On Christmas morning, Draco joined Ann Granger in the upstairs hallway to be escorted down to breakfast - a short, but excruciating walk.
Still inside the bedroom, Ronald stood at the desk where Hermione had fussed over all her childhood Muggle homework, back when she was in primary school. A quill was gripped in his fingers, poised over a fresh parchment. He went so long without writing anything on it that Pigwidgeon began to nibble the end of the quill.
"Ger' off, Pig."
But the bird was right. Ronald was being rude, making everyone wait downstairs. He flexed his hand and wrote a name.
"Pansy."
He let out his breath, pacing to the window and back, composing aloud. "Missing you - no, abso-bloody-lutely not. Right. Thinking of you - no, no, sounds obsessive. Remembering you - ugh, like a funeral."
Pigwidgeon was mirroring him pacing on Hermione's desk.
"Ruddy mockingbird," Ronald growled at it. "Right. I'll start with something about me, not her. Like - um - sorry I was too thick to know how much I liked you." He scoffed at himself. No, that wasn't it.
"Ronald!" Hermione was bellowing up the stairs.
"Be right down!" he called back. Swearing softly to himself, he noticed a line of Christmas cards set up on the shelf over the desk. He flipped one open and copied the factory printed message from the card to Pansy's parchment.
"May the choicest blessings of the season be yours."
He paused, biting the end of the quill himself now, sputtering at its decidedly birdy taste, and scrawling one final line. "See you at school, RWM."
Pigwidgeon was so excited to have a second note to deliver in a single morning that it couldn't stand still while Ronald tied the parchment to its ankle. Both of them were quite tousled by the time Ronald made it to the window and pitched the bird out.
Ann insisted on helping Draco and Hermione do the washing up after their turkey dinner that afternoon. Based on all her cringing and moaning about holiday cooking, the boys hadn't been expecting much as far as Christmas dinner went, but the meal was excellent and they all ate too much.
"It's not that I can't cook," Ann said, divining what everyone had been thinking. "It's just that I hate it."
Pudding would wait until after they were back from the hospital, and while the most unromantic washing up was being carried out in the kitchen, Tim and Ronald took Aunt Inez by each of her arms and led her to an armchair. They asked her charming questions about Christmases in the old days, when she was a young girl. Her memories morphed into a retelling of a Dickens story, but neither Ronald nor Tim mentioned it. As she went on, Tim sat by the fire sighing a little sadly. Lovely Ronald, cool, soothing and smooth as ice when it came to charming people older than himself - ah, but he was not the one. At least, not yet.
As they were about to leave for St. Mungo's, Ann produced a box of fresh ginger snap biscuits for them to bring to Molly. "They won't think I mean anything offensive by it, will they? I mean, ginger biscuits? For the Weasleys? What was I thinking, honestly?"
Ronald accepted them graciously all the same, and off they went with the Grangers' borrowed Oyster cards to ride the Muggle bus to the wizard hospital.
"You'll like the bus, Malfoy," Hermione said. "There are no seatbelts."
Molly's note had given them instructions on how to let themselves in through the false department store front. It wasn't until they were standing with their noses almost against the dusty glass that Ronald and Hermione realized Draco was sincere about preferring to wait outside in the cold.
"It's alright," he said, pointing down the pavement. "There's a lane, just there. The cold is mostly in the wind and if I keep out of it, I should be comfortable enough until you're done."
Both of them protested, cajoling him to wait in the reception area or the canteen inside.
Draco frowned. "No, it's mad in there. You've never been, have you? I've come with Father to board meetings and it's always bedlam. No. Look for me here."
The tiny lane was out of the wind but otherwise still cold and rather dirty. Draco leaned against the brick wall and indulged in a moment of gratitude for the thick wool Weasley jumper hidden under his wool coat so fine it almost felt like silk.
In the cold, everyone who passed looked furtive, sneaky, hiding beneath hats and mufflers, collars turned up high. In a crowd like that, the woman advancing bareheaded toward him stood out. She was not hiding at all, her hair pink, like a stick of bubble gum. And there was a focus and intensity in her eyes as she took in her surroundings that made him homesick somehow. She walked by him without a word before skidding to a stop and walking backward, peering into his lane.
