Author's Note: This chapter contains smut.

Draco had fully intended to stay on his own side of the bed.

Truly, he did. His last conscious action the night before had been making certain that there was an unclaimed area on the mattress between himself and Granger. Something he did even though it put him too close to the edge on his side for comfort. He had also turned away from Hermione, so that he wasn't breathing on her. That was the position he was in when he fell asleep.

It was not how he woke up.

Before he was even fully aware of his surroundings, Draco's first not quite conscious thought was that he felt good. Really good. Too good. As his awareness returned, he felt something tickling his face. He huffed out a breath, flinching away from whatever it was. A soft moan coming from the source of the tickling sensation brought Draco into full alert and he froze — keeping as still as possible lest he wake her.

Granger's bloody curls were brushing against his nose. He was spooned around her sleeping form, his mouth and nose practically buried in her copious brown hair. His morning erection was pressed solidly into the soft curve of her arse. He had an arm wrapped around her too, with his palm firmly grasping her tit and he thought that his thumb may have been stroking her nipple through the fucking Christmas pyjamas his mother had magicked into existence, when he was too sleep-addled to know what he was doing.

Fuck.

Draco gradually released the breath he was holding. Very slowly and extremely cautiously, he started to move his hand away from her breast, trying desperately to create physical distance between them again before she woke up and hexed him into nothingness for touching her. He felt his cheeks turning red and he was filled with embarrassment over what his sleeping body had done.

Of course, he also was frantically committing to memory how it felt to wake up with her in his arms like this — for future reference. Fuck, how long had he been grinding against her in his sleep?

With an agonising slowness, Draco backed away from Granger. She didn't stir, but he thought he heard her make a faint noise. Did she just laugh at him? Merlin, he hoped he had imagined that. She hadn't moved. Draco was going to assume that he hadn't heard anything and that he was safe, while simultaneously hoping that he wasn't deluding himself about it. Draco lay on his back, willing his erection to subside. After about fifteen minutes, he 'woke up' by feigning a yawn. He waited for a beat. Granger still wasn't moving.

Draco sat up and leaned over to shake her gently by the shoulder, keeping as much distance as he could between his slowly softening cock and her essentially perfect arse. "Granger, wake up. It's Christmas morning. I'm going to go downstairs and find Mother and Wendell."

"Okay." Hermione said sleepily. "Go ahead. I'll be just behind you." Draco breathed a sigh of relief and left the room.

It wasn't long before Hermione joined them all downstairs and they had a quick breakfast before moving on to the pile of presents underneath the nicely decorated Christmas tree. It wasn't nearly as impressive as the trees that graced the Manor under Narcissa Malfoy's tenure as the lady of the house. It was quite a bit smaller, for one. And the decorations were not painstakingly coordinated to match each other. There were many different colours and shapes on his mother's tree this year. Like his mother's paintings, it was not what he would have expected from the woman he had known before the war, but felt charming and vibrant nonetheless.

While there were a lot of presents under the tree, it was nothing compared to the truly staggering amount Draco used to receive annually as a spoiled only child. Some of these gifts were from Mother and Wendell to each other, many more were for Draco and almost as many were for Hermione, much to their mutual surprise. Granger's eyes were bright with unshed, happy tears and she spent quite a bit of the morning sniffling, as she opened up her gifts.

Draco had brought a very nice leather-bound planner with him to give to her in his guise as her boyfriend. It was of Muggle origin and something he thought she'd genuinely enjoy without it being too personal. From Wendell and Narcissa, she had a very posh fountain pen set, an expensive looking set of knitting needles with luxurious yarn and, improbably, a first edition of a Muggle book called Sense and Sensibility, that caused Granger to burst into tears when she realised what she was holding.

"I — I don't understand. You didn't even know I was coming…" she trailed off, tears in her eyes. Draco went over and put his arms around her. Granger was clearly overwhelmed. This would have taken more than a Gemini charm to pull off. He wondered how Mother had managed to arrange it all on such short notice.

When Draco gave her a questioning look, his mother merely smiled and said "Christmas magic, dear." Draco looked over at Wendell, alarmed, but his step-father merely chuckled.

