. He had laughed when she had recalled some of her Muggle traditions. She still wasn't sure if he'd been laughing at her or with her. His stories of the holidays at the Manor had struck her as somewhat sad.

They spoke about nothing of consequence. She should have questioned him about important things like Voldemort, his father, and blood, but sometimes you don't ask the questions you might not like the answers to.

Not that blood made much difference in her current situation. She could have been the daughter of Merlin himself and Draco wouldn't have given her a second glance. Not that she was ugly—she was pretty, but not in the same ways as the witches Draco was always flirting with. Those witches had expertly coiffed hair and their faces shined with perfectly practiced glamours. They would hang on his every word, laugh coyly at his jokes, and they always touched him when they spoke. Hermione was envious of the attention he paid to them, but she had no desire to be like them.

Draco looked at them like he was about to devour a fantastic feast. That was not how he looked at her. The looks he gave her were unreadable, like a brick wall. Either he was hiding something from her or simply felt nothing when he looked at her. Perhaps it was both.

The echoes of approaching footsteps broke her from her thoughts. She should run; maybe her plan wasn't as good as she thought. There was still time to leave before he saw her.

She stayed, determined to free herself from him. "Please be alone," she begged silently.

Draco approached the stairs, deep in a hushed conversation with Theodore Nott. "Shite!" she said under her breath. She didn't know Nott very well, but suddenly felt an overwhelming hatred for him.

Draco looked up and spotted her at the top of the stairs. He stopped abruptly. "Bloody hell, I forgot my potions book," he said, a little too loudly.

"No worries, you can share mine."

He rolled his eyes and said, "Right, Nott, as much as I'd just love to cuddle up with you in class, I think I'll just go get mine. We can finish this chat later."

Nodding his head, Nott ascended the stairs. He gave Hermione a curious look as he headed in the direction of the Great Hall.

Hermione started down the stairs, hurrying to catch up with Draco before he reached the Slytherin common room. She was startled when she heard her name.

Spinning on her heels, she searched for the source of her name. "I thought you were going back for your book?"

"It's not polite to eavesdrop."

"I just overheard. I wasn't spying on you," she said defensively.

He stepped out of the shadows to tower over her. "I don't want you listening to my conversations. They are not for your ears, Granger," he stated angrily.

"Don't flatter yourself. I could care less about your conversations, Malfoy."

"Fine, say what you like, but we both know that's a complete lie."

She shouldn't have come; this was a mistake. No, she thought, just give him the gift and get it over with.

Pointing to the brightly wrapped present in her hands he asked, "What's that?"

"It's nothing—I mean, it's a gift, but it's just a little ..." Extending her hand, she braced herself for his reaction. "Here, it's for you."

Grabbing her wrist, the gift still in her hand, he yanked her into the alcove so they were hidden behind a heavily decorated tree. "What is wrong with you? Giving me a gift in the middle of the dungeon hallway—have you gone mad?"

"No. Stop yelling at me. I get it. You don't want it."

"You don't get it. I do want it."

"You do?"

"Yes." He stepped closer to her. "It's just not ... Hermione, it's not safe," he sighed.

"What are you talking about?"

"Listen, I don't know what exactly the Order told you about Hogwarts being safe, but it's not true. There are people here that would use this against us."

"This?" She searched his eyes for an answer. Did he mean what she thought?

Looking at her, he moved even closer. "I didn't buy you anything." Her heart sank at his admission. "But there's something I want to give you."

He placed a hand on her cheek. Gods, he was going to kiss her. Unconsciously, she held her breath.

His lips were soft as they pressed gently against hers. Hesitantly, he continued the slow kiss. Pulling free from her shock, she began kissing back. He responded as if a dam had been broken, moving his hand to cradle the base of her skull and kissing her greedily. Soon he was pushing her against the wall of the alcove and pressing his body close to hers. She could feel the tiny fairy lights wriggling against her back. The gift fell as she placed both her hands on his chest. His heart was beating so fast.

She wrapped her arms around his neck as he placed hungry kisses on her neck. Pulling away for a moment, he looked at her. "You're so beautiful,'' he said, then returned once again to her mouth.

His hands traveled to her waist and moved frantically against her robes as if searching for something. He groaned into her mouth when he found what he was looking for. The sudden feeling of his hands on her bare flesh caused her to whimper in slight protest.

Too much. Too fast.

Stopping, he studied her. He rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. He was still catching his breath as he spoke. "Sorry, I've wanted to do that for so long, I just ..."

"It's okay." She buried her head in his chest as he embraced her. "What's going on, Draco? I don't understand."

"Snogging is pretty self-explanatory, Granger."

She waited silently for a proper answer.

"I'm going home for the holidays, and I'm not coming back."

"Home? To the Manor ... but Voldemort?"

"Yes, I can't tell you much, but the Order needs someone on the inside and, well, I'm it." She gave him a worried look, but allowed him to continue. "I think it will be over soon. Potter is not coming back either. Just stay with him and Weasley, okay? Stay safe. All I want you to do is stay safe."

"Safe? What about you?"

"I'll be fine. I wasn't sorted into Slytherin purely on account of my last name."

Hermione stood quietly, trying to processing everything. He scooped her up into his arms again and whispered in her hair, "When it's over, I'll find you. Potter will win and I'll find you, okay?"

Hermione smiled against his chest. "What if I find you first?"

"That works too," he chuckled.

The gift lay forgotten under the tree as they held each other.

A/N: Many thanks to my wonderful beta alethiaxx