It was Christmas Eve, and Hermione was cooking. The beef tenderloin was in the oven, crusted with peppercorns and herbs, along with fingerling potatoes and asparagus. An artichoke was steaming on the stove, a spell in place to keep the pan from drying out and scorching. Hermione had attempted to make her own bread for the dinner rolls, but that attempt had gone miserably, so she'd had to transfigure the cakey, gummy rolls into a loaf of French bread (one that still had a bit of an odd texture). She was now lighting candles and pouring wine, waiting for Draco's arrival.

The fireplace blazed up with bright green flames and Draco Malfoy stepped into her living room, looking impeccable in formal wizard's robes. He looked so aristocratic, it nearly took her breath away; it was almost intimidating, like she was back at Hogwarts for the first time watching the rich, pureblood students who acted as though they already knew everything about magic, feeling like she would never catch up.

Draco saw her and gave her a half smile, half smirk. They stepped toward each other and she felt his lips against hers, a feeling that she thought would never get old. Ah, it wasn't Hogwarts after all.

"Dinner smells amazing," he whispered against her lips, his hands traveling down her body to feel every inch of her. They hadn't seen each other in almost a week. He'd been at the dueling club every day preparing for his Dragon level exam right after Christmas, and she'd been swamped at work.

"Don't distract me," she said, allowing him one more kiss before she stepped out of his reach. "It's almost ready."

Hermione shoved a glass of wine in his hand, leaving him looking a bit disappointed, to which she gave him a mischievous grin and took a sip of her own wine. Draco hovered over her as she finished cooking, taking every opportunity to touch her or to force her to squeeze by him in the small kitchen. She egged him on by bending over to open the oven and taking every opportunity to "stretch" and arch her back in his view.

Hermione finally served dinner to a very frustrated Malfoy, who sat down at the table with a bit of a grumpy expression and downed a bit of wine.

"Happy Christmas," she said, lifting her glass in toast.

"To you, too," he said, clinking his glass against hers.

They chatted and enjoyed Hermione's delicious Christmas Eve meal, drinking and refilling their wine glasses once or twice more than they usually would have.

"I can't wait to see the kids tomorrow," said Hermione.

"I can't wait to see Scorpius," he said, smiling, which happened only rarely when he talked of his son.

Usually it seemed that the mere thought of Scorpius could send him into brooding, a feeling Hermione was beginning to understand as she accustomed to sharing her children with an ex-spouse. She could only imagine if her ex only rarely allowed her to have contact with them. It would absolutely tear her apart.

"Do you ever think of having any more children?" asked Hermione casually.

Draco actually choked on his wine. He coughed and spluttered until Hermione cast a spell to help him clear his airways. She was looking at him with a smirk and a raised eyebrow when his panicked eyes met hers. His face was filled with terror, and Hermione almost laughed at him. His mouth opened and closed once or twice before he composed himself, reverting to an aloof and indifferent Malfoy mask, and looked back down at his plate.

"This steak is delicious," he said calmly.

Hermione laughed out loud.

"Relax, Draco," she said. "I don't mean with you."

He looked at her with an affronted expression.

"Well, who the bloody hell would you be having them with?" he asked.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him, amused at his contradiction.

"I'm only thirty four, you know," she continued, ignoring the fact that his knuckles were now quite white on his fork. "I've got plenty of time. But what I meant to say is that this is all hypothetical. I'm not interested in having any children with you."

Hermione paused.

"Right now."

She watched him cut into the last bit of his steak with trembling hands.

"Ah, I see," he said.

Hermione laughed again.

After dinner, they cleaned up the dishes, Hermione using a sponge the old-fashioned Muggle way, Draco flicking his wand easily to send clean plates back into the cupboards. Hermione still couldn't stop giggling now and then at his panicked reaction to her comment. Draco did not seem to think it very funny.

As soon as they were done, Hermione turned to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. He cautiously pulled her close to him and kissed her, but pulled away.

"Do I need to be casting contraceptive charms?" he asked, one eyebrow raised.

Hermione rolled her eyes and kissed him. It didn't take him long to forget about the awkward, yet amusing in Hermione's opinion, conversation they'd had over dinner. Soon he was tugging on her shirt and attacking her neck with his hot mouth, and it felt absolutely divine. The candles were burning low and dim, the fire was now just smoldering embers. They stretched out onto the sofa, not even bothering to head for the bedroom.

He was beginning to learn all of her favorite places to be touched and kissed, staying away from the ticklish spot on her ribs and focusing extra attention on surprising finds, like the back of her knee and the place just beneath her hip. It was sensual and worked Hermione into a fever. She wanted him, all of him.

