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A Christmas Gift
Chapter 6: Walk With Me Snow Angel
Author: Dizzy
Disclaimer: I own crap.

Hermione couldn't remember ever wandering this far down the Hogsmeade strip with Harry and Ron. Like all towns and cities there were the good safe sides with their shops and pubs, and there were the seedier parts that Hermione usually kept herself from visiting. Until tonight.

It was already dark when they left the candy shop. They had spent close to two hours in it, battling it out with the tiny colored pellets of candy. The night wasn't cold, the sun from the day had warmed the air but left the snow. As they walked Hermione couldn't help but be struck by the perfection of the night. Draco was actually being civil, even charming, treating her with friendly respect. There was the occasional smarmy comment of course, but that was Malfoy being Malfoy and she couldn't help but warm up to him. He had kept the comments over the years at a minimum when directed towards her, usually reserving them for the moment when she rushed to the defense of her friends. The war it seemed was never between her and Draco, if his behavior was any indication of the way he felt, but between Draco and her friends, and she was caught in the crossfire. She didn't like him of course, he was still a silly prat with a stone tablet for a heart, but she felt like he was really starting to learn the lesson, and hopefully get them out of this place.

"Where are we going?" Hermione looked up at him, realizing they were close to the outskirts.

"It's called The Facade." Draco steered her towards what appeared to be the tiniest, most derelict house she had ever seen. Shutters hung from singular nails, windows were broken out by rocks thrown by forceful teenage hands, the roof was holey and probably prone to do more then leak. it looked more prone to collapse.

She sputtered, stopping in her tracks.

"We can't eat there!" She said indignantly. "Think of the bugs!" She dug her heels in as Draco pushed against the small of her back, all but pulling her by the waist towards the hovel.

"Malfoy this is ridiculous," she muttered, finally giving in to the much stronger boy.

"Trust me," she gave him the typical raised eyebrow. "Okay. I see your point." He nodded. "But it'll be worth it I promise."

Hermione had been squeezing her eyes shut, feeling the rotted wood of the porch sink beneath her weight and threaten to collapse. She heard the creak of the door, and a whoosh of smells so pleasant and heartwarming they left her breathless for a moment, greeted them. Her eyes popped open and she gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.

Outside it was a hovel, but inside it was a palace. She could see where it had gotten its name.

Along the impossibly high walls were marble columns, eight on each side of the long room, connected at the roof by pointed arches. A large velvet curtain ran the length of them, casting the room in darkness, lit only by ornate iron candelabras, one between each set.

There were about six small intimate tables, with high-backed armchairs, upholstered in the same red velvet as the curtains, a single white candle burned in the middle and onyx china decorated the surface with sterling silverware glinting in the candle light.

"As you can guess it doesn't get much business," Draco was saying, smirking down at her. "I'm sure you can understand a close-minded person." She glared up at him briefly before returning her full attention to the room.

There were four other people in the room, no help whatsoever anywhere that she could see. They leaned over the table, clutching hands, grinning stupidly.

"Let's get some grub shall we?" Draco swept her over to a table, pulling out the huge armchair for her. But he didn't sit himself.

Instead he walked over to Couple Number One, taking a plate from the male and a plate the female, balancing one of them in the crook between his chest and elbow before he went over to the other table and did the same. A plate balanced in each crook, held in each hand. And he carefully made his way over to her.

"Take your pick," she helped him with two of the plates.

"I figure we could have a little bit of everything." He pointed to the table. "No menus."

"And what dinner would be complete-" he snatched a half empty bottle of wine from one of the tables. "-without a little refreshment?"

"Draco-" Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "-I don't think that's-" he shook his head, already pouring some into the flute ahead of the china.

"Nonsense Granger, you might as well take advantage of the lack of rules," he sat across from her, pouring himself a liberal amount of the dark red wine. "For once."

She glared at him for a moment, and forced herself to pick up the flute. He took a sip, his gray eyes challenging over hers, an eyebrow quirked in amusement. She continued to glare, giving him a defiant smirk. She raised her glass and took a sip.

