Traveling through the Americas to study the different indigenous cultures of the MACUSA was like a dream come true for Hermione Granger. She had compiled so much information that she'd had to cast expansion charms on her files. It had been an amazing trip, but she was a little homesick. She missed her friends and her family. The ever present pain in her heart reminded her that she missed someone quite a bit more than the others. None of it mattered now, though. She needed to focus on the last of her trip.

The American South was nothing like England. It was populated with some truly fascinating peoples, but she was relieved that she would be returning home for Yule. She'd been asked to celebrate many holidays over the last year. She'd done so for the most part, but this holiday seemed like an odd one.

Thanksgiving was rooted in Puritan history. Very few of the native cultures thought much of the witch killers, so she hadn't expected to find any celebrating on this day. Still, she wasn't about to turn down such an invitation.

Hermione gathered her wine bottles and her flowers close to her body and twisted herself through time and space to land on the doorstep of her hostess. Laughter and the rumble of many voices emanated from the house. She knocked and waited for a moment. A tall boy answered the door and smirked down at her.

"You must be the little lost witch Gramma was going on about." He pushes his lank dark brown hair back and examined her with oddly golden eyes. "You are something, aren't you?"

"Aren't we all?" Hermione smiled up at the boy.

"That we are." He nodded and stepped back into the house. He flicked his finger and a small flower formed in the air. "You follow this to Gramma. I've missed enough of the Invitational."

She watched as he darted into a room filled with other children arrayed around a wireless and listening to The Plymouth Invitational quidditch match. She smiled at them, but none of them did much more than nod in her direction. Following the flower through the House was easy enough. Hermione glided past wizarding photographs and paintings. None of them screamed at her or seemed angered by her presence. It was quite a difference from the pure blood homes in England. She enjoyed the warm atmosphere as she wandered into the kitchen.

"Did that boy just send you back here?" Her hostess shook her head sadly. "No manners at all, I tell you."

"Quidditch has that effect on all wizards." Hermione grinned at the older woman. "He was very polite and provided me with a flower guide, Mrs. Bringier."

"He's going to be a heartbreaker once he figures out that there's more to life than quidditch. You should call me Varina." The older witch grinned at her. "I answer to it most of the time."

"You have a lovely home, Varina." Hermione grinned at the woman and held out the flowers and the bag of wine. "I wasn't sure what to bring."

"Flowers and wine are always welcome. You should take a bottle in to the Loas. They would enjoy that." Varina pointed toward an arched doorway. "Don't be afraid. They're in a good mood today."

Hermione blinked and plucked one of the bottles from the bag. She didn't want to offend her hostess. The woman was petite and polite. Her beauty had aged gracefully into timelessness. She was fascinating and powerful.

"Go on." Varina smiled. "They don't bite unless you want them to."

Hermione chuckled and headed to the door. She felt the air thicken with magic as she stepped into the room. It poured over her and swirled around her. She could taste it even, cloying and thick on her tongue.

The table in front of her was normal enough. Small figures were placed on pedestals and offerings were arranged around them. There were flowers, spices, foods, and beverages. It seemed rather innocuous but for the hum of power in the room.

She opened the wine with a twist of her wrist and pocketed the cork and foil. Approaching the table was actually a bit intimidating, but she dug deep into her Gryffindor reserves and conjured cups that looked like white flowers. She poured the wine into them and smiled as the petals seemed to disappear leaving only a tracery of their material to be seen. She placed one cup by each statue and let gratitude fill her. The magic thickened in the room and she turned to see a woman standing there, assessing her.

"You are a warrior." The woman's skin changed from light to dark and back again while her eyes flickered from one glowing color to the next. "You are ours and not ours. You give us thanks, but we have not done for you. Daughter of the green hills, you spend too much time alone. It isn't good to be alone. You need your balance."

Hermione felt the magic pushing at her. It touched her with a certain sentience. She tried to respond, but she couldn't make the words flow.

"He needs you, too." The being moved through the magic easily and trailed a finger along her collarbone. "You let others stand between you. This is foolish, Little Warrior. Ours or not ours matters not. You can not deny him."

Hermione swallowed and tried to drag air in through her mouth, but the magic pushed into her instead. She could feel it churning with her own as she fell to her knees. She closed her eyes and saw a multitude of beings all swirling and changing from one form to another. They reached toward something and started to pull it towards her. She opened her eyes and blinked as a familiar face came into focus. His mercurial eyes widened and he opened his mouth only to be suffused in the magic. She grabbed his hands and held fast as the magic pressed in on them. She felt her own magic rise up to protect Malfoy. She let it wrap around him and felt the familiar tingle of his press against her skin. The beings chanted in her mind and the one in the room with them chuckled and tied their hands together.

"We bind you as you should be. One to the other always." She stroked her fingers through Draco's hair. "Son of Light, do you accept?"

Draco squeezed her hand and nodded. Hermione felt something bloom inside her. There was warmth and welcome and love.

"Daughter of the Green Hills, do you accept?"

Hermione nodded and took a deep breath as her magic flowed easily again.

"All will be as it is supposed to be. You will grow strong together." The being smiled. "You better kiss your bride, Little Dragon. She's a stubborn one."

Draco jerked their joined hands and pulled her close. She looked up into his eyes and saw the molten flares of his magic. He wasn't fighting this. She licked her lips and he took the invitation.

The first brush of his lips on hers was tentative. She moaned as he pulled away. She heard the desperation in it even as he settled against her and returned to his task.

There was a joy in his kiss that she wanted to make her own. She felt their magic becoming one as he explored her mouth with leisurely strokes and nibbles. She could feel her body relax into his as she relaxed and surrendered to the power of their magic.

She'd taken the job and left England when she'd realized that their magic was sympathetic. She'd fought so hard to keep them both free, but she couldn't remember why. Nothing could be more imortant than this.

"I've missed you so much, Hermione." Draco spoke against her lips. "I'm not letting you run away again."

She nodded and felt the foreign magic retreat a bit. Draco pulled back and stared down into her eyes. There was a certainty in his gaze that had been missing before she left.

"I don't want to leave, Draco." She raised up on her knees and pressed her lips against his.

"Now, That is something to be thankful for." The being laughed and the sounds of other laughter joined in and filled the room. "Be happy in your lives, Children. You be ours a little bit now."

Hermione slumped against Draco as the foreign magic retreated to a background hum.

"I never should have let you leave." Draco pressed a kiss to her temple. "I know you Gryffindors can't resist drama, but this is a bit over the top. Don't you think?"

"It's not everyday you get kidnapped for a wedding by foreign magical beings." Hermione chuckled. "I think we will have to celebrate Thanksgiving every year."

They struggled to their feet and smiled down at the glowing tracery of their magical binding as it set into their flesh.

"It's beautiful." Hermione lifted her arm and watched it sparkle in the light.

"It is." Draco pressed another brief kiss to her lips. "Where are we?"

"You're in my home." Varina smiled at them from the door. "That must have been some good wine."

Author's Note

It is Thanksgiving in the United States of America. I grew up all around the world, but we always celebrated Thanksgiving. We added in dishes from the local cuisines and brought them with us when we returned.

It was always an important holiday for me. I like the notion of offering up thanks to the universe and surrounding myself with those that I love. I am also rather fond of the paper fan turkey that still graces my dining room. His neck is shored up tape, but he's been presiding over the table for years. Yes, I am that sentimental.

I am thankful for many things this year. I am blessed to have a wonderful family and tolerant friends. Many of those friends and even some family are reading this. I hope you know that I am thankful for you.

-Anna