"That's right," the man said with a warm smile. "You can always find magic at Christmas time. My beautiful Narcissa can always work wonders." The older man turned to face Hermione. "She was fretting at the prospect of you feeling left out. And there's nothing my wife can't do when she puts her mind to it. It's like she is magic." Wendell spoke fondly of his new bride, missing the strained expression on Hermione and Draco at his words.

Narcissa smiled serenely at all three of them. "I want you to feel welcome here, Hermione dear. Because you are ."

Hermione crossed the room and hugged Narcissa. "Thank you," she whispered to the older witch.

"You are most welcome."

"How did you even know that I knitted? Or maybe you didn't and it was just an extremely lucky guess?" Hermione had gifted a dark green scarf to Draco, which he now suspected was handmade. How Narcissa knew what to get Granger was beyond him, but it would appear she had made some very shrewd guesses.

"Oh, Draco mentioned something about you and knitting hats. While you were back at school?" Narcissa looked at Hermione knowingly and Hermione blushed. It wasn't all guesswork, apparently. Draco had mentioned Granger's campaign to stealthily free all of the house elves at Hogwarts to his mother, come to think of it. He felt his own blush creeping up the back of his neck. Draco couldn't believe his mother had remembered that detail from his inane school chatter — back from all the way before the bloody war.

Granger's eyes went wide with surprise. "We weren't even on speaking terms at the time. I'm surprised Draco even mentioned anything about it, let alone you remembering it, Narcissa."

"Ah, well. He always seemed to mention you a great deal, my dear. From the very first year"

Draco felt his blush reach his cheeks and he started loudly complimenting his mother for her gift selections — both his and Granger's and asking Wendell about what he had gotten as well. Granger looked at him suspiciously a few times, but soon the conversation was moving along into safer territory.

Wendell got up, explaining to them that he needed to go get a move on with the preparations for Christmas dinner. Hermione cleared her throat and spoke, "Wendell, I was hoping I could be your sous-chef for the day? That way Narcissa and Draco could spend some time catching up as well." She bit her lip as soon as she finished speaking. Hermione had told Draco that some of her favourite memories of the holiday season growing up had been helping her father make the Christmas meal.

"Wonderful, my dear. Let's leave these two together and I can explain to you how a Wilkins' Christmas meal is made."

Hermione smiled, with merely a touch of sadness in her eyes that was only noticeable because Draco was looking for it. "I'd be honoured to learn from you Wendell." The pair left for the kitchen, leaving Draco and Narcissa alone.

Draco waited until they would not be overheard. He gestured towards the presents for Hermione that had been under the tree. "How?"

Narcissa actually snorted and then she rolled her eyes at him. "I contacted the house elves at the Manor the same evening you arrived with her. Even with magic you did not leave anyone with much time, Draco Lucius Malfoy. This arrived at five o'clock in the morning via international portkey, so I had to get up early and keep Wendell from noticing. The cost of the delivery portkey alone was astronomical and even you will notice it when you look at your vault records."

Draco cringed. He really had put his mother out, hadn't he? "That's fine. It's worth it. Thank you mother."

"Yes. She is worth it, Draco. I also had to pull back some of the gifts I had for you, so it wouldn't look so off balance."

"Yes. It would be wrong to show such blatant favouritism with it being your first Christmas as a new step-mother."

Narcissa shot Draco a disapproving glare. "I didn't want to make the girl feel anything other than welcome and I had very little time to make arrangements."

Draco held up his hands. "You are right, Mother. I am sorry. Thank you for all you did for her. I know she appreciates the effort. And I do too."

His mother made a small hum of agreement as she looked in the direction of the kitchen. "You two seem good together, Draco. Any chance you could make this feigned relationship a little more substantial?"

"No, Mother. Ordinarily, the witch can barely stand me."

"Oh, I doubt that's true. You could do a lot worse than Hermione Granger. And you'd be hard pressed to do better."

"Where was this attitude during my childhood, Mother?"

"Repressed by your father, dearest. She is a fine witch."

"You do not have to convince me that she's a fine witch. Although I think she could certainly do better. Also, you did marry her father, which does technically make us step-siblings."

