A/N – Okay, so I know I've played this card before where Draco has unbelievable wrath and Hermione is an emotional wreck, but it uh, just seemed to fit in with this again.
Can you believe it's been over a month since I last updated? This might not live up to the standards of the long wait, but...well, be kind, it's Christmas! Thank you to Hermione's Conscience for helping me out of my intense writers block, and hopefully I won't be stuck in it for a long time again.
But merry Christmas everyone, and a happy New Year!
Once Draco reached the castle, he moved swiftly towards the common room, and then proceeded to lock himself inside of his own room. If anyone was sitting in the common room when he arrived, he didn't notice; his eyes were locked straight ahead and his mind focused on the task of reaching his destination.
He didn't want to see anyone anyway; nor did he want to speak to anyone or want to spend too long thinking about anything lest his thoughts strayed to what had happened earlier. He didn't even want to hear anything other than his ragged breathing as his throat became tighter and tighter with a familiar feeling.
An owl had the misfortune of tapping on his window, bearing a letter that he didn't take any more notice of as he had the bird, and he quickly threw the window open and screamed at it until it flew away. When he slammed it shut, the glass didn't shatter and it only served to infuriate him more, though it had absolutely nothing with his original anguish.
He punched the glass. The window remained intact, though the skin around his knuckles split. He barely felt the pain on his hand; however, it didn't stop him from releasing a feral roar. He wanted the window gone, gone, gone. He didn't want to see his monstrous reflection staring back at him. He didn't want to see what she saw when she looked at him.
Thinking about her sent another wave of frustration through him, and he punched the window again, without looking at it, causing a feeling similar to dislocation start in his fingers. A thought suddenly sparked in his head seconds later, and he reached into his pocket to retrieve the necklace. He fingered the jewels for a moment, thinking about the beauty of the rubies as they glinted in the rays of light that were pouring through the window, illuminating his dark room. Looking down at his shoes, before he could catch his reflection in the jewels, he opened the window again and threw the necklace as far as he could. Distantly, he saw it fly towards the Black Lake.
He didn't how many minutes later it was, or even if it was hours later, but it felt as if he had had a massive black out. All he knew that he was huddled in the corner of his room, his eyes heavy from exhaustion and red from crying, his hands and feet had several splinters and were also bleeding. He had a headache that throbbed worse than when he had a hangover, but other than physical pain, he felt completely numb inside. His eyes searched the room before him, with the wrecked and shattered furniture, holes in the walls and debris scattering the floor before him, and he struggled to recall what it looked like before it had all been ruined.
Nevertheless, he didn't care, as long as everything that reminded him of her had been destroyed.
Somehow, she managed to make her way back into the castle only falling onto her knees twice. The first time she fell she was embarrassed since it was in front of students getting back on or off the carriages; the second time it happened she saw no point in getting back up. However, she had to because she knew that if she stayed curled up at the front of the castle, she'd surely draw the attention of everyone. And she didn't want anyone's attention on her.
The last time she had had unwanted attention drawn to her, it completely ruined everything.
Still, just the sight of an unusually upset Hermione Granger caught everyone's attention and there was a small voice in the back of her head that knew that rumours would only intensify. Did Draco Malfoy finally break her heart, or was she just over emotional due to her being "pregnant"? These were just two of the questions that she knew everyone would be asking before she forced herself to stop thinking about it. It seemed after all that the questions were formed by expectant thoughts from students, so why did she not expect any of the common things to happen? Sure, there were parts of him that had changed, but maybe it was just a talent that he retained, to be able to hurt people so easily with his quick words and remarks.
Hermione wiped her eyes furiously as she ascended the staircase to the Eighth Years tower. This was stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She had wanted rid of his attention for a while, didn't she? Well, here he was, out of her life for probably a long while (or forever, if they never reconciled before his birthday, she thought as she stifled another big sob) and she was crying her eyes out. Besides, it wasn't as if he had ever explicitly said that he loved her. He just expected her to know that he did because he was supposed to be forever in love with her for the rest of his life; there was no other option for him. Which rather made it sound as if he was forced into this love, and she should feel somewhat sorry for him, but it wasn't as if she had much say into who she wanted to love either, was it?
When she reached the floor that held their common room, she walked down the corridor to the nearest alcove and slumped to the floor. She didn't want to risk going into the common room in case that was where Malfoy had decided to hide, and for the fact that Harry or Ron could be there and would take pleasure in telling her I told you so – therefore, staying in the somewhat cold corridor seemed like a better option.
