Disclaimer to JK Rowling.

Chapter Seven

Friend, friend, spooking my lonely hours you were there, but pretend.

Listen here. I've never played it safe
in spite of what the critics say.
Ask my imaginary brother, that waif,
that childhood best friend who comes to play

Anne Sexton from August 8th

"Remember, keep researching," Lacie said as she dragged her trunk from the Common Room, "I'll have a look in the Manor all Christmas for him."

She dropped her trunk and hugged Harry and Ron tightly, "Are you sure you don't want to come to the Manor? Mother wouldn't mind, Father would have a fit, but he wouldn't kick you out."

"A Weasley at a Malfoy Christmas?" Ron said weakly, "Fat chance. I'd have to put up with your brother for three weeks."

"Plus, we don't want to trouble your father, but thank you," Harry said over Lacie's arm which was around his neck.

When Lacie had let go, Harry turned to Hermione and asked, "Are you going to be alright?"

"Skiing and a trip to Monaco? You should be worried whether or not I'll come back," Hermione joked.

"Please do," Ron said seriously, "Or else McGonagall will get suspicious about my homework marks, and I'll end up not doing well in my exams and getting kicked out."

Everyone laughed heartily. Hermione patted him on the shoulder and said, "Tempting, Ronald."

With that, she turned to her trunk and picked it up by the straps and started carrying it in the direction of the Portrait Hole and called, "Don't overwork yourself!"

"Did Hermione Granger just say that?" Ron whispered loudly to Harry. Harry dropped his jaw and looked open-mouthed at Hermione with a feigned surprised expression. Hermione rolled her eyes at the pair of them.

"In fact, if you don't find out who Nicholas Flamel is, I'll hex you for not trying hard enough," Hermione said, making sure that there were no one else that could listen to her speaking.

"And I wouldn't put it past her to do that," Lacie called waving and pulling her trunk along. Hermione and Lacie made their way out of the Common Room so that they could catch the last of the horse-drawn carriages to the platform where they would take the Hogwarts Express back home for the Holidays.

Time had gone by fleetingly. Too much so. Hermione felt that Hogwarts was just one of those places where it manipulated time to go faster so that the fun would always end. That's all that it came down to, Hogwarts was fun. There was an irreplaceable atmosphere every day that Hermione wanted to soak up. Now it was the holidays and she was going home. However, Hermione didn't feel like she was going home, she felt like she was going on a holiday away from home.

It was funny how a few months could distort her views on where home was.

Despite how much Hermione was dreading leaving Hogwarts, the train journey to King's Cross was remarkably longer than what she had imagined. She sat with Lacie in a small little carriage and spent the entire time talking to her about small things, like about what skiing was or like how half of Lacie's family came from France. Lacie also added, with much glee in her voice that she was quite fluent in French, having spoken and learnt it from a young age.

Malfoy joined them halfway through the journey and sat beside Lacie. Lacie had apologised, formally, before term had ended to comply with her mother's wishes. After assuring Draco for some time that it wasn't a trick, they parted ways and agreed to meet each other on the train. After waiting for Malfoy to get out of earshot, Lacie added in an undertone to Hermione that she hadn't really forgiven him and was waiting for the right time to get back at Draco. She didn't forgive and certainly never forgot. She really believed that she shouldn't have had to say anything to Malfoy, keep him on edge, but it was Christmas. If she could truce with Ronald Weasley, she should be able to have a temporary truce with her brother.

His presence didn't hinder any conversation. Hermione and Lacie carried on talking as if he wasn't there. He stayed, gradually getting closer to Lacie and Lacie somehow getting closer to him and Hermione noticed that it wasn't long before Lacie had rested her head on Malfoy's shoulder, looking more comfortable than she had been sitting straight. It was as if the term hadn't happened, and Hermione remembered that they were sitting with as much ease as they had when they first boarded the train.

"I heard Professor Snape is joining us for Christmas dinner," Malfoy said after some time.

Lacie shot up, "Really?"

Malfoy nodded. He stole a glance to Hermione who didn't look too bothered.

"Uncle Severus at Christmas, it'll be like old times," Lacie said excitedly she jumped to the other side of the carriage where Hermione was sitting and took her hand, "Uncle Severus – Professor Snape to you – used to come over all the time but stopped after this one Christmas where I threw peas at Draco and somehow managed to get them up Uncle Severus' nose."

"Was he alright?" Hermione asked. Then she realised that she needn't have asked that question. She witnessed his overbearing alrightness on a weekly basis.

