A/N Some lovely reviews lately. Thank you! Can't do it without you.

Draco couldn't sleep. In speaking to Ronald that night, he'd voiced the fears he'd been keeping hidden, the ones that had been mounting all term. He'd laid here next to his brother, late on Christmas Eve in Hermione Granger's house while she slept on the sofa downstairs, and blurted it out.

"Something's happening, Ronald. Something's changing. I have no idea what, but our parents doing a runner, Arthur Weasley's accident, Potter's visions, Umbridge, giants - it's all related, it's all horrible, and it's all got something to do with us."

Maybe Ronald still didn't believe him, and that's why he was able to fall asleep so easily after they'd finished talking. Dear old Ronald and his clear conscience, his happy moods, probably dreaming of snogging Pansy Parkinson, something which, Draco knew, was quite nice.

There was a noise in the corridor, and a line of light shining through the crack of the door. It might be Hermione. Maybe he'd find her outside the door where he could give her a proper hug goodnight to take the place of that stiff, self-conscious one she'd given him while Ronald stood by waiting for his. But then, it might be Tim Granger, minding his uninvited house guests with the help of a cricket bat.

Draco would risk it. He slid out of bed and stopped himself from grabbing his wand, useless as it was outside of school while he was still underaged. With no Disillusionment or Silencing spells, he eased the door open and squinted with one eye through the parchment-thin crack. In the corridor outside was neither Hermione nor Tim, but Aunt Inez, shuffling back to the guest bedroom from the toilet. She'd forgotten to turn out the light and came shuffling back to get it, not in any hurry at all. The light went off and Draco listened to her feet scuff along the carpet until her door clicked closed in the dark.

He wouldn't bother Hermione, but it would be comforting, calming to see asleep from across the lounge, to hear her breathing. What a maudlin git he'd become. Looking down, he saw he'd carried her teddy bear to the door with him. He tossed it back onto the bed as he let himself out.

With no excuse in mind to explain why he was roaming around the house in the middle of the night, he suffered a pang of panic as he passed Tim and Ann's bedroom door. How in the world would he have a good reason to be going downstairs right now? As if in answer, something bumped against his legs. He barely bit back a yelp of surprise.

"Prrrr-ow."

It was Crookshanks, trilling at Draco's shins. Letting out the cat - yes, that was something people got up to do in the night. Pity these London suburbs for having this beast loosed on them. But it couldn't be helped. Draco bent and scooped him up. Crookshanks bumped his head against his chin but otherwise kept still and let himself be carried down the stairs.

They stopped in the doorway of the front room. As they were the night before, the red and gold lights of the Christmas tree were still alight, Hermione visible in their warm glow. Draco froze, meaning to get a glimpse of her before passing through, into the kitchen to let Crookshanks out the garden door.

All at once, she snuffled into her pillow, coughed, and turned her face to the back of the sofa. Crookshanks trilled again and hopped out of Draco's arms, flicked his brushy tail, and sauntered back into the shadows.

At the sound of the cat plummeting to the floor, Hermione turned, blinking. "Malfoy?"

"Sorry," he said. "Cat wanted out."

She sat up slightly on her elbows. "Did he? That's odd. He hates prowling in town."

Draco crossed and then uncrossed his arms, bare and white, dangling out of the short sleeves of his quidditch practice t-shirt. "Yeah, he abandoned me before I could get near the door. Must have remembered just in time."

She breathed out a laugh. "Abandoned you. Who would dare?"

He stepped closer, lowering his voice so they wouldn't be heard upstairs. "I didn't mean to wake you. Honestly."

"It's alright." She waved a hand. "You haven't slept yet. Your hair is still too orderly."

He accepted it with a smirk and, inching closer to where she lay on the sofa. "While I'm down here, I suppose I should thank you for your help with the potion today. All we really needed from you was a safe place to work, but you stayed and talked me through it and everything so - thanks."

"You didn't need me there," she said. He was near enough now that she could reach his hand. And in the golden haze of the Christmas lights and the quiet and her lingering sleepiness, everything was dreamlike enough that she did not stop herself from curving her fingers around the tips of his. Oh, this boy - he drew her in simply by standing close. Was there any use in trying to resist him?

He sunk to his knees on the rug beside the sofa, taking her hand fully in his, lacing their fingers. "No, I didn't need you. But I did want you there."

His face was hovering above hers. He'd pressed their joined hands against his chest, the back of her hand over his pounding heart.

She raised her free hand to his cheek. "Gentle this time," she reminded him. "Like you promised."

He nodded, whispering into her face. "However you want."

"My eyes," she said. "Go back to my eyes. Like when we were outside McGonagall's office the day of your fight, only tonight I'm not hurting you, saying all the wrong things. Tonight, I'm gentle too."

