Author's Note: I'm not sure I picked the best title for this chapter. I wanted something Christmasy with an S. This chapter is pretty long—6500 words and brings you all the way through Christmas Eve. Blame Hermione for the delay—she's a hard girl to shop for. I could buy Draco presents all day. I'm going to go ahead and post this now before I can second guess any of it. Can't wait to hear what you think! Hope you like it as much as I do.
Chapter 24: Sugarplums
Draco and Hermione had only a minute to wait on the door step together before the door opened and Mrs. Weasley was there, beaming at them warmly. "Welcome, come in, come in, merry Christmas, to both of you," she said, ushering them in. "How was the Knight Bus, dears?" she asked.
The kitchen was warm and brightly lit, and several pots and pans all seemed to be busy doing things at once. Several voices could be hear from the living room. Draco was taken in by the stark contrast to what he was used to at the Manor. Clearly here, the kitchen was the heart of the house. One of the Weaslette's schoolbooks was on the table, and there were pictures of and from the children hanging up on the walls—some recent, some not. It wasn't quiet, but it didn't quite feel like a racket either. It was the noise of people living. He found it welcome. It wasn't 'til Hermione nudged him with her elbow that he realized Molly Weasley had asked him something. "Pardon?"
"The Knight Bus, it looks like it's left you a bit green. I have something for it if you'd like. The first trip on there is always the roughest."
He looked at the Weasley matriarch in surprise, wondering if she was being patronizing or taking any pleasure from his discomfort. With a shock, he realized she wasn't. She genuinely was sorry he felt sick. He realized he must look as bad as he felt. "Really, I'm okay. Thank you. It…it was a little rougher than I expected."
"Well, you won't have to face that again for a while. You and Hermione are welcome to stay as long as you like. I'm sure Ginny would enjoy having company through the new year when she goes back to school. It's so good to have her home again." She turned an eye on one of the spoons stirring something on the stove top—it had been tilting—and it righted itself under her gaze. "You poor things, you're still carrying your bags. I imagine you'll want to go put them up."
"We can put them up, but we'd be happy to stay here if you need a hand," Hermione offered. She imagined there'd be a lot of mouths to feed.
"Now where is it?" she muttered. She reached in her apron and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. "I might take you up on that later, Hermione, but I'e got everything under control for now. I've got a list here for where everyone is going to bunk. We've moved a few things things around. Let me see. Hermione, you'll be staying with Ginny. George is going to stay with Percy. Bill and Fleur will be in Bill's room when they get here. Charlie is all settled in Ron's room already, but if Andromeda and Teddy decide they want to stay the night, we'll make up the couch for Charlie, and Andromeda and Teddy can stay there up there. Draco, that leaves you and Harry in Fred and George's room. Harry's already put his things up. I'm afraid it still smells a bit like gunpowder, but you should be comfortable." Her voice caught a little on a couple of the names.
"I'll show you where the room is," Hermione offered. Draco nodded and climbed the stairs with her. She quietly pointed out the doors as they passed them. "That's Ginny's room there, and Bill's. If Harry has any sense, he'll be in there talking to Ginny." They climbed another flight. "There's Percy's room, and here's Fred and George's room." She knocked on the door once to check and see if Harry was in, and when there was no response, she opened it.
The room did smell a bit like gunpowder, and though it had clearly been tidied recently, there were signs of the previous habitation all over the place, as if whoever had tidied it hadn't want to really disturb anything. There were signs of half finished projects and products, but there were also two neatly made-up beds, and the linens smelled freshly laundered.
"I guess George couldn't stay in here. It's the only thing I can think of that would have possessed him to share a room with Percy," Hermione said, sitting on one of the beds. A backpack she recognized as Harry's was sitting at the foot of it.
"They don't get along?" Draco asked. He'd wondered sometimes what having a sibling was like. Generally he liked that he was the sole focus of his parent's attention growing up. Most of the time anyway.
Hermione snorted quietly and smiled. It seemed a good time for a little family history lesson. "It's an understatement. Percy was always very stiff, very academic. I think it was his coping mechanism for being a bit awkward. Bill was the oldest, and he was a Prefect, and Head Boy. It set a tough act for everyone else to follow. I know Ron felt the pressure. Anyway, Charlie was next, and he was apparently the last decent Seeker Gryffindor had until Harry came along. And he was the Captain of the team, and a Prefect." Hermione shook her head. "I've also rather gathered that the pair of them were fairly popular and made friends easily. Percy threw himself into academics—he is very smart, and hardworking—and he did match Bill's awards as Prefect and Head Boy. But I don't think he made friends easily, so he tried to compensate. Then Fred and George came along. They had each other and didn't need much else. They were funny and brilliant and made friends easily. They didn't match his academic achievements and didn't want to. And now, Fred's gone."