"He went to St. Mungo's," Lacie shrugged. "Oh, I wish you were going to be there, not in France."

"Maybe next year," Hermione said weakly. Lacie threw her arms around her and squeezed her tightly.

"I'm going to miss you!"

"We're not even at King's Cross yet!" Hermione gasped, desperate for air.

Lacie let go suddenly, "But still. Imagine the summer holidays, it'll be horrendous, you'll definitely have to come to the Manor."

That was when Hermione heard a scoffing noise, "As if Father would allow it."

Lacie turned to Malfoy with a piercing glare, "Why would Father have a problem?"

"If you hadn't noticed, Lacie, Granger is a Muggle."

"She's a better witch than you are a wizard," Lacie snarled. "I would appreciate it if you didn't insult her."

Malfoy turned his head and sniffed.

"I swear not all Malfoys are like him," Lacie said loudly, "You'll see when you come over for the summer."

Malfoy stood up and stormed out of the carriage, slamming the glass door so violently that it rattled ominously. Lacie tittered and stared out of the glass door. Hermione felt slightly troubled. Even though they could act as if the term had never happened, it still had, and would have an effect on them. Lacie, had undoubtedly made friends. Real ones. Friends that weren't afraid to speak their mind when they disagreed. All Malfoy had were his cohorts who listened to his bidding.

Was he jealous?

Of course he wasn't jealous. It was impertinent for Hermione to have thought so.

Lacie spoke in short clipped sentences after that. Although she was hiding how angry and irritated she was, she didn't use it to hurt Hermione in any way. Months ago, she would have probably said something that would take Hermione aback and almost reduce her to tears. Lacie was starting empathise with people's emotions. Despite how much of a Malfoy that she claimed to be all the time, she was susceptible to change.

The train started to slow as a concrete jungle surrounded them. It was no longer the picturesque snowy landscape outside the large glass windows but rather the hustle and bustle of city life. Hermione couldn't wait to go on holiday. She also couldn't wait to go back to Hogwarts for the new term.

Lacie didn't say much, in fact, she didn't say anything at all as she reached for her trunk and pulled it off the racks. She waited patiently for Hermione to do the same and they both dragged their trunks off the train onto the platform. Hermione looked around for her parents. She didn't have to look so hard as Lacie pulled her across the platform towards a lamp where a young-looking couple were standing.

The man, had shoulder-length blond hair that he had tied back with a silver ribbon. His cloak was made to look like an expensive Mackintosh, which allowed him to blend in with the Muggle world outside of the platform, and was emerald green and floor-length. Beside him, he held a walking stick. He didn't look as if he needed one and he stroked the snake head on the top of it. The woman standing next to him wore her blonde hair down, letting it trickle down her back in lustrous waves over her pale blue robes that complimented her white skin. She held herself with as more grace than Hermione knew someone could possess. She knew that Lacie had a straight posture when she stood. The woman, had an even straighter posture, and was possibly more elegant for it. Hermione knew without a shadow of a doubt that these two people were Lacie's parents, the formidable Mr Malfoy, and his loving wife.

"Mother," Lacie said holding out her arms and dropping her trunk on the platform, "I've missed you."

Mrs Malfoy didn't say anything but embracing her daughter and pecking her on her head. She pulled away and smiled at her. She inclined her head towards her husband with wide eyes.

Lacie's expression became sombre. "Father."

This time there was nothing in her voice that would have suggested that she missed her father. In fact, it was bordering on indifference to him.

"Lacerta." He patted her on the head with his free hand and messing it's usual straightness up.

"This is Hermione Granger," Lacie said, pulling away from her father. Mr Malfoy gave one appraising look at Hermione that seemed to scorch through her.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Mrs Malfoy said, distracting Hermione's attention away from Mr Malfoy's piercing eyes.

"You too, Mrs Malfoy."

"I've heard so much about you, is it true that you're the cleverest witch in the year?" Mrs Malfoy asked.

Hermione reddened, "No, Mrs Malfoy."

"She's just being modest, Mother, she really is!" Lacie interrupted.

"Your parents must be so proud," Mrs Malfoy continued, "where are they?"

Hermione looked behind her, "I don't know. They must have gotten lost, they're not used to the idea of walking through the platform, you see."

"Oh," Mrs Malfoy laughed, the sound was like silver sleigh bells, tinkling in harmony. "I understand, the introduction of a new world at their age is most difficult."

At that moment, Mr Malfoy hacked a cough and stared at Hermione. He looked from her to his wife then his daughter. His lip curled. Then announced in a clear, cold voice, "We must go find Draco."

