All too soon, it is quickly turning into exam season at school again. I find myself writing papers, marking more frequently for students who require it, all the while backing myself into a corner with the amount of work that I apparently enjoy taking on. The days are stretching ever closer to Christmas too, which has me thinking about gifts and the nightmare of the holidays.

Some people might like Christmas holidays. I find they can be quite tense. There's the big family meal, the meeting people, shopping (Christmas shopping is a catastrophe waiting to happen). The whole malarkey is something I would like to avoid, all except for the day itself. Mum is a pretty nifty cook around Christmas time, and Dad actually helps her with the sausage rolls, which he calls his specialty. I guess it's a specialty in a way because he doesn't really like cooking, and doesn't make anything else.

It's a busy time of year, I guess, and that makes me a little extra stretched-out.

We still on for tonight?

A text I received from Draco earlier on today. A text that sort of terrified me. Not because Draco asked me to go to dinner with him (because I am 95% certain that this is not a date) but because in my new supposed confidence, I would have to be honest and open with him. I should end up telling him that I felt (feel) for him.

Me: Yeah, what time again

Draco: 8pm. That alright?

Half of me wants to say no, to think of some excuse, like work or sickness.

Me: See you there

I even add an emoji, feeling especially whimsical. Then I groan into a pillow and throw my phone away from me. I message Ginny, asking for her advice on what to wear, knowing that I probably won't listen to her anyway. She always suggests things that are a little out of my comfort zone. Like tall shoes, and super skinny jeans. Or a short skirt.

Ginny: killer heels and a miniskirt, no?

Me: No

I pick out my battle-armour instead, after writing up some notes for Christmas lists for the family and reading a few chapters of a new book that the publishing house sent two days ago (something about mermaids that I haven't been paying all that much attention to). My favourite jeans, dark grey. Favourite shirt, dark red with orange and yellow flowers. Draco will think I'm trying to be in Gryffindor clothing on purpose, to upset his Slytherin pride, or something equally as preposterous.

Again, I'm the one on driving duty, picking up Draco on our way into the city.

"Hey," he says, grinning and opening the car door. "Did I tell you I like your car? It's practically Slytherin."

I laugh. "Because it's grey?" He nods, closing the passenger door and clicking his seatbelt into place. "You should know, I also bought a red one."

"That is criminally Gryffindor," he scowls.

"You know," I contradict, "You shouldn't rely so heavily on those old school-house traits."

"I'm only joking."

"Sure," I say, winking at him. Draco laughs. "Where am I parking?"

He pauses. "Wherever you want, I suppose. But, if you want free parking you can park in our office space. It's a Saturday, and I am the CEO so I guess I can allow it."

"It will never not be weird that you're a CEO at twenty-five. How does anyone have that much life experience?" I ask him.

Draco shrugs. "You've met me. I'm great."

"Still, so arrogant," I muse. "Nothing really changes."

Draco directs me to the city offices that I didn't even know existed, points to a window and says 'Sometimes I like to work there, but mostly I prefer the countryside mansion we use for secondary offices'. I roll my eyes and park in a spot labelled Draco Malfoy CEO which has a doubleness to it. Like I said to him, it doesn't seem right that someone at twenty-five can know enough to run a company. On the other hand, he is Draco Malfoy, who has been consistently harping on about his wonderful, proud life since we were at high school together. In a way, it makes sense. In a Draco Malfoy way.

As soon as we're parked we walk through the city towards the Forum, which is this enormous library that also has restaurants in. No one really understands why there are restaurants, and the BBC Anglia there, and also sometimes art exhibitions. I think we mostly just accept that we got used to it being like that.

Now that we're not in the car, I take the time to really look at Draco and see him. He looks distant, but I guess that's normal for someone who is under a lot of strain both professionally and personally. He's dressed exceptionally well, too, which is, again, totally normal for him. Something feels off, though, and I can't put my finger on it.

I barely make it through half of the first course before my curious Gryffindor courage takes over and I blurt out the question I want the answer to:

"So, the girl you've been seeing. Is it serious?"

He almost chokes on his pasta. It would have been funny if I wasn't terribly serious.

"Sorry, who?" he asks, after swallowing some water and staring at me in utter bewilderment.

"The girl, you know. The one all the papers say you're dating. Is there a reason you're not telling me about her…? I just… I thought we were friends. Friends tell each other stuff."

I hate every word coming out of my mouth.

Something seems to register with Draco, however.

"My apologies, Hermione, but I don't read the tabloids. What have they been saying about me and this apparent mystery woman?"

