"Happy Christmas," Hermione said sleepily, rubbing her eyes. She stood in the doorway to her kitchen where her childhood nemesis and husband of twenty-four hours stood, frying a few eggs for breakfast. They had both slept fitfully-it was tricky getting used to sleeping next to someone when one lived alone, and Hermione was prone to flip-flopping to get comfortable. Luckily, Draco didn't snore, which recommended him greatly to her as a companion… for however long it would last.

He had arisen long before her-that much was clear from the look of the living room, which he had taken great care in arranging with a few small packages on the coffee table. The basket that had carried a breakfast for her just a few mornings prior now sat beside the hearth with a few bottles inside, though Hermione couldn't tell what. Draco must've been able to contact his house elf, Ermina, which was yet another subject they had yet to breach. Had he managed to keep a house elf while living out of a hotel room? From the look of him, he had at least managed to get a change of clothing. He was wearing his green jumper from the first day of their Christmas shopping, as well as a pair of brown corduroy trousers and shearling-lined slippers.

"Aren't you cozy?" he said, taking in the sight of her. Hermione's hair stood on end and she was enveloped in her bathrobe. "Happy Christmas, little wife." They had made an agreement the night prior that they would carry on being married… they would talk about it frankly, refer to each other with whatever spousal nicknames struck them in the moment, and stop spending so much time fretting over what was proper. Three days was a breath of a moment compared to the four years she had spent in a relationship with Ron, but it just… sat right with her. All things considered there was a settled feeling to it. Why fight what felt right?

They hadn't bothered discussing the L-word. Maybe it would come in time, maybe not. They had a spark, that was good enough for them.

"I could say the same about you," Hermione said bashfully. She stood on her tip-toes to kiss his cheek. "I see you've been busy this morning."

"Sit," he said with delight. Once she was sat at the small kitchen table, he set before her a plate with a full english breakfast and a cup of tea. "Ermina brought a few groceries by quite early, I hope you don't mind. She's been bored out of her mind with me being away from Oxford and a house elf can only take so many bubble baths in a suite at The Waldorf."

"I was wondering what you were doing with your hotel room," she laughed. "You put your house elf up in style!"

"She deserves it," he said, sitting down with his own breakfast. "Lucky for me, she wasn't subject to my ridiculous contract and could come and go as she pleased from the hotel once I left Oxford. I'd have been lost without her."

Hermione gave him a look. "I hope you don't rely on her too much."

"Don't look at me like that, madame," he laughed. "Besides, you'll love her. She's a fiend for Agatha Christie novels and she teases me to no end."

"If you say so," she hummed, taking a large bite of her breakfast. "You've been holding out on me-you're an excellent cook!"

Draco was indeed a very excellent cook. He also had excellent taste in Christmas presents. He had re-wrapped the book he had given her on what they were now referring to as their second date, which had remained in her shopping bag up until that moment, and was in fact a first edition of Jane Austen's Persuasion . She had given him what-for about it ("This is priceless! It's too much-you can't give me gifts like this!") and he'd insisted it was nothing ("I can give you whatever I like, besides: I've already read it several times."). Aside from the very valuable book that was most certainly much more than nothing , he had given her a chocolate orange, a little pillow with lavender inside meant to soothe an aching head, and a Slytherin scarf ("I absolutely will not be wearing that!" "I'd wear a Gryffindor one for you! " "No, you wouldn't." "...no I wouldn't.").

It was a lovely Christmas morning, all in all. When the morning post arrived via Draco's owl, there was no mention of either of them in the Prophet. There was a letter from the Burrow, but Hermione put it on top of the fridge, unopened.

They took their tea well into the morning on the sofa, chattering away.

"We ought to do something nice today," Hermione said.

"What did you do for Christmas day last year?" Draco asked. He pulled her legs over his and rubbed her shins.

"Hmm. Well, last year I was seeing that muggle bloke, Terrence," she said. "But he didn't want to introduce me to his parents yet." She laughed. "He told me that I was 'too much' for a small family gathering. So I dressed up fancy and took myself to the V&A. It was a great day, actually."

"He sounds like a prize idiot."

"Nah. He was sort of embarrassed by me, and I think he just didn't really know what to do with me," she shrugged. "By the time he and I met, I was running my own department at the Ministry, which was difficult for him to fathom. I was having my robes custom-made. I had weekly salon appointments. I was obvious that I really didn't need him, and he needed to be needed by a woman. Since then, I've relaxed a bit with my personal care… let my hair go wild a bit. I shop a lot of resale shops, find quirky things." She smiled when Draco reached out and ruffled her curls.

