I own nothing but the plot.

Warning. Minor violence ensues.


December 24th, 1998

Celestina Warbeck's voice warbled out of the wireless resting on the mantle, mixing with the crackle of the fire burning in the hearth. The Christmas tree stood tall in the corner of the living room, branches laden with ornaments and tinsel, a few presents already scattered about under the tree. Mugs of cocoa rested on any surface they could. Molly and Arthur Weasley had long since retired to bed, leaving their children downstairs. Percy had also taken his leave, as had Bill and Fleur. Charlie was sprawled out across a loveseat, snoring quietly. George was busy stacking miniature wreaths upon his older brother's nose, trying to build the tallest tower that he could.

Harry Potter sat in one of the plush armchairs usually favoured by the Weasley patriarch, Ginny perched upon his lap. His arms were wrapped around her waist possessively, and her face was hidden by a curtain of hair as he whispered in her ear. The last couple sat on the only other loveseat, facing each other as their conversation grew steadily louder.

Hermione was curled up with her back against the corner of the armrest and backrest, a now empty mug clutched in her hands as she frowned at the redhead that she called her partner. Ron, for his part, took up most of the loveseat, his legs spread as he lounged, an aggravated expression slowly clouding his freckled face. A simple conversation about the last few weeks since they'd seen each other in Hogsmede had reached the same point of contention. Hermione's refusal to move back to the Gryffindor dormitory was losing Ron, his mind not able to wrap around or possibly comprehend why anyone, let alone someone as smart as her, would want to spend more than a second around someone like Malfoy.

"I just don't understand why you keep defending him. I heard what happened to you in his house!" Ron fumed, his arms folding over his chest as he made his points.

"You heard?" Hermione scoffed. "You heard. Seriously. I was there, Ronald. It happened to me. And it wasn't Malfoy who did it, it was Bellatrix. Not to mention that things from the war are a lot different to things at school."

"So it was his family! I heard, 'Mione! I heard what that Death Eater scum was doing!" Ron's voice was getting steadily louder, and the others in the living room were doing their best to act like they couldn't hear.

"It happened to me, Ronald. Not you. So I'll thank you not to use it against me. It's something that I've dealt with," Hermione's voice was icy, and her grip on the mug had tightened. "Draco Malfoy was a product of his environment and did what he had to do to survive. We all made questionable decisions during the war. It was war."

"He killed Dumbledore!" Ron leaned forwards, his ears starting to turn red as he argued with Hermione. "He's Death Eater scum!"

"Snape killed Dumbledore. And that was planned. We know this. We've seen the memories," Hermione shook her head, one hand releasing her mug to rub at her temple, a pounding headache starting to form behind her eye. It wasn't the first time that they'd had this argument in the four days that she'd been at the Burrow, and it was staring to wear on her. "The war is over, we're all different people."

"Why are you defending him!?" Ron exclaimed. "He's a Death Eater! HE'S SCUM!" He was outright yelling now, his temper getting the best of him as the red extended down his ears to his neck, turning his skin the same vibrant shade as his hair.

"Because he was forced into a life, sold to a mad man, and did what he had to do!" Hermione uncurled her legs and stood from the loveseat, wanting to put some distance between her and the irate man before her. "He was cleared of all charges, McGonagall and all the teachers believed it and were willing to accept him back into the castle, and I'm going to share a damn dormitory with him because I earned this damn badge!"

"HE'S A FUCKING DEATH EATER!" Ron couldn't contain himself, and he stood abruptly as Hermione stepped away from him. He wasn't willing to lose this fight, not when he was so sure that he was right. "I don't know why you've gotten it into your head that you can associate with scum like that, but since you abandoned me and Harry you've been out of order, 'Mione!"

There was a heartbeat of silence in the living room, even Charlie's snoring having ceased, the shouting voice of his brother having roused him from sleep. George was occupying himself with the wreathes scattered around, and Harry and Ginny sat still together, no longer talking. No one was comfortable with the argument unfolding before them, but none had any idea how to put a stop to it. Both parties were headstrong and stubborn, and Harry was well aware that this wasn't their first spat over their years of friendship.

