A/N: I own nothing pertaining to Harry Potter and the wizarding world and earn nothing from writing this bit of fiction.

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Chapter 13 - Giving and Receiving

The first Christmas after the war isn't at all the same as it was before, but it hasn't entirely dampened Draco's spirits. A certain witch coming to stay might have something to do with it, as well as finally getting around to finding out what his grandfather had hinted about. Or at least trying.

28 December 1998

Severus Snape had floo-ed home the evening before in a snit. The cheek of that boy. But instead of smashing things to bits as he had in his youth, he'd pulled out his new bottle of Ogden's (Christmas staff gift) and poured himself a large glass, drinking before a crackling fire as he fought away maudlin thoughts. He fell asleep on the sofa, which he discovered in the morning by having a large crick in his neck and a sour taste in his mouth.

He groaned and restarted the fire, and sat there rubbing his neck while heat slowly returned to the room. His mind drifted to the awkward dinner conversation the day before. The Granger girl was not so terribly out of place, he mused, though it was certainly unlike any dinner he'd ever had at the Manor. He was thankful Narcissa had tried to keep a modicum of decorum in spite of the antics of the younger wizards. Lucius would have been appalled at his son's behaviour.

And then there was that revealing remark of what happened to Granger's parents. He was slightly put out that she'd confided in Draco over him, someone actually responsible for her, but mollified by the fact that she hadn't told the other staff members either. In truth, it was rather bold of Draco to ask for help when she hadn't. Was there something he could do? He was familiar with branches of mind magic that Filius hadn't delved into – the result of having been a spy for two extremely powerful wizards – but he wasn't sure that would be enough. He would need to do some research.

His eyes flicked over to the table where he'd deposited his Christmas gifts, mostly opened and placed in a neat row. He had no tree to sit them under. There were a few rare potions ingredients from Sprout's greenhouses, some new quills and red ink, a scarf, a new pair of dragonhide gloves, and a blank journal. Next to it was indeed a gift from Martinez that he had left unopened out of equal parts stubbornness and mistrust. She might have called a truce, but he'd believe it when he saw it. With a sigh, he slowly drew himself to his feet and stepped over to the table.

The gift was small and wrapped in shiny green paper tied with a bit of twine which he removed to find a small box which contained something that made him instantly wonder how she had acquired it in the first place. It was a pin marking membership to the American Potioneers Guild. It was considered an honor to belong - not every potions worker was permitted entry. He noted a folded sheet of parchment that had fallen to the side when he'd opened the box and found that it was a letter of acceptance, addressed to himself, from the Guild. He knew for a fact that he had never applied. She'd applied for him? There was no way she'd pulled that off on her own. He picked up the pin from its cushioned nest and held it up. Its golden surface gleamed in the firelight. He momentarily regretted that he had given her a rather lackluster gift of thick slippers and hangover potion, but she'd still have to prove herself if he was to truly believe that she was done being a pain in the arse.

Hermione woke up with a start. Someone was knocking on the door. It took her a moment to remember where she was before she feebly called out, "Coming!" and slid out of bed, wrapping herself in a thick robe before answering. To her astonishment, it was the elf Bibble.

"Very sorry, Miss, but the Mistress is hoping you can join her for breakfast in the conservatory?" Her round eyes stared hopefully up at the young witch.

"Right, er, of course! Just let me get dressed and I'll… where did you say?"

"The conservatory, Miss. Bibble will wait here."

Hermione had never quite gotten over her awkwardness with elves, though Kreacher had given her quite a different perspective than Dobby. Poor Dobby. She sighed and invited the elf in while she changed in the en suite bathroom. She emerged a few minutes later to the sight of Bibble standing with her hands clasped in front, waiting ever so patiently if you please. Hermione offered a smile and announced she was ready and was led down the stairs and down a few hallways until Bibble open the now familiar set of double doors with a wave of her hand.

The entire room was bathed in morning light that was streaming through the many panes of glass. Narcissa was seated at a small bistro table hidden behind some large ferns.

"So good of you to come, Hermione," the woman said with a smile.

"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting," the younger witch squeaked in reply. She was quickly put at ease by Narcissa handing her a cup of tea, already prepared the way she liked it.

"Oh, not at all. I just thought we could have a moment, witch-to-witch. The boys will be down soon and then it will be impossible. I'm sure you know what I mean." She smiled kindly at the younger witch.

"Of course." Hermione swallowed, pushing away the nervousness rising to the surface. "What would you like to speak about?"

"I happen to know that Draco has asked you to help him figure out what his grandfather failed to pass along to his son and grandson."

Hermione nodded.

"I find it exceedingly kind on your behalf. I'm afraid my family has been nothing but cruel toward you during most of your time at Hogwarts. I just wanted to express my personal gratitude for this and the many other kindnesses you've shown my son this year. I believe he has already shown you the library?"