Mrs Malfoy almost jumped and followed her husband who was ready to walk through the crowd of families. She gave Hermione a sympathetic smile. Hermione felt Lacie's hand touch hers, an apologetic expression covered her face.

"I'm - ..."

"Lacerta!"

Like her mother, Lacie jumped. She let go of Hermione's hand and walked to her father's waiting figure with her head hung low. Hermione watched as they disappeared into the crowd and lost sight of them.

"There you are!" a voice huffed behind her. Hermione whirled around and was attacked by a rough material rubbing her face.

"We've missed you so much!" Her mother's voice came out muffled as Hermione was trapped between both her parents embracing her tightly. Hermione felt herself smile and from that moment, forgot the snide and cool gesture of utmost rejection from Mr Malfoy.

"Pass the peas, Draco," Lacie said, staring across the dinner table at her brother with a cold stare.

"Please," Their mother reminded Lacie. Lacie said it in a growl.

"How do I know you won't shove it in my ear?" Draco asked with a whine. Lacie knew that the childish tone was merely an act. He only wanted sympathy from their mother, something he had gotten earlier when he demanded to be seated opposite her, next to their mother. Lacie had been relegated to sitting next to Uncle Severus who seemed quite uncomfortable being next to her. Lacie could hardly blame him. The fact that she was renowned for throwing food around was lingering over the Christmas dinner.

"You're too far away," Lacie snapped. After receiving a reproachful stare from their mother, Lacie hastily added, "I said that I'd already forgiven you."

Draco said something under his breath and after their mother said something in a low tone, which she couldn't hear, he reluctantly passed the bowl of peas. Lacie took it and added some sparingly on her plate.

"Peas, Uncle Sev?"

He shuddered, "No, thank you." It was in his typical intimidating voice and Lacie handed the bowl back to Draco to put it back in its original place.

Lacie and Draco glared at each other over their Christmas dinner. Lacie was incredibly annoyed with him. He didn't seem to know that he was in the wrong when it came to insulting her friend. Nor did he know the boundaries. He seemed to spew venom as they travelled home about her best friend, and what made it worse was that their father hadn't batted an eyelid. Their mother, had tried to get Draco to stop being so rude on a few occasions but to no avail. Her family were simply unsympathetic to her and her choice of friends. It was enough to make Lacie want to be sick.

She wished her family wasn't like this. She wished her family could understand. They never seemed to. She described her Gryffindor adventures to her mother, who seemed like she was forced to listen to her. Although she had wrote that she was accepting, it was clear to Lacie that somehow, her mother wished that she was describing times when she spent with a Slytherin pureblood, or half-blood at best, girl and how they chatted. It made Lacie want to roll her eyes to realise that her mother wanted her to be in the company of the likes of Pansy Parkinson. Lacie couldn't really imagine it despite having grown up with her. She never realised how disrespectful the girl was, and seeing as Lacie had learnt from a young age and trained in how to be respectful, she just couldn't get along with her.

Small conversation began at the table and her father reminisced about his younger years and how he had looked after Severus during their time at Hogwarts. In Slytherin. Lacie shook her head. Typical. Just typical. Lacie hadn't gone a single day where her father was reminding her of what she was missing by accepting that she was a Gryffindor.

For a moment, she could empathise with her mother's cousin, Sirius Black. It was equally as likely that his parents were just as dismissive of him. She could almost understand his desperation to align himself with the ultimate status symbol, one of the well-renowned Slytherins of all time, just to be accepted. She knew better than that. Her mother had trained her, that she had to adapt to any situation (with high society functions in mind, though, rather than being placed in a House deemed unfit for a Malfoy). She had adapted and she was enjoying.

"Can you please pass the gravy, Lacie?" Her mother cut through all the Slytherin talk. Lacie looked up and lifted the boat before handing it to her. Her mother looked concerned for her.

"Lacerta, tell me more about this Hermione Granger."

Lacie felt confused. It was the first time that her mother wanted to know about her Hogwarts life. Willingly.

"She's a brilliant witch. She's kind and she helps people with their homework and they always come back with full marks. She spends her free time in the library looking up the work we have to do and she's looking over second-year stuff because she can do most of the first-year stuff. She really is the cleverest witch.," Lacie said in a rushed voice. Draco snorted.

"She is hopeless on a broom."

"You're not an expert, or else, you'd be on the Quidditch team."

Draco flushed a deep shade of red. Their mother interrupted, "The cleverest witch? Is that true Severus?"

