Hey lovelies! So from where I am, it's officially Boxing Day. So in honour of Boxing Day, I'm going to post this next part which a boxing day day story! I'm even posting it early, so hooray!

I'm working on the VERY LAST chapter now, trying to perfect it in a way that will make everyone happy and do Dramione justice! So I'll try and have that up by the 27th, but we shall see.

Until then, enjoy this extremely short and kind of vague Boxing Day chapter!


[Seven – December 26]

Draco walks out of the bathroom the next morning after his shower to find Hermione packing her suitcase. He watches her for a moment; it's like she's in her own little world. She probably is, he muses.

"Going somewhere?" he asks casually, although he's fairly certain he already knows the answer to that.

She nods, keeping her back to him. "I figure we should get out early. Don't want to impose any longer than we have to."

He sighs, walking up behind her. "Granger-"

"Don't 'Granger' me, Draco. I ruined everyone's Christmas."

"Carolineruined everyone's Christmas. Everything would've turned out fine had we been able to stick to the plan."

She shakes her head, whirling around to face him. The anger in her eyes is almost frightening, and it isn't even directed at him. It's directed at herself; because she blames herself. "But I started it. I started it by lying to her in the first place. And then I continued to lie to her and to everyone else – God, I made up an entirely fabricated life for myself so that I wouldn't have to feel so bloody pathetic and for what? To feel better about myself? Well that worked liked a bloody charm, 'cause I feel great now," she snaps sarcastically, turning her attention back to her suitcase.

He sits on the edge of the bed, facing her but she won't look at him now.

"They hate me."

"They don't hate you. They're your family, they could never hate you," he replies softly. "Look, why don't we just go downstairs, get some breakfast, see how everyone's feeling and go from there?"

She shakes her head, "I think we should just leave – just say goodbye and be on our way."

"Running away isn't going to fix anything," he argues logically, seeing as she isn't clearly isn't thinking straight.

"Says the one who no longer spends Christmas with his family because he'safraid."

He opens his mouth to argue but he doesn't have one – and nor can he find one. Because she's right. Somehow she's always right.

"I'm leaving, Draco," she whispers, zipping up her suitcase. "You can either leave with me or you can disapparate later."

X

Everyone is sitting in the living room when she announces that they're leaving. Her father is reading the newspaper, her mother is knitting, Caroline and Mary are reading a magazine and Tyler and George are watching TV.

They hardly acknowledge her so she turns around with a sarcastic "alright." She's the first to leave the house, lugging her suitcase behind her.

Draco, however, hesitates and turns to face her family as he holds the door open a crack. "She wasn't trying to hurt anyone," he tells them. "In fact all she was trying to do was please you – every single one of you. She holds herself up to impossibly high standards because of the standards you've all seemed to have set for her and she's been so terrified of letting everybody down. Pushing her away isn't going to help anyone. Maybe you should just let her live her life instead of expecting things from her all the time."

He leaves then, closing the door behind him. He looks at her after he settles himself and his luggage into the car and reaches across the gap to wipe away a fallen tear from her cheek. She thanks him softly, brokenly, before she begins the long drive home.

X

"So. Out with it," Ginny tells her firmly.

After dropping Draco off at his penthouse, she'd gone home to shower, unpack her suitcase and start her laundry before she owled Ginny to let her know she was home.

She was curled up on the sofa watching the 1964 Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer movie when she received a letter back from Ginny telling her to come over.

Now, two hours later, here she is amidst a house full of children still playing excitedly with their Christmas gifts and of adults playing with their own boy-toys while simultaneously "supervising" the children. And up until now, she's managed to avoid a certain specific topic.

"Out with what?" Hermione asks dumbly.

"Well how'd it go?"

"It was fine."

Ginny turns to look at her seriously. "What happened?"

The brunette sighs, her resolve faltering slightly as she pulls her feet onto the sofa and folds them underneath her. "Everything was fine at first – great, actually. Draco and I were getting along so well that it was almost too easy to convince everyone that we were a real couple."

"But..?"

"But then Caroline overheard us talking about everything and she freaked out – told everybody. So I had to tell them all the truth, which...well, ruined their Christmas."

"What – are you serious? What is wrong with that girl? Why would she do that?"

Hermione shrugs. "She had every right to-"

"No she didn't!" Ginny exclaims offensively. "If anything she should've talked to you about it first-"
"I lied to her, Ginny. I lied to everyone – and it's not even like it was just once, it was...I lied to them every day. She had every right to mad at me, they all do," Hermione says softly.

Ginny frowns. "Is that why you left so early this morning?"

She nods. "Yeah. They could hardly even look at me and I didn't want to feel like a burden or anything," she explains. "Draco wanted to stay for a while, but I couldn't just...it just didn't feel right."

"You'll have to talk to them at some point, 'Mione," Ginny replies. "You can't avoid them forever."

"You sound like Draco," she groans.

Ginny smiles. "Speaking of Draco...you said you were getting along?"

Hermione rolls her eyes playfully. "Yes, we were."

"And?"

"And what?"

Ginny blinks. "Well, I dunno, I just thought – nevermind," she mutters, deciding instead to drop the topic of conversation. For now. "Ignore me. Want some eggnog?"

X

Draco twirls his glass around in his hand, watching the amber liquid swirl around the inside as he leans against the kitchen counter.

Blaise stands on the other side of the marble island, watching his best friend in amusement. He smirks, folding his arms across his chest as he leans forward with his elbows on the counter. "So."

"Hmm?" the blond asks distractedly.

"Geez, distracted much?" The dark-skinned wizard teases smugly as he raises his own glass of fire whiskey to his lips.

"What?"

"My point exactly. Granger?"

"What, about Granger?"

"That's what I want to know."

Draco frowns, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What the bloody hell are you talking?"

"You're distracted and I think it has to do with a certain crazy witch."

"She's not crazy, she-" he stops himself before he accidentally reveals too much information.

Blaise smirks knowingly.

"Whatever, it's over with," Draco mutters. "She's done with me, so..."

"Are you done with her?"

Draco stares at him for a moment. "Doesn't matter."

Blaise frowns.

"Besides, my date with Avalon is tomorrow."

The dark-skinned wizard rolls his eyes. "I can't believe you're actually following through with that ridiculous idea."

"Why shouldn't I?"

"You have nothing in common with her! She's – she's..."

"She's what?" Draco presses exasperated.

Not Granger, the smug wizard thinks with a smirk. "Nevermind, you're not going to listen to me anyway."

"Look, it's just a date. It's not like I plan on marrying the bird," Draco scoffs.

"Right, yeah, of course. Have you seen your mother?"

Draco rolls his eyes. "No. But I owled her when I got home. Don't worry yourself sick, Zabini, I'll see her eventually."

X

For the first time in days Hermione finds herself getting ready for bed alone and as she crawls under the cool covers, she misses the presence of a certain blond-haired ferret next to her.

X

Draco, too, lies awake, staring at the ceiling in the middle of the night. Something is keeping him awake tonight and he has a sneaking suspicion it has something to do with the fuzzy-haired brunette he'd shared a bed with for the last five nights.

He kind of wishes he still were.