A/N: For all who are wondering, the issue with review posting is currently fixed, so please leave them to your heart's consent. Thank you for understanding x
Hermione returned from the bathroom, face pale and wan, hands shaking relentlessly. She'd lost what little remained of her stomach to the toilet bowl. Her eyes were swollen and sore, she had attempted to stifle her cries in order to stay strong but upon seeing the now-closed box on the carpeted floor, a fresh batch began to roll down her cheeks anew.
Draco had his back to her. "I've just sent a floo message to the Headmistress. She'll be along shortly." Draco's voice was hard, he had closed off.
Hermione shuddered with a wave of grief. "How could somebody do this? Why would somebody do this? He was just an elf. He never hurt anyone." Her voice was a broken wail, rising and falling like the crests of a wave.
"I think I have a pretty good idea." Came Draco's grim voice. He got up from the sofa and began to pace the floor, feet making soft thuds on the carpet.
"No." Hermione gasped. "You don't think." Her mouth fell open and she paused, pieces clicking into place as she caught sight of Draco's cold eyes, eyebrows knitted into a frown. "Zabini? He wouldn't"
Draco leant on the arm of the sofa, running his hands through his already-sleep-mussed hair. "Wouldn't he? You don't know him Hermione. You've spoken to him like twice, maximum?"
Hermione's gaze turned sheepish, almost apologetic. Draco's eyes narrowed to slits.
"You've met him more often?" He hissed, voice an angry slither. Hermione saw his knuckles whiten on the arm of the sofa. "Whatever it is you two are up to, you have to tell me. Now."
"I can't." Hermione wept, guilt rolling over her now, at both Draco's betrayed expression, and the thought that she might somehow be responsible for Bingley's death. "I made a vow."
He got up, striding angrily over to her. He grabbed her hand, grabbing it and twisting his fingers around her delicate wrist forcefully. Hermione whimpered in pain. "Tell me!" He projected as much venom in his voice as Hermione had ever heard. "You're putting yourself in danger you stupid witch."
When Hermione did not respond, his lips curled into a contemptous sneer, eyebrow raising. "Right. I see how it is." He released Hermione's sore wrist and she cradled it, seeing red marks from his fingerprints already. "Well enjoy your little statute of secrecy. I want no part in it." He turned his back to her.
"You don't mean that." Hermione whispered brokenly, sinking to the floor. "You don't." Silent tears rolled down her cheeks once more.
"I do." Hermione pulled her knees to her chest, rocking back and forth.
"You don't." She repeated. "I know you Draco."
"Why would I want to see you hurt yourself?" He exploded, kneeling on the floor in front of her. His eyes were red and shining. "Why would I want to see someone I care about get hurt?"
Hermione sniffled. "You care about me?" Her voice was tiny, barely there. She stared him down, tears still rolling down her cheeks. She wiped them away with the corner of Mrs Weasley's jumper.
Draco did not get to answer, for it was now that they heard a knock at the portrait door. Hermione leapt up at the noise, and practically ran on shaking knees in order to answer it.
"Professor McGonagall." She said hoarsely as a way of greeting the rather stern professor. Minerva strode into the silent common room, only the crackling of the embers in the dying hearth to be heard. Hermione wiped her eyes again self consciously.
"I received Mr Malfoy's floo message. There has been a murder of a Hogwarts House Elf?" Her voice was clipped, and she surveyed the room with her beady eyes. "Who was it?"
"B-Bingley." Hermione stuttered, voice catching in her throat once more. Professor McGonagall placed a hand to her chest and looked at her with sad eyes.
"Really? You're quite certain?"
Hermione nodded, not quite trusting her voice to carry conversation at the moment.
"That's a shame. I rather liked that elf." The Headmistress sighed wearily, sinking down to lean against the table.
"His heart was delivered to us in a box." Draco snapped from behind her. It made Hermione jump.
"And I assure you, I will get to the bottom of this Mr Malfoy. So I suggest you keep a close watch on the way you address a Hogwarts teacher." Came the Headmistress's waspish reply.
"I already know who did it!" Came Draco's explosive reply.
"And who might that be?" The Professor raised a skeptical brow.
"Blaise Zabini." Draco said triumphantly, crossing his arms. The Professor spluttered, Hermione felt her own breath catch too. What was he doing?
"That accusation is unfounded Mr Malfoy! Do you have any proof?"
"I just know." Draco set his jaw. "He hates me."
"Actually, it is impossible for Mr Zabini to have committed such an act, given he is currently holidaying in Italy with his mother and step-father. I highly suggest you refrain from making unfettered accusations without proof in the future Mr Malfoy." Her gaze narrowed. "You of all people should know how it feels to be accused of things you had no part in playing." Hermione's head reeled with this information. If not Zabini, then who would murder such a sweet house-elf?
Draco only muttered under his breath, whirling out of the room and into his own, slamming the door as he left. Hermione flinched again.
"I shall need to take possession of Bingley's remains, Miss Granger. I have no doubts that the House Elves will want to arrange a Rites Ceremony for them." Minerva picked up the box gingerly. Hermione said nothing.
"I appreciate that this must be most distressing to both you and Mr Malfoy, we all process grief in different ways." Her voice was motherly in a way Hermione had not heard since the War, she laid a comforting hand on Hermione's shoulder. "However I must ask that you do not go looking for Bingley's killer, nor that you publicise his murder. This is better left as an internal matter."