I can practically feel my face reddening as I attempt to explain. "Lucy, I think her name is. I wasn't following it religiously. They said you were dating, and that it was going well."

"Lucille Baxter?" he asks, causing my stomach to sink. Then he laughs. "Don't believe everything you read, especially newspapers. What was that in, The Sun?"

Probably.

Draco shakes his head at me and puts down his forkful of pasta. "She's brokering a promotion deal with a company that I'm investing in. It is far less interesting than the news would have you believe. Sorry, Hermione. I'm single."

"Why would you apologise for that?" I ask.

He shrugs. "You seem to want to be involved in my romantic life. As your friend it disheartens me to tell you that I am in fact a single pringle. Unfortunately, there is nothing romantic in my life that should interest parties such as yourself."

I sigh, as if disappointed. "What a shame." Draco smirks.

"Yeah, Lucille is just another work friend. Hence, I haven't invited her elsewhere other than work venues. It wouldn't be appropriate."

Internally, I roll my eyes. "You sound posh."

"I am posh," he counters.

"We're in Pizza Express. You're not that posh."

Draco raises a pale eyebrow. "I can be posh if I want."

"I don't doubt that. Just, right now, we're in Pizza Express, and you're telling me you were with a model for business investment reasons."

"Jealous, Granger?" he asks, smirking.

"No," I laugh (yes, I think). "I'm just saying that you're not as much of a posh playboy as you pretend to be."

"I don't pretend to be anything I'm not."

There is a moment of awkward silence, in which our server makes an appearance to ask how our food is. We reply that it's good; I for one am happy for the momentary distraction. Then I apologise.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"

Draco waves me off. "No, it's fine… I shouldn't have snapped." He sighs. "Can we talk about something else. What's been going on in your life?"

We talk about work, and the little things going on in life aside from work (which is never usually a lot for the both of us). Draco mentions that his father is doing better, but that he is still in palliative care. He has pneumonia now, though. They don't know how much longer he's going to be there.

"I want to spend as much time with him as I can, but he tells me to go to work and save the company –"

"Save the company?" I ask, confused.

Draco shakes his head. "He doesn't mean save it. He's confused. He thinks I have to be there all the time for the company to function, because that's how it was for him when he was running things."

"It must be strange for him, though."

"Yeah, he wants to help. I brought him a spreadsheet last week that didn't really mean anything because I thought it might help him to feel like he has done something."

I frown. "What was the spreadsheet?"

"Breakfast bar preferences."

I shake my head in amusement. "Seems cruel."

"He has implemented change, and that is something. It makes him a little happier." Draco smiles, then shoves a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth. "How's things with your mum?"

"Better after Halloween," I tell him. "She actually text me yesterday asking for a book recommendation, which is pretty rare. I know right," I say, looking at his raised eyebrows. "Progress."

We make it through dessert easily enough; Draco orders a coffee and I ask for a tea and I tell him about my plans to go Christmas shopping in the following week, which he apparently thinks it's absolutely ridiculous ("you don't need to buy gifts in November; I buy them the week of, normally"). He then says that he'll accompany me, if I'll allow it. I tell him that he can come, but that he will have to respect the list that I'll have and the time pressure, yada yada.

Draco and I arrange to meet the following Saturday at noon in the Chapelfield entryway.

The next day is quiet and cold, and I find myself wearing bed-socks pretty much all day. I'm not busy, either, which is great. Sometimes I like to go for a walk on a Sunday, but not today. As the afternoon draws in, it starts to snow. Problematic, but incredibly fun. I just love the way it looks like fluff, and then is so horrifically cold too. I stick my head out of the window when it starts, feeling the whipping of the wind and the frozen air. After a little while I go outside and taste the snowfall, like I used to do when I was a kid.

Ginny texts me a photo of Harry laying in the snow-covered grow, grinning from ear to ear, looking like a kid. Sammy sends me a picture of her puppy playing in the snow, asking 'Snow day?'.

We didn't have a snow-day last year when she was an NQT, so I guess it's hard for her to understand the sacrifice of a snow day. It's great fun, but it does mean pushing the word from that day into other days. Of course, I'm not saying I don't want one, because they are always so much fun. Half of my mind is always thinking of the consequences, though.

I go to bed with hot tea that night (fruit tea, non-caffeinated, because I don't hate myself) and several blankets, which I know Ginny would laugh at. I also watch Vampire Diaries as I fall asleep, hoping that the Salvatore drama would save me from the cold, while also helping me to drift off.