Draco understood, looking around at the things scattered over the desk. "A big family has an entirely different set of pressure than being an only child I guess."
The brunette nodded, smoothing the bedspread without thinking. It had lilies on it, and she was sure that it wouldn't have been on the bed when Fred and George had lived in this room. She imagined Molly must have taken it out of storage when she found out the house would be filling up with people. "If you go up to the next floor, there's the bathroom. One floor up from that is Molly and Arthur's room. And at the top is Ron's old room. Harry would stay there with him during the summers. I wonder if Harry asked not to stay there, or if Molly just thought it would be too hard for him."
"I asked," Harry said, appearing in the doorway. "I told her I could stay anywhere else."
"Harry!" Hermione said, getting up and crossing the room to hug him. "You ought to be talking to Ginny."
"I have been, and I will be," he said. "I needed a break." He gave Draco a weak smile. "Hey, roommate. I hope you don't mind."
"It beats an empty flat." He set his bag down on the free bed.
"Or an empty house," Harry agreed. "When Charlie gets back, we're going to try to throw together a Quidditch game. Do you want to play?"
There was a glimmer of hope on Draco's face. He wondered whether he could fly a broom at all without his magic. He might be able to as the broom itself was enchanted.
"No," Hermione said firmly. She looked at Harry. "You know he's on probation."
"The Ministry can't know if he's flying."
She looked down her nose at Harry. "That's not the point. The point is to spend a year without magic. I went to the Ministry and asked for permission just to get him here on the Knight Bus."
Harry rolled his eyes. "That doesn't use any magic, other than summoning it. I side-along Apparated Malfoy to Andromeda's house."
"I'm still not sure the Ministry couldn't send him to Azkaban over that," she said, biting her lip.
"They can't know, and won't know."
Hermione frowned. "If you want to side-along Apparate him, that's between the two of you, but I gave my word that if I brought Draco into a wizarding household for the holidays, I wasn't going to give him access to any magic, so no flying."
Draco was torn between amusement at the pair of them arguing, and frustration at the pair of them talking as if he wasn't there. "I am here, you know. I suppose an hour of Quidditch isn't worth risking sharing a cell with my father."
Harry shrugged. "Well, Charlie should be here soon, so we'll be playing out in the paddock beyond the orchard if you two want to come watch."
"If Molly doesn't need too much help, I'd love to come watch," Hermione said.
Harry looked at her skeptically.
"Well, not the Quidditch so much, but it'd be good to see everyone," she conceded. Harry chuckled and headed out.
Hermione looked around the room. She hadn't spent much time in here during their Hogwarts days—the twins were always blowing something up—but she could feel both Fred and George strongly here. "I suppose I'd better go put my things up in Ginny's room. And I'm going to take my presents down and put them under the tree in the living room. Do you want to go watch them play? Or are you going to stay up here? I imagine Charlie should be here soon."
Draco inhaled deeply. He wasn't a fan of the gunpowder scent. How many explosions had to have happened in this room for it to linger so long? "I'll take my presents out of my bag and meet you downstairs." He sat on the bed a few minutes longer and ran his fingers over the careful stitching on the bedspread. He said he'd come here if Molly Weasley really welcomed him in with open arms, and she had. What type of woman was she, that after everything she'd lost…she could still open her home to the son of Death Eaters? To a young man with the Dark Mark on his arm? How selfless was that? How loving?
"Gryffindors are mad," he said quietly. But there was no vehemence behind his words. It humbled him (a little) to realize how grateful he was that all of these ridiculous Gryffindors were looking after him. Hermione had done more this year than he could ever repay. He'd tried to stop keep score—he'd never catch up. And Potter was forming a new family and had invited him in. And Mrs. Weasley…Mrs. Weasley hadn't looked at Draco any differently than she'd looked at Hermione.