He shifted almost imperceptibly and said, "The girl is an impertinent know-it-all, who seems to outdo everyone else in her year despite her... upbringing."

Lacie would have snarled at him for making the same judgement as everyone else did on Hermione because her parents just so happened to be Muggles. He had no right! His father was a Muggle-born too. He had told her so.

"How...interesting." Her father spoke with a bored voice. "Lacerta, how is it that a Mudblood managed to accomplish so much in comparison to you?"

"Don't call her that," Lacie said standing up. She couldn't ignore the contempt in his voice, or the jibe. The last thing that she wanted was to be compared to Hermione. Compared to Hermione, she was the privileged one, the one born into Wizarding society and therefore should trump her in everything that they do. In reality, she hadn't. Hermione was just naturally talented and Lacie just paled in comparison.

"I will call her anything I want," her father retorted cutting into his turkey. "If you don't like it, then go to your room."

Lacie clenched her fist.

"Lucius, I would prefer it if you did not use that word," Uncle Severus said in a low voice. "It brings up memories of my own unfortunate upbringing."

Lucius looked at Uncle Sev and then looked at his own plate. "For you, Severus." He bit the head of a piece of asparagus off and ate it. "It is lovely to see some pull through their on their own. Others, it seems do not, even though they get all the help they could possibly want."

Lacie pushed her chair out. It made a horrible screeching noise. Everyone looked at her.

As custom, she placed her napkin on beside her plate and curtseyed a little. "If I may be excused."

"You may," her mother said. Lacie strode, gracefully but quickly. She heard her father say something about "running away from situations instead of confronting them" and she closed the door whilst her father said "disappointment".

Lacie ran from the dining room and across the atrium. Tears had already begun to fall as she rounded the corner towards the library on the East Wing of the house. She didn't know how to make her father simply understand. She had forced herself to train to his standard from the age of five. She knew as much as Harry or Ron or even, Draco, did in her schoolwork and she knew traditions and customs by rote. Yet, it wasn't enough for him.

She wiped a drop that was about to fall off her chin and stared at the dim sky. Lacie remembered Hermione speaking of acceptance in the first week and how she needed to work extra hard to gain it. She was gaining it, her ravenous appetite for knowledge and facts stood out to people and that was what she became known for, instead of being Muggle-born. Hardly people knew that she was, unless they asked, and they just assumed that because she knew so much, that there was no way that she came to school without any prior knowledge. Hermione often had to explain things to Harry, things that Lacie and Ron would have known because they knew it for a true fact, yet she was the only one who had only just been formally introduced to the fact a few months and she was explaining it like she knew it all her life.

Lacie, on the other hand, was a Malfoy. Everyone knew she was a Malfoy and that her father was a converted Death Eater. Everyone disliked Lacie because of her name. It was hard not to see why, she had been pompous brat and lost everyone House points. It was so typically Malfoyish that she was surprised that there people that she could call friends at Hogwarts. Her thoughts lingered on that for a moment.

She had friends, far away, and wouldn't see them for a long time. She desperately wanted to see them, even Ronald.

Well, right now, she was going to do something that Hermione probably wouldn't be able to do. She was going to find Nicholas Flamel. The library in the Manor was just as fruitful as the one at Hogwarts. If she locked herself in the library for the rest of the holidays she could probably find him.

She heard something tapping on the window beside her among the frost. It was a large brown owl and he was carrying a package.

Lacie froze.

Who was sending her presents?

Lacie took a while to open the window and let the owl in. As soon as it dropped the parcel it braced itself and flew off without any break. Lacie closed the window and watched the owl disappear. She eyed the parcel. It was neither large nor small. She picked it up and turned it over in her hands. Hesitating, she opened it.

Dear Lacie,

Merry Christmas! I hope you have a good time at the Manor!

Surprised that I would be sending you a present without an owl? I put this letter in Harry's care and he was supposed to post it with a Hogwarts owl on Christmas morning. Should you receive this at a later date, I will personally curse the boy.

I remember what you said about friends giving each other presents. If truth be told, I've never really given a present before, so pardon its fickleness.

Lots of love, Hermione.

Lacie emptied the contents of the parcel and saw a simple bracelet with glass baubles hanging off the chain. She looked at the little tag that hung off it.

Click your fingers.

Lacie did so.

The glass baubles lit up brightly, like stars. Lacie stifled a gasp and it's simplicity but beauty. It was a like a circle of stars. Like a constellation. Like her name.