"Since I abandoned you?" Hermione's jaw dropped open as the accusation struck her, dumbfounded that he would even use her return to Hogwarts like that. "Since I abandoned you? I went back to school, Ronald. I went to finish my education."

"You left us, 'Mione," Ron was smug, realising that he'd gained the upper hand, and he took a few steps closer to his girlfriend, his tall frame dwarfing her petite form.

"I went back to school, Ronald," Hermione's voice was quiet now, danger lacing her tone as she took a step of her own, backing away from him. For some reason having her boyfriend approach her like that didn't set her heart racing in the same way it had when her new housemate had, and she didn't feel the same rush of warmth that had recently come from close encounters with the Slytherin. She didn't know why she felt that way around the castle and not with her own boyfriend, but it wasn't something that she was willing to dwell on now either. "I went back to school. I didn't throw a tantrum and walk out on my best friend, I didn't leave abandon those I care about while they were on the fucking run, in the middle of a fucking war."

Her words pierced him, and Ron reacted before he could even think, his arm coming up and swinging, his open hand connecting with Hermione's face within seconds. Her head turned to the side as his palm connected, the slap of skin on skin loud in the room. Silence followed, even the Wireless seeming to have shut off. The silence continued for a few seconds until Ginny's gasp broke it, followed by the creak of furniture as the three other men in the room leapt to their feet. Hermione didn't make a sound, her own hand slowly coming up to touch her stinging cheek, the red handprint clearly visible against her otherwise pale complexion. Raising her head,a moment later, she looked at Ron with tears swimming in her chocolate brown eyes, a look of betrayal behind them. A crack echoed in the room like a gunshot as she turned, apparating away from the Burrow.

Ron's hand dropped limply to his side, chest heaving as he ground out her name, "'Mione…" but it was already too late, the witch having disappeared from his presence.


Draco Malfoy sat on the couch in front of the fireplace, a merry fire crackling away in the hearth and casting a warm glow upon the common room. An assortment of vials stood on the low coffee table in front of him, a mix of potions of his own making and antidotes for every poison he could possibly think of. A sheet of parchment was prepared next to the potions, each one numbered on the page, a self-inking quill ready to start marking notes on the reactions he had to each concoction. A small silver knife was resting next to the parchment for him to begin his experiments.

He took a deep breath, letting the fire scented air fill his lungs, chest expanding and contracting as he tried to relax himself before starting. He had been alone in the Head dormitory all week since the Head Girl had left to spend the holidays with her useless boyfriend and the boy wonder himself. It was the first time he'd really been alone since the fall of Voldemort, and he wasn't sure if he liked how it felt. He didn't miss the stares or speculation that followed him around, and he didn't miss the guards or whispers. The more he thought about it, the more he realised it was the muggleborn witch that he missed, her recent presence around him and their space a comfort.

Clenching and relaxing his fists a few times, he sighed before grabbing the neck of his simple t-shirt, tugging swiftly to pull it off, exposing his bare torso and the black ink on his left arm standing out in stark contrast to his otherwise pale skin. Reaching forwards, he grabbed the first potion and raised it to his lips, a grimace on his face as he caught the scent wafting from the vial.

The first drop of potion hit his lips as the portrait swung open, crashing against the wall with a bang loud enough to startle him, the vial slipping from his grip and falling to the carpeted floor, the fragile glass smashing. Looking down, he cursed softly before turning to the portrait to figure out what had happened. His eyes widened as he caught sight of the dishevelled Head Girl making her way in, her cheeks pink from the cold outside, a few sniffles escaping her. The wards had been put back up around the castle and if she'd make it here after going home, she had to have apparated to the village and walked back to school.

"Granger?" Malfoy rose to his feet as Hermione approached him, drawn to the warmth of the fire, and he saw the tears tracking down her cheeks. "Are you okay?"

"I…" Hermione didn't know what to say, or what to do. She had left the Burrow in a rush, apparating to different places in quick succession before she found herself in Hogsmede, the castle beckoning her home.