He felt a little sick, and it wasn't just the Knight Bus. He'd always mocked the Weasleys for having so little—admittedly part of him still wasn't sure that he wasn't going to wake up with this bedroom sitting down on the floor below if a strong wind hit—but here he was, and he was being offered a free share of anything they had for celebrating the holidays. He looked at the small pile of presents he'd brought and wondered if they were really enough. He could be sitting alone in his flat right now, staring at the walls and waiting for Hermione to come back from here. But here he was. He shook his head at the humor of life, and carefully stacked presents in his arms to bring them downstairs to the tree.
He ran into a redhead he didn't recognize on the stairs and nearly lost his parcels, but the man steadied the stack. "Careful! I'll be down in a moment, just let Harry know I've got to change," the man called out over his shoulder as he pounded up the rest of the stairs at speed.
Draco looked around to see who the man was talking to and realized he must have been talking to him. He'd never seen him before, but based on the way he was hauling ass to the top of the building, Draco guessed he must be….was it…Charles? Charlie? He shook his head and went downstairs. He found Harry engaged in a conversation with George and a man with a scar on his face. A broomstick was leaning against the wall. Mr. Weasley was talking to a young man in horned rim glasses.
Draco felt rather self-conscious as he tucked his presents beneath the tree. He wasn't sure who to approach. He'd try Potter. "Someone running up the stairs said to tell you he'd be down in a minute," he offered.
"Great. Then we can get started. I haven't been flying in a long time," Potter said. "Are you and Hermione coming?"
"She should be down in a moment," Draco said. He stood there a little awkwardly. He fell back on his manners. He wasn't sure he really needed to introduce himself in this house—surely they knew who he was, even if he didn't know all the Weasleys by sight. He turned too Mr. Weasley. "Thank you for inviting me over for the holidays. Please let me know if there's anything I can do to help."
Arthur Weasley smiled back. It was a real smile, though he was tired. He was glad that everything seemed to be coming together. New life had flowed into Molly throughout all the preparations. Charlie had come home a week early to surprise them, and Bill and Fleur were here now. Percy was living at home again. Harry and Hermione were here for the first time since Ron… It was good to have everyone here. "Most certainly. We're glad to have you. We may need a hand in a while bringing the extra chairs in from the shed."
Draco was saved from further conversation by Hermione coming down the stairs, accompanied by the Weaslette and the man who'd passed Draco on the stairs. As Hermione settled her parcels under the tree, Ginny spoke to the room at large. "Everybody's here? Quidditch! Or mum will make me stay and help with the puddings," she whispered.
The whole troop of them marched out of the house, leaving Mrs. Weasley alone with Fleur to tend dinner. Draco followed all of the redheads across the property and to the broom shed where most of them grabbed brooms, and he found himself and Hermione carrying a case with balls in it. As they passed through the orchard, they entered a well concealed paddock.
"We can play Quidditch here without the Muggles seeing us, as long as we don't fly too high," Charlie explained.
It turned out that the game of Quidditch was not going to quite resemble the game as Draco knew it. The mob of people did choose sides, and evidently the man in the glasses—Percy—was going to keep score. There was no seeker, but there was a Quaffle, and one bludger. The man with the scar and George had bats. Two trees were designated as the goals.
Hermione and Draco sat at the edge of the paddock on the case that had held the balls and watched the game. "It'd be fun to see Charlie and Harry go head to head Seeking, but they don't quite have enough people for it," Hermione said quietly.
They cheered for both teams, and eventually Percy stopped bothering to keep score and started telling Hermione and Draco about his current position at the Ministry. Draco could see why he hadn't been popular in school—he seemed to only be able to see as far as the end of his nose—but he kept a polite smile on his face, and an eye on the game.
An hour later, the players all came down, cold, flushed, and tired, but happy. Mr. Weasley argued that if he would have been on a steadier broom, he would have managed to block his daughter's last shot.
As they tramped back through the snow to the house, twilight was approaching. Draco could see the lights in the windows, and smoke coming from at least one chimney. Hermione had been right. It did look cozy.
There was a bit of a whirlwind as furniture was brought in and made to fit in the kitchen (and hanging out into the living room) for everyone. Mrs. Weasley sent everyone upstairs to get changed after the tables and chairs were in position and told Hermione and Ginny to come back and help with the last of the meal preparation. Draco and Harry were called upon to set the table. Percy and George were roped into pouring drinks for everyone. Mrs. Weasley got a little sidetracked once or twice by the enchanted mistletoe she and Mr. Weasley happened to find themselves under together.
