Chapter Two

Christmas Eve

On Christmas Eve Hermione woke sleepily to the unusual quiet. Though she didn't have to listen for the incisive shrill, she did listen for any signs that it would begin again.

She achieved a total of five minutes of sleep in the night of screams. Her eyes itched and burned, her head was fuzzy, and she was grouchy. She pushed her blankets off and stood, the cold of the floor shocking her to her toes up to her limbs. She rubbed her chilled and bumpy arms peering into the cob, and instantly, her bad mood evaporated.

James was kicking in his blue sleeper, sucking his thumb eagerly with a little smile. He appeared to have improved since last night, giggling as she picked him up still tightly swathed in his blue blanket.

"Morning, little James."

He cooed in response, a bubble popping out of the corner of his mouth.

She giggled and returned him to the cob, hurriedly dressing. Her bedside clock told her that she had only a few minutes until Harry would arrive for him, and she couldn't waste anymore time.

It made her a tad sad, that she would have to hand James over. It would've been nice, to have a child around for Christmas, but she knew better than to go there in her mind. She wasn't ready for children, she lived for her work. For the world that Voldemort nearly destroyed she had to do fix. For James and everyone.

Once she was straightening and pulling down her maroon sweater she heard the quick - but muffled - sound of the fireplace.

"Daddy's here," she told him in a slightly raised voice, less dignified than her usual that was meant for babies and puppies.

She brought him to the lounge where Harry stood against the dull gray brick. He looked more well rested than she had seen him since James was born, although his hair was as unruly as always, that was simply Harry. His hair had never once laid flat on top of his head.

"I think it's over," she told him regarding the colic, leaning close to hand his son to him.

Harry's green eyes were bright as he looked down at his bundle. "Thank you so much, Hermione, I really owe you."

"I'm happy to do it."

"If he still had it this morn, Ginny and I were going to stay behind with him. Feel a bit bad to travel him to Egypt, but Molly's insisting that it'd be good for the baby. Frankly, I reckon she wants to spoil him personally." He paused, "are you sure you don't want to come?"

"I want to enjoy a white Christmas, but thank you."

"I listened to the forecast a bit ago, they said that there wouldn't be any."

She smile sadly. "Miracles."

"I thought you were too logical for miracles?"

"I suppose it's the child in me."

"You were a child?"

She lightly swatted his arm. "Stop it, you know very well that I was."

He sighed, and turned to the hearth. "Have a good Christmas, Hermione."

"You too, Harry. Say hello to them for me."

"Okay."

The fire - that matched perfectly with his eyes erupted over him, sending him back to his home where they would spend the holiday as a family. A father, a mother, and a son.

Hermione was alone. Alone on Christmas eve... And it wasn't even snowing...

The shops would be closed, and so, there was nowhere to go. She grabbed the book from where it was left on the table and pulled the red knitted blanket off of the back of the couch wrapping it over her shoulders, curling herself into a ball. She opened the first page, avoiding Malfoy's small message.

As she lost herself into the worlds of snowflakes, snowmen, happy and merry people, carols, and traditions, she fell asleep, her head on her arm. The book dangled form her fingers as she dozed into memories long forgotten.

In her Sixth Year as a school Prefect, Hermione patrolled the corridors of the castle. For the most part, it was a boring process. On her first night she was shocked to find fellow classmates jammed into shadow crevices and behind huge twelve foot statues snogging. She vowed that she would not look any of them in the eye again.

By her third night it became routine. By her sixth it was tedious. Did any of them have anything better to do? They all had finals at the end of the year and every moment of studying counted! She never comprehended how anyone could risk allowing their grades to fall.

She was not to be taken wrong, she felt that she was doing good, that she had a purpose. More than twice she had found lost and teary eyed students trying to find their dormitories. When pointed in the right direction they would rush off, and she did not have the heart to deduct points from them.

It was nearing the end of the year, the weather warm again, but the nights continued to be breezily cold. She wore her heaviest cloak and her gloves, her breath rising and fading in front of her.

Thankfully, she was in her last corridor. Imaginings of a warm fire, her warm bed, and the soft blankets played temptingly in her head. It was wrong, but she considered not even opening the doors along the way, but that inane and ridiculous idea was swept away at the sight of a long lanky figure ahead of her.

She approached softly, heel to toe, making very little noise. It was no question as to who it was, for the moonlight casting through the window he was gazing out of lit him in its mysterious glow, his hair whiter than normal.