"Yes, it's magnificent."

"I hope that you're able to find what you're looking for. And if you don't, please – please don't think that you've failed us. I've heard you take things rather seriously, but please, this is ultimately not your responsibility. That lies with Draco and his… his father. "

"A-about that…" Hermione began nervously.

"Yes?"

"Does Mr. Malfoy know that I'm spending the holiday here?"

"He does, but it's hardly his decision, regardless of how he may feel about the matter."

"And… well, how does he feel about it?"

"I wouldn't worry too much. I think he's going to find the world much changed when he comes home in a few months." She paused for a moment. "It's been… difficult to swallow. When you realise that everything your family has stood for, has fought for… had indoctrinated you with… that it's all born out of hatred and fear. Hermione, you have taught me much in very little time, whether you realise it or not. And I hope that from here onward we can do better, be better. Together." She offered a genuine smile, tentative but hopeful.

Hermione smiled back, appreciating the woman's honesty and grateful that she'd decided to accept her invitation to stay over the holidays. She'd found that, in spite of their previous interactions, which were mostly rather distant, this Narcissa seemed to prefer speaking through actions more than words. In a way it was reassuring, no need to wonder about lip service and pretense. They continued their chat, getting to know one another in a way neither had even imagined before.

About an hour later, Draco and Blaise drifted in through the doorway grumping about how no one had woken them and afraid they'd missed breakfast. Narcissa grinned and gave Hermione a conspiratorial wink. Hermione permitted herself a smile in return. It was definitely strange becoming friendly with Narcissa, but underneath the cold exteriour she was known to project, she was intelligent, caring, and had a delightful sense of humour.

A short time later, Narcissa announced that they would be opening Christmas gifts in the parlour. Draco and Blaise high-fived like excited school boys while Hermione tittered nervously. Draco smiled shyly at her as Narcissa swept down the corridors, leaving the three of them to follow in her wake. The parlour had one of the most lovely Christmas trees that Hermione had ever seen, which was saying a lot considering all the trees she'd seen over the years at Hogwarts.

The tree was at least ten feet tall, wrapped in a shiny wide golden ribbon from top to bottom and tiny lights flickered along its branches. The edges of some branches were adorned with bits of ivory lace while others had pinecones or golden baubles. Beneath the tree was tucked a white quilt with gold trim in which several small wrapped gifts were nestled. Hermione spotted the gifts that she had brought among the pile and sighed in relief. She hated to admit it, but she could understand why families were very attached to their elves.

Narcissa insisted on giving her gifts first. To Draco she'd given new dragon hide gloves and a cashmere jumper. Blaise received cufflinks that were shaped like wine casks, silver with a mahogany inlay. Hermione was given a small beautiful bottle of perfume that, the moment she loosened the lid, filled the room with a heavenly scent. A little of that was going to go a long way and she dreaded to think how much it had cost.

Blaise went next, presenting Narcissa with a silver bookmark that had small jewel-encrusted leaf at one end. Hermione opened her a small bag next which contained sugar quills as well as a actual one, all white with a silver nib, and several bottles of ink. Draco's parcel contained a quidditch-themed desk set, complete with a snitch-shaped inkwell.

They all insisted Hermione went next, so she nervously handed Narcissa a small silver bag. The blonde was smiled broadly when she discovered that it contained her favourite holiday sweets from Honeydukes as well as a small leather-bound journal. Blaise quickly slipped the ribbons from his gift box and was delighted to find chocolate truffles and a new wool scarf. Hermione smiled shyly at Draco when she handed him a wrapped box. It, too, contained sweets, this time a mix of small confections created just for the holidays. Beneath was a slim volume about Applied Arithmancy, which he had talked about pursuing when he was finished at Hogwarts.

At last it was Draco's turn. He handed Blaise his gift first, a new fob watch that would vibrate whenever someone was telling a lie, a bit like a rich man's sneakoscope. To his mum he gave a cameo-style brooch with opals set around the etching of the head of a hare, her favourite animal. He the handed Hermione a slim package that she knew at once was a book. She was rather pleased to see it was the volume on runes that she had been perusing that day their paths crossed at the book shop. She was shocked, however, when he handed her a second package.

"Draco, you really didn't have to," she demured.

"Just open it, Granger," he replied impatiently. The seconds seemed to drag by as she slowly pulled open the paper.

She audibly gasped when the small music box was reveal. She turned the small crank, careful not to force it, and a lilting, beautiful melody came forth. It somehow cheered her, filling those spaces of sadness about having another Christmas without her parents, without some of her friends and mentors who were no longer alive, and in its place a balm which she had not sought but nevertheless soothed her heart. Tears pricked her eyes and slowly rolled down one of her cheeks.

"Thank you," she breathed. "It's beautiful."