Narcissa waved her hand, dismissing his concerns. "That will never be publicly acknowledged. And if your father hadn't died, you would have been married off to an actual cousin by now. This —" she gestured to herself and the house she shared with Wendell. "— is nothing at all to be concerned about, never mind an actual barrier to you making an excellent choice for your future. "

"She deserves better than me, Mother. She deserves a good man."

"You are one."

He scoffed. "That view is not widely shared by people who aren't my mother."

"No, my dragon. I know you. And I've had quite a lot of experience being around bad men. You are a good man. Particularly so when you are given the freedom to make your own choices. As one small example, you certainly didn't have to volunteer to bring Miss Granger along with you to Australia."

"I couldn't leave her alone in London while I spent Christmas with her father." He grumbled, half under his breath.

"See? Good man," his mother repeated, before leaning forward and kissing him on the cheek. "At least see if she might be inclined. You two are well-suited to one another, I think. Also, I like her and I'd like to be able to continue to see her. Wendell might not remember why he needs to see her, but he does too. It's a terrible thing to be separated from your child."

Draco nodded. He didn't have the time or space to explain to his mother all of the reasons Granger wouldn't date him for real. It simply wasn't meant to be. Not that it mattered, really. Narcissa Wilkins would figure that out for herself eventually.

Draco had no idea that preparing food could take so much effort and time. Wendell had several different dishes in separate ovens and was following a detailed cooking schedule that strongly reminded Draco of Granger's revision plans from Hogwarts. While Draco had been paying his house elves since his father had died, he was starting to wonder if perhaps they weren't due for a raise? While the turkey was in the oven, Wendell and Hermione taught the sheltered Purebloods a series of Muggle card games. Draco was enjoying the easy camaraderie he improbably had with Hermione at this table. She had relaxed quite a bit after the presents had been exchanged that morning. Draco was also pleased to discover that he really liked her father — Wendell was such a kind, open-hearted man and he had embraced both Draco and Hermione without reservation. Draco wondered if Hermione's Christmases growing up were always this nice. No wonder she was especially distraught about missing her family over the holidays — this kind of warmth and affection was something you would definitely miss after it was gone.

Wendell had been peppering Draco and Narcissa with questions about what Christmases had been like when Draco was a boy. They both struggled at times to keep the anecdotes Muggle appropriate, but did their best. Wendell seemed to chalk up anything unusual to their 'uppercrust' background. Come to think of it, he might actually think that Draco was some variant of Muggle nobility. Regardless, Draco almost blew the charade entirely when he was asked about his favourite gift as a child.

"Oh, easily my racing br—" he froze after getting kicked under the table by Granger.

"Your racing bicycle? Wendell, Draco really was quite the cyclist when we were younger." Hermione looked at him meaningfully.

"Oh marvellous! What about you Hermione? What does Christmas usually look like for you?"

Hermione winced, but smiled and pushed through. "Oh, well I've spent the last couple of holidays with my ex-boyfriend's family. They sort of adopted me after I lost my parents."

Wendell patted her on the arm sympathetically. "Oh, well that's nice dear. Good that you had people around you."

"Ah, it was. But —" her expression grew strained and she sighed. "If I'm being honest, it wasn't the best situation for me. It made it a lot harder to break up with my ex, because in doing so I lost my new family too. It ultimately wasn't a very healthy dynamic." Draco looked down at his hands. Hermione seemed to realise that her words might apply to more than just her past and she spoke hastily. "But thank you very much for including me in your holidays this year. I deeply appreciate it." She flashed an awkward smile at them, and Wendell hastened to change the subject, exchanging a glance with Narcissa first. The conversation moved to more neutral topics and Draco breathed a sigh of relief.

Wendell really was an amazing cook. He, with Hermione's assistance, had prepared a traditional Christmas meal like they would have had back in England. "Let me tell you, I'm thankful that the house has air conditioning! I love living in Australia, but I'm not sure I will ever be used to celebrating Christmas at the height of summer. Especially not while cooking a turkey." The turkey in question was delicious. So was the accompanying gravy, stuffing, cranberry sauce, oven roasted brussel sprouts, parsnips and carrots. All in all, it was an excellent meal. The presentation was less ostentatious, but it was as good as the feasts Draco had enjoyed at the Manor when he was growing up.

