Disclaimer: This is a work of FanFiction using characters from the Harry Potter world, trademarked by none other than J.K. Rowling. Other names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products solely of my imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Warnings: Marriage/Adult Fic / OOC / Debatable AU / Fluffy / Profanity / Explicit sexual content

Timeline: Post-Hogwarts / EWE

Thank you so much to the awesome beta whose pen name is Rose Davis for looking over this fic!

December 2008, Christmas Eve

Draco remembered the first Christmas she spent with Hermione. It was December of 2000. She made him stay with her at her parents' house which was quite a horrendous experience he thought at first. It was the first time he met her parents. Her parents, he found out, were overprotective. They believed that he was just another horny little wizard set out to seduce her. If only they had known that it was curious Hermione who wanted to try it out with him. He wanted to laugh at their faces then.

He was forced to participate in their Christmas traditions that he found a bit ridiculous. His own family wasn't big fans of the holiday.

The morning of Christmas Eve, the four of them went to volunteer in a soup kitchen where they served homeless people Christmas feast. What an awkward experience that was for him. Of course, he wasn't actually used to serving others - house elf work! His mind screamed but when he caught Mrs. Granger smiling at him, he thought that he didn't mind it so much after all.

After that, they had lunch at a family restaurant not far from the soup kitchen.

Then they went to an orphanage where they participated in a cookie frosting party. Another awkward experience but with Hermione's encouragement, he started enjoying himself. Hell, a little blonde girl clung to him the whole time they had been there. When Hermione kissed him in front of her parents because he had been nice to the kid, he decided that he'd like to do this again.

When it was over, Hermione told her parents that the two of them will go ice skating. His pride and his ass had never taken such beating in his whole life.

When they came back to the house at sundown, he expected that the Grangers spent Christmas with only the three of them, now plus him. How wrong he was, when nightfall came and about twenty of her extended family members barged inside the house all jovial and loud.

When midnight struck, everyone started to kiss and hug each other, shouting out "Happy Christmas!" and then proceeded to sing Christmas carols while one of the relatives sat down and played the piano. After that, they ate.

Then after that Christmas, those traditions became his also. Every time he would complain to Hermione about this and that, but he knew that she knew that he really didn't mind these traditions and that she'd raise hell if they stopped practicing them.

"Happy Christmas, baby," he told her when he cornered her somewhere in the hallway one Christmas night a few years into their relationship.

"Happy Christmas," she returned happily, her arms wrapped around his neck. "We're standing under the mistletoe."

"Would you look at that?" He grinned, wiggling his eyebrows before he lowered his lips to hers in a searing kiss. She was giggling when he pulled away, licking his lips. "You taste like strawberries," he moaned. "I love strawberries."

"Behave," she admonished.

He laughed then, because he had consumed this delicious, weird concoction called eggnog. A lot of it, actually, and he found out only too late that it was spiked. "I love you," he said in a singsong voice.

"Oh, great," she said. "You're pissed... but that's okay because I love you too."

He kissed her again, softly this time.

What Draco wouldn't give to have her back in his arms again? He stared across the sitting room of Malfoy Manor, gathered around with his parents and his parents friends with their family... her mother's youngest sister, Andromeda and her grandson, were also present because some time ago, they had reconciled and were now working on their differences.

After greeting them dutifully, he lurked in the farthest corner of the room, only wishing that he was at the Grangers' singing Christmas carols, downing numerous glasses of eggnogs, stealing kisses whenever he passed by his wife and then going home after Christmas feast so he can make love to her.

The atmosphere at the Grangers' was completely different from this one. Here, they wore only the best dress robes, some even sparkling and some too outrageous for such an intimate setting. Their ears, necks, wrists and fingers glittering with expensive jewelry.

Draco sighed, swirling the amber liquid sitting inside the glass he cradled in his hand. "Fuck," he whispered, his pain as strong as when he realized that his wife left him. So many questions and no answers. What the bloody hell happened to her?

"Knut for your thoughts?"

He glanced up at the speaker. "Hello, Mother."

"You still miss her, don't you?" Narcissa asked gently, sitting across from him, placing her hand on his arm.

"Of course," he said. "Why wouldn't I? I love her. I've been searching all over for her. I've even resorted to working with Potter. He doesn't know where she is either. None of them do. I feel like I'm going insane. I need..." he paused. "I need her. I need her back in my life." He hated the way his voice broke as he spoke.

She stared down at him sadly. "Maybe it's for the best, Draco."

He gave a bitter laugh. "The best for whom, Mother?"

She hesitated. "For everyone."

"You don't understand." He glared at her. "Not that I'm trying to make you understand. Just leave me alone." He sighed when he realized that he was being disrespectful. "I'm sorry, Mother, I'm quite testy. Please... just... go."

"I'm sorry," Narcissa said softly. She stood up and walked away, with her shoulders uncharacteristically slumped.