He smiled, remembering how badly he'd wanted his second kiss with her that afternoon, there in the Entrance Hall after being scolded by McGonagall for fighting with Potter and the Weasley twins. He'd come so close, tracing her eyelids with the end of his nose instead.

Like she said, this time was different. She closed her eyes, and instead of his nose, he placed his lips over her tear duct and smoothed the line of her eyelashes. "It tickles," he whispered against her forehead as he moved from the left eye to the right. When he'd finished on the right side, he ran his lips above her eyebrow, on the taut skin of her forehead, back to the midline of her face, moving in a slow, smooth drag down the length of her nose, dropping off the tip before falling lightly, like snow onto her mouth.

A little sigh went up from her throat as she parted her lips beneath him. By now, he ought to have expected it, but it thrilled him all the same. He heard her breathe in his scent as he leaned into her, pushing the back of her head into her pillow. He was still kneeling on the rug beside the sofa, fighting the urge to climb on top of her.

Gentle, Draco. She asked for gentleness.

But she had turned her mouth away from his, kissing his jaw now. Without any thought, his head tipped back and she filled the space, her lips warm against his neck, over his pulse. He gasped and she laughed at him.

"Your neck is sensitive," she mused, speaking into his skin, her arms holding him close.

He lowered his chin and pulled back to look at her, face to face. "Well, naturally," he smirked. "Have you never had your neck kissed, Granger?"

She shrugged one shoulder, smiling with a maddening mixture of coyness and innocent curiosity.

"You haven't," he said, the breath of each word hot against her throat.

The sigh she emitted when he opened his mouth on her neck was forceful enough to be a moan. She covered it with words. "Oh, that's…" was all she was able to say.

The sounds drove Draco onward, sending him kissing lower, descending along her neck, harder, enough to risk leaving a mark, her voice sounding again…

He threw himself away from the sofa. "Sorry," he said, rubbing his jaw as if she'd hit him when really she'd only fallen breathless against her pillow. "Terribly ill-mannered of me, Granger. A good house guest does not get his hosts' daughter to make those kinds of sounds."

Hermione pushed herself to sitting, running one hand through the back of Draco's hair as he collapsed from his knees to sit flat on the floor, his forehead resting against the edge of the sofa as his breathing returned to normal.

She sniffed. "Sounds? I have no idea what you're talking about."

He wasn't sure if she was joking or not. There would be no arguing about it now. They had other things to fight about. "Ronald's not actually stupid. You know that," he said. "Today, after all that time watching us in the basement, he figured out something is going on."

Hermione hissed. "He said something about it to you?"

"Yeah. As you can imagine, he wasn't enthusiastic. Thinks we should forget the whole thing - "

"But is he alright? Is he angry?"

Draco smiled at his knees. Now was not the time to break the news about Pansy Parkinson. All he said was. "No. He took it quite well, aside from thinking it's a terrible idea. Might be for the best if you prepare yourself for him to move on someday."

She sighed. "Just like last Christmas, at the ball. Merrily jilted by Ronald Malfoy again."

Draco moved his head, his chin resting on the spot on the edge of the sofa where his forehead had been. "Granger, don't think I'm above kissing your neck again to prove that you cannot be jilted by him anymore. I'll do it."

She folded her arms across her chest, faking a pout. "Oh, so you've decided on your own that Ronald and I have no chance, after saving each other's lives, after three years of - "

He sat up, leaning toward her. "History or not, you like me. A lot. Right now. And I don't know how much longer we're going to be able to keep everyone else from seeing it. That includes your parents."

She stopped his advance, covering his mouth with her palm for just a moment before he pulled her hand away to hold it in his. "Be serious, Hermione. You've got to decide what you're going to do about it. Can you stand for Potter to know, and what will that mean? And there's still your parents. The longer we stay here, the more likely it is they'll realize it's not Ronald, it's me. And if you don't want them to know, then we have to start acting more like polite acquaintances, at least until we go back to school. No more of," he gestured at the pair of them, hands entwined, hair tousled, lips swollen, slouched against each other over the edge of the sofa in dreamy golden light in the middle of night. "No more of this."

She piled her hands on top of his, pressed their foreheads together. "What about your parents, Malfoy? My parents might be annoyed and have a little snit over Ronald, but yours are liable to cause a national incident over me."

He sat back, groaning as she went on.

"If it was Ronald that fancied me, there might be some hope for your parents tolerating it, maybe even using it to their advantage in this stupid conflict. But you're the Malfoy heir, your father's protege. His noble bloodline and all that rubbish."

"Stop," he said. "It's not as if liking each other means we're getting engaged. You're only sixteen years old, for stars' sake."