"Still don't need anyone," he said proudly.

"Yes, well," she laughed, leaning into his hand, which found purchase on her cheek. "Need and want are two different things."

"Is that so?" he asked. His eyebrow crooked.

"Mhm," she said, sitting up on her knees. "For example: I don't need to own a cat, I want to. He's a crotchety old man with hard opinions on cat food, but he's been a better companion to me than most human beings ever have."

"I've never seen him," Draco laughed. "Some companion he is!"

"He's skeptical of new people!"

"This is a tiny flat; where could he even be? The way you describe him I'm waiting for the day I wake up with an ancient cat standing over me with a knife!"

"Leave my poor baby alone," she laughed. "You can't bully him into liking you."

"He'll have to get used to me eventually," he said.

"Like someone else I know, it can take him a while to warm up," she said, poking him in the chest. Draco gasped in mock indignation.

"Excuse me, I've been nothing but warm!"

"Only took you twelve years -"

Draco tackled her into the sofa cushions and pinned her down. "Madame, you still have a lot to learn about me-I'm neither cold nor a bully anymore ." He flopped down on top of her.

"Oof!" she laughed. "What do you call this, then?"

"Smothering you until you concede." He snuggled his head into the crook of her neck.

Hermione managed to get her hands free and tickled his sides… to no avail. He didn't budge. "You're joking! You're not ticklish?"

"Nope," he said smugly. "Just on my feet, but you can't reach them."

"Ugh!" Hermione huffed. "That's not fair."

"Why not?" he asked, raising his head to look at her. "Are you ticklish, Granger?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "No comment."

"I promise not to tickle you if you tell me," he said. He gave her an innocent smile.

"I am," she admitted. "But I hate it, so don't do it! Please." Her fingers gripped his shirt.

Draco braced himself over her with his hands on either side of her head. Her face had turned from laughter to panic. "I won't. Not ever," he said softly.

"Thank you," she peeped. She was flushed. Draco sat back and took her hand, helping her sit up. He smoothed her top. He braced on arm on the back of the couch and rubbed her hand.

"Perhaps we should… talk," he suggested gently.

"We've been talking," she said.

"You know what I mean, darling."

"Alright," she agreed. She cleared her throat. It took her a long time to say anything; there were many thoughts to sort through. "Um. So. This is all… overwhelming. A bit. This relationship business. Being in one. All of a sudden."

"Mmm."

"Aren't you overwhelmed?" she asked.

Draco nodded once. "I'm still convinced this isn't really happening," He said. "I feel not unlike a comet hurtling through space right now." She blinked.

"And… Are you attracted to me?"

Draco couldn't help the smallest smirk of a smile cross his face. "Quite." She nodded and looked down at their joined hands. Draco touched her cheek. "Are you attracted to me , Hermione?"

"Mhm." She squeezed his hand but still didn't look at him.

"I will never touch you without your permission," he said. "Or push you to do something you're not ready for. I know what it means not to have control over your body. I will do what I can to make you feel safe."

Hermione leaned forward and pressed her forehead to his chest. She made an exasperated sound into his shirt. He chuckled and wrapped his arms around her. "If and when you decide that you're ready, I'll still be here." He laid his cheek on her head. Hermione huffed again. "Why do you keep sighing?" he asked in amusement.

"You're being too nice," she grumbled.

Draco traced circles on her back. "All this is assuming that you'd like to continue seeing me with regularity," he said.

"I married you, didn't I?" she said, her words muffled.

"Yes," he laughed, "but that was as a favor to me. And plenty of married people live apart, live separate lives… the fact that they're married is secondary to their goals and such."

"I don't want that." Hermione snuggled deeper into his chest and Draco leaned back so they were lying comfortably on the sofa. He brushed her hair off her face. She closed her eyes for a moment. "Do you want that?"

"No."

She looked up at him. "Do you want to go back to Oxford?"

Draco nodded. "I'd like to. I have a good thing going, there. And a good team."

The wheels in Hermione's head began to turn once again. She smiled, finally. "So… what if I go with you?"

"Would you?" he asked. "I think you'd love it there."

"I don't have to live in London anymore," she said, "and I don't have any emotional ties to this flat. I like the idea of access to the university, presuming you'd be willing to smuggle me into at least the library." Draco nodded.

"Piece of cake," he said. "I've been hoping to buy a little cottage there; you could help me find something cozy."