Draco leaned forward and wiped her tears with the pad of his thumb, not caring that they were hardly alone.

"I'll tell you the story about it sometime, hmm?"

Hermione nodded and thanked everyone profusely for the gifts, giving each of them a hug in turn, first Blaise, then Narcissa, and, lastly, Draco who hardly knew what to do with his hands. His cheeks grew pink under his mother's thoughtful gaze.

Late that afternoon, the three of them left Narcissa at the Manor to take a visit to Avebury henge, just as Draco had promised. Hermione, of course, brought her new book from which she had been sharing passages since lunch.

Draco apparated them there and the three of them landed behind a dumpster in an alley not too far away and led them along the familiar path to the henge. They had transfigured their cloaks into thick winter parkas so as to not stand out and indeed they blended in easily with the Muggles who were out for an afternoon stroll.

Avebury was different than some of the other henges. They were free to wander about the stones and no one paid them any mind. Many of the original stones were long gone, having been used to build the town and what stood there was thanks mostly to a wizard who had a keen interest in restoring the henge to its proper state. Hermione scoured the standing stones, looking for the remainders of runes and was beginning to think that none were left. Blaise suddenly called them over to one he had been admiring.

"There, near the base. What's that?"

Hermione crouched down to take a better look and let out a yelp of joy.

"You found it!"

"What is it that I've found?" Blaise asked incredulously.

"It's the runes that, rumour has it, have the ability to give you your true heart's desire. You have to read them aloud on the prescribed day, of course, and put a bit of blood just there and then your hands like so." She indicated a place just off to the side of the runes and put her hands momentarily on the stone. "I mean, I hardly know if it's true, but imagine if it were!"

Draco scoffed.

"Really, Granger? That's what all this was about?"

Hermione stood and made her annoyance known.

"It's just a story, Malfoy. Everyone knows that something like that is a load of thestral dung, but what if it could somehow help? There are a lot of caveats to the story. We can't wish that Voldemort never existed, though I'd do it in a heartbeat. But I could wish that we find a way to lift the memory charm from my parents."

Draco sighed, knowing that he'd responded rather unkindly, considering he was the one jonesing to bring her here, to make her happy.

"Sorry, Granger, I just have a difficult time in believing in wishes being granted from a stone. I know it's special, and I know there's power here. I can feel it. But I don't trust it. It's old, for one thing. I dunno. Anyway, what's the date you have to come make a wish?"

"Well, it has to be a full moon during the month of January."

"So… next week," Blaise chipped in.

Hermione and Draco turned to look at him in surprise.

"What? I, uh, follow the lunar cycles."

Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Since when, mate?"

"Since I started brewing with Rosmerta. She follows the lunar cycle to time out certain stages. Says it makes it better. Who am I to argue?"

Draco still looked incredulous, but Hermione nodded as if she understood.

"So shall we try it?" she asked, turning back to Draco.

"What, come back and make a wish?"

She'd never taken him to be as thick as his old mates, which made her a bit prickly.

"What else, Malfoy? Pretend we're werewolves and howl at the moon?"

"I still don't see how it will work. But alright. If you promise that we'll go through my grandfather's journals and notes once more before then."

"Deal," she replied and held out her hand to shake.

Draco took it tentatively, once more shocked to even be touching her. Blaise, who knew his friend rather well, smirked.

"Alright lovers, shall we take a stroll around town before heading back?"

The couple's cheeks both grew slightly pink.

"Yeah, alright," Draco replied, attempting to get back to his usual swagger.

31 December 1998 (part 1)

The three of them had spent the previous two days combing through journals in the office and comparing them to several old volumes in the library that Draco had overlooked during the summer and Hermione felt it was time to assemble some of the pieces, much to Draco's relief. After all, the holiday break was nearly at an end.

"How much do you know of your family history?" Hermione inquired.

"Enough, I suppose."

"Do you think the clue about choices has anything to do with something your family has done in the past or does it refer to you yourself?"

"Both maybe. I mean, I suppose my family chose to come here. And we chose to become more interested in being Purebloods when the Anti-Muggle acts were passed. Rumour has it that a Malfoy attempted to court Queen Elizabeth."

"Really?" asked Hermione with renewed interest.

"Who?" asked Blaise.

"She was only one of the most formidable queens of England, back when it was nearly always a man who ruled the Empire," she supplied. "So back to the idea of remaining pure. You know that's what that Greek word you found means, right?" She pointed to his notes where he'd copied "καθαρός". "This other note 'il faut en repenser' is French, of course. But what does it mean? You have to rethink what? Your choices? Your past?"

"This is why I asked for your help, isn't it? My mum gave me these cufflinks," he pointed to the open box where they laid, "because she said they'd help with the family magic, but I don't even know what it does or how to use it."

