Tis the Season to Be Jolly
Draco Malfoy quietly pushed the whitewashed door of the old cottage open. It was dark outside and cold, chilly winds and little flakes of ice made his exposed face red and his nose itch. But he was relieved to be inside, he was home at last.
On a day that the sun was shining the cottage was a pretty, typical county dwelling, with flowers in a perfusion of color spilling out of the various iron and brass pots that his wife had hung on the walls and propped up against the sidewalk, green grass and large shady apple trees protected the house from excessive sun meanwhile giving the surroundings a sweet smell of ripening fruit. The grass crunched under his feet now, stiff with frost and the trees were bare too.
He shut the door behind him carefully as to not make a sound and toed off his old rather worn combat boots and shrugged off his leather jacket. The house was warm and smelled faintly of cinnamon cookies, apple cider and hot chocolate, carefully he readjusted the straps of his shoulder holster where one side housed his wand and another side held a muggle gun, he cautiously removed the bullets and packed away the entire thing, putting it into the hall closet. The new system in the wizarding world had begun to use and recognize the importance of muggle inventions.
Draco worked with Harry is a special unit of the Aurors office, it was like the muggle army, established when after the fall of Voldemort they were forced to form a highly specialized and covert force to deal with the rebellions that had sprung up all over the magical community that still supported The Dark Lord, from a thin almost malnourished body he had sported during his sixth and seventh year at Hogwarts, Draco was now well muscled, a little over six feet.
Vigorous training regimes that the recruits had to go through had made his body hard, scars from the various fights he had with rouge Death-Eaters and various other supporters of Voldemort littered his chest and belly.
He soundlessly padded down the narrow hallway, the carpet muffling his cat like footsteps; towards the softly lit living room. Running his hands through his golden blond fringe and dusting the snow off his ivory turtleneck.
The soft light emanating from the room belonged to the fire roaring in the hearth and the floating fairy lights that hung around the large pine tree, the room was decorated beautifully with boughs of holly and little sprigs of mistletoe.
The tree was right in the center of the room, small figurines of the Nutcracker, The Sugar Plum Fairy, Father Christmas and other muggle folk tale characters were gathered under the tree, with their exquisite tiny faces painted with intricate details. The tree itself was a spectacle, glass balls as iridescent as an Opaleye's scales glittered on each branch, catching the light of the flames and throwing them around the room like a beautiful kaleidoscope of color.
Little golden stars and slivery bells that tinkled magically every few minutes decorated the gentle green pine leaves and right on top a fairy that was the exact replica of his wife sat with a serene smile on her face; he had bought it for her from Russia. Banners of green and red velvet were wound around the trunk of the tree and little gingerbread men and women hung from the rafters along with sweet smelling lavender and meadowsweet, a wreath of wild white hawthorn and dark green ivy decorated a window and a little ledge housed a thick red candle that burned brightly. The papery flakes of snow fell pell-mell outside the window, making him sharply aware of the warmth inside his house and inside himself...
Iridescent white fluff against a background of the dark night, the nights faint sounds... as if it was singing a carol itself.
"Silent night, holy night.
All is calm, all is bright.
Round yon virgin, mother and child."
She loved Christmas and this one was particularly special.
It was a first…
The room smelled delicious, a mixture of his wife's irresistible scent mingled with the sharp, fresh scent of the young tree and the warm evocative scent of her baking, the little tyrant he thought with an affectionate grin she had used more red than green in the decoration. He was going to have to get her for that.
From his periphery he could see the massive Gingerbread house that sat on the iron rack, it was iced with strawberry on the roof, vanilla and banana butter all along the sides and dark chocolate and marzipan gnash along the windows and little doors, thousands of tiny jelly beans decorated the sidewalks and driveways and the intricate little chimneys. It must have taken her hours to put that together even with magic.
The cooling rack also housed delicate sugar cookies dusted with icing sugar; small bite sized red velvet cupcakes, orange and carrot cream cakes, pumpkin and wild gooseberry muffins, buttermilk pie and cherry tarts. She was doing it traditional this year. Draco felt sorry he had missed out this week, he loved spending time with his wife near Christmas, and five years ago to the date had been their wedding night.
Hermione had been a radiant bride, dressed in virgin white with her long curly auburn hair almost brushing her hips, open and gloriously free, her radiant face covered in a veil of such thin gossamer that he could make out each expression on her heart shaped face as she walked towards him on the aisle.
It was one of the most poignant moments of Draco's life, watching this woman… a woman who he had believed would never forgive him walk towards him with love shining out of her eyes making them glitter like stars, unashamed of what anyone else had to say or of what anyone else thought. It had been a Christmas miracle.
Six years to this day had been their first date and seven years ago had been the time she had forgiven him. Slowly and surely he had fallen in love with her, and by the time the first snow fell next year he had her as his and he knew then… that he could never let her go.
A soft snore from behind the tree, jerked him out of his memory and he walked around the tree to where Hermione lay fast asleep on the sofa, on her chest cradled their five month old baby. He smiled tenderly at the picture they made; she had stayed up despite him telling her not to. But he could understand; this past week he had been on a mission and had not been able to talk to his wife. It had been hell but it was worth everything just to come back and see her face again.
The little boy on her chest sensing a familiar presence opened his eyes; they were piercing silver just like his and inclined his curly, golden brown head.
"Shhhh, little one." He whispered gently, "Let's not wake your mother up."
One chubby arm broke out of his mother's hold and reached out in the direction of his father, Draco soothed his thumb over the chubby little hand with its five perfect little fingers and pressed a kiss onto the delicate skin. "I know, I missed you and your mama too." He breathed tenderly, slowly easing the little boy out of his mother's arms and into his own. Cradling the familiar, sweet weight of the infant.
Scorpius clung to his father's broad shoulders and placed one plump cheek against his chest, his eyes glued, fascinated by the glittery, hazy lights. Draco ran a hand through his downy hair and inhaled the sweet scent of baby powder mixed with Hermione's own scent of fresh rain. Hermione lay still, her head tilted to the side and her warm amber eyes hidden in sweet slumber. Her slightly fuller face was obscured by her curly hair, her pink, bow like mouth open. Draco never expected his love to grow, each day he loved her more, she was vital to him... like his very breath. And she was beautiful… the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
Slowly he walked up and down the length of the room, humming a soft carol under his breath as he recalled his first Christmas with his wife, how Hermione had sat on the bench of the old piano she had insisted on keeping and sung in her clear soprano, sweet and high, her voice had sounded like the ringing of church bells mingled with the lit of fairies and as it snowed outside Draco finally knew what it was like to come home.
Her voice still resonated in his memories…
"Deck the halls with boughs of holly,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Tis' the season to be jolly,
Fa la la la la, la la la la."
"Draco... is that you?" came a soft sleepy voice from behind him. And he felt small hands come around his back, "You're home…" she said with a soft sigh, "I'm glad, I was worried… and I missed you."
"I'm alright love, perfect now." He said with a soft smile, reaching down to press his lips against hers gently, one hand clasping the baby firmly and another pulling his wife closer. "I was bound to come home, Christmas had always been lucky for us, hasn't it?" he breathed, sharing a smile with his wife.
"Merry Christmas, my love…" he said softly, pressing a kiss onto her forehead… "Merry Christmas."
…..
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