"Malfoy," she whispered, feeling a reason that was beyond her to continue her consistency of tranquility. "It's late, aren't you done with your Prefect duties?"

He didn't move from his spot and she pondered if she'd been heard. A minute passed, however, and she was sure that he hadn't.

Then he spoke. "It's a full moon tonight."

She drew up beside him. His face was serious, his eyes lighter than their steely gray, becoming a shimmery silver. In fact, he looked to be much older than his sixteen years, as though the last months in school had taken such a toll on him it aged him in fifty years. There were dark lines under his eyes, creases of permanent frowns.

Hermione turned to the moon, her hand finding her wand in her pocket. Just in case. She was alone with Malfoy, there was no telling what he would do to her if he could get away with it, and they were very much alone.

"It is," she agreed, glimpsing at the moon and its dark spots, the luminescence circling it. The stars were specks beside it, tiny lanterns in the velvet sky.

"When I was a boy, I wished to hold it in my hand, put it in my pocket and keep it. I could hold a whole other world and it was a place I could escape to if I wanted."

Hermione swallowed, her hand clutching her wand, awaiting the duel that Malfoy would begin for he was being far too nice. She would settle for his harsh prejudice words, because his behavior was confusing her. Why was he on her level, and why was he telling her a story from his childhood?

"Malfoy, are you ill?"

"No, my mudblood, I'm telling you my wishes because you won't tell anyone else. If you did, who would believe you?"

His mudblood? "You're not making any sense. Let me take you to Madam Promfrey."

Though she didn't move to touch him, he stepped out of her reach. "No. I'm fine. Go to bed, Granger, it's late." He spun, his cloak swirling around his slender figure, strolling out of her sights.

She was stunned, and she looked up to the moon, their single witness to the spectacular and oddly peaceful confrontation. If she had known that Malfoy wouldn't try to hurt her, she would have told him, she wished the same when she was younger.

She wished she told him and wished that he'd be safe... The Malfoy that she had been lucky enough to see, even if for the only and last night.

Her forearm was red with the heat of her cheek. She rubbed her tired eyes, and peered at her wristwatch, the numbers blurring.

It was two in the afternoon. She had nearly wasted the day away! She hopped up, the book falling to the floor. From the back, the corner of a slip of parchment showed. It was folded in half, and she opened it to find the same handwriting that was on the inside of the cover.

Go to Cloaks Deluxe.

Flipping the parchment over she searched for another message, but there was none. It was blank.

Obviously it was meant for her to see yesterday, and she almost crumpled it, but stopped. She had nothing else to do, it wouldn't hurt to see, maybe there was something else there. If Malfoy could be that nice, then anything was possible.

There was nothing else to do but to follow the directions though she severely doubted that the store would be open. It was Christmas eve...

Adorning her forest green cloak, she left out into the frostbitten air.

***

Hermione knew just where the shop was. It was not Madame Malkins but it was one of the best. It was small as the bookshop she incidentally ran into Malfoy at, but it was stocked full, every wall covered in fabrics of bright, dark, ornate, and plain. Cloaks were not the only clothing apparel that they sold, but dresses too. She wondered if Malfoy was poking fun at her choice of clothes, but that didn't fit the new personalty that he was sporting.

Without expectation that it would swing open, the door did, a small chime ringing above her. She looked dumbstruck as the stout and elderly saleslady bumbled up to her, shaking her hand eagerly. It was like she was a celebrity. Yes, very well known, but she was not one of the Celestine Sisters, a popular Wizarding band.

"Ms. Granger, it's a pleasure to meet you. Now, you are in need of a dress." She placed her finger at her bottom lip, cocking her head and appraising her thoughtfully.

"Excuse me," Hermione blushed, "I was sent here by a Mr. Malfoy."

"I know, ma'am. He told me to dress you in the best and most beautiful gown that we have."

Hermione went from dumbstruck to dumbfounded, her mouth parted in shock. "Why?"

"I've been sworn to secrecy."

"I'm sorry, but I didn't bring any money..."

She waved her hand as if that was not a concern at all. "He says he will pay full price plus some! If you see anything else that you'd like he says he'll pay that too. Don't worry about anything, miss! You are well taken care of here."

Hermione could hardly believe her ears. Malfoy paying for her clothes? She shouldn't be so shocked anymore, because obviously it was not a trap. Malfoy had changed, and she guessed that it had to do with his family. Without them, he was sad - of course - but he was free to be who he was, and she knew that he was good. She had seen it once, though the memory was far away, it was clear and she held it close.