"It's Draco, isn't it?" she chirped.
He blinked. "Who are you?"
She laughed off his brusqueness. "I'm Tonks."
He blinked again, almost remembering something. "Tonks?"
"Yeah," she said. "As in Nymphadora Tonks, Auror. Daughter of Ted Tonks and the lovely Andromeda Black Tonks."
Draco echoed her words, nearly dumbstruck. "Andromeda Black…"
"That's right, Draco." She was standing close enough to sling an arm up and around his shoulders, and that is precisely what she did. "Your mother is my Aunt Narcissa, making you and me first cousins. Practically siblings! And here we are meeting properly for the first time."
She stood back, still grinning at him.
"How did you know you'd found me?" he asked, still all but speechless.
"Oh, I've seen you loads of times before," she said. "This is the first time I've seen you out and about without your father, though. Keeps a tight leash on his cherished heir now, doesn't he."
"He's an involved and invested father, yes," Draco snapped back at her.
There didn't seem to be a tone he could speak in that would put her off. Those attentive eyes flicked back and forth over his face, noticing him glancing at her hair, wondering how he could have missed her every time she'd seen him. She winked. "I can blend in rather easily when I have a mind to. Right then, you must be here with Ronald to visit Arthur Weasley in the bite ward."
He nodded, more guarded than ever now the topic had moved to Arthur Weasley's controversial accident at the Ministry.
"I was about to check in on him myself," Tonks said. "But if Ronald's just arrived, I'll give them a private mo. In the meantime, there is something I should show you." She linked her arm through his and pulled him toward the window entrance.
"I'm not going inside," he protested.
She hushed him. "Oh, it's fine. The place isn't nearly as crowded on holidays. Come along, cousin. It's time for a lesson in our family history.
To neither of their surprise, Ronald and Hermione found the Weasley family a bit off that Christmas afternoon in the hospital. Mrs. Weasley had plenty to be cross about. Mr. Weasley had convinced an adventurous junior healer to experiment with a Muggle technique known as "stitches" on his wound and it had not gone well.
This wasn't all. Percy had sent his gift of a Christmas jumper back unopened, which had been cruel and devastating for Molly. The news nearly broke Ronald's heart. It was all he could do not to rush downstairs and drag Draco up wearing his new jumper to show her that not all snooty, stuffy gits were too stupid to appreciate her care and craftsmanship.
It was the presence of gloomy Harry that held him back from producing Draco. Harry was in a terrible mood already. Ginny had given him a talking to about his visions not being the same thing as being possessed by Voldemort, but he was still extremely touchy. He could hardly discuss Hermione's gift of a homework planner without snarling.
"Probably needs another go with Cho Chang," Fred said as they stood in the corridor, observing Harry slumped in a chair next to Ginny at Arthur's bedside. George chuckled knowingly.
Ronald gaped at them. "How did the pair of you know about that?"
"Well, we weren't about to leave our DA meeting room un-surveilled, were we? That wouldn't be very responsible of us, as its oldest, most mature members," Fred crowed.
"Gave us a chance to test out our Extendable Eyes too," George added.
Ronald shook his head. "Creepers. A man's first kiss…"
"Harry can never be too careful. He has to learn that. Now don't start a row over it," Hermione chided them.
"Nah, there'll be no fighting today, mother Granger," George said. "I'm sure our real Mum told you her Christmas wish, eh Ronnie?"
He sighed. "Yeah."
The twins rose to stand on either side of him, each of them with an arm around him. "Come on then," they said in unison.
"Let's head back in and show her what great mates we all are," Fred said.
"Smile for us, Ronald," George said, squashing his cheeks.
"Fine, ow," Ronald said, twisting his head away. "What is with you and my face?"
They dragged him off in such a ruckus of shoving and laughing that no one noticed Tonks leading Draco up the stairs at the end of the corridor, moving toward the sixth floor and the Janus Thickey ward for permanent spell damage. It was less like a hospital and more like a residence, a dormitory for the catastrophically injured. It smelled less like antiseptic potions and more like gravy.