"I'd like that," she said. "And. I like you, which helps."

"Do you?" he asked slyly.

"Is that news to you?"

"No. I can't really fathom why, though." His eyes glinted with a challenge. She rested her chin on his chest.

"Are you so desperate for validation?" she asked.

"Consider me needsome in this moment." Draco tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

She sighed dramatically. "Fine," she said. "Would you like a dramatic monologue or an itemized list?"

"A dramatic list."

"As you wish," she said. "I warn you: I know some very large words."

"Consider me warned!"

"Alright. But don't look at me, I'll get embarrassed." She reached up and covered his eyes. Draco closed them and held her hand over his heart. "Good. Well… number one, but in no particular order… you're very good looking." Draco crooked an eyebrow but said nothing. "Sometimes I can't look at you for too long because I get heated. Looking you in the eye for prolonged periods of time makes me actually lose track of my thoughts. Also, you've grown into your height and now you're all… muscle-y, I don't know-"

"And you're the one who's going to be embarrassed!" he exclaimed, peeking at her through one eye. His cheeks were pink.

"Close your eyes!" She waved her hand over his face again. He acquiesced.

"Number two: I knew when we were young that you were neck-and-neck with me for high marks, and we're still well matched in wits. It makes me stupidly happy that you're such a voracious reader, or at least I assume you are given your appetite for book shop browsing."

"I read almost seventy books this year," he bragged. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Yes, but you read for your job , so I'm sure many of those were ancient texts and not what you read on your own time."

"Honestly! They were all personal choices on my own time," he said. "I kept a log! My therapist made me track them."

"Number THREE! YOU GO TO THERAPY. Gods, I can't tell you how refreshing it is not to have to decipher a man's emotions…"

"Just remember that when I do or say something insensitive at some point," he coughed. "I still have a proper brood every once in a while."

"Noted," she said. "And number five: so far, you go along with my hare-brained schemes."

"I think I'll spend a lot of time running after you to catch up," he said, "but you've got a sharp brain and I know you think things through. And I could use some spontaneity."

"I'm not spontaneous," she scoffed. Draco opened his eyes and looked at her pointedly.

"I'm sorry, that's a scandalous falsehood against yourself in the last four days."

"Number six ," she said, tapping him on the lips but giving him a scowl. "You call me out when I'm… wrong. I can get carried away on a cause and I need reigning in." Draco kissed her finger.

"Big of you to admit it," he said. "Alright. That's enough of that. A man can only stand to have his ego stroked for so long and I don't take compliments very well-"

"Seven! Humility!" Hermione giggled at the way he rolled his eyes.

"Come on, you," he said, heaving himself upright and taking her with him. "Let's get up! We can't just lay here all day long. Let's do something ." Draco pulled her up off of the sofa.

"Like… going to see your mother?" she suggested. She rubbed his arm as his face fell. He nodded.

"Would you come along?" he asked.

"Of course."

"If you're sure. And for the record," he said, kissing her sweetly. "I like you . I like your muchness," he said. "I'm proud of you. And… I want to tell my mother that we're married."

Hermione tugged on his shirt. "What if she remembers me?"

"Even if she remembers you, which is doubtful given her lack of lucidity last time I saw her, she'll be happy if I'm happy." He kissed her forehead. "She protected me…" He stopped as if it was too difficult to elaborate without causing himself distress. "I'll tell you about it sometime. But know that she had renounced all the blood purity nonsense prior to the whole memory loss thing."

"Alright," she peeped.

"Yeah?" he asked hopefully.

She nodded. "I'd do anything for you," she said simply. The queerest look crossed Draco's face. He pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly. He breathed out slowly.

"What have you done to me, Granger?" he whispered.

"Well," she said softly. "Besides dragging you all over London, getting you a front page story in the Prophet, and subjecting you to quiet torture at the hands of the Weasley family?"

Draco laughed. "I told you. So spontaneous! " He pulled her up against his chest so her feet were no longer touching the ground. "Mmm! Can I treat you to a Christmas dinner tonight?"

"If you like," she said. His breath of delight tickled her cheek, but as it was an accident, she managed not to flinch.

When they arrived at St. Mungo's, they made certain not to show outward affection to one another. No hand-holding, no lingering looks. Just two… fairly famous people… visiting a famous defector. It caused more of a stir than they would've liked to arrive together and all they needed was a secondary story in the Prophet. They knew it was a possibility now that they were on the Prophet's radar. Still, at least the medi-witches knew why Draco was there to visit the hospice wing, and Hermione's presence wasn't questioned (at least outwardly). Witches in white robes scurried around them in hushed whispers, but Draco affected an air of ease and smiled warmly at whomever he made eye contact with. Hermione nervously smoothed her hair.