Lacie, for that moment, forgot about her father and cried because, no matter what, she could not be compared to Hermione Granger. She didn't want to. If she did, then if she were like her, she would not be able to be touched by the kindness that emanated from her.

Hermione turned another page in her book whilst she sat out in the yacht. It seemed, that in his recent spare time, her father had learnt how to yacht. Since Hermione was not attending an elite (Muggle) boarding school, he had used the money he had saved up anticipating for it to buy himself a yacht. In the meantime, he was renting the one that they were floating in, in Monaco.

Her mother sighed beside her. Sunlight was sparse and the wind was strong. However, nothing was going to stop her father from sailing out a few miles and forcing Hermione and her mother to sit beside him as he did it. Hermione was suffering a sprained ankle from skiing, an injury that was sustained during the last run of the trip. Her mother considered going home, forgoing Monaco, but Hermione insisted. It wasn't a serious injury and she was sure that by the time that she got back the swelling would go down, taking the pain with it.

"It's a lovely day out," her father commented, "have you seen a better sight, Mia?"

"There's a Giant Squid in the Black Lake at Hogwarts," Hermione said tonelessly, her eyes scanning the page. The alchemy book was really as interesting as she had anticipated it to be. It was almost like a science, and talked about how people could go around Transfiguration spell restrictions by producing gold. She was quickly reading through a theory that Rowena Ravenclaw being the mother of alchemy, and the theorist's suggestion that Hogwarts was and still is funded by the gold she produced.

"Really?

"Mm-hmm," Hermione nodded.

"Hermione, you're on holiday, you can save the homework until - ..."

"This isn't homework," Hermione said, looking up with wide eyes. "I'm just reading up on - ..."

"Tell me about your lessons," her mother interrupted.

"They're good."

"Would you like to elaborate on that?" she persisted.

Hermione shied away from her mother, holding her book so that it was a barrier from her and her questions, "I like my lessons."

"What do you do?"

"Magic."

Her mother groaned, "Charles. Tell her!"

"I don't see the problem," he said, concentrating on the sea in front of him. Hermione knew by the face he was pulling that he saw something wrong but was keeping it in.

"Of course you don't see the problem," her mother said, standing up but wobbling slightly due to the waves getting slightly more violent as they hit the yacht, "You can spot a cavity but you can't see that you're daughter is concealing something."

"Nance - ..."

"It was just like the last time, I knew something was wrong, but you insisted that she was going through change..."

"How was I supposed to know that she was being - ..."

Hermione forced herself not to listen. She concentrated hard on the words that were in front of her, turning pages as soon as she finished a word so she could absorb herself into the book.

"No one thought that Lauren would - ..."

"You said that this holiday would - ..."

Hermione ignored what was being said. She didn't want to think that the holiday, the skiing, the trip to Monaco was because her parents felt guilty for what happened in the past.

"I wasn't like that when I was her age - ..."

Her mother had been loved by all of her friends. She wasn't an outcast who had a compulsion to answer questions that made her look desperate for attention. Even at forty-two, she retained a youthful appearance and this said a lot about her features when she was eleven. Hermione's grandmother often lamented about how she had never inherited her mother's looks. Hermione didn't mind, as long as she had her books.

By now, she was mentally saying each word in her head, screaming it so she wouldn't have to listen to her parents talk about her in front of her.

Nicolas Flamel

"What about him?" her father asked. Hermione looked up.

"What about who?"

"Nicolas Flamel," he said, looking slightly confused.

"Pardon?"

"You just said Nicolas Flamel, is he in that book of yours?" he asked.

Hermione noted the page and closed the book. "How do you know about Nicholas Flamel?"

He looked over to her mother and smiled at her. She raised an eyebrow and looked away with an embarrassed expression that was growing pinker by the second. "I was once punished to write an essay on 'The Obscurities of Alchemy'" he answered. "Nicolas Flamel was an alchemist of the 14TH Century who was mentioned."

"What did he do?" Hermione's appetite for knowledge was whetted.

"Well, he allegedly made gold and silver from common metals like iron or lead."

Hermione didn't want to sound rude, so she bit her tongue from telling her father that she already knew that possibility. Seeing that she was not satisfied with his answer, he continued, "Stories say that he purchased a book with runes or arcane language that he managed to decode and from that, he had the recipe for the Philosopher's Stone."

"What's the Philosopher's Stone?" Hermione asked, her interest had really piqued now.

"It's the Holy Grail of the alchemy world, most alchemists of the time tried to find the perfect Stone in which to make gold and silver, you see, the better quality the stone, the better quality your gold was."