As Draco set out plate after plate, and Harry set out the silverware, Draco asked quietly, "Potter, do you know anything about Christmas carols?"
Potter looked at him in surprise and nearly dropped the pile of forks in one hand. "Christmas carols?"
"Yes, Christmas carols, Potter." He darted a glance at Hermione at the other end of the kitchen. "I know there's singing and tramping in the snow. It's for Hermione. What do you know about Christmas carols?" He could hardly believe he was having to ask this.
"Christmas carols," Potter muttered, looking at Hermione and Ginny. "The Dursleys never took me out caroling, but I know some songs. You wander around and knock on strangers' doors and sing songs."
"Do you think we could do it here?" he asked.
"The village isn't that far a walk. We could manage," Harry said, setting out the last of the knives and forks.
Draco nodded. "After dinner then."
"I'll see if anyone else will go too."
Andromeda Flooed in with Teddy in a sling on her back just as they'd finished setting the table and was ushered out to the living room to be introduced to everyone who wasn't in the middle of preparations.
At last, the table groaned under the weight of all the food. A dozen mismatched chairs and a high chair were squeezed around the table and extra table that had been brought in. Everyone was invited to come in and eat, and Draco found himself seated between Hermione and Potter.
There was plenty of food for everyone, and there were drinks aplenty. Teddy's high chair was squeezed between Molly and Andromeda, and they both doted on him. He even had a stripe of ginger hair before the meal was over. Draco hadn't been sure what he was going to say to any of these people, but there were always at least 3 conversations going at once, and one of them generally had something he could chime in on. Molly Weasley varied between doting on Teddy, making sure everyone had plenty, asking around the table at how everyone was, and despairing Bill's hair, though Fleur was sure to point out that she liked it, and really what else mattered?
Harry and Charlie were engaged in a conversation on Quidditch tactics for a chunk of the evening, and Hermione darted from conversation to conversation—she was animatedly speaking to both George and Percy at one point, and Ginny was trying to tell her about her term at school, and she still checked in with Draco to make sure he was faring okay in the crowd. He gave her an encouraging smile. Someone asked them how the Knight Bus was, and Draco retorted that he'd rather give Muggle transportation a try next time, leading to a rather involved discussion between Mr. Weasley and Hermione on what sort of Muggle transportation was available.
The general noise was more than Draco was used to, but it wasn't overwhelming. Any bickering was goodnatured, and generally based on a lifetime of history. There was something comfortable about it all, in a place where he would have never expected to be comfortable.
When Draco thought his stomach couldn't take anything else, Mrs. Weasley announced dessert. The party moved into the living room, except for Bill and Charlie, who'd been designated to bring out tea and cake. Hermione and Draco and Harry and Ginny all carried extra chairs into the living room and they all sat around the wireless.
Draco listened with only half an ear as Fleur described the changes they'd made to Shell Cottage, and Percy and Mr. Weasley expressed differing political ideas. He hardly noticed that Harry had gotten up and was whispering something to Mrs. Weasley until he walked back over to where Andromeda was and started playing with Teddy. He didn't talk much during this part of the evening, but basked in the comfort around him. Not luxury like he was accustomed to, but comfort.
Finally, Harry and Ginny pulled Draco and Hermione back to the kitchen waved at Mrs. Weasley. "Come on, go get your coats, we've got to go," Ginny said brightly.
"Where are we going?" Hermione asked, looking back at the party in the other room.
"Caroling. Go get your coats," Ginny ordered. In almost no time at all, all four of them were headed out the kitchen door.
"Caroling in the snow, just what you ordered, isn't it?" Draco said, looking at Hermione. He kicked a bit of snow with the toe of his shoe.
Harry passed Draco and Ginny a sheet of parchment. "I wrote out the words for a couple of the shorter songs."
Ginny lead the way, and they found themselves at a house shaped like a Rook and she approached the door. "Okay, so Hermione, how do we do this?"
Hermione chuckled weakly. "Let's start singing and then you knock on the door. Here, this one isn't too hard."
They all began to sing.
We wish you a Merry Christmas
We wish you a Merry Christmas
We wish you a Merry Christmas
And a happy new year!
Good tidings we bring,
To you and your kin,
Good tidings for Christmas and a happy new year
At the bottom of the page, Harry had scrawled—"Start again from the top."
And so they did, while Ginny knocked on the door.