Before I've even checked outside the next morning, I know that I won't be going into work. I have several texts from Sammy, and a couple of emails from the school informing us of the decision they've made. Even though our high school is pretty locally-focused, there are still a lot of students from various village catchment areas who would need to travel. With the ten inches of snow, there's no chance anyone is going anywhere. So, I go back to bed for another hour and then make it over to Harry's place.

"Hey, Hermione!" Harry says as he opens the door, greeting me with a hug. "Welcome, welcome. Come inside. Cup of tea?"

I walk into the house, seeing Ginny fly upstairs in a dressing gown, exclaiming that she's going to be late.

"Yeah, cup of tea sounds good. Ginny's off to work?" I ask.

Harry laughs lightly. "Yeah, unfortunately. We planned to take today off together, but she didn't book it in time. And sports journalism doesn't stop for a snow day, despite what you might believe."

"Seems odd," I admit. "Surely there's no sport to report on?"

Ginny calls from upstairs: "There's winter sports for winter, Hermione! Plus, I have articles to write, filming to edit – you know, all that stuff."

Harry playfully rolls his eyes and turns the kettle on to the boil it, leaning against the kitchen counter. I smile at him, pleased at how comfortable he looks there, and how relaxed. We both know it's strange to have houses at our ages, but it does mean we can build homes. Plus, we can bond over stupid mortgages, and other silly adult things like that – things that really make us feel like grownups.

"How have things been? I ask Harry, helping him with the mugs while he grabs the tea bags from the cupboard and the milk from the fridge.

Harry pours out the boiled water into each mug and shrugs. "They're okay."

"Okay? What's going on?"

He sighs. "I don't know, really. Maybe I'm just having a weird time, you know?" I nod in understanding. "It's closer to Christmas, too, and Ron is still being a total knobhead." Harry deflates a little and passes me a mug, picking up his own. "Work is busy, which never helps with stressing me out. And I don't like it when you and Ron are fighting."

"We're not together. We can't be fighting."

"You know what I mean."

He's absolutely right. Of course, I know what he means. Ron and I have been fighting with each other even before we were dating, which was a far longer time than we were ever a couple. Sometimes it just feels like the way we talk to each other now is because of remaining break-up tension. Maybe it's just how we are, and always will be.

"We're getting better," I tell Harry, regardless.

"Sure," he replies, unconvinced.

"Either way," I press on, "it sounds as though you don't even know what to be upset about."

Harry laughs.

"What's he upset about now? Ginny asks, shuffling into the kitchen in a sharp dress and heels – unusual attire for Ginny, other than at work. She steals Harry's tea, takes a sip, and returns it to him. "Last night he told me he was mad because we didn't bid on the mugs we liked, and they sold."

Harry rolls his eyes. "You said you had control of the eBay listing."

"I lied. It's marriage, honey," Ginny says. "I gotta go."

Ginny kisses Harry on the cheek, hugs me quickly, then rushes out of the door. We wait in silence for a few moments, both smiling about something or other. Finally, Harry says: "want to sit outside?", to which we both laugh, looking at the falling snow. Instead, we migrate to their conservatory, which is surprisingly warm.

"Sorry if I wrecked your day today," I say, smiling at the dark-haired man across from me. It strikes me how odd this is; us both in his house, with full-time jobs, and drinking tea like real adults. It feels like barely a minute ago we were completing final exams at Hogwarts or going to and from school on the old steam train. Yet, other times, Hogwarts feels like an age away, as though it is a memory I cannot quite reach.

"You didn't wreck my day – I had no plans," Harry admits. "Gin and I probably would have had a stay-cation day, if the weather was like this. You know, watch a movie we've never seen."

"Like what?" I ask.

"Fifty shades," he jokes. I groan. "Yeah, not that. Something like Jumanji, or a mushy romantic one even though we both hate them."

"Why watch a movie you know you'll hate?"

He shrugs. "Something different. We might not hate it." Harry coughs, totally surreptitiously. "Speaking of doing things you hate, how's Malfoy? Ginny told me you'd been speaking to our resident ferret boy."

I groan again, shaking my head at Harry. "That nickname, again? You invited the man to your wedding. You must like him at least a little."

"He's tolerable," Harry grins. "He's a good bloke. He helped me out at work once or twice, actually."

"How?"

Harry sets his mug down and leans back against the couch cushions. "There was this guy who was running an insurance fraud, and Draco was dealing with it in part. So, when the guy was handed to our department, Draco came with the case. He had a lawyer buddy with him –"

"Johnny?" I ask, interrupting.

Harry raises an eyebrow. "Yeah, I think so. Weird that you know that. But anyway, Draco and his buddy helped a lot on that case, and he's been helpful on quite a few business-related cons since then."

