Compliments Like Confetti

A calendar hung on the wall, each day ticked off as a matter of habit, not necessity. Time meant very little when in the midst of a war—days melted into weeks and weeks into years. Hours crept by, filled with paranoid chatter of Innocents being captured or slaughtered, of failed coups. With hushed celebrations of momentous victories, of courageous displays of strength, of lives valiantly given for the cause.

The picture on the calendar was of a forest of evergreens, dusted with snow, a small deer frolicking below. Draco often stared at the photograph by the light of the moon, absurdly wishing he were alongside that tiny deer, not a care in the world except to catch snowflakes from the weighted sprigs above.

Instead, he lay tucked within his sleeping bag, wedged between the desk and Granger's sleeping form. The Weasleys had so graciously offered up the Prewett family lake house as a headquarters for the Order after the townhouse on Grimmauld Place had been attacked. With so many Order members staying in the home, every room had four or more occupants at any given time. Given that Potter and Weasley were away for the week to retrieve supplies, that left only Draco and Granger in the attic.

Draco glanced at the calendar, noting that every date in December had a stark red line across it. New Year's Eve, and the dawning of a new millennium. They'd been fighting the war against the Dark Lord for three years already, a war that felt unwinnable.

He tore his eyes from the sprightly doe and dragged them downward until they landed on Granger. She was close enough for him to touch if he so desired—and Merlin, some days that desire was so strong he had to shove his hands in his pockets to keep from doing just that. With her back to him, her hair lay in a nested mass on the pillow behind her head, her sweater draping just enough to expose the tanned curve of her shoulder.

Loud cracks sounded from beyond the house, rattling the windows and causing Draco to jump. Huffing a laugh at his own stupidity, he sat up and peered out into the night. Across the lake, Muggles were beginning their midnight festivities early, large fireworks blooming across an inky sky. He unzipped his sleeping bag, watching guiltily as Granger stirred at the noise. Draping it around his shoulders, he stood and walked to the window.

With a flick of his wand, it swung in toward him and he climbed quietly through, keeping low to the rooftop as he crept a small measure out. The winter air was crisp and biting on his cheeks but he relished the refreshing feel of it as he sat on the rooftop, his sleeping bag covering his shoulders and tucked close under his chin.

The fireworks reflected off the surface of the lake, dancing across the ripples of water in neon waves. Across the lake, the Muggles had a bonfire going, their cheers and hollers echoing as bursts of colour tore through the night. He envied them, just as he envied the deer on the calendar. Carefree, genuine celebrations without bloodspill, blissfully unaware of the war raging right under their noses.

The window creaked behind him and he peered over his shoulder to find Granger stepping through. Her hair was wild, her eyes puffy with the first sleep she'd gotten in months. "I'm sorry," he murmured, turning back to the light show, "I should have silenced the room for you."

"'S'no big deal," Granger replied, yawning wide and trembling as she held her covers close in a mirror image of him. "I wasn't sleeping anyway."

She came to rest next to him, saddling up close enough to brush knees. "Hard to believe we're entering a new year under the same duress and threats from the last three," she whispered, drawing her knees up so she could rest her chin atop.

Draco looked at her, watched the explosions reflected in her glassy chestnut orbs. He scooted a hand out from under his cocoon and slipped it within hers, finding her icy fingers and lacing them with his. A show of solidarity between them. "We're going to win this. No matter how long it takes, we have to." He attempted to sound convincing, though it fell flat even to his own ears. His own despair was choking the very vitality from him.

Checking his watch, Draco saw that there were only two minutes until midnight. Granger's eyes never left the Muggles as they continued to hoot and holler, and he wondered if she ever thought about escaping to the world in which she was raised. "Do you ever think about going back? To their world?"

Finally looking away from the festivities, Granger looked at him with an incredulous eyebrow raised. "Why would I do that?"

"To live a much simpler life than to chase Horcruxes and follow Potter around Europe. You could be attending University right now."