"We have family up here?" Draco asked. Since it had taken him sixteen years to meet his only first cousin, he would hardly be surprised if there were more family secrets stashed away in the hospital.
Tonks winced. "No, but our family has left its mark on this place all the same."
With two fingers pinched to the hem of his coat sleeve, Tonks brought Draco to stand at the window of the closed ward. "Ah, they've got company," she said to herself. She was pointing through the glass now. "There on the end - you should know that boy from school."
Draco scowled. "Yeah, that's Longbottom."
Tonks nodded. "He'll be here visiting his parents. That's them, in the pyjamas. Frank and Alice Longbottom. They were talented Aurors fighting in the war. They've been here ever since then, for almost all of Neville's life. You see, not everyone ended up like Harry Potter's parents and Ronald's Prewett uncles. There are fates other than death and perhaps worse."
They watched without a word as Longbottom's grandmother held a one-sided conversation for all four members of her party. Frank and Alice did not look at her or Neville. Alice fiddled with something silvery and crinkly in her lap and Frank - he stared, his eyes drawn to the dull white winter light coming through the high windows.
"This is curse damage," Draco said when Tonks didn't continue.
"Yes, the results of Cruciatus curses, one after another, for hours, maybe days. It took four Death Eaters to make them like this. And the ringleader of them was a witch called Bellatrix Lestrange." She turned to face Draco. "Do you know that name?"
Draco's throat went dry. "I do."
Tonks linked her arm through his again. "Bellatrix Black Lestrange - our mothers' sister, aunt to me and to you. Her husband was part of the attack as well, Rodolphus Lestrange. I suppose we could call him our uncle, but why would we if we don't have to?"
Draco raised his fingertips to the glass. "Aunt Bella." He couldn't remember meeting her, but there was a picture framed in the drawing room of her holding him in her lap. She had always been something of a legend. He had been told she was brave, powerful, resolute. And this is what sent her to Azkaban? Not some vague, cheap notion of the vengeance of Dumbledore's henchmen in the Wizengamot, but this?
"Bellatrix did this to them - to Frank and Alice and to Neville and his grandmother too." Tonks waited while Draco lowered his hand. She was tugging on his arm again, leading him to a pair of chairs in an alcove, dragging him to sit with her. "I'm not telling you this to make you miserable, Draco. I'm telling you because - " She paused, taking a huge breath as if she was about to shout but then leaning toward him instead, whispering. "I need to warn you. Things are getting more dangerous by the day, especially for you. There's been a jailbreak from Azkaban. It hasn't been released to the press yet, but word is already leaking out. A band of dangerous Death Eaters are now at large, including Aunt Bellatrix and her husband."
Draco sprang to his feet, finally recognizing the situation for what it was: a trap. This Tonks person was indeed his cousin, but before that, she was an Auror chasing their fugitive aunt. In a moment, she would be asking him why he was here in London instead of at home in Malfoy Manor. She would be figuring out what had only just occurred to him: that he and Ronald had been sent away, not so their parents could visit the continent, but so they could receive Bellatrix and Rodolphus at the manor without exposing the boys.
If she knew they'd been sent away, Tonks and the rest of the Aurors on her team would raid the manor, arresting everyone there, hauling his parents to the Ministry to be questioned like criminals.
"Please excuse me. I've got to get Ronald and go," he said. "We're expected back at the manor soon. It's Christmas after all, and Mother is holding a late supper for us. If Ronald has seen Arthur already, there's no point in us lingering. I'll give Mother your regards, shall I? Lovely. I'm off."
It was an ornate, awkward explanation but Draco left it at that, spinning on his heel and disappearing down the stairs, navigating the signs to find Ronald and Hermione and go into hiding for the rest of the holiday.
Tonks was barely a floor behind him as he came racing up behind Ronald at Arthur Weasley's bedside, Harry Potter cringing openly at the sight of him.
"Dramatic entrance, as always, Malfoy," Fred announced.
Draco ignored all of them, hissing into Ronald's ear, "We need to leave. Now."