I smile. "I guess a business degree is helpful after all."

"Yeah," Harry muses. "It got me thinking actually. That maybe I might want to do something more. Maybe not degree stuff, but something."

"Like what? Policing?"

He nods. "Train at the academy, yeah. Go towards being a detective."

"There's a lot of hard graft building up to something like that," I comment.

"Yeah, I know. I've been thinking about it for a while, though, and Malfoy kind of made me see that state and council admin prosecution is maybe not all I want out of life."

I drink the last of my tea. "What does Ginny think?"

"I haven't spoken to her about it."

"Harry!"

"Hermione, I know. It's bad, I know. I just…" He pauses for a moment, taking a breath, measuring his words. "We're married, which is so good and so much fun. But I wanted some space on that one, to think it over by myself and figure out exactly what I want."

"Harry…"

"What, Hermione?" he demands, running a hand through his hair. "What?"

"Ginny is never going to tell you not to something that you want to do, unless it is monumentally stupid, which this isn't," I assure him. "You guys aren't exactly uncomfortable here, and Ginny has a great job that she loves. And she loves you. She would want you to do what you want."

"Yeah?" he asks. "She won't be disappointed?"

I sigh in near frustration. "Would you be disappointed if she told you that to be happy, she wants more from her job?"

"Of course not."

"Well there you go then."

He frowns. "It's really that simple?"

"Yes. You're married now; you share the shit going on in your lives. Like you've always done."

Harry's body language shifts and he suddenly looks a lot happier, of which I am so, so glad.

"Speaking of sharing shit, I need to tell you something," I say, twisting my hands in my lap. Harry tenses up. "I… I like Draco. As… oh God, as more than a friend. And I know you said he's alright, but there is also a lot of history and none of us have the best track – what?"

He is grinning practically from ear to ear. "I knew it."

"Urgh. How long? Am I obvious?" I ask, deflating.

"I actually can't believe it took you this long to tell me. I knew on the wedding weekend." I gasp involuntarily then tsk at my own dramatics. "It's hard to spend time with Draco and not enjoy his company. And you were smiling, like I haven't seen you smile in so long."

I sigh. "He makes me happy."

"Then why the hell aren't you dating?" he asks, leaning forward as if a serious conversation about my potentially dating a blond Slytherin in the form of Draco Malfoy could ever be a serious topic.

"It's complicated?" I try.

"It's really not."

"I don't want to hurt our friendship," I say. "We have such a great time, and I don't even know if he sees me that way."

Harry snorts with laughter. "Right."

"What?"

"The solution to your problem is just so simple. Ask him. Blokes don't care about that stuff. If you ask him if he likes you, it's not going to ruin a friendship."

"Really?" I ask.

"Hermione Granger. You are a clever, beautiful woman. And I hate every word I'm saying." Harry cringes. "He would lucky to be liked by you. And now that the crappy, soppy stuff is out of the way, can we talk about something else? Or maybe build a snowman?"

I nod. "Yeah. Just tell me one thing. Would you be okay with it if Draco and I did… you know?"

"Date?"

"Yeah."

"It's definitely weird," Harry muses. "But like I said. He's a good bloke, and he makes you happy. Who cares about all the other stuff? It happened when we were kids, and we're adults now. Ginny and I watched a BBC drama last night while we debated about cutlery sets and mugs."

I laugh. "That's a step too far. You're not just adults, you're old."

"Well, that sucks," he says, laughing. "But really, I'm okay with it. And I'm sure everyone would be too."

Neither of us mention the one person who might take issue with it if something between me and Draco were to happen. But anyway, it's too nice a day to talk about sad or angry things. I don't fancy talking about Ron either.

Harry and I end up spending the morning together, drinking warm drinks and eventually walking in the snow. He couldn't quite convince me to build a snowman. The rest of the day is spend doing lesson disturbance mitigation, with a thermos of tea beside me and a plate of biscuits that just seem to disappear. I ended up not needing to worry, though. The snow day doesn't impact much in the end, and everyone (students and teachers included) being well-rested is much happier and works much harder for the rest of the week.

I agree to meet Draco on Saturday morning in the city, in front of Chapelfield – which is the usual place to meet people. It's odd, now, standing in my winter jacket and boots, a total contrast to the day we met in May.

Then again, in May when I saw him, I never expected to see him jogging towards me, instinctively making me smile.

"Hey," he says, running a hand over his hair which has fragments of snow in it. Then, rather unexpectedly, he pulls me in for a hug.

"Draco, why?" I ask, my voice muffled against his coat.

"Many reasons," he elaborates, letting me go. I stare at him blankly.