"Granger, what happened?" Malfoy took another step forwards, approaching the witch cautiously. His eyes narrowed as he took her in, the pink fading from her extremities with the warmth of the fire, though one cheek stayed a wicked shade of red, the shape looking suspiciously like – "Granger, is that a handprint?"

"He…" Hermione sniffled again, wrapping her arms around herself as she tried to control her shaking and tears. She hadn't fallen apart like this in months, not since she got back from Australia. Looking up, she took in the form of the taller man approaching her. He was broad and well built, but in a way that was far different from Ron. She didn't feel as trapped or intimidated as he approached, surprised by just how safe she felt with Draco Malfoy of all people. Her own eyes widened as she realised that he was shirtless.

"Granger, did Weasleby hit you?" Malfoy's voice was low and lethal, and he was already starting to plan the ways to get back at the worthless Gryffindor. He felt a strange sense of protection towards Hermione, a level of affection that he wasn't aware had been building guiding his thoughts.

"It happened so quickly…" Hermione raised a hand to her eyes, wiping away her tears as she tried to control herself. Her eyes flicked towards Malfoy's bare left arm, unable to stop herself from trying to catch a glimpse of the Dark Mark that scarred him. A gasp escaped when she saw what was there instead, bold, black ink forming the shape of a dragon's tail, wrapped around his forearm and ending at his wrist, the back claws of the artistic beast shredding the faded mark underneath. Her eyes lifted up his arm, amazed at the intricacy of the design, the dragon taking shape up his forearm and bicep, the head snarling on his shoulder.

"Granger, you deserve better than that imbecile," Malfoy's voice was still low as he took another half step closer to the smaller woman, his hand coming up to brush lightly against her marred cheek. He knew she was looking at the tattoo that he had sat through hours of agonising pain to get, and had spent hours making sure to keep hidden. His fingers lightly grazed over the mark on her cheek, soothing over it before his hand moved to cup her chin, tilting it up to make her look at him, his steel grey gaze locking on her watery chocolate orbs.

"Draco…" Hermione gasped, his first name falling from her as he came close. Her heart was pounding in her chest as his fingers reached for her, the touch of his hand more comforting than she ever thought it would be, tingles running through her body from the proximity of him.

Rising up, Hermione stood on her toes to be closer, her arms suddenly coming up to link her hands behind his neck, fingers toying with the soft strands of platinum hair at the base of his neck, her new grip helping to tug his head down, her lips connecting with hers.

A gasp escaped her again as their lips touched, electricity shooting through her body and settling in her core, her eyes widening as they stayed locked with grey. Malfoy froze at the sudden contact, his brain taking a few seconds to catch up to what was happening. Taking another half step closer, he pressed his body against hers, free hand coming to rest on her hip as he pulled her in close, lips moving against hers as the kiss intensified, teeth nipping and tugging, tongues chasing and dancing.

Neither knew how long they were locked in each other's embrace, both forgoing the need to breathe as they familiarised themselves with each other, Malfoy's tongue sweeping through her mouth to explore and claim, Hermione's teeth tugging at his bottom lip every time he looked like pulling away.

The fire popped, bringing both into reality with the sudden noise, both taking jarring steps backwards, breaking the passionate kiss. Malfoy stumbled as he moved back, hitting the couch and tipping over the back of it, Hermione tripping over the coffee table herself, causing every vial upon it to rattle and knock together.

"I…" Hermione tried to stop the squeak in her voice as she raked her brain for something to say.

"Granger…" Malfoy's own voice was unsteady, his whole body trembling as he tried to wrap his mind around what they just did, and why his loose sleep pants suddenly felt tight in a certain area.

"I need to go to bed!" Hermione squeaked again, knocking a few more vials on the coffee table as she bumped into it, rushing towards her room and disappearing up the stairs before anything else happened.

"Goodnight…" Malfoy's voice was quiet, knowing she couldn't hear him after the door to her room closed. Taking a few deep breaths to calm himself, he looked at the mess on the table. Deciding that it was too much to clean tonight, he left the potions where they were, standing and storming off to his own room, needing to sort himself out. "Fuck me."