Hermione had tasted wine before, of course. Her parents were the traditional type that felt holiday meals weren't complete without a small glass of wine for the kids and liberal amounts for the adults. They were the staunch aristocratic breed that had been raised to believe that alcohol was as natural as water. If Jesus drank it, so could they. But this was like no wine she had ever tasted. Rich and sweet, the smell of it increasing the sensation of the cool liquid on her tongue. She closed her eyes, breathing deep.

"Nayamban Vineyards," Draco said shortly, averting his eyes from the look on her face. She nodded at him, eyes still closed. "Finest in the world."

Hermione swallowed delicately.

"I believe it." Draco said nothing, simply swallowed and began spooning small portions of food onto his own plate. She followed suit, the wine leaving a beautiful aftertaste in her mouth.

"I'm impressed Granger," Draco said between bites. She looked up from her plate, startled. A compliment? Who would have thought? "I didn't believe you had it in you to break one of the biggest rules Hogwarts has to offer."

"Well," Hermione struggled. "It's not like...it applies here."

"Too right." With that Draco took another sip and then raised his glass. "A toast." She raised her own.

"To what?"

"To the only good thing about this place." Hermione wasn't sure if he meant the wine, the rules or something else entirely. Their glasses clinked.

Heady with the wine and the food Hermione stifled a giggle as she stumbled a bit in the snow. Draco cast her a glance.

"You all right there Granger?" She nodded, blushing slightly and smoothing her robes in what she hoped was an unhurried graceful fashion. Her voice came out amused.

"Fine. Fine."

"You're looking a bit on the pissed side."

She glared at him, every motion dramatic as she put her nose in the air and walked ahead of him a bit.

"I most certainly am not!" There was a chuckle from the boy as he increased his stride to keep up with her.

"Sure you aren't."

They walked in silence for a few minutes before she started giggling again.

There was an exasperated sigh from Draco who stopped, since she had stopped.

"What now?"

"You shot me with candy." She was still giggling, which only increased at the expression he gave her.

"Yeah?"

"It's just funny." She put her hands on her hips, feigning an amused scowl. "I am Draco Malfoy. I have the sense of humor of a dried fig. I will shoot you with candy now."

He gave her a glare.

"I have a wonderful sense of humor thank you," Hermione shot him a look.

"No one else finds your antics amusing."

"I only gave you two and a half glasses of wine," Draco said confused. "You have the alcohol tolerance of a premature infant."

"You're one to talk."

"I have the Malfoy Tolerance," he puffed his chest out importantly.

"Oh! That's why you only stumble on every THIRD step," she giggled again and continued onward. Draco sent her a glare and continued to follow her.

"Very amusing. Really." He made a show of holding his stomach in feigned laughter.

"You are no fun," Hermione said, skipping a bit in the snow, kicking it with the toes of her boots.

"You would know," Draco sneered. "A whole sixteen years of experience under your belt and all." It was Hermione's turn to glare, she put her nose in the air again, huffing indignantly.

"I am too fun."

"You also have a beautiful way with words when you're drunk," Draco nodded. "Stunningly clever, really."

She glared at him again. She was still warm from the wine, and feeling a little bit squiffy to tell the truth. She felt like doing something completely outrageous, like dancing, or spinning, or walking a tightrope. The wine had been so good, and it was such a new, thrilling experience to be drinking it without the supervision of her parents, without the rules of Hogwarts hanging over her head.

"I'm not drunk," she said. "I am a bit...buzzed is it?" Draco smirked.

"Yeah. Buzzed."

"I've only ever had a half a glass of wine at a time before," Hermione said, her voice wistful. "And it was NOT from the Nimbooboo Vineyards or whatever."

"It is a very potent wine." Draco was practically grinning now, so amused was he by the girl beside him. All thoughts of his discovery in the library gone, surely this girl before him couldn't be...he shook his head. She was fine.

"It'll be a long walk back," Draco said. Hermione nodded, and then suddenly without warning stuck her arms out and fell backwards into the snow. Startled Draco went to reach for her but she let out "Don't!" and then started moving her arms up and down, her legs scissoring back and forth.