Wendell asked them both about their jobs, believing that Hermione and Draco were lawyers working at the same firm in London — a cover story designed by Hermione as she thought it was the closest analogue to their actual jobs.

"Oh, it keeps me busy. We've got some government work, so we're getting to do some background work on legislation. That's exciting."

"How is it for you two — working together? I worked with my ex-wife for years, so I know that you can absolutely combine your personal relationship with your professional life. But it can be tricky. I'm curious as to how you two are finding it?"

Draco had just taken a bite of turkey, so he had to leave it to Granger to answer. She looked uncertain. "Well, the fact that it's your ex-wife you are referencing, maybe isn't the best argument in favour of the practice. It's okay. The hours are demanding, so this way we get to see each other a lot even if we don't have a lot of free time. But, this isn't dentistry. We have to compete for opportunities at our firm. I don't imagine that came up a lot between you and Mu — Monica. Sorry, her name is Monica, correct? It feels strange to refer to her as Dr. Wilkins in the circumstances." Hermione's eyes had gone wide and there had been a flash of panic across her face when she almost said 'mum' to Wendell.

Wendell laughed. "Yes, it's Monica. Still Dr. Wilkins as it happens, but 'Monica' is fine. No — we didn't spend a lot of time fighting over who got to work on the really good teeth."

"Exactly. Some professions might be better suited to mixing with a personal relationship." She looked down at her plate, chewing on her lip.

Draco awkwardly cleared his throat. "Our boss assigned a file to me recently, instead of Hermione, over her objections," he said by way of explanation.

"Oh dear. Well, I'm sure there will be other opportunities for you in the future, Hermione. For you both." Narcissa said, trying to smooth over the rough patch.

Hermione smiled weakly and nodded. "I hope so."

Draco wanted to change the subject, as it appeared that Hermione was still quite put out by departmental politics. "Wendell, you are quite the cook. Is he always doing this for you, Mother? It's like you have your own personal chef."

"Yes, well it's a hobby of mine. And this way my darling Narcissa doesn't need to lift a finger." Narcissa smiled at him fondly. "Speaking of which, are we ready for the pudding?"

"When did you start making it?" Hermione asked, a knowing smile ghosting across her lips. This was evidently a source of pride for Wendell, judging by Granger's reaction to it.

"Three months ago. The day after Narcissa agreed to marry me, actually. I knew I wanted something really special for Christmas and this way, I could feed it for longer."

"What's your choice of spirit?"

"Cognac."

Hermione grinned up at the man who did not know that she loved him with her whole heart and Draco felt his heart clench in sympathy for her plight. "Well I am very excited to try it, Wendell."

The pudding was beloved by Wendell and Hermione, and tolerated by Draco. Mother seemed like she really enjoyed it, but Draco was uncertain if her enthusiasm was real or feigned. He'd have to ask her about it later. With Wendell's family traditions — the ones he unknowingly shared with Hermione — behind them for the day, they watched the sequel to Die Hard, much to his step-father's delight. As it began, Hermione told Draco that most of this film took place in an airport, which he found reassuring. He had just been in a Muggle airport so perhaps he would have an easier time understanding the storyline?

As Draco watched several planes crash or explode, all he could think of was that he never wanted to step foot on an aeroplane ever again. How the fuck had Granger watched this and then been so calm on their flight? Gryffindor bloody courage was no joke, not that he'd ever say such a thing out loud. He wondered if he could convince Granger and Mother to let him switch their flight home for a portkey.

No one had told him those bloody machines could blow up.

Draco was in bed, waiting for Hermione to finish getting ready so he could turn off the bedside light. He was looking at one of the books he'd picked up in the airport in London, the paperback held in front of him, with his other hand on the back of his head as he sat up against the headboard. Granger came out, dressed in sleep clothes and smelling faintly of mint. She sat down next to Draco, made as if to speak and then hesitated, looking pensive.

"Out with it Granger," Draco's words may have been terse, but his tone was kind. The witch clearly had something on her mind and it would be best if she just came out with it.

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

Draco put his book down on the bed next to him. "Because it's Christmas?" he answered slowly.

"No, I mean why did you include me at all? Why offer to help me see my father? You could have come here without me."