She scoffed. "And how old was your mother when she got married? You ridiculous wizards with your early marriages - tell me. I know Harry's mum was eighteen. Molly Weasley might have been all of nineteen."

Draco pressed her hand to his lips and sighed heavily into it. "Mother was eighteen too. But Father was older. He's the same age as the Weasleys but Arthur had five kids by the time Dad had me."

There was a pause. Hermione cleared her throat. "You mean, Arthur had six."

He was groaning into the top of her hand. "Well, we'll know once the blasted potion - "

"Draco," she said, pulling him back on track with the jolt of his first name. "No matter when or who you marry, for you to be with me out in the open, at any point, is for you to take a side in this nonsense - to switch sides. Think of it. Even if I believed with all my heart in the disgusting ideals of the Death Eaters, they wouldn't take on someone with a background like mine. They'd drive me away. If I was desperate to switch sides, I couldn't."

Draco growled. "I told you. The position I'm in, close to Umbridge and the rest, is actually the best one from which to protect you, and bloody Potter too. At this point, I can't just - "

"Hermione." It was Ann Granger, standing in the doorway in her dressing gown, a mass of purring orange fur in her arms.

"Mum," Hermione squeaked. "We were just talking."

Draco jumped to his feet, blushing hotly anyway. "Sorry, Dr. Granger. The cat, he - "

Ann huffed. "Ah, but you're only hurting yourself, Draco. Father Christmas will pass us by if he comes and the children aren't asleep. Now, off to bed."

"Which one was it?" Tim Granger asked as half of the bed sunk beneath Ann on her return.

She didn't answer, fussing with the covers, fluffing her pillow.

"Ann?" he prodded. "Darling? What did that cat get you out of bed to show you?"

"Fire," she said. "Of fire and ice, our little girl has chosen the fire boy."

"Huh." Tim's voice brightened.

Ann sighed, exasperated. "No, not fire as in your red-head. No such luck. Fire as in that smouldering, miserable other one."

"No, no," Tim argued. "Draco's not - he's the ice."

Ann gave her pillow one final punch. "Whatever you may want to call him, I found him down there arguing with our Hermione in the middle of the night."

"Arguing? Arguing isn't necessarily a sign of - "

"Isn't it? Timothy Granger, how can you, of all people, say something so - " Ann stopped, her head falling into her hands. "I'm terrible. I've raised my daughter to see arguing as alluring."

Under the blankets, Tim clamped his arms around her waist, pulling her flat, nestling the brushy tuft of his hair against her neck and shoulder, grinning as he told her, "No you didn't…"

Narcissa had already emptied the bathtub of filthy water once and refilled it with more hot, clean water and narcissus scented foam. The source of the filth, escaped convict Bellatrix Lestrange, sat in bubbles up to her chin, head tipped against the cool porcelaine, eyes closed, humming as her sister worked at her hair.

"Honestly, Bella, we need to cut most of it off. It's hopeless," Narcissa said.

Bellatrix's eyes flew open. "Don't you dare," she said. "Each lock is a testament of love and devotion, of a decade of sacrifice joyfully offered to our Dark Lord. An honour!"

Narcissa sighed. "Suit yourself, you mad thing."

"Always," she said, settling back into the water. "Wine, Cissie."

Narcissa passed her a glass of a deep red vintage from the depths of their cellar. "Really, you should have eaten something first."

Bellatrix laughed, her cackle reined in by her contentment. "Never."

Narcissa stood up, drying her hands. "Are you alright here on your own? I think one of us had better go see to Rodolphus's leg. You know, as a testament of love and devotion to your lawful husband."

Bellatrix scoffed. "What? Luscious Lucius can't be trusted to pour the man a glass of Skele-gro?"

"There's more to healing than dosing potions," Narcissa tutted.

The cloud of bubbles shifted as Bellatrix shrugged beneath it. "I wouldn't know a thing about that. Never wasted my time fussing over counterspells and fixes. No glory to be had in that at all. No glory in our Rodolphus either, for that matter."

Narcissa clucked her tongue. "You are shameless, Bella. Your own husband..."

"Don't act as if marital devotion has never broken down here," she crowed. "I've heard about the second little one you've been raising since I've been gone. The one they say came from that Weasley man and the Wizengamot. But I know you are not that kind-hearted, Cissie. You are raising your tall, handsome ginger because he's Lucius's bastard out of that Molly Prewett woman. Don't deny it. I was there at school with the pair of them and know what they're like. There is no Weasley about that second boy of yours."