Ronald looked gobsmacked around the ring of freckled faces. Molly was still dabbing her eyes, having been moved to tears by the twins' reconciliation with Ronald. He couldn't simply dash off now. "Give us a minute," Ronald whispered back at him.
"Now," Draco repeated. There was no time to explain everything, so he made up a story. "If we don't get the new reagents into the substrate soon, the entire potion will be rubbish."
Ronald's eyes grew wide again. "Right, just let me take my leave properly."
Draco gave a sharp nod, speaking so everyone could hear again. "Right. Happy Christmas, everyone. Thank you for the jumper, Mrs. Weasley. It's very warm. We'll be waiting outside, Ronald. Come on, Granger."
"What? Why - " Harry was complaining as Hermione followed him out without complaint.
"Leave it, Harry. It's Christmas," was all Ronald could say.
All through the corridors and foyers, Draco did not take Hermione's hand. He did not touch her as they passed through the glass and onto the pavement. But as soon as they ducked into the dark, narrow lane to wait for Ronald, Draco snatched her hand and spun her into himself. She made a high, surprised noise which he muffled by pressing her against the front of his coat. It was their first touch of the day and it hit his bloodstream like a calming draught laced with something euphoric. He let his head fall against her shoulder, sighing himself now, breathing heavily, as if exhausted from strenuous effort, but saying nothing.
She melted into his chest, breathing in the scent of him from the heavy layers of his coat. She tipped her face toward where his rested on her shoulder, her cold cheek pressed to his. "Malfoy?" she prodded. "Malfoy what's happened?"
He blurted it out. Tonks said the news would be public soon anyway. He told her about Tonks, Bellatrix, the Longbottoms, and Tonks's unspoken suspicions about why he and Ronald were spending the holiday in London. Hermione listened, her arms bent and wedged between them, folded against his sternum, her face turned up to his as he spoke, nose to nose.
"Bellatrix Lestrange escaped Azkaban?"
"I don't know how, but yes. Ronald and I have to fake like we've gone home to the Manor right away. Where is he?"
"But," Hermione said, "what if the Lestranges really are at your house?"
He shook his head. "The way we were raised, we don't ask questions like that. We just," he clenched his arms tighter around her. "We just try to stay out of the road."
"But - "
All at once, there was shouting - someone shouting at them, a woman's voice, and not Nymphadora Tonks's. It was Molly Weasley. From her place on the pavement, she had regarded them in silence for a moment - the small woman, simply dressed, leaning into the sumptuous winter clothes of a tall, silvery-blond man, his arms clamped around her, her hands caught between them, maybe in the act of pushing him away, but with her eyes fixed as if spellbound on his face.
Molly was shocked to find herself calling out to them, but could not seem to stop herself. Here was golden, brilliant Hermione Granger in Draco Malfoy's embrace in a dirty lane outside St. Mungo's - Molly had to act before...
"Draco Malfoy, you unhand that girl at once," she was saying.
Hermione and Draco gawked back at her, completely bewildered, Draco's arms falling from around her as she backed away.
"You let her alone," Molly said, stepping up as if to grab Hermione and drag her completely out of the lane, out of Draco's reach. "You've got no business making off with a girl like that, young Mr. Malfoy."
"Mrs. Weasley," Hermione was calling back at her. "It's alright. I'm in no danger."
She scoffed. "That's what you think at this moment, but I know what they're like - "
Draco frowned. "They?"
"Mum, what are you doing?" It was Ronald, joining them on the pavement. It was a rare thing for him to call Mrs. Weasley Mum, and it seemed to snap her out of her rage. "Honestly," he said, "you say you're coming out to send your thanks to Dr. Granger for the biscuits and instead I find you out here squawking and making an even bigger show of these two than they're already making of themselves."
She clutched at his hands. "Ronald, how can you let them - "
"It's none of my business," he interrupted Molly. "As it is none of yours."
"You don't know what you're saying," she insisted.