"Why wouldn't I invite you?" Even if Wendell didn't know it, he was her father. She must really think Draco was an unfeeling monster, if she believed he would leave her in England while he had the holidays with her dad.

"I never got the impression that you liked me at all. I thought you barely tolerated me. This —" she gestured expansively around the room, encompassing the whole situation with her arms. "— this is a lot more than being tolerated."

"I — I more than tolerate you, Granger." He a lot more than tolerated her. A conclusion he had come to with increasing frequency since arriving in Australia. "I don't think that's a fair accusation. And I'm not sure I can say the same thing about you regarding me, though. For example, I've never tampered with your office supplies."

"Draco you have barely talked to me on a personal level since we started working together. And before the war — as you might recall — you weren't particularly enamoured of me, my hair, my know-it-all-ism, my blood, etc . And you let me know about it. A lot. Enough repetition and it will stick with a person."

"Bu — but I apologised after the war! And you accepted."

"Yes, I accepted your apology. I genuinely believe that you were and are sorry. But apologising to me after the war didn't mean you like me. Or respect me. Or really have a good opinion of me in any context. For instance, you could still believe that I don't really have any right to my own magic, but think that the whole war thing got out of hand. You could still hate me for all I know."

"Granger —" Draco couldn't keep the exasperation out of his tone. "I haven't hated you for a long time. I'm not sure that I ever really did. Especially after Voldemort came back - I didn't have the energy for anything beyond surviving. And you'd shown me that blood purity beliefs were nonsense pretty much from jump. You were the first Muggle-born I had ever encountered you, know? After a lifetime of being taught that Muggles were evil and dangerous."

"And look at us now." Hermione said, once again gesturing to encompass the whole house. "Technically we're family and Narcissa Black Malfoy is living as a Muggle." She looked at him with an expression of mild, wry amusement. "I still can't believe your mother married my dad. I think we could be celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary and I still won't really believe it. It feels like we're being pranked."

Hermione sighed and chewed her lip, as though she was trying to make up her mind on something. After a long moment, she looked up at him, her face serious. "Draco, did you ask Perkins to give you the Wolfsbane project?"

"No. And I've told you this before, Granger. I'm not out trying to sabotage you. I just accepted a work assignment from our boss." As it was his job to do, for fuck's sake.

"Not the impression I got with you sneering at me from across the room when it was announced," she said, her tone defensive.

"Smirking, maybe. You had an ink smudge on the side of your nose," Draco said. Also, she was scrunching up her nose in agitation and it so fucking cute. Come to think of it, liking Granger might not be a recent phenomena.

"Glad me getting overlooked could be so amusing to you. You know I have more expertise in this area — I know the law just as well as you, but I have put in so much more work into learning the exacting details of the underlying potioneering, especially ingredient procurement and production. The only people in Britain with more expertise than me in aconite harvesting are the ones actually harvesting it. Did it truly never occur to you to tell Perkins it should stay with me?"

"Perkins knows what you can do, Granger. It didn't come to me because you were being overlooked. For the legislation to actually pass the Wizagenmot we need to have Magnus Flint on board. Marcus's uncle? Well, not surprisingly, he's a misogynistic blood purist. That won't listen to you. No matter how brilliant or correct you are. I mean, even with my background he only listens to me because I more or less threatened to let his wife know how 'close' he is to his secretary."

"You threatened a member of the Wizagenmot?" Hermione asked incredulously. See, now this was something that she genuinely disapproved of — Draco could tell the difference by how strident her tone was as she glared at him.

"This is the reason the file had to come to me, Granger. Of course I lightly threatened a member of the Wizengamot. Sometimes that is what is required to get the job done."

"So you don't think you are a better employee than me?" she asked, her eyes narrowing.

Draco laughed. "Oh, fuck no. Any thoughts I had along those lines were destroyed somewhere in third year at Hogwarts. I can't watch you be consistently both amazing and better than me at things without eventually learning my lesson. But I have a different skill set and sometimes my skills are —"

"Blackmail."