"Silence," Narcissa said, her voice low, like the tone of a dangerous spell. "I am ecstatic that you are free from that hell of a prison, Bellatrix. I grieved for months when you were sentenced, despondent at the thought I'd never see you again. You are the last of my sisters and I will never betray you. But I will not keep you here if you persist in speaking with so much evil against my family."

Bellatrix cackled without restraint now. "Oh Cissie, you were never any fun."

Narcissa was on her knees beside the bathtub again, her eyes glistening with tears. "Do not speak of Ronald's parentage again, not in my presence and not out of it. I'm begging you, Bella. We have every reason to believe he is Arthur Weasley's son. The Dark Lord must believe this."

Bellatrix gasped. "You would shield him from the Dark Lord's service. Shame on you. How could you, Cissie? If I had a thousand sons I'd give every one of them over to the Dark Lord, with my thanks."

Narcissa bobbed her sister's head below the surface of the water. She emerged sputtering laughter, choking with glee at finding her sister fun at last.

"You do not have a thousand sons," Narcissa said. "You don't have a single one. And you have no idea what you're saying. I will do what I must to keep Draco safe through whatever he is called upon to do in the Dark Lord's service. And Ronald," her voice faltered, "Ronald I will keep out of sight, like the son of a stranger."

Bellatrix rolled her eyes, patting her soggy, matted hair. "Where are the wee darlings, anyway?" she said. "I haven't seen Draco in the flesh since he was a baby. Lovely in photographs though. Makes Auntie so lonely for him. I've loads to teach him before his master arrives."

Narcissa shuddered. "He is coming for Draco then?"

All mirth was gone from Bellatrix's voice. "Yes. Coming for Draco and for Lucius. Our Lord is owed a tremendous debt for the loss of Tom Riddle's diary - at least a thousand son's worth. Lucius Malfoy must repay it in full."

The Malfoy brothers had expected to have to wait until they were back at school to get any Christmas presents, but there they were, at the foot of their bed in the morning, forwarded on by the headmaster.

"Good old Dumbledore," Ronald said, his mouth full of his mother's pastries. He closed his eyes, savouring. "So good. Punch me, Draco, before I burst into tears."

He was only too happy to oblige with one hit, hard, on the upper arm. "Don't bolt them all. Save some for the Grangers, as a gift for having us."

Ronald swallowed "You did something to tick them off, didn't you."

Draco shrugged. "Never hurts to share, Ronald."

"There's one more gift for us," he said, smirking. "Since Dad asked them to have you at the Burrow for Christmas, Molly made a package for each of us. I can guess what it is. You'll love it."

It was, of course, a handmade jumper with a letter D stitched into the front of it. Aghast, Draco pinched it between two fingers. "What in the stars..." was all he could say.

"Oh, come on," Ronald laughed. "It was dead nice of Molly to give you one. Unlike this." He held out a notebook. "It's my gift from Hermione: a homework planner."

Draco snorted. "No planner here for me." In fact, there was nothing in his pile of presents from Hermione, which was a relief since he had nothing for her.

All at once, there was a scrabbling at the window, tiny, frantic claws scraping, a little beak tapping at the frosty pane. Draco scowled. "What now?"

"Bloody bird," Ronald said, throwing the sash up. "It's Pigwidgeon, the most manic of the Weasleys' owls."

"That's an owl? It's tiny."

"Tiny but keen as anything," Ronald agreed as he untied the message from its ankle. "Think of it as the Hermione of owls."

The creature winked at Draco with each of its massive amber eyes in turn. "Right."

"Ah, bother," Ronald said, still reading Pigwidgeon's message. "The Weasleys have had a fit of conscience for canceling our Christmas with them. As soon as Harry let slip we were in London, they sent Pig off with this letter asking me to come visit Arthur at the hospital this afternoon. They want Hermione too."

Draco huffed. "The dangerous bites unit. Sounds like jolly holiday fun."

Ronald groaned in earnest now. "And Molly says she's hoping I can patch things up with the twins. Says it's the greatest gift we could give her. Bloody hell - "

"You boys alright in there?" It was Ann, overhearing the swearing as she passed their door.

Draco gasped, clutching Ronald's arm. "If you and Granger go to the hospital, that means I'll be left alone with Ann and Tim half the day."

"And Aunt Inez," Ronald added.

"No, no, no. You can't leave me alone with them," Draco said, his face terrified, his tone grave.

Ronald pulled his arm free. "What exactly did you get up to last night?"

Ann knocked again. "Boys?"

"Just posting a letter, Dr. Ann. Be right down. Thank you," Ronald called through the door.

"I'm going with you," Draco said. "Even if it's just to wait outside the hospital, freezing in the street."

'Well then," Ronald said, dropping his arm across Draco's shoulders and shaking him almost violently. "You'd best be sure to wear your new jumper."