She managed to get him undressed in between kisses, and he pulled off her pants but left her tiny satin panties, his breath heaving as he pushed them to the side to position himself between her legs. She moaned breathily when he pushed inside of her, using his thumb to massage her clit as he thrusted. The feel of his cock inside of her was ecstasy, and if the way he closed his eyes and bit his lip was any indication, he was feeling the same pleasure that she was. His lithe and muscular body was tense as her hands explored him, his breath strangled.

The angle was all wrong. Hermione pushed him off of her, leaving him momentarily stunned, and guided him into a seated position. She straddled his lap and he wrapped his hands around her lower back. Hermione leaned backward, his hands supporting her weight, and moved up and down on his erection, finally finding that perfect spot inside of her. His breath was coming fast now, the muscles in his shoulders taut from holding her.

"Just one more minute," she whispered.

The only response she got was a feral grunt. She was close now, her eyes closing involuntarily as she felt the familiar buildup inside her. It snuck up on her more quickly than she anticipated, making her body spasm as she cried out in pleasure. She felt his cock tense inside her almost immediately and heard him groan. Hermione relaxed and he pulled her against him, his muscles twitching from the exertion. She felt his hands on her face, and he kissed her passionately before letting his arms collapse at his sides. Hermione grinned at him.

"I'll be right back," she said. "I'm going to get your present."

"That wasn't it?" he asked breathlessly.

Hermione ran to her bedroom, leaving him pulling on his boxer briefs and relaxing on the sofa.

((()))

Harry and Ginny had finally convinced the children to go to sleep. All three Potter children, plus Rose, Hugo, and the seven other Weasley grandchildren, were all crammed into one room and all of them were hyped up on food and presents. But with countless reminders that Father Christmas would never come if they didn't go to sleep, the horde of children had finally settled down. They traipsed down the stairs to enjoy a Christmas drink with the rest of the adults.

"Here you are, dears," said Mrs. Weasley, handing them a glass of eggnog.

"Thanks," said Harry. "Where's Ron?"

Mrs. Weasley smiled knowingly.

"What's that look, Mum?" asked Ginny.

"Ron said he was going to Hermione's," she said with a pleased expression. "I think he had reconciliation on his mind."

"He's going where?" Harry exclaimed.

"Hermione's," said Mrs. Weasley, looking a bit confused, as it was obvious she'd been hoping Wendi with an 'i' would soon be replaced with her ex-daughter-in-law.

Harry and Ginny glanced at each other, knowing exactly who Hermione was likely to have at her house at this time on Christmas Eve. They sat down their drinks and bolted for the fireplace.

((()))

Draco was basking in after-sex glory in just a pair of black boxer briefs on Hermione's couch when the fireplace suddenly blazed into green flames. He first assumed that Potter or his wife had stopped by, a damper on his evening but not a disastrous one, and he was too exhausted to move from the couch anyway. However, when Ron Weasley stepped out of the flames, Draco knew that this night was about to take a very, very wrong turn.

Weasley's face when he caught sight of Draco was priceless, and if it weren't for the enormous amount of trouble that was about to happen, Draco would have laughed.

Weasley's facial expression shifted from shock to horror to disgust in a matter of seconds.

"Malfoy?"

Draco remained seated.

"What in the bloody hell are YOU doing here?" shouted Ron Weasley in a voice that boomed through Hermione's entire home.

Draco gestured to his undressed state as if to say, What does it look like?

"You're fucking my wife?" Weasley yelled, his expression a mask of pure, unadulterated fury.

Draco chuckled.

"She's not your wife anymore," he commented.

That was apparently quite the wrong thing to say, because Weasley turned a very angry shade of reddish-purple and reached for his wand.

Thank Merlin for years of self-defense and dueling training, because Draco managed to pull off a wandless, non-verbal Shield Charm as he dived for his wand. As soon as he had his wand in his hand, he felt perfectly comfortable. This was his expertise. The Weasley had no idea who he was up against. With barely a flick of the wrist, Draco effortless batted away each hex that Weasley sent his way, hexes that were becoming increasingly more malicious as the Weasley's anger built. When Weasley lifted his wand to perform a vile Dark curse, Draco practically rolled his eyes. What a novice. Every move he made was predictable, and Draco saw the curse coming ages before Weasley had even shouted it. How did this fool ever become an Auror? With a muttered counter-curse, the spell was dissolved into sparks that fell to the floor, singeing Hermione's rug.

That annoyed Draco.

Weasley was apparently getting more and more frustrated and had started sending Blasting curses at the furniture in Hermione's home. That made Draco angry. With a quick jerk of his wand and a whispered word, Draco cast a hex that left Weasley doubled over. He managed to lift his wand a yell an angry curse at Draco, but his aim was poor and it hit the ceiling. Weasley was enraged.