Looney Luna Lovegood was the last person Draco expected to see on the other side of it, and almost choked on his song.
"Daddy! Come see! Someone's come to bring Christmas cheer," she said brightly.
Xenophilius Lovegood had recovered somewhat under his daughter's care from where he'd been the year before. "Are they here to sing for their supper like Whistling Whirley Warblers?" he asked.
Draco groaned, and Hermione laughed. "We couldn't eat another bite. But we did think to come and sing."
Luna ushered them in and asked her father to make tea. There were holly leaves and red berries throughout her platinum hair. Draco flinched from the smile on her face—she'd been a prisoner in his house for months. He hadn't freed her. He'd just stood by. This was where the Weaslette led them for caroling? Potter had said the Muggle village wasn't far.
They drank peppermint tea, and Hermione taught them another song, this one about flying reindeer, which still seemed ridiculous to Draco, but it seemed to spark the Lovegoods' interest.
When the kettle was empty they looked for their coats to move on. To Draco's surprise, Luna Lovegood came over to him. He flinched, not sure what to expect. He was baffled when she hugged him and whispered in his ear. "You were scared, and lost, just like the rest of us. I don't hate you, Draco Malfoy. Happy Christmas." She tucked a spring of berries behind his ear and announced, "That will protect you from wrackspurts. Would anyone else like one?" She reached into her hair and pulled out another sprig of berries. Rather than argue with the dreamy eyed girl, the Gryffindors all accepted and thanked her.
They left the house and trudged through the snow in the general direction of the village. There wasn't much snow, but the wind was starting to blow. They turned their collars up and headed back to the Burrow. Ginny and Harry took the lead, and Draco walked behind with Hermione.
"I'm sorry we didn't make it down to sing with the Muggles."
"You tried. Thank you, Draco," she said, reaching out and squeezing his hand.
By the time they all reached the house, it was later than they'd realized. Andromeda and Teddy had departed for the night, and both Mr. and Mrs. Weasleys were both seriously considering heading for their beds, given that they'd tackled a veritable mountain of dishes between them all. "Did you all have a nice time?" asked Arthur.
"We did."
Ginny pulled the holly berries out of her hair. "I'm not sure these are really my color, but they were a gift from Luna."
Molly smiled sadly. "I invited the Lovegoods over tonight, but Luna said her father still gets uneasy in large crowds." The whole throng sat quietly for a while, and listened to the wireless until the two married couples took themselves off to bed. Charlie, Percy, and George were engaged in a game of Exploding Snap and only called it a night when Percy lost most of one eyebrow. The bright side was that George cracked a smile, and pushed his shaggy hair out of his face.
"And then there were four," Hermione said.
"Three," Harry corrected. "I'm beat, and I'm going to Andromeda's after breakfast tomorrow."
Ginny's eyes followed him as he went up the stairs. She shook her head. "I'm going to turn in too, or the mad guy in the red suit with flying deer won't come bring me any toys, right?" she asked.
Hermione applauded her grasp of Muggle culture. "I'll be up soon. I'd just like to have another cup of tea."
"I'll make some," Draco offered.
Hermione chuckled. "You don't know where anything is in that kitchen. I'll do it. But thanks."
Draco followed her into the kitchen anyway. He wasn't in a hurry to get back on the Knight Bus. May as well know where all the tea and cups were kept. They were quiet as Hermione went about the business of making them each a cup of tea. "Thank you for earlier," she said, handing it to him. "And thank you for coming with me here. It'd be a lot harder to get through the next couple of days without you."
He took the mug and let it warm his hands. "Anytime. I'm sorry we didn't make it to the village."
"It doesn't matter."
There was a pause. "And thank you."
She arched an eyebrow. "For what? Dragging you halfway across the country on a death-bus?"
He pushed his hair back. "For including me. I could be sitting alone in my flat right now, staring at the walls and waiting for the outside world's Christmas cheer to go away."
"I wouldn't have let you," she said.
"And you think you're in charge of everything?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow back at her.
"Well, I was always the bossy one. Planning's part of my job. I wouldn't have let you spend the holidays alone. I'm not sure I could have spent the holidays by myself. Or that I could have come here on my own. I'm glad to see them all, but….I put it off for so long, I was nervous. And I know why. I hear the hitch in Mrs. Weasley's voice when she says Ron or Fred's names. And it's a hard habit not to refer to George as 'Fred and George' or 'the twins'." She shook her head. "Even in Mrs. Weasley's worst nightmares they were still together." She wiped her eyes. Damn it. When had she started crying?