"And Flamel did it, with the Stone?"

Her father nodded, "Hypothetically, of course."

"Did he do anything else?" Hermione continued to question her father in a dogged way.

"Some say that he used the Elixir of Life to stay immortal, impossible though, seeing as he's buried somewhere in France."

"The Elixir of Life?"

"Another of the Stone's many uses," he explained, "Apparently, this Elixir would not only sustain your life if you kept drinking it but cure you of any malady that you had at the time. You could be dying, half alive and still live with the Elixir."

Hermione waited a moment before asking, "What other uses are there?"

He stared at her with a concerned look in his eyes, "Mia, you do know that this isn't real don't you? There isn't really a Philosopher's Stone, pumpkin."

Hermione shuddered at the pet name and said in a quiet voice, "I know. I just want to know."

"Well," her father said, concern ebbing in the edges of his voice, "You could make crystals like into precious stones like diamond or sapphire, or maybe a clone of yourself. You could make an eternal source of light or revive dead plants. By any standard, the Philosopher's Stone was a magical yet unobtainable goal. Remember that, Nicolas Flamel designed his own tombstone in 1410 and was buried there when he died. Had he truly drank the Elixir of Life, he would still be alive and still drinking it."

Hermione's mind ran through a million questions. Why had Flamel designed his own tombstone? After all, it was a slightly morbid idea. What if Flamel was still alive, and the tombstone was a cover up? What if, he used the Stone to create a clone of himself to be buried and stayed alive in the shadows all of these years. If he used the Stone, then the Stone had to be real. Hadn't Hagrid said that it was between "Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel"? If Dumbledore knew Flamel, still, then Flamel had to be still alive. A wizard couldn't possible live up to 600 years, not without something as the Elixir of Life.

Hermione could say with a certainty that the Stone was real. What was more, Fluffy, as Hagrid had called it once, was helping to guard it. The Philosopher's Stone was in Hogwarts.

"I'm waiting for you to tell me that the Stone is in your school and Nicolas Flamel is really a wizard," her father said, jokingly.

Hermione wished she could tell him. She should have. Yet, he was so adamant that Flamel was dead that she couldn't bear to shatter another one of his ideals. When she was younger, he convinced her that magic wasn't real, even though things happened that felt like magic. When the summer came and the news broke with a portly witch, he seemed to question what was real for the entirety of the rest of the summer. Hermione didn't want to tell him that something else he believed in was a myth too.

"Like you said, dad, he was only an alchemist."

He grinned at her and continued to sail, humming. Her mother rolled her eyes and lay on her back, trying to catch at least a few rays of sun.

If only he was just an alchemist.

X-x-x-x-x

When Hermione got back to the lodge, she noticed that an owl was perched on her bed. She recognised Adelais, who flew to her and dropped the parcel in her awaiting palms. Hermione let Adelais perch on her shoulder as she opened the letter.

Dear Hermione,

Merry Christmas to you too!

Thank you for your beautiful gift. I will cherish it forever. This is from me to you, at Christmas.

You may notice there are two gifts, one for your birthday (which, next year, will come on the correct date) and one for Christmas. I do not know much about being a Muggle-born but as a Malfoy, we often give our friends a gift of importance when gift giving for the first time.

The bracelet is a special heirloom, of which, Malfoys give those whom they trust with their life. There are only three, as each one is made when a Malfoy heir is born. My father gave one to my mother. Draco still has his. I give mine to you, regardless of whom I may marry in the future. It is a bracelet that allows you to go into any Malfoy residence at will and you will know, intuitively where I am if you wear it. You are bonded to me, I hope that is alright with you.

The second is a formal gift, a pair of earrings. I noticed that you had your ears pierced and these looked as if they would suit you.

I know you may be thinking that I have given you expensive presents and you cannot hope to outdo it. However, I would rather have your present than ones bought with money. I wish I were as good at magic as you are.

Hermione carefully opened the packages and smiled.

It was her first ever Christmas present from someone who wasn't her mother or her father.

Haha, it was a cute ending :)

By the way, Hermione's father calls her Mia. In fact, both of them do - it's their nickname for her.

My process of thinking for that nickname went as such: Hermione - Hermia - Mia.

Apologies for any confusion about that, haha. I can't think of really good nicknames for Hermione, aside from 'Mione, which is Ron's exclusive one. I used to know a girl called Hermione whom I called Monny, for some reason. (Tempted for Hermy, sosososo tempted but it's not ultra-feminine which is awky).

Becky x.