That was when Hermione ran into the room. It was obvious she'd rushed to get dressed as soon as she heard the commotion, because her shirt was on backward.

"What is going on in here?" she shrieked.

"You're fucking Malfoy!" Weasley roared, and he hurled another volley of spells at Draco, spells that he easily dodged and shielded.

Draco couldn't help but think this was great practice for his Dragon level exam. How often did he get actual, real-world fighting experience these days?

"STOP!" shrieked Hermione.

Weasley did not heed her warning. Draco sighed a bit impatiently and sent another hex at him, hoping to dissuade him from continuing the fight. Weasley gasped for breath as though he'd been punched in the gut, but that didn't stop him from haphazardly sending another curse in Draco's direction.

"You don't deserve her!" Weasley gasped.

That gave Draco pause. He didn't deserve her. He hadn't deserved to be married. He hadn't deserved to have such a wonderful, amazing son. He hadn't deserved to meet a wonderful, curly-haired woman at the dueling studio and to fall in . . . No, he thought, cutting off that train of thought. He didn't deserve someone who was so open, honest, trusting, loving. He didn't deserve her.

"You're right," said Draco, dropping his wand onto the ground and lifting his hands in the air. "I don't."

The look on Hermione's face pained him. She looked a mixture of hurt and sympathetic. She really did care about him, didn't she? Damn it all to hell.

"Ron, just put the wand away," said Hermione.

Weasley looked as though he was about to heed her advice. Draco knew he should take his lumps, surrender like he ought to, keep his mouth shut, but fuck if he couldn't help it. The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

"But she sure as hell doesn't deserve a classless, poverty-stricken, clumsy oaf like you," spat Draco.

All he saw was Ron Weasley's wand arm slashing through the air. At first, he thought he might laugh. The Weasley's spell hadn't even done anything! He had missed when his opponent was totally unarmed! Then it hit him. Suddenly. The room spun and Draco dropped to his knees before everything went black.

((()))

"Draco!" cried Hermione, rushing to his crumpled form.

"So it's Draco now?" accused Ron.

"Ron, what did you do to him?" Hermione said.

"He's just . . . I didn't . . ."

Just then, the flames roared to life and Harry and Ginny Potter stepped through.

"What happened here?" asked Harry, his voice authoritative.

"Ron cursed Draco!" said Hermione, panicking.

Ginny, who'd gone into work as a healer at St. Mungo's, rushed to her side and took out her wand, beginning to murmur a few diagnostic spells against Draco's limp body. Harry looked taken aback.

"I ought to arrest you!" Harry said to Ron.

Ron was looking at all of them like he couldn't quite absorb what was happening. Hermione was torn between watching Harry and Ron argue and watching Ginny heal Draco. He'd hit his head on the sofa table when he fell, and she was closing the wound with her wand.

"Harry, why aren't you surprised to see Malfoy here?" Ron said.

"I think that's a bit beside the point-"

"Why aren't you two surprised by all this?" he roared.

"Because we knew!" shouted Harry.

"You knew and you didn't tell me?" Ron yelled back.

"Of course we didn't tell you! Look what happened when you found out!" Harry said angrily, gesturing to Draco on the floor.

Ginny was shaking her head as she continued casting spells. Hermione was holding Draco's head in her hands, feeling his silky blond hair between her fingers. She hadn't realized just how much she'd come to care for Draco Malfoy until she felt tears prick the corners of her eyes.

"Let's get him to St. Mungo's," said Ginny calmly.

"Is he going to be all right?" said Hermione, hysteria bubbling up inside her.

"I've done what I can here," Ginny continued. "The Healers at St. Mungo's will have to do the rest."

"Ginny, is he going to be all right?" shrieked Hermione.

Ginny placed her hands on Hermione shoulders and looked her squarely in the eye.

"He's going to be fine," said Ginny firmly. "We just need to find out what happened to him."

Every eye in the room turned to Ron.

"Well?" prompted Harry.

Ron tugged at his bright red hair with his hands, looking a bit panicked.

"I don't know," he said. "I was just so angry, and he was casting spells at me. Harry, you should know he hit me right in the chest with a-"

"What spell did you use?" interrupted Ginny.

Ron hung his head.

"The Incidaere curse," he said quietly.

Hermione was horrified. It was a very dangerous curse, one that could leave permanent magical damage to the victim's lungs and airways. They were lucky Draco was breathing at all at this point; credit, perhaps, to Ron's ineptitude with Dark Magic. Harry let out a frustrated sigh.

"Damn you, Ron," said Harry, running a hand through his hair. "Now I really ought to arrest you."

"Let's just get him to St. Mungo's," said Ginny quickly, trying to dispel the tension in the room.

Hermione nodded, and she and Ginny dragged Draco to the Floo where they could get him to St. Mungo's right away.