"You are a gorgeous young lady. Mr. Malfoy is lucky."

She was going to correct her, tell her that her and Malfoy were far from being friends much less a couple but she didn't. There'd be no decent explanation for it anyhow.

Gowns then came flying from the walls like over-sized birds, and they were hung in front of her in mid-air.

"Whatever you like, Ms. Granger."

She paced herself towards them, roving over the ash gray, the yellow, and the black. Her eye caught the last one, an eye-catching emerald with gold trimming. The sleeves flared out, the scoop neckline decorated in small specks that glittered in the light. It was perfect.

"That one, please."

"You have a talent, ma'am. That is our best one."

Hermione regarded those two statements with a grain of salt. Without asking the price, she tried it on, it fitting perfectly, forming to her curves. She didn't need to look in the mirror for she could only think of the horror of her bushy hair with such a lovely gown. She agreed to take it, not too pleased to be taking advantage of Malfoy's kindness, but she would be certain to repay him. It was Christmas for him too... She would figure something out.

"I'm surprised you are working on Christmas eve," she said, making conversation as the lady tied a silk bow onto the box sliding it over the counter to her.

She laughed, eying her left hand. "Your boyfriend paid me extra to keep the shop opened for you."

Her head snapped up. "What?"

"Oh yes, he was quite insistent. I don't make that much money in a year! Don't let him go, miss, you have someone that must love you." She paused, inspecting her face. "Ma'am, are you okay?"

She nodded, but the fury swallowed her whole. She was not okay. "Thank you for your time and assistance..."

"Ma'am?"

Sorry, I have to go kill a ferret. She stormed out of the shop, not pulling up her hood. She stormed her way to her home, where she would attempt to cool off in a hot tub instead of the chilling wind she was barreling through.

***

The hot bath did not work. She found herself going over what the saleslady told her and dressing back into her clothes and apparating at the Malfoy Manor. In her anger, Hermione stumbled slightly, landing on the steps in front of the door.

She had never liked apparating much, it dizzied her, stirring the contents of her stomach (which in that case it was nothing). Going over her day in her mind she realized that she hadn't eaten. She promised her growling belly that she would cook something up. Right after she dealt with the Slytherin King of Ferrets.

The Malfoy Manor was huge, a total of five stories tall, its own turret in the back. There were dead plants, the original caretakers having been freed by her in a case two years prior. Behind her there was a long pebbled aisle lined with the skeletons of shrubs.

The door in front of her towered over her. She took the snakes tail, pounding the knocker. It was childish of her, but she kept banging it, not to be deterred or rejected. In fact, she fantasized that it was Malfoy's sneering face she was hitting.

Suddenly it opened, and her hand flew back. Malfoy stood there in the first sign of fury she hadn't seen since before their reunion, his eyes flaring.

"What do you think you're doing, Granger?!"

"You had a woman go to work on Christmas eve!"

He smiled, and she nearly slapped him, her hands balling at her sides. She did not see what was so funny, it was a horrible thing he had done. How heartless could he be?

"I was paying her," he poorly explained.

"That is not the point! She could've been spending it with her family! Money is not the most important thing!"

"I agree, but she was poor and wanted the new Nimbus for her son. I overheard her once while I was browsing for a new cloak. I asked her to take the money, but she refused, so I hired her. It was the only day she was free, Granger!"

"Oh." It was all she could say. She felt foolish. Horrid. Malfoy was only being nice. He was being kind to a saleslady, to her, and she was ruining it for him. Ruining his Christmas.

"That's right," he said coldly, but his eyes softened once more.

"I'm sorry... I thought..."

"I'm not perfect, Granger, but I'm not that cruel bloke I was either. Experiences do change people."

"I guess I do think of you that way... Look, I'll give you back the gown, you shouldn't have gone to the trouble -"

"It's your Christmas gift."

"Then what shall I get you?"

"Your presence."

She filled with tears. "Forgive me?"

"That's a step," he said, surprised.

"Forgiveness always is."

"No, not forgiveness. You didn't flinch when you asked." There was a dawning about him, as if he was as struck as she was.

She grinned. "Christmas day?"

"Christmas day at eight."

Hermione stuffed her hands in her pockets and walked back down the path heading to the town. She wanted to get him something to open on Christmas, and despite that every store was closed, she would find something for him.