"And neither do you, Mum," Ronald said, quiet and soothing now, ice again. He closed his hands on Molly's arms. "Come on, now. Between Arthur and all these vultures relying on you for holiday festivities, I'm sure you haven't had any proper rest in days. Go inside, find someone who doesn't need you for anything - find Tonks - and sit down in the hospital canteen for a cup of tea. Eh? How's that sound?"
She batted him with one hand. "Stop patronizing me. I know what you're like too."
He beamed down at her, stooping to kiss her cheek. "Happy Christmas, Mum. Ignore that bunch for a bit and take good care of yourself."
Hermione had come to stand beside them. Wisely, Draco had stayed sheltered in the lane. Molly patted Hermione's shoulder. "Sorry for shouting, my dear," she said. "The pair of you took me by surprise is all. Do be careful though. You are very young and very precious to us all." She winked up at Ronald, took a cleansing breath, and turned back toward the hospital.
Draco came out of the lane to stand with the others to watch her go. "What in the bloody flaming hell was that all about?" he asked.
Ronald shook his head. "I don't know. But I have a feeling the faster we get that potion sorted, the better."
At the Grangers's that evening, tea was cold turkey sandwiches and a lemon meringue pie as tall and puffy as Crookshanks. Before bed, the young people went to the basement to see to the "homework project" percolating on Tim's workbench. Draco instilled four more reagents into the potion and Hermione settled in to do the quarter of an hour of clockwise stirring.
'So the pair of you didn't exchange gifts today?" Ronald observed from his stool against the wall.
Hermione's posture stiffened. "No, I suppose we didn't. Not that it's any of your concern, Ronald."
He made a high, amused sound. "Sorry to mention it. Just trying to keep up."
Draco turned to him, smiling dangerously. "You get that message off to Pansy Parkinson alright this morning?"
The rhythm of Hermione's stirring faltered. "Parkinson?"
Ronald glared at his brother. He stood up. "Right. Forgot Tim had asked for a chess rematch. Don't be too long, you two."
With Ronald gone, Draco risked standing closer to her. "What did he get you as a gift."
She tilted her head, smiling into the cauldron. "Ronald? Perfume, oddly enough."
He raised his eyebrows. "Perfume? He doesn't like how you smell?"
She scoffed. "That's not what the gift of perfume means."
"Then what does it mean?"
"I can't be sure, of course," she said, deflecting. "But not that."
"Well, let's see it then," Draco said.
She laughed, a little nervously. "It's rather - unusual."
He crossed his arms, smug as anything. "Well, since he probably didn't buy it at Boots, I can see how you might find it a bit - exotic."
She reached out to swat him but he dodged.
"Keep stirring," he scolded her.
"Smell it for yourself then. Pass me my bag."
After a moment of rooting, the perfume was extracted from her bag. Draco unstopped the bottle and wafted the scent toward his face. "Oh dear," he said, setting it on the workbench.
"See? It's not a mark of my lack of sophistication. It is truly unusual," she said.
He nodded. "Truly." He was fingering the line of potion ingredients, looking for something. "Here we are," he said, lifting a small silver vial to the light, nodding at it. Without asking permission, he uncorked it and used a pipette to transfer a tiny bit of the silver liquid to the perfume bottle. He re-corked both and swirled the perfume bottle, passing it along the flame below the cauldron before uncorking it and breathing deeply.
"There," he crowed. "How is it now?"
He held the bottle beneath Hermione's nose as she continued to stir the potion. The scent was still unusual, but now it was pleasing, almost seductive. "What did you do?" she asked. "It's perfect."
He tossed his hair, unabashedly proud of himself. "Isn't it though? Consider it my Christmas present to you. And now," he said, stepping even closer, leaning toward her, "you can give me mine."
She covered his mouth with her palm. "Please, Malfoy. As if that will work."
He held her wrist, drawing her hand away. "As if it won't."
"Malfoy, I am stirring."
He was lowering his head anyway when Ann's voice sounded on the stairs. "Nearly finished? We're missing you up here."
Draco jumped, straightening up and taking the stirring rod from Hermione. "I'll do the rest. You go on up."
Ann's feet were still visible on the stairs when Hermione sprang onto her tiptoes and pecked a kiss on Draco's cheek.