"Sometimes my skills are what is needed." Perkins hadn't thought that Hermione had the appetite for mild extortion and at the time Draco had agreed. Of course, that was before he learned about Granger's history of catching beetles. "Perkins is convinced that we need to bring Magnus Flint on board. Flint's predisposed towards saying 'no' to anything that looks like progress, but Perkins thought he'd listen to me more because I come from an old family too."

Hermione rolled her eyes and looked at the ceiling, before sighing and facing him again. "Okay. Thank you for telling me."

"Do you not agree that Perkins was right to assign this to me, given what is required?" Draco didn't think she looked mollified in the slightest.

"No," Hermione scoffed. "I don't agree with that statement or Perkin's decision. First of all, the vote isn't going to be that close. It's not coming down to one vote and Magnus Flint isn't important enough to justify crafting an entire strategy around his prejudices. And that kind of attitude — where it's just easier to coddle the old guard — is the reason why nothing about the bloody old guard ever changes."

Hermione started pacing around the room as she spoke. "Flint's prejudiced against me on the basis of my blood status, which is bad. So Perkin's solution is to elevate you because of your pure-blood status, rather than have Magnus Flint been made uncomfortable. So the blood status quo can reign forever. I have plans for this initiative, Draco. Plans that go beyond legislation ensuring equitable access to the Wolfsbane potion. I want werewolves to be full and equal members of our society, but the first step is to get the potion in wide use so that the public can feel safer. I need to get this particular legislation through first and then I want a public education program, before moving into better legal protections for werewolves in employment and housing. Instead, I have been boxed out at the foundational step so that an intransigent member of the Wizagenmot doesn't have to endure the indignity of talking to a Muggle-born witch." She stopped pacing and ran a hand through her thick curls, before looking at him, clearly frustrated. "You ever look around the Ministry and notice how few department heads are witches? How many fewer are Muggle-born — male or female? Because I've certainly noticed. Some of this shit is just garden variety sexism, but it's not like pure-blood bigotry died with Voldemort."

Draco had to sit with that for a moment. Fuck, she was right. He knew that there weren't as many witches as wizards in the higher-ranking positions, of course. Although, he'd have to admit he hadn't spent any time being concerned by that knowledge. And he didn't think he knew of anyone who was strictly a Muggle-born in any prominent position at the Ministry. If there was, they were adamantly keeping their status quiet. Which was part of the bloody problem in and of itself. How had Draco not noticed that before? "I don't know if that was what Perkins was thinking, Granger."

"I doubt he's aware that he's doing it. Just like I doubt that you've ever noticed that you have a constant background advantage. Which happens to be a constant struggle for me. And you aren't even aware that it's happening.

Hermione sat down next to him on the bed, with an air of defeat. "With everything that I did in the war — and everything you did — we have the exact same job and you are still getting preferential treatment in that job solely on the basis of being born a Malfoy. I'm going to forget that I'm supposed to sound modest for a minute. My efforts were extraordinary. What I accomplished was just this shy of impossible for me to do and would have been bloody well impossible for anyone else. I'm not downplaying Harry's role in this — we wouldn't have made it without each other. But if it wasn't for Hermione Granger, the Boy Who Lived would not have prevailed. But you being born with a substantial vault and a pedigree that Magnus Flint respects means that you have more opportunities for advancement in the workplace than I do. Even though I saved the world and you were just a few more bad decisions from being in Azkaban for life. So yes, I am a bit grumpy about the workplace assignments. But as you are merely a passive recipient of it rather than purposefully instigating it, I suppose it is my disappointment to manage. I will leave your ink stand unmolested in the future."

Well, Draco felt like shit. "What if I asked Perkins to let us both work together on it?"

"Great in theory. In practice depends entirely on how you frame it. If you tell him that you'd like me to help and then I get the thrill of being included because I pouted, it's hardly going to change any attitudes. Involving me isn't a charitable endeavour on your part, Malfoy. The work will not be as good if I am not involved. Tell him you require my expertise. Focus on my skills and their value — not 'oh, my officemate won't stop moaning, witches am I right?' This isn't a favour to me. My involvement will make this legislation better in a way you cannot accomplish without me. You need to be very careful which of those two narratives you reinforce."