Hermione only grimaced in return.
"Draco!" Hermione called. "She's gone. Get your arse out here right now." Her voice had a false bravado to it that did not match how she felt on the inside. Her heart felt completely broken, shattered into a million pieces, and a heavy weight rested on the tops of her ribs. But she had to see if Draco was alright, had to make sure he was not falling apart like she.
Several minutes passed in which Hermione only heard the brief shuffling of someone putting their slippers on, and then the click of an opening door. "What do you want Granger?" It was Malfoy, freshly showered. He wore a simple white cotton shirt and black slacks. He was still towelling his pale blonde hair. His eyes were red.
"I'm going to go get changed. I expect you out here in ten minutes." Hermione put as much purpose into her voice that her hoarse voice would let her.
Draco only rolled his eyes. "Bossy witch."
Hermione dressed quickly, brushing her teeth and pulling her soft Weasley jumper back over her head. It was strangely comforting, and she now wished more than ever that she was back with the homely scent of the Burrow, and all of the friends she called family. She tied her messy curls into a messy mass at the base of her neck, securing it with a scrunchie. There was no time for vanity in times such as these.
Draco was waiting for her like she'd asked, long limbs stretched languidly over the chintz sofa.
"Are you okay?" Hermione tried carefully.
"Are you?" Draco countered. "You look like shit."
Hermione usually would've snorted, replying with an equally barbarous remark, but she found all of energy sapped from her bones. She sank into the sofa, pulling Draco's legs into her lap.
"Good point." She sighed, running her hands along Draco's fabric-covered shins. Draco sat up at that, brows knitting together. He held out one arm, and then the other.
"Come here you silly witch." He said softly, and Hermione gladly dove into his cotton embrace, sniffing his clean scent and letting it fill her nostrils. Her breathing evened out and they sank back into the sofa, Hermione resting on Draco's slender chest.
"It will be okay eventually. We will find out who did this, and then we will make them pay." Was all she heard from beneath her. She did not reply, nor did she know how long they laid there for.
She estimated it was around lunchtime when she rose from Draco's lap, idea firmly rooted in her brain. "Will you do something with me?" She murmured.
"What is it?" Came Draco's soft reply. She traced circles over the fabric of Draco's shirt.
"When I still lived with my parents, we had this tradition. We'd always decorate the Christmas tree together, pick the ornaments out - everything the Muggle way. I haven't had chance to do it in several years, since the War, and-" Hermione paused. "Well, they're currently in Australia, and they won't be coming back anytime soon, not until I figure out how to reverse a memory charm." Her voice wobbled and she could've sworn she felt Draco's arms tighten imperceptibly.
"You want me to help you decorate the tree." Draco finished for her, stirring from underneath her.
"Yes." Hermione breathed. "Well you don't have to - if you don't want to. It was just an idea."
"Where are the decorations?" His sleepy voice replied. Hermione could barely believe her ears.
Once she had summoned the boxes of decoration, Draco began sifting through them.
"We usually start with the lights, then the tinsel." Hermione prompted. Draco gave her a look.
"I know how to decorate a Christmas tree Granger."
Hermione cracked a brief smile and then shifted to her knees to help him in the sorting.
They'd decided on strings of silver lights '-Slytherin Silver-' Draco had imposed, puffing his chest out proudly, and reams of golden tinsel. (It was Hermione's turn to preen then, it was '-Gryffindor Gold-' after all.)
Hermione's hands had covered Draco's as he'd struggled to place the delicate fairy lights on their rather bedraggled tree. His hands were warm against hers as always, bringing a pink stain to her cheeks just like the first time she had touched him.
They chose a selection of glass baubles to hang on the branches, frosted with delicate snowy white patterns. Draco dropped three, but they were easily repaired with a wave of Hermione's wand. '-Of course, none of them would've been broken in the first place if he'd just been allowed to use magic-' Came Draco's indignant reply. It had made Hemrione chuckle.
Thirty minutes later, all was left was the shining silver star in Hermione's hands.
"You should do it." She mumbled, proferring it out to him."I can't reach."
Draco tutted, pushing her hand away. He stepped behind her, and for a moment or two Hermione did not realise his intention. Then she felt his hands slip down her waist and she supressed a gasp. He lifted her into his arms, raising her to the height of the top of the tree with almost inhuman ease.
"Now try." Came his gentle voice in her ear. Hermione blushed, reaching to place the topper on top of the tree. He placed her down carefully, as if she might break, and Hermione felt the reluctant warmth of his arms leave her.
"It's perfect." Hermione said quietly, gazing at the marvel before her, the giant tree heaving with sparkly ornaments, the firelight flickering off the glittering tinsel.
"Not quite." Draco replied, flicking his wand towards the tree. The brightness of the lights seemed to increase threefold, flashing gently like tiny fireflies. Hermione felt a smile pull at her lips as she turned to face the Slytherin.
"Anyone would think you've been getting good at that." She teased.
Draco's mouth curved up into a smirk, pulling her into his arms. "Me, never?"
"Merry Christmas Draco." She whispered, inches away from his lips.
"Merry Christmas Hermione."
A/N: Ok it took me ab 203874 years to get past Christmas but I think I've finally done it. Please leave reviews! Tell me your thoughts! They keep me motivated to update. Thank you 3 Love, - BJ