He glared at his mother's back. He knew that she wasn't really sorry. Both his parents were against their marriage and almost always voiced it out to him. Why couldn't they just see her the way he saw her? Why couldn't they get over their prejudice like he had? Why couldn't they just be happy for him?

"Oof," a little voice grumbled not far from where he was sitting.

Draco got to his feet, placed his glass at a table and bent over to help the toddler who was lying on her stomach. "You okay? Here, let me help you up."

"Hullo," the toddler told him who bounced as if she just didn't fall flat on her face.

"Where's your mother?"

"Over there." A tiny finger pointed to a familiar redhead standing in the middle of the room, with an arm draped over one of Draco's old classmates in Hogwarts, Blaise Zabini. Her head was thrown back as she laughed at something Zabini said. Lacey Hurst didn't seem to notice that her daughter was not with her.

He glowered at the two of them and went knelt down so he could speak to the kid. "Imogen. That's your name, right?"

She nodded.

Imogen was a cute kid, Draco noticed. Her hair was as red as her mother's and there were freckles across her little button nose. She can pass off as a Weasley, he thought amusedly. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

"No!" she all but screamed. "Let's play!"

His brows rose. "Okay?"

His heart clenched again. Before Hermione left all those months ago, they were trying for a child. They both wanted it so much but she had a condition that made it difficult for her to conceive. She wanted a girl and she wanted her name to be Victoria. He wanted a boy and he wanted his name to be Scorpius.

Imogen, he noticed, was grinning up at him brightly, expectantly. "Oh. What do you want to play, little girl?"

"Ride horsey."

"I assume I'm the horsey," he said dryly. "No, sorry. What about..." he thought hard and with his exceptional magic skills, he conjured a small, bouncy ball. "Catch? Let's play catch."

Imogen shook her head frantically. "No ball. Play dolly?"

"Dolly," he repeated helplessly. "Okay... where's the dolly?"

It just so happened that Imogen had little tiny dolls in her back pocket which suddenly grew in size after a few moments.

After several minutes, he found himself charmed by the kid and not long after, he was enjoying himself.

He cursed her mother in his head though. Lacey Hurst was a conniving woman who had no morals. He can't believe the drastic change she went through in adulthood. When they were younger, she was sweet. Now she was a mean old bitch who didn't care if she stepped in anyone's toes to go after what she wanted.

Not long ago, her sights were on him. He thought she was interested in meeting with him so they could get reacquainted and pursue their friendship. Lacey told him that she had a muggle boyfriend and when she told him that she was a witch, he left her because he thought she was a loon. He didn't care about the kid. The poor kid. They went out for lunch and dinner and all those times, she always cried over the muggle. Until one evening when he had one too many drinks - his fault entirely - and she took him to her flat. After undressing him, she touched him inappropriately. At first he was confused and then when he realized what she was doing, he screamed at her and left. That was the last he'd seen of her. The nerve of that conniving witch!

Now her sights were set on Blaise Zabini, who was also married. Draco smirked. The difference between him and Zabini was that Zabini had absolutely no qualms about cheating on his wife. Lacey might make a conquest out of him after all.

"Draco," Lacey said coolly from above his head.

"Lacey," he returned, his voice void of any emotions. "Zabini."

His old Slytherin classmate inclined his head in reply. Although Draco got along with him back during the Hogwarts days, that wasn't the case now.

Lacey turned to look at the dark-skinned man standing beside her. She clung to his arm. "This is my poor Imogen whose muggle father just up and abandoned us," her voice soft and innocent, and her lower lip protruding in a pout that Draco found so annoying that he wanted to punch her in the face.

"The bastard," Blaise hissed dramatically. "I'll kill that bloody muggle if I ever find him."

Draco snorted. So she was playing that card, was she? And hot bloody damn, it seemed that Zabini was falling for it like he himself had done. He dropped the doll he was holding and got to his feet. "It was nice to meet you, Imogen." He meant it. Poor kid was being used by her own mother to get what she wanted. Without another word to the two idiots, he left and reclaimed his seat at the far corner of the room.

Being a man can suck sometimes. Big blue eyes, pouty lips and a pair of great tits could bring just about any man to his knees.

Had Hermione known about Lacey's ploy?

He chuckled dryly. Of course not. He was careful not to mention the bitch to her. Hermione had the tendency to be a bit possessive - a trait that he very much liked - and if he happened to mention Lacey to her, Hermione would get angry and stressed out or something. They were trying to get her pregnant and the healer they consulted advised that she should avoid stress at all costs.

Merlin, how he missed her.

He wasn't sure how managed to get through each without her in it... just the little glimmer of hope that any time she would walk in that door and everything would be okay again.

...would she be at the Grangers' tonight?

Shit! Why hadn't he thought of that?!

His heart started to race. She never, ever missed Christmas at her parents' place. Dare he even hope?