She didn't know how long she had stayed curled up there for, or even when she had fallen asleep through exhaustion, but when she woke up in the middle of the night she found herself tucked in her own bed in her room. Hermione wasn't sure how she had gotten there, because she was sure as hell that she didn't go there herself, but she was too tired to care and promptly fell back asleep.
When Hermione showed up in the dream landscape that night, she stayed put. From the previous times that she had entered the white infinity, she knew that if she walked in any which direction, it would eventually lead her to the one person she didn't want to see. She sat down on the would-be floor and stayed there until she woke up. If he wanted to see her, this time he could move.
Draco stayed by his tree and assortment of flowers. At first, he had wanted to move knowing that she was in the dream with him, though not in his sight. He could tell that she was there, it had a unique feel to it compared to when he was standing alone earlier and he felt like there was no air to breath.
Not that he needed air to breath in a dream, but it was the only way to describe the suffocating feeling.
He was conflicted. He had the familiar desire to go to her just like he always did – when he was awake and in the dreams – but he wouldn't know what to do once he got there. How did one go about apologising? It had to be one of the most difficult things to do in person, he felt. However, he had never apologised to someone and never meant it in his entire life; was he supposed to do something different to usual when the apology was genuine? On the other hand, he was still angry and so, still feeling stubborn. Although, he could no longer separate whether he was angry with Hermione or whether it was at himself – was it at the world as well? Was he furious that Fate had screwed him over again? Was he frustrated at the first Veela that even married into his damn family?
He had sat down in the flowers to stop his legs from walking, and looked around himself. This time, he hadn't chosen any of the flowers consciously. His thoughts and feelings were scattered and he unconsciously had ended up putting six different types of flowers around him. There were red carnations, purple hyacinths, hydrangeas, jonquils and there was even mistletoe hanging from the tree he was leaning against. And in the middle of the flower meadow he was in, there was just one single rose in full bloom looking like the most out of place thing Draco had ever seen.
He didn't appreciate any of them. They were just merely there. He didn't have anyone to question what type of flowers they were, or what they meant, and he didn't have anyone who would lie with him. Until he woke up the next day, he spent the time he was there thinking about the symbolism of the rose amidst the large groups of other flowers, and for the first time in a long time, he thought back to his prophecy.
Over a week later, and Draco had barely left his room other than to attend classes. The 100-day mark had come and passed from when he first received his prophecy from the Seer and he had bitterly reminded himself of the last line.
Although he had 200 days left until his birthday, which was a bit over 6 months, he looked and acted as if he was in his final days. He ate just enough to keep him conscious every day and nothing more, causing him to lose weight quite quickly and make him look similar to when he was in Sixth Year. Considering he destroyed his bed and had no intention of repairing it, or any other the other trashed items, he spent every night in the same corner of his room – however, he spent more time staring into space than sleeping. Draco didn't speak at all, if he could help it, but Blaise was easily noticing the worrying changes in him and tried everything within his power to coax him into uttering more than one word a day. On good days it worked, and was a slight distraction to his sudden depression, but there were more bad days than good and it was surprising how quickly his mood could sour.
Hermione behaved in more or less the same manner, except for the fact that she hadn't destroyed anything and slept comfortably every night. During breakfast or dinner, she never felt the desire to eat, but she forced herself to do it not wanting to completely waste away because of a stupid guy. However, most of the time she distractedly only piled a small amount on her plate, and would eat without paying apt attention to anything around her, instead living inside her own head for a good half hour. The other Gryffindors around her had begun to notice those changes, and, taking pity on her, would quietly place more food onto her plate knowing that she wasn't exactly noticing what she was eating. And even though she had not had any form of contact with Harry and Ron, still confused about how she should feel (or whether she even wanted to know the reason why) about them standing her up at the Three Broomsticks, they would help the others to fill her plate. They never sat near enough each other, of course, for them to place food on her plate themselves, but they would watch those who were close enough do it and cough or shake their heads if it was something she didn't like, and point out alternatives for them to give instead.
She threw herself back into schoolwork since she had no one to talk to really, and wasn't seen outside the library most days. It was almost as if she had reverted right back to her younger self.
Neither moved during their dreams, however, when they stopped it didn't feel as relieving as they expected it to be. In fact, as soon as they did stop, nostalgia began to set in.
Thankfully, though, the Halloween Ball had not been mentioned by anyone recently and it was clear that it was just a rumour – especially since it was only three days away from Halloween and it would've been too late notice to be mentioned now.