"Have you put them on yet?" suggested Blaise.

"Well, yeah, once or twice, but I didn't bother bringing them to Hogwarts. You think I should put them on?"

"Well, I dunno. We're going back to Avesbury in a few days, right? That place was buzzing with magic. Suppose it would help you do whatever it is you're supposed to be able to do?" Blaise continued.

"I think he's right, Malfoy. If you're going to channel something, it's a good a place as any."

"So you don't think the magic has anything to do with the house or grounds?"

"I suppose it could, but then it would be far more recent int he scheme of things, wouldn't it? When did you family come here from France?"

"With William the Conqueror."

"Oh, well… I suppose that's been a while. But if it's 'ancient magic' as these notes claim, it should be even older than that. You know, maybe that's what you could wish for," she chirped.

"I'm not wishing on some stupid rock," he grumbled.

And that was when Hermione at last suggested asking his grandfather's portrait, assuming that one had been painted. Draco felt rather foolish since he hadn't so much as considered it. In fact, he'd avoided all family portraits since the end of the war and, to be honest, avoided the rooms they hung in as well. Narcissa had remodeled a great deal of the house by this point, but the portraits were upstairs where they'd gotten hidden away during the time that the were forced to play host to Voldemort and the other Death Eaters. It was a part of the house that had gone largely untouched during his lifetime at the very least and he was afraid of what unpleasantness might greet his new Muggle-born friend. But she persisted and Blaise was no help at all, so after a late lunch they set off for the northeast wing. The elves had largely kept up with the cleaning, though they'd been a busy lately with all the renovations.

They ascended the staircase and walked toward a dimly lit corridor styled in the sort of elegance most people could only dream of having in their own home. The Malfoys may have been bigots, but the house itself was a testament to centuries of indulging in only the best. Draco hadn't wanted to say it aloud before, but the closer they got to the room with portraits, the more he was concerned about what they might say when Hermione was present.

"Wait," he said at last. "I should go in alone. They might become… hostile…if we all go in."

"You mean if I go in," Hermione corrected.

"Well…."

"Look, I've suffered Walburga Black shrieking at me every time I entered Grimauld until recently when they've found a way to shut her up. I'm not going to hear anything I haven't before."

"You may have done that for Harry and the Order, but I don't want you to have to do it for me. At least give me a few minutes before you both come in. Alright?" He looked at Blaise for help.

"No problem, mate. I know how complicated family can be, even when they're dead."

Giving his old friend a knowing look, Draco squeezed through the doorway, preventing Hermione so much as a glimpse of the room and thus preventing any portrait from seeing her as well.

"Well, well, well," pronounced a high-pitched voice. "Look who graces us with his presence, little Lord Malfoy."

"Yes, shame about his father, isn't it," said another.

"That's what happens when one is on the losing side," added a rather bored voice.

"At least they were able to rid the world of some of its filth," said another deeper, snooty voice.

A woman's voice tutted from across the room. "Filth was what happened in this house, Augustus, and you know it. But I suppose I never did enjoy violence as much as you."

"No, you'd rather lord it over from your cushioned window seat and send someone else to do your dirty work."

"Yes, but never in the house, you know."

The man in the portrait over a forgotten fireplace cleared his throat. "Why are you here, Lord Malfoy?"

"I'm hardly Lord Malfoy," Draco said evenly, controlling his emotions. "My father is still Lord Malfoy."

"He has disgraced the Malfoy name," a woman announced. "No Malfoy goes to prison!"

"He deserved it," Draco retorted. "We all did. The only reason I'm not is because of a woman who is on the other side of the door. A woman of whom most of you are not worthy." He glared at the portraits around him. "Of whom I'm not worthy. You will say nothing nasty or snobbish about her. Not in her presence, nor in her absence."

"You can hardly control what we do, little Draco," replied the voice over the fireplace.

"Then perhaps I shall lock this room and lose the key somewhere? Perhaps in a river or down a well?"

"You wouldn't!" the high-pitched voice squeaked.

Draco sneered. He hadn't sneered much lately and it felt rather good to slip back into it, especially where it was merited.

"She's coming in here to ask you lot questions. You will answer her plainly, no games. And like I said, nothing nasty, or you'll regret it."

A/N: This chapter was getting a bit long, so I decided to cut this last part in two and this seemed the logical place! Thank you for your patience in spite of the slow updates. Hope you enjoyed this little read. Until next time, where we'll hear from the portraits and celebrate New Year's Eve!

Thank you once again for the kind reviews, "favourite"-ing and subscribing. They've definitely helped me get back into the swing of things and at least get the Christmas bit out before some of us do a little celebrating of our own. Whatever you celebrate this season, even if it's just surviving this year, I hope you can find a small slice of joy in knowing that you've made it. Here's to hoping and praying that the next one is better!