Draco held up his hands. "Enough, Granger, I get the point. Although I'll admit I don't think I'm particularly adept at noticing this sort of thing when it's happening. I'm going to need your help — have you point this out to me directly in the future." He sighed and tilted his head to the side as he looked at her. "I wish you had said something to me sooner."

Hermione smiled sadly. "You don't talk to me unless it's necessary, Draco. It never seemed like you would be open to having a conversation about any of this with me."

Draco looked at a point over her shoulder, rather than meet her eyes. "I didn't think you wanted to work with me. Not after everything I had done. So I held myself back, rather than force my presence on you more than was strictly necessary."

Hermione inhaled as he spoke, the sound drawing his attention and causing him to meet her gaze. Her enormous brown eyes were wide as she regarded him, chewing on her lip. She exhaled slowly. "It sounds like we were both doing that. Holding back, I mean. Maybe we could both stop? Just try to behave normally around each other?"

Draco smiled. "I'd like that."

Hermione returned the expression. "Thank you, Draco. For bringing me with you to Australia. For spending Christmas with me. It means a lot to me."

"Anytime, Granger. But after this trip, I never want to fly on an aeroplane again."

"Was the movie too much?"

"I cannot believe you watched that and then ever voluntarily got on a plane again."

They settled into their respective spots. Draco felt lighter than he had in a long time.

"Good night Draco."

"Good night Granger."

Sometime in the very early morning — far too early for the house to be waking up anytime soon — Draco woke to find his erection pressed firmly in her backside, as she rocked her hips gently against him. His hand was wrapped around her breast again and he was already — still? he wasn't sure — caressing her softly, his thumb flicking over her erect nipple through her t-shirt. Draco couldn't hold back a moan and her responding whimper caused him to wake fully.

"Granger —" he choked out as he started to pull back his hand, frantically thinking of excuses. She quickly moved her own hand on top of his, before he could dart away and squeezed her hand over his — keeping him in place.

"Hermione," he gasped as she pressed her backside more firmly against his throbbing cock, as she whimpered.

"Don't talk, Draco," she whispered. "But please don't stop," she begged, still moving against him.

Permission secured, Draco began to purposefully move his hand over her breasts, kneading at her soft flesh as she moaned and shifted herself against him. She moved her hand back, reaching for his groin and pressing her hand over his erection, feeling his rigid length through his sleep pants. "Fuck," he whispered.

"Shh," she said, stroking him through his pants. Draco slid his hand off of her chest and moved it slowly down her belly, sliding it underneath her pants and caressing her mound over her knickers. Hermione let her head fall back as she moaned at his touch.

Granger continued stroking him through his clothing and he slid his fingers underneath her underwear, stroking her folds and inserting his finger into her velvet heat. "You are so wet," he whispered. Merlin, she was practically dripping. Hermione moved her leg, opening her hips up further to allow him easier access to her drenched core.

"I said no talking, Draco." He responded by kissing her neck, biting softly, before getting to the junction between her neck and shoulder, and biting harder. Hermione moaned a little louder than before.

"Shh, Granger. No noises from you either," he whispered in her ear before biting her earlobe. Hermione trembled and pressed herself as close to him as possible. He buried his face in her hair. Fuck, her curls smelled amazing. Granger just had to be spectacular in every way, huh?

She was more responsive than he would have expected, writhing beneath his touch and grinding her body against his own. The two of them caressed and stroked each other in the dark, silent as they moved with increasing fervour. It wasn't long before they both climaxed with stifled cries — Hermione finishing just before Draco came in his pants, spasming against her back, his hands still in the junction between her thighs. After they had caught their breaths for a moment, Hermione reached for her wand and cast a quick scourgify on him, before laying back down on the bed.

Draco could hardly believe that had just happened. "Hermione, I —" She interrupted him, kissing him sleepily before laying her head across his chest.

"Sleep now. We can talk in the morning." She snuggled herself against him, seemingly without reservation.

"Promise?"

"Of course. It's not like I'm going anywhere. And I feel very relaxed and sleepy right now and I'd like to not spoil the moment."

He wrapped his arm around her, feeling very content to have the weight of her lying on his chest. "I'm holding you to that, Hermione."

He could wait until tomorrow to talk. Because for now, he was holding Hermione.

And that might be the best thing ever.