"This is my home—it has been since I was twelve years old. I couldn't leave it all now. My friends are here." She gently squeezed his hand. "My family. I'm going to stay and fight, even if it kills me. I owe it to the world that saved me."

She really was incredible. He knew she didn't hear that sentiment near enough from her other friends. "You're amazing, you know that?" he murmured, bumping her shoulder with his.

"How so?" she asked, a breathy laugh clouding the chilled air between them.

Across the way, the Muggles began counting down to the new year.

"Thirty!"

"You stick to your convictions. Never faltering and always doing what is right for the greater good."

Granger smiled and looked down at her hands. "Yes, but what about you? It was a great display of courage to join the Order and to defy Voldemort like you did."

Draco had defected the moment he was handed down the impossible task of killing the Headmaster in sixth year. In the time since, both of his parents had followed his lead and now rested two stories below them.

"But you have this…this magnanimous compassion unlike anyone I've ever met. You certainly forgave me far sooner than the others." Months sooner. And a year sooner, in Weasley's case.

Granger met his eyes, gripping his hand tightly and speaking to him with her aforementioned conviction. "You're far kinder than you give yourself credit for."

"Twenty-two!"

Draco scoffed, shaking his head. "You're blinded by your persistent need to see the good in people."

She shook their clasped hands and her voice rose as she tried to convince him of her words. When he refused to meet her eye, she used the index finger of her other hand to lift his chin and force him to look at her. "You couldn't hide who you truly were anymore. You made it easy for me to forgive you—who you are inside. Selfless, concerned, decent."

Magic crackled at the tips of her curls, strong currents that frizzed her hair to a voluminous size. "Merlin, you're frightening."

Granger furrowed her brow, taken aback at his words. He ran his thumb over the smooth skin of her hand and smirked. "In all the right ways."

She scoffed. "Have you ever seen yourself duel? Your grace and agility is enough to strike fear in even the most worthy adversary. I'm ashamed to admit I'm jealous of such ability."

"Fifteen!"

Magic continued to electrify in her curls, her hair framing her heart-shaped face. He eyed it and ran his palm over the surface before tugging at the end of a curl and laughing lightly as it sprang back into place. "Your hair is quite fetching as it sparkles with unrestrained magic."

He brushed it back over her shoulder and she ran her finger tip over his jawline. "Your face isn't all that painful to look at. Now that it's not so pointy," Granger teased, all the while leaving her fingers to ghost over his chin.

"Ten!"

Granger's eyes looked over his face, drinking in his features. The melancholy moment had lifted and was replaced but an excitable energy between them. Draco's heart began beating profusely, a heat creeping up from his chest to settle aflame in his cheeks. This was far more complimentary than they'd ever been with one another, more flirtation than either one of them had ever dared to allow.

"Six!"

Though he felt that he'd never be worthy of her, Draco decided if there were ever a time to tell her exactly what he felt, it should be now as they ushered in a new year amidst an old war. The tempo within his chest increased and he was embarrassed at the way his hand began to tremble within hers with both anxiety and excitement. "You're the complete package: intelligent, quick-witted, kind, and beautiful and any wizard would be lucky to have you."

There. His declaration was now out in the open, hanging between them as Granger searched his features. At finding no hint of deception or teasing in his statement, a small smile began to play across her face.

"Three!"

"But there's only one wizard I want."

No sooner had the words left her mouth was she staring hungrily at his lips, which curved into an obnoxiously wide grin.

"Two!"

"Why didn't you say that sooner?" he asked, leaning forward until he could feel her warm breath blow over his face in small puffs of air.

"One! Happy New Year!"

Granger snaked her hand over his blanketed shoulder and the cool tips of her fingers raised gooseflesh over his body as she buried her hand in the nape of his shirt. "Just kiss me now," she commanded lightly, and she brought her lips to press firmly against his. Draco's hands tangled into her curls, pulling her tight against himself as his tongue slid experimentally over her lips.

The Muggles seized the opportunity to set off dozens of fireworks all at once, the colours dancing behind Draco's eyelids. But they were nothing compared to the explosively elated feeling of kissing and being kissed by Hermione Granger.