Two weeks later, and the awkward run-ins that they had were becoming more frequent. When going from class to class they would bump into each other. No matter if they tried to take a different route every time they had to go to their respective classes, they always found each other. It was the connection, they both knew, but neither thought that it would be as troublesome as it was. Whenever it happened, they either looked at each other, surprise evident, before a light blush covered both of their cheeks and they sped past each other. Sometimes it was different though - sometimes either one or both of them would mutter a stiff or quiet apology and then be on their way.
It was hard, they both had to admit, to touch one other accidentally and have to pull away without so much as a second glance. Now that she knew what it was like with him gone, she wanted him back. He would follow her to the world's end and she wouldn't care, as long as she was free to be near him and touch him whenever she wanted. Easier said than done, of course. Hermione felt guilty since she still didn't know how much longer he had left and he looked to her - just as much as he looked to everyone else - to be in his final days, facing him was...hard. His face was usually set in stone, making it look as if he was silently angry, and she knew that if he still were mad, then talking to him would likely be as much use as talking to a brick wall.
Moreover, she couldn't do it, not if he expected her to say the long awaited words of I love you. It had been a month at best together, and though it was the most she ever felt with anyone, it felt too soon.
"What the bloody hell have you done?" Blaise spluttered.
Draco shrugged. "I broke them," he offered lamely.
"Yes, well, I can see that!" Blaise said sarcastically. "What I mean is how? Why?"
"Does it matter? I asked for help over something else anyway, not this," he muttered.
"I want to know why you did this first."
"None of your business."
Blaise sighed and ran a hand down his face. "This is getting idiotic and childish now, Draco. I won't help you until I know. You've kept this from me for weeks, it seems. If you didn't want me to question you, you shouldn't have brought me into your room."
"Fine," he snapped. "They all reminded me of Granger. Happy? That's why I broke everything."
"You have got to be joking," he said, and Draco narrowed his eyes. Blaise then walked over to the splintered desk and gingerly picked up one of the legs. He held it out and gestured to the desk debris on the floor behind him. "This reminded you of Granger? Draco, it's a bloody desk."
He shrugged again. "But it was so tempting to shag her on it," he mumbled. "It had to go."
Blaise shot him with a deadpanned look. "And I suppose everything in this room has the same reasoning behind it? Even the walls?"
Draco mutely nodded his head.
"This is getting ridiculous now. Mate, it's been three weeks and you're both walking around like shadows of your former selves. You both clearly miss each other – just go and make up to her already!"
He folded his arms and pouted slightly. "And why should I be the first to apologise?"
"Because you've never done it before and this'll be good practice for later in life."
Draco let out a large sigh and fidgeted nervously on the spot. "I was planning to apologise actually – soon. I-I just don't exactly know how to..." He trailed off, looking around helplessly. However, Draco cut him off as soon as Blaise opened his mouth to try to say what he must've thought was helpful. "But, anyway, the main point of this whole conversation is that I need help finding something."
"Well, let's go then," Blaise said. He quickly started heading towards the door, wanting to escape the destruction. "Where are we going to start looking?"
"By the Black Lake, hopefully," he said as he came up behind Blaise and steered him down the stairs.
"Hopefully?"
"Well, there's a good chance it could've gone in the lake. So thank you Blaise, for agreeing to help me. It would take years if it was just me by myself."
"You're such a lucky bastard sometimes."
Hermione tugged her scarf tighter as she walked down the hill towards Hagrid's hut.
On her way down, she thoughtfully looked back on all the times that she had made the long walk down to see him on her own. This time was different though; this time she wasn't going to go to talk to him just about what to do about her friendship with Harry and Ron, but also about Draco. After all, he was the Game Keeper at Hogwarts – no doubt he knew something about Veelas that might give her even more insight.
But, she supposed, there wasn't any more information that she needed on Veelas in general. What she needed was more information on Malfoy – something that would decide for her if she loved him or not. It'd be easier, she thought, if he had never come into his Inheritance, or if he had continued to be the egotistical boy she had known for years instead of changing. She wouldn't even need a second to consider what she thought of him then.
However now – now he was charming. Though she didn't like it before he was gone, it was definitely charming how he would stay in the library with her without complaining. Ron would never have done that, she thought sadly. So was the way that he always wanted to hear about her, though she knew that he never had any trouble with talking about himself. He learnt about her quickly, remembered everything that he discovered and put it to use. He could tell the moments when she didn't want to talk at all, and those that put her in bad moods – and knew how to pull her out of it.