"What are you DOING?" Draco was beyond angry. "I thought-I thought you-" he sputtered. He didn't want to think of what he'd thought. His mind flew back to the book. For a brief moment he'd thought it was happening before him, that the first signs were appearing.

"Snow angel," Hermione said simply. "I had the sudden urge to make one." She lay there for a moment, cold snow tickling her ears. "The only problem with a snow angel is getting up without disturbing it."

So she lay for a moment. Draco looked perplexed. This was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever taken part in. Walking down a deserted dark street with a girl he absolutely loathed, watching her "buzzed" person make snow angels, and all while scaring the magic out of him.

"Make one." Hermione said. "Right there." She pointed to the ground beside her. Draco looked horrified.

"Absolutely NOT." Hermione sighed, still lying there, almost comically in the snow. She gave him a funny expression, like trying to persuade a child to take a nap.

"It's fuuun," she sang.

"I don't see how flopping around in the snow like a trout struggling for air can be fun."

"Won't know till you try," she continued in that singsong voice. "Scared of making a fool of yourself?"

With that Draco turned around and flung himself backwards into the snow, if not a bit too hard, almost knocking the wind out of himself.

"Me a fool? Never in my life." He said breathlessly.

"Except for those daily basis occurrences." Hermione said joyfully. He glared at the sky, which was completely clear save for a few snaking clouds.

"Now what?" He lay there, rigid. Hermione sighed.

"You Malfoy's know nothing." She began that strange motion of moving her arms up and down in a wide arc and scissoring her legs back and forth. "Do this." So he did, feeling like a fool with every passing moment.

"What's the point?"

"There isn't one." Hermione said, she picked herself up, balancing somewhat uneasily on her knees before jumping out of the snow angel. It was only a bit marred where her feet had sunk into it. She frowned.

Draco leapt up, leaving a track of footprints all through the skirt of his snow angel all the way to Hermione.

"You messed it up," she pointed. He glared at her.

"I did not."

"You did too."

"It looks fine."

"It looks like it got run over by a giant."

"It's the style of its dress."

"Angel's do not have shoe prints on their dresses." She turned, flouncing off.

"Oh and you would know? Obviously being such an obvious one yourself," he sneered. She nodded.

"Of course! I am like the Ghost of Christmas Past," she did a little curtsey in the snow, it clung to her robes from the angel and made her hair wet and shiny. "And you are Scrooge."

"Who?" Hermione shook her head.

"It's not important." She waved her hands dismissing him. "Forget I even mentioned it."

"No." Draco followed her. "Who's Scrooge?"

"Read A Christmas Carol and you'll know," she continued to walk, humming to herself. He had known a lot of other muggle literature up till this point. It wouldn't be too much of a stretch.

It had been, for all accounts a splendid evening, even if it was in the company of a Malfoy, granted, a somewhat more enjoyable Malfoy. He was better by himself she decided. Less prone to little comments about her person, or her friend's.

"You want me to read a book about a Christmas song?" Draco asked confused.

"Just READ it. Dickens. Muggle section of the library." Draco rolled his eyes. Any second and she'd tell him what shelf and how many volumes over.

"Why don't you go home for Christmas anymore?" Hermione asked after they walked in awkward silence for a moment. Her courage was at an all time high, and she doubted such an opportunity would present itself. Draco gave a shrug.

"I get just as much "Christmas Joy" at Hogwarts as there." He said it with such a sneer she flinched.

"Why didn't you?" He challenged, his eyes flashing. Hermione looked sad for a moment.

"My parents went to my Grandmother's," she gave a little sigh. "They thought I should try something different for Christmas." Draco nodded, and again they lapsed into the silence that occupied so much of their time together.

They reached Hogwarts late, the sky had lightened a little, signaling the approaching darkness before the dawn. They hadn't spoken in a little over an hour, but it was no longer uncomfortable, it was almost like they were lost, deep in their thoughts, walking close together warmed by wine and the merry time of the day. It was the first time they'd ever had such fun, and for it to be with each other was strange.