He didn't even bother to tell his parents where he was going. He merely rushed out of the room and disapparated. He reappeared in the Grangers' closed off backyard, right where he and Hermione always apparated to whenever they came there to visit.

As expected, the house was lighting up brightly with all the Christmas lights. And from outside, he could see her relatives' laughing and singing because the curtains were drawn. He didn't knock. He didn't have to. He used the back door that led straight to the kitchen. Merlin. His hands were shaking and he could guess that he might look a bit pale.

"Mum," he called out as soon as he caught sight of Hermione's mother. Mum, she insisted that he call her.

"Draco! You're here! Where's Hermione?" Mrs. Granger hollered with a bright smile and quickly approached him. "Are you feeling better now?"

"What?"

"Hermione came by not too long ago. She said you had the flu that's why you couldn't come. Oh dear, you do look a bit pale. Do you want to head upstairs and lie down?"

Fuck. She was here. And her parents didn't know that she left him. She bloody lied to them. "I think I just missed her," he managed to say.

"She left not thirty minutes ago."

"Where did you think she went? Ah... she wasn't home when I le-left."

"I'm not entirely sure. She told us she was in a hurry to get home." Mrs. Granger chuckled. "Maybe she was in some other room when you left. The library most likely. I wouldn't be surprised. Your penthouse apartment is as big as this house."

He forced a smile but it didn't manage to reach his eyes. "Yeah," he forced out. "I'd better get home. She's probably there, wondering where I am." How he wished those words were true. "And I don't feel well. Quite terrible actually."

"I can see that." She reached up and pinched his cheek. "You go home and rest. What rotten timing that flu is? It's Christmas! Hermione will take care of you."

Tears prickled at the back of his eyes. "Happy Christmas." It wasn't.

"Happy Christmas, Draco."

He flew from the house, his head hung and his shoulders heavy, like he was carrying the entire world over them and he found himself standing in an empty street all alone, while the others who lived in that suburban area were inside their warm homes filled with Christmas spirit.

She lied to her parents. She never lied. She abhorred lying. He lied all the time which always angers her.

Why the bloody hell would she do that?

Why did she have to pretend?

Why did she really go out of her way just so she could avoid him?

What did he do?

Where did it all go wrong?

Fuck!

Anger simmered from the top of his head. He wanted to whirl objects around. He wanted to kill someone. He had never been this angry in his life before. Merlin! If she didn't love him anymore, why didn't she just say so instead of running off and torturing him this way?

He hated her for it.

No. No. "I didn't mean that," he said out loud in the darkness of the evening, the lights glowing brightly, taunting him. "I don't hate you. Just come back to me."

A cry of anguish tore from his throat and then he ran, but he didn't where he was going nor did he care. He was lost emotionally and literally.

December 2008, Christmas Day

The next morning, he stared up at the ceiling. His mind entirely blank. He actually felt numb at the realization that Hermione pretty much up and left him because she wanted to, not because she had to.

What about their marriage? They had their magic and souls bounded by marriage. There was no going back to it, unless they'd found a Dark Wizard to perform the dissolving ritual which was entirely illegal and all involved parties would no doubt be thrown in Azkaban.

I don't want to wake up one day and find that you're not there when I wake up in the morning because when something goes wrong, if - when - we do this, we don't have to worry because we're going to be stuck together for life, he'd told her two years ago when they accidentally eloped.

'Accidentally eloped' was what they called that fateful day. It was supposed to be just a vacation in Paris when the thought of getting married to her occurred to him. It wasn't hard to convince her that day knowing that she wanted the same things.

The silence of the home was eerie.

Ruined by the loud pounding of a hand on the door and the insistent ringing of the doorbell. It grated on his nerves. He ignored it. It was Christmas. And he was without his wife. What the fuck do they want? Why couldn't they just leave him to wallow in misery?

It went on and on.

It didn't seem that whoever was behind that door was going to give up soon.

With a lot of effort, he dragged himself out of bed, out of the bedroom and to the front door.

When he opened it and saw who it was, he groaned.

Whatever Harry Potter had to say, he didn't want to hear it because in truth, he was afraid because his blank expression suggested that it wasn't good news. Not at all.

What if he'd found her and he'd say she's dead? What if she'd found someone else? What if! What bloody if! At first, when she'd been gone for over a week, he was just about to die from worry, believing that she was taken against her will... but when Draco came home from work one day, all of her clothes, shoes and bags were gone.

"We found Hermione," Harry finally spoke, his tone seemingly sad.

Draco paled. "Where is she?" When the other wizard didn't say anything after a long moment, he screamed, "Tell me, Potter!"

"Aqua Falls," Harry said quickly. "A very small town in Paulsgrove, Portsmouth. She lives alone at a small cottage at a bit secluded area of the town. She's working as a librarian at the local library and, Malfoy..."

Draco held his breath, his brows raising expectantly.

"She's eight and a half months pregnant."