A/N: This is set in Hermione's and Draco's eighth year (so after the war), and it's AU. Technically, it can be seen as a continuation of the previous chapter, but it can also stand alone. Also, it contains references to chapter two of Sanctimonia Non Vincet Semper. The horizontal lines signify a change in PoV, so don't get confused. :)
I hope you enjoy it.
A Christmas Date
It felt good to be lost in the right direction for once in her life.
And quite literally, Hermione was lost – she had no idea where they were in the castle – but the