Narcissa Malfoy had been staying in room 157 in the hospice wing at St. Mungo's for seven years; since the death of her husband and Draco's father, Lucius, in Azkaban, Narcissa had been slowly losing her memory and had become unable to channel her magic any longer. It was happening naturally. This made it even harder for Draco to deal with. There was nobody to blame for cursing her, no poison to find an antidote for, just the effect of trauma on an aging brain.

Christmas was always a cheerful time in the hospice wing; the medi-witches had games and biscuits for the residents whose families were visiting for the holiday. Narcissa was sat at a card table with three other witches as they played a facilitated game of dominos when Hermione and Draco were shown into the community room. Four other families were there, too, sitting with their loved ones and sharing a cozy moment. Draco had grown to love this tradition. Everyone gathered together, even if they weren't related. And Narcissa did love it, and she seemed to have her wits about her today. She looked up as he entered the room and her eyes lit up. She remembered her only son, and on this particular Christmas, he had brought her three specific gifts.

One: a shawl that Ermina had crocheted out of nubbly yarn in a lovely crimson color.

Two: a copy of her favorite book that Ermina had liberated from the Manor under the Parkinson's nose.

And three…

"Happy Christmas," he said softly, touching her shoulder. Narcissa looked up at him with a placid smile.

"Hello, darling," she cooed. Draco kissed her cheek. "Who's this?" she asked.

"Mum, this is Hermione," he said. He held his hand out to Hermione and she took it. Narcissa nodded.

"I know you," she said, a look of recognition coming over her. The smile remained on her face and she patted their joined hands. "How are you, dear? It has been ages."

"I'm well," Hermione said, stunned. "And you?"

"Now that you're here," Narcissa said, nodding to the two of them, "I'm happy as a lark." Draco knelt down at the arm of her chair and a nurse brought one for Hermione to use.

"Mum, I have a bit of news for you, if you're up for it," he said softly. Hermione put her hand on his shoulder in reassurance. He glanced up at her.

Narcissa touched his cheek. "You can tell me anything, darling boy."

"Hermione and I are-"

"Married," Narcissa finished. "Yes, I know."

Draco and Hermione exchanged a look of worry. "How do you know? Has someone told you?"

Narcissa placed one of her dominos where the nurse indicated it should go. "It's obvious, just look at you." She touched Draco's cheek and then looked dreamily at Hermione. "Now, darling, stop talking and listen to the music, it's my favorite."

There was no music on, just then, but he understood. She had another world going on in there. But she was delighted to have them there and she kept telling the medi-witches that her son was visiting with his wife. It was such a wonderful Christmas, Hermione felt like her heart was going to burst. Watching Draco with his mother… he was so loving. So tender. He took such delight seeing her open her gifts and helped her wrap the shawl around her shoulders.

Finally, a group of carolers arrived for revelry and the patients were settled in their chairs by the fire. Narcissa requested that Draco and Hermione sit on either side of her. The carols were jovial and everyone joined in. Narcissa, in one of her clearer moments of lucidity, leaned over to Draco and asked, in a low voice: "My love… did you at least get my jewelry, when…" she trailed off. Draco hung his head and shook it.

"No, Mum. I barely got that book for you," he said, indicating the book on ancient plant life that Ermina had pilfered for him.

"No, I mean…" Narcissa pressed her hands to her temples to will herself to remember. "The deposit box."

"Gringotts?" Hermione offered and Narcissa's face lit up. She held out her hand to Hermione.

"Yes. Thank you." Narcissa squeezed Hermione's hand tightly. "Lady Malfoy." She giggled. "Suits you. I have a ring that would fit you in the deposit box, I think. It's a small sapphire. Lovely on you. Draco will get it for you."

Hermione's eyes welled with tears immediately. "Thank you," she whispered. Narcissa kept on holding her hand for as long as the carols lasted, and Hermione was in a perpetual state of wanting to cry. She ventured a look at her husband, who had his arm around the back of his mother's chair. He sensed her looking at him and glanced up. As soon as he saw the sheen in her eyes, he smiled and nodded. He understood. His eyes were red, too.

"Thank you," he mouthed to her. "All this?" he indicated the room and then his mother between them. "Your fault." He winked.