He rested a hand on her shoulder, not sure what else to do. "Come on. I have something for you," he said, guiding her back to the living room. He got down on his knees and dug in the pile of presents until he found what he was looking for. "I know Christmas isn't until tomorrow, but at home, we always opened our stockings the night before." He handed her a Christmas stocking. Hermione laughed and Draco suddenly felt self-conscious. He'd chosen a stocking with a cat on it. He thought she liked cats. "What's wrong with it?" he asked.
"Nothing…it's…I asked your mother what Christmas traditions you had. I have a stocking for you too. It's why I stayed down here when Ginny went upstairs. I wanted to be sure you got it tonight. Half a moment." She kneeled beside him and found the stocking she'd brought and handed it to him. "Open them together?" she offered.
He nodded and opened his. He found himself looking at journal with a leather cover, with a pen strapped to it. The cover was soft, and the pages looked thick enough that ink wouldn't bleed, even if he used a quill.
Hermione was busy watching his reaction and hadn't opened her own stocking yet. "Is it okay?" she asked, a little concerned. "The last few times I've been over, I've seen scraps of paper around, usually in your rubbish bin. I thought…maybe if you had a place to keep it all, you'd be less inclined to throw away whatever it is you're writing."
Draco's mouth hung open for a moment. He hadn't told her about his writing. She'd noticed his failed attempts? "It's perfect. Now open yours, or we'll be down here all night."
Hermione reached into her stocking and pulled out a small wrapped gift. She carefully tore open the paper, and found herself looking at a little music box. She opened the lid and bit her lip as the melody began.
"I saw you looking at it when we were shopping the other day. You picked it up for a long time, but you put it back with this downcast look on your face. I went back and got it the next day. I'm sorry. I can take it back and get you something else." Merlin, he was rambling. I thought I'd picked out something she liked and just wouldn't buy herself.
Hermione found her voice. "It's perfect. It's beautiful. It's…the song my mother used to hum to me when she was getting me ready for bed, or getting me up in the morning before school." She reached over and hugged him with one arm, the music box still cradled in the other. "Thank you."
"Are you surer?"
She wiped her eyes. "Yes."
Draco sat back on his heels and then did his best to get up without crushing any of the presents. The tone of voice said that she did like it, but just couldn't continue that vein of conversation. He tried to lighten the mood. "It's going to be a madhouse in the morning, isn't it?" He saw Hermione looking for a way to stand up and offered his hand.
She grasped it and he pulled her to her feet. "Oh, it'll be a bit chaotic. But I like it. I'm sure you can picture it. There will be wrapping paper everywhere, and people will be laughing and smiling, and then we'll all have breakfast."
He shook his head. "If I hadn't been here tonight, I'd never be able to picture it. I don't think I've ever sat down to a meal with so many people outside of Hogwarts."
Hermione stood there, holding the stocking and her music box in her hands. "They're good people. They've always treated Harry and I like family. I think one of the things Harry always liked best was that Mrs. Weasley treated him like one of her own boys, and not some celebrity. The Weasleys certainly treat Harry better than his own family." She swallowed. "With my parents gone now…the people here are the family I have left now." She changed topics and moved toward the stairs. They really ought to be going to bed. "Is it hard? Being away from your parents right now? I chose to send mine away. I…I knew the risks. I had hoped it might be reversible, but I knew…" Somehow, she had sunk down onto the bottom step, as though her legs just weren't up to the task of holding her up anymore. Draco sat himself down on the step beside her, a little close in the narrow stairway. It was moment before he decided to let the words out that he'd been holding back for months.
"The truth is, I hate my parents sometimes. I feel like a heel saying that, especially to you. They're my parents, I love them. But I resent them. The last few months, and even longer, I've wondered what my life would have looked like if they'd made different choices. Raised me differently. Maybe I wouldn't have been on the wrong side of the war. Or sitting here now."
"Can't change it now."
"Wondering isn't going to do anything, but…" he shrugged. "I always mocked the Weasleys, but…a person could do a lot in life worse than grow up in this house, filled with people who give a damn about you." It was an odd feeling. They'd made him welcome today, though Salazar knew they'd had no reason to.