He was thoughtful and never pushed her too far, and it was endearing how close he held her to him when they slept, as if someone could snatch her away from him in the night. Although, he never mentioned either casually or not-so-casually about the two of them Bonding, and that concerned her and made her nervous. If he never wanted to talk about when his time is up, how was she supposed to know how long she had until she had to make a final decision? She rarely knew anything about the other Malfoys, and she was under no delusion that contact with them would be scarce considering how close those sorts of families were. Was she meant to meet them? He never mentioned what they would think of her either, but she could guess from their encounters over the years.
The down side was that there was an imbalance of knowledge. She would love him, but he kept things to himself that could possibly help her to understand his life more, understand his character more. He knew more about her – hell, she thought, he practically knew her life story. He knew her favourite colour (to his surprise, it was blue), and she didn't even know his birthday – if she did, she wouldn't have so much troubled working out how many days were left from now until then. Which therefore led her to believe that if she didn't know the simple things for whatever reason that he either couldn't or didn't want to tell her, then were there larger things that she was missing? Bad things, maybe. Things that he feared would cause her to stop loving him.
She let out a large breath. What was she supposed to do? She couldn't force him to reveal what he didn't want to – that could cause him to push her away, or be the fuel for more arguments. Moreover, after how hurt he was all those weeks ago, at the end of a disastrous date, she doubted he'd ever want to see her again, much less continue loving someone who didn't know if she could say it back. Because, Veelas could stop loving their Mate, couldn't they? Especially a half-Veela, when they're half Wizard and half their own ideas and choices about whether they love someone. Right?
Her throat constricted and she felt the hot tears start to form behind her eyes, though none had escaped yet, and she wondered why she put herself through these thoughts on a daily basis when she knew how they ended.
She lightly kicked a stone that she had tripped on down the path, watching with her eyes where it travelled to and following after it to continue the semi-amusing entertainment. She saw the black shoes in front of her only after she collided with the body that came close to knocking her down to the ground. Luckily, they reached out an arm and grabbed her before her butt touched the wet grass. The hand didn't feel familiar, and so she was faintly relieved that it wasn't Draco, but snatched it back as soon as she was righted. After discreetly brushing her hands against her legs, she looked up at the man (she could tell that much from the feel of his hands) and narrowed her eyes (but also tried to blink back the tears that began to escape by her squinting).
Of course, of course it would be him, she cursed inwardly. If it weren't odd enough that she had bumped into someone when she wasn't even walking close the path that had been created down the hill after so many years, it would just have to be him. Her heartbeat sped up as she quickly searched the surrounding area with her eyes to see if Malfoy was anywhere near him
"It's just me, Granger," Blaise said reassuringly. "Sorry to disappoint." He grinned at her, and she forced herself to look away and keep walking in case Draco did turn up, whether it was in conversation or physically in front of her. His grin reminded her of when the three of them would speak together, and him and Draco would look at each other with the same smirks, sharing a memory between them. Conspirator's grins, she had called them. Blaise, however, grabbed her arm as she brushed past him, and turned her back around to face him. When he saw the tears that were trickling down her face, he wiped them away with his sleeve and pulled her into a hug. Hermione didn't resist and allowed herself to be pulled in, needing if only a little bit of human comfort. She would've spoken to Blaise earlier about this, since he knew Draco better than anyone did, but that was where the problem laid. What if he was biased towards Draco because they were best friends? "You know something, Granger?" He said.
Hermione shook her head against his shoulder, not thinking that she could speak coherently or without her voice cracking in her state.
"He's suffering too," he whispered into her hair. "He's not dying, not yet – but sometimes I think that he wants to be."
"Impossible," she sniffed, but even as she said it she held little belief in the words. "Or half true, at least. The Veela is suffering; he's losing love in me."
Blaise pulled her away from him to search her face for answers. "Don't tell me that you honestly believe that. Is that what's been holding you back from apologising?"
Hermione rubbed her eyes. "No. Well, I mean, yes. Sort of. There are other things too," she muttered. "I just don't want him to expect the apology to come with a declaration of love. Not yet, at least. I'm still...figuring it out."
He sighed, dropping his hands from her shoulders. "Then don't say that you love him, but reassure him that he's the only one, at least. Or that you care for him, because he's even more convinced than you are that you hate him."