Draco shook his head, his eyes drifting over the snow, sparkling as it had in the day under the soft white light, drifting towards the lake, and drifting further still to the goals of the Quidditch pitch.

It wasn't such a bad thing really. Apart from the utter invisibility it was almost pleasant. Without the influence of those horrid friends of her Hermione Granger was almost decent. He looked at the girl in question, who was still feeling the effects of the wine, skipping every few steps, smiling to herself, her thoughts her own. She looked up at him and grinned, he felt himself returning it, but only slightly.

"I actually had a good time today Granger," he said finally, his eyes trained forward, watching her reaction out of their corners. She nodded.

"Me too." She tapped her chin in dramatic thoughtfulness. "Who woulda thought?"

"Certainly not me."

"Don't worry it's only temporary." Her voice sounded almost sad, a little wistful. He stopped, looking at her.

"Temporary?" He felt his stomach clench. Had she read what he had read? Did she know?

"Of course."

She stopped too, standing just ahead of him. "Once we get out of here you'll go back to your Slytherins and me to my Gryffindors and we'll just forget it ever happened." He felt relief flood him.

"Oh." He frowned. "Not necessarily."

"Riiight," she rolled her eyes. "Tell me another one."

"Well this piece of string goes into a bar..."

She rolled her eyes again. "Come on Draco. I'm tired."

Draco however was not tired. He waited until her breath became slow and even before he slipped out of his bed, still dressed in the clothes from the day. He needed to find out more. He needed to be sure...

He cast a look at her sleeping form, the moonlight made her look unnaturally pale, her hair fanning about her face on the pillow. She was all whiteness and purity laying there framed in the light from the window. She looked like a-

"Snow angel," he whispered. He shook his head. He needed to get to the library.

Unlike Hermione, Draco had the ability to be stealthy on his side. He made only the slightest fraction of noise as he crossed the room, pulling open the large double doors. The girl didn't even stir, her breathing didn't change. He just needed to be sure.

He practically ran the distance to the library. He loved to run. The feel of the wind in his hair, his feet pounding on the concrete. He especially loved running indoors. It was possibly the only thing Malfoy Manor was good for.

He reached it in record time, pale cheeks flushed, breath coming in ragged gasps as he pushed open the doors and stepped into the dark room. He drew his wand.

"Lumos," he whispered, making his way to the same shelf he had been at earlier. He knew exactly where it would be. It had haunted his thoughts all day.

His eyes scanned the shelves and then fell on the black book, still there on the edge of the bottom most shelf, where he had haphazardly stuck it when Hermione had caught him. He picked it up, not realizing he had been holding what little breath he had left after his run, until he let it out with a loud whoosh. He looked around, and then remembered his situation. No one could hear him.

Holding the glowing tip of the wand closer to the book he opened it, his fingers turning the pages quickly until he found it. His eyes scanned the page for the passage. Praying that he had read it wrong, that it was a selective case, that it was a different spell, praying for anything but the truth really.

"Although this particular version of the spell has fallen out of favor with the Ministry due to it's questionable outcomes it has not yet been banned in the wizarding world. Not a very popular method of punishment it practically ceased practice in 1904 with the demise of Henry Weatherbee, a prominent school teacher from Luxembourg. A particular "hidden" side affect of the spell is its draining nature which takes a toll on the "Spirit Guide" as the spell drives on. It makes them ill, almost on the brink of death, and in some cases kills the Spirit Guide entirely, leaving the intended target stuck in the world created for them. Weatherbee died after only 3 days due to his lack of skill in the magical ways, leaving his fiancé, Heather Makney behind. Makney was forced to watch the happy life they would have had together drag on for years until the spell was released by an unknown Ministry official. After her release Mackney was transferred to the then new, St. Mungo's, where she died in 1910."

Lack of skill. Died. Three days. Draining. The book fell from his hands. It was true. He felt his heart clench. Three days. He looked at the book on the floor without seeing it. It had already been two, and Hermione was still just a student. A powerful witch sure, but if a school teacher couldn't handle it...he closed his burning eyes. If a teacher couldn't handle it, then how could a student?