She nodded in agreement. "My parents were good to me, but I do sometimes wonder what it would have been like not to grow up as an only child. And my parents were proud of my magic once they'd found out it was real and we weren't all just losing out minds—but they didn't always understand it, and we grew apart. We lived more and more in two different worlds. I wonder what it would have been like to have parents who were wizards." Hermione leaned back with her elbows on one of the higher steps and sighed. She looked up. A bunch of mistletoe was hovering over their heads. "Leave it to Fred and George to come up with floating mistletoe."
"It is Christmas."
"It is. And we should probably sleep." Hermione tried to sit herself up and found her elbows stuck to the stair. "You've got to be kidding me," she said, shaking her head. "Leave it to the twins."
"What?" Draco asked.
"Try to get up."
Draco struggled and found that he wasn't going anywhere. "Any thoughts?"
"Enchanted mistletoe. I don't think we can get up unless we kiss." She took a breath, looking at him in the dim light. The fire in the fireplace in the other room was nearly dead. A little starlight came in through the windows.
"I suppose we could call for George to come break the charm."
"Or we could just take care of it. No sense in waking the whole household."
"It would make more sense," he agreed, looking at her. There was a pause.
"Are you going to?" she asked.
"Going to…?"
"Kiss me. So we can get out from under the mistletoe and go to bed. To sleep. I don't intend to spend the evening stuck leaning on my elbows on the stairs. I can't even sit up."
Draco took a breath and looked at her. She looked quite serious. He tried to make out the other expression on her face—nervousness? eagerness? impatience? It was hard to tell. He leaned himself down on one elbow and pushed her hair back from her face, his hand lingering on her cheek. He leaned down and kissed her, lips pressing against lips. It only lasted for one, breathless moment, but he was sure she was kissing him back. She smelled like lavender shampoo. He dropped his hand down from her face as they pulled apart.
She looked up at the ceiling. "The mistletoe's gone. It's floating off on the other end of the room. I guess it's set to move off once you've kissed." She didn't move. "That was…nice."
He looked at her with wounded pride. "I'd like to hope I could manage better than nice, even at an awkward angle under mistletoe in the middle of the night."
Hermione's face might possibly have been a little pink, but it was hard to tell without decent light. "Fine. It was better than nice. And we ought to go to bed. It's late."
"You're right," Draco said, eying the mistletoe where it hung innocently from nothing 15 feet away. He pulled himself to his feet and offered Hermione a hand, which she took. They gathered up their Christmas stockings and climbed the stairs together.
Hermione said goodnight and quietly entered Ginny's room to settle herself in for the evening.
Draco climbed to the next landing and eased the door open to the room he was sharing with Harry. He banged his knee into a chair in the dark, but managed to find his way to the bed and find his pajamas in his bag by feel. He got changed in the dark, the only light coming in through the window. He could hear Harry snoring faintly. He let out a breath. For months, Draco had very deliberately not being thinking about certain things. Some things were too difficult or too confusing or just too exhausting—like how he felt about his parents. He had a feeling that all the things he didn't want to think about or label might very well be catching up to him. He couldn't even completely explain to himself why he was here of all places. A few months ago he would have thought the entire prospect unthinkable, but here he was. He'd carried plates and chairs with Potter and the Weasleys as if he were one of them. And it had felt nice to belong.
His mind drifted passed other things that he hadn't put a name to, hadn't labeled this year. Why was he so dead set on wanting to switch to a job with daytime hours? The pay was unlikely to be better than where he was at now. Why had he let himself be dragged halfway across the country on that damn death-bus?
Knowing that sleep wasn't going to come easily tonight, he touched the cover of the journal Hermione had given him. He sat up in bed and started write in the moonlight that came through.
Hermione lay awake on the camping bed in Ginny's room. She'd set the music box and Christmas stocking by her bag of things. She rolled over, her lower lip between her teeth. She could almost feel his hand on her cheek. She hadn't been kissed like that in a long time.
She also knew, she had lied.
She knew now, that when Harry had asked her about herself and Draco, she'd thought she was telling the truth. She was happier around him than without him, and she didn't care why he was there. But now…she very much wanted to know why he spent time with her. And whether or not he was going to disappear in seven months when he got his magic back.
Author's Note: Was the mistletoe a little too cliche? I figure moving, enchatned mistletoe is just the sort of thing Fred and George might have come up with last Christmas, but have been unable to really launch at the time.