"Care to explain?"

He shrugs, still grinning. "You're warm, I'm cold. I'm happy to be here, it's a nice day. It's been a good week. And I needed it."

"So, you're high?"

Malfoy laughs. "If you're that unimpressed, I won't hug you again."

"A travesty," I say, smiling back this time. He pushes me playfully.

"Alright, Granger. Where first? I am your horse. Load me up with gifts and I shall carry them around."

"You really are ridiculous."

"I'm happy. There's a difference."

I can't help but smile back at him, finding his apparent happiness utterly infectious. With both of us in a good mood, the day flows extraordinarily well. I lead Draco to necessary shops, and we end up talking about all sorts. He tells me that he had two days away from the office to help set his mother and father up in their house for Christmas.

"So, he's home?" I ask, stopping suddenly in the street.

Draco halts too. "Yeah, kinda."

"Kinda?"

"It's complicated." He frowns momentarily. "He's wired up in the house, but he technically doesn't have pneumonia anymore. Mum's got nurses going in twice daily, and someone to prep meals for them."

"That sounds stressful," I say.

Draco runs a hand through his hair. "Yeah. But at least he's there. It just doesn't quite feel like home, even with them both there."

"I can imagine." I reach out and squeeze his hand. He seems surprised for a moment before shaking himself out of it and suggesting we look for the rest of the shopping items that I need.

"Anyway. That's why I'm spending Christmas alone this year," Draco admits, shrugging.

"You're kidding. Why? You don't want to be with your parents?"

"I'll see them Christmas morning, then go it alone," he insists. "It's what I want. It won't seem right anyway, so I'll skip the whole drama this year altogether. Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?" I ask, looking away.

"Like I'm some sort of monster, or a crazy person," Draco holds open the door to Tiger for me. "I'll see them, but I can let my father rest then. Mother will want some peace and quiet."

"You really want to be alone then?"

He sighs in half frustration and smiles weakly. "Yes. I'm normally with Frederick, but I'm pretty sure he's going to be with Sally this year."

"So, you wouldn't want to come to mine for Christmas day?"

"Totally skipped the part about Frederick and Sally," Draco muses, grinning. "You'd really want me? I'm not a great party guest."

"How did you not guess about Frederick and Sally?" I laugh. "Yes, I'm offering. I think you're great, and you just can't be alone on Christmas."

Draco picks up a bright green candle and puts two of them into my hands, to which I roll my eyes.

"Frederick and Sally?" He pauses and smirks. "I guess it's not so strange. Just this is the first Christmas they've had, you know, together. They might… get together."

"It's like being back of Hogwarts," I mutter. "Of course, they might get together. It's what tends to happen."

Draco shrugs, nonplussed.

"So, should I tell my parents that you're coming to dinner?"

Draco takes a moment to think, almost comically. "Well, if you really are sure."

"I am," I tell him in earnest.

"Consider me there," he replies, smiling.

After that, the whole weekend goes smoothly. On Sunday, I attend a get-together with the Weasley clan, though I don't ever know why I'm still invited. Percy talked to me about books. Fred and George tried to get me to watch the football, without much success (before Angelina dragged me away, after she stole a kiss from George). Ron and Nat were perfectly civil towards me, as well. It makes me feel a whole lot better about maintaining our plans for friends-Christmas on New Year's Eve.

I catch up with Bill too, telling him about things with Draco – the slow progress, the ups and the downs. In return, he shares with me his life with Fleur.

"Everything is better, and just about solved. I'm back for Christmas and my transfer is coming in February. Just one more trip out in Egypt. Later down the line maybe we can try it again and I will be able to travel more."

"When the kids are older?"

He smiles and confirms, "When the kids are older."

When all is said and done for the night, I drive home and call Dad, asking if Draco can come to dinner on Christmas Day. He hesitantly says 'yes' before checking with Mum who also hesitantly says 'yes'. Mum tells me that I should be aware that my aunt and uncle would be coming over, and if Draco needed to stay the night, he would have to camp out in the lounge with me. At this, my Dad shouts from across the room: "No funny business though, not under my roof!"

I can practically hear my mother chastising him with a single look, even if he did say it light-heartedly.

It should be an interesting Christmas. My parents, strange dentists. My aunt and uncle, who are arguably the most peculiar people in my family. And then Draco, who is, without a doubt, an enigma all by himself. What I mean to say is that I'm very much looking forward to Christmas now, and that I am equal parts terrified.

I text Draco before I go to bed, asking him to tell me what time he wants picking up on Christmas morning. I don't see his reply because I'm already fast asleep.