She dried her eyes again, and then crossed her arms tightly around her chest as the rain began to pick up. Hermione knew what hate was – she, of course, hated Voldemort as much as everyone else did (with the exception of the loyal Death Eaters) – and when she thought of the young Malfoy, she didn't come anywhere near the feeling she held for that sort of evil. "I don't hate him," she whispered.
"Well, good. Because he doesn't hate you either. Not even close." He pointed a finger towards the Black Lake, where a lone figure was splashing about close to the shoreline. She could very faintly hear an anguished cry. "There he is. Looking for a gift that he lost in the Black Lake, all because he's that sorry and wants to apologise." Blaise lowered his arm. "Well, he didn't lose it per say. He threw it out of his window and he thinks it fell by the lake. I think he thinks getting it back is symbolic; after all, he "lost" it the day he lost you."
She snorted half-heartedly. "I suppose he thinks that a gift will solve everything."
"He's trying, at least," he said. "I doubt it's much of a surprise to you, but he doesn't actually know any other way to apologise."
Hermione didn't say anything, but continued to look at the figure having a tantrum in the water. She was smiling softly on the inside, but her exterior remained impassive. Blaise watched her out of the corner of his eye, and then looked back towards Draco who was trying spell after spell to improve the clarity of the water.
"Anyway Granger, I've got to go. Detention with Cassidy." He rubbed her arm in a good-bye and walked back into the castle.
Once he was inside, he leant against the wall of the archway and with a flick of his wand, sent the whole recording over to Draco.
Draco dropped, too exhausted and empty to carry himself to the small beach at the front of the lake. The water washed across his knees in waves and came a little above his midsection. Did he really act as if he hated her that day, he thought, hating himself even more.
His head dropped to his knees. How could he put her through that much pain? He recalled the harshness of how he had spoken and acted towards her, when of course she had stood up for herself in her own way by her snappy replies towards the waiter and the times where she ignored him altogether. He was unreasonable and it was mostly his fault, he thought bitterly. It was so bad that she thought the impossible.
That he could ever stop loving her.
Instead of wallowing in his own self pity (or the murky waters of the Black Lake) any longer, he crawled onto his knees and began to roam his hands along the lakebed. Never mind if Hermione didn't accept the gift anyway, he had recently received an owl from his mother saying that she (had surprisingly) noticed the missing necklace and Hermione could either show up to the Ball – of which he hadn't yet asked her about – wearing it, or he would return it to her then. He'd never make it to next year without finding it.
A few minutes later and he had given up again. There was no point. Having the necklace wouldn't convince her to yes anymore than it would if he didn't have it. The thing he needed to focus on was the words. The words were the difference between having her and... Not having her. He ran a wet hand through his hair. Where were the merpeople – the Giant Squid – when you needed them? He sat back down in the water and pulled out his wand, ready to try a Summoning Charm again.
"Accio." He grumbled. There was a little ripple in the water, but other than that, there was no appearance of a necklace. "Accio!" He tried again, but there were no other signs. "For the love of – Accio!" Thankfully, Fate seemed to either have something in mind for him, or had enough of torturing him for a while, and the necklace flew into his hand. Draco let out a long sigh of relief and clutched it tightly to his chest. He picked off the clumps of seaweed that was obviously holding it under, and then deposited it in his robe pocket.
He would make it up to her. Everything would be okay after this, he reassured himself. He would give his first true apology and it would solve all the problems, and all the ones that it didn't, they would solve themselves by talking it through together. He smiled slightly and his hand hovered over his heart, but dropped quickly; he had around about 5 months left, which meant that they had plenty of time before anything needed to be decided. "Plenty of time," he breathed.
He dragged himself out of the water and turned around to begin walking to where he knew she was. It was probably the first time during these past weeks that he actually acted on the instinct instead of ignoring it, and following it unconsciously.
Hermione clutched a large, chipped teacup in her hand, savouring the warmth radiating from the cup, and stared out the window. From the difference in temperature inside the house and outside, it was more or less completely misted over. Still, she enjoyed watching the raindrops trickle down the pane. She sipped her tea.
Once she was let into his hut, and Hagrid had served her the tea and offering her a seat after he saw how sad she was, Hermione decided that the talk with him would be about Harry and Ron only. Blaise had served to make her mind up about Draco, and after this, she wanted to find him. Hopefully he was still by the lake to make it easier on her.
He had offered up some useful information about what to do about it. First, after she had briefly explained why they were angry at her in the first place, he had said, quite logically, that it would obviously be much harder for either of them to like the idea of her with Draco. They usually acted quickly without putting much thought into it anyway, and so maybe the way to change their minds – as hard as it may be to convince them, or even to agree to trying the idea – was for them to see what they meant to each other. And, the theory was, once they saw that, and were reminded that she didn't only need Draco in her life, but her best friends too, then they should begin to change their minds.
She tapped her fingers against the cup. If only there was a way, she could get the three boys, all with different levels of stubbornness, to agree to stay in the company of each other. She had a good chance of convincing Draco since he did whatever made her happy, but Harry? And Lord help her, Ron? Not a chance.
"Don't you worry 'ermione, there's not a hell's chance that they would give you up over someone like Malfoy. An' anyway, the only reason they weren't there was because-"
There was a knock at the door, which effectively cut off Hagrid. Hermione was startled at the sudden sound, and Hagrid looked at her confused and surprised since almost no one ever came down to his hut. Still, in case it was a professor, or even the slight chance that it was Harry or Ron, he stood up and walked over to the door. As Hermione quickly wiped the window with her sleeve, the knock sounded again, urgent, but still politely not pounding on the door. She peered out the window, and saw a soaked-looking Draco fidgeting on the doorstep. "Merlin," she whispered. She was suddenly nervous and didn't want to be confronted by him just yet, maybe later, but not now. She didn't feel ready now. Hermione stumbled backwards just as his head turned towards the window so as not to be seen by him. "I've got to go." She placed her teacup down on the table quickly, and headed for the back door. She reached for the handle, just as the front door was opened, and Draco's voice filled her ears asking as he asked if she was there. In her hurry to escape, she barely knew what happened next, only that she had made it no more than ten paces away from the house before his cold hand wrapped around her wrist and tugged her back.
He looked as if he was about to say something, but as their eyes met for the first time in what felt like years, he faltered. All the words that he had prepared to say left him, and he couldn't think. It wasn't normal for him to be completely speechless; speechless and filled with an overwhelming feeling he didn't know what to do with. Instinctively he leaned his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. His hands slid to her hips and just held her there. "You're cold," she softly. She hesitantly ran her thumb across his cheek. "Actually, you're freezing."
He caught her hand with one of his and placed a kiss in her palm. "No," he said smiling and lightly shaking his head. "I'm sorry." He intertwined their fingers and put them to rest by his side. "Hermione Jean Granger, I am so sorry for how I have behaved. Especially on our first date, and snapped at you without thinking and-"
"No, no, listen. Draco, I should've-"
Draco quickly leaned down and silenced her with a kiss. They both groaned at the forgotten contact and he pulled her closer. She began to try to speak, and so he slipped his tongue into her mouth and quietened her once again. Between breaths he gently whispered for her to shush, and after a while she stopped trying to continue her sentence and enjoyed the brush of his lips against hers. He reluctantly pulled away after a moment.
"I'm taking full responsibility for this, and none of it was your fault. Now let me finish. And that was a great mistake because it caused me to lose you to my anger. I've been jealous, overprotective, harsh, unreasonable, completely dependent on you and so cliché that it was sickening. But if I've ever, ever given you a reason to believe that I could ever stop loving you then you must know that it is not true not now, and not ever. I don't care if you don't say it back, but I'm in love with you Hermione. All of me." He searched her eyes, which were tearing up, and rubbed his thumbs up and down her hand and hip, respectively. He nuzzled his face against hers and her neck, kissing away some of her tears. "Please, forgive me," he whispered.
"I've missed you, you stupid ferret," she choked. "of course I forgive you." He tipped his head up to kiss her, but she quickly leaned back and grinned at him. "Some things are going to have to change though, like you actually speaking about yourself for once instead of asking about me. But don't worry, I know exactly what we're changing first."
"Oh?" He said, moving closer. A wicked grin lit up his face. "Well I-" His lazy eyes suddenly widened, and he pulled away to pat his robes and then pulled something out. "Almost forgot about this." He lifted it up to her eyes and said, "A gift, for you. But I'd also like to ask you to my family's Christmas Ball, since I know that you and them have a desire to meet each other. And also because I couldn't imagine being away from you again."
"And would that mean that I would spend the whole of the holidays with you?" She asked slyly.
She couldn't be sure, but she thought that Draco's eyes became darker. "It would indeed. But-" he walked around Hermione and brushed her hair away – "first things first." He clasped the necklace around her neck. "Let's get back to your room. You're freezing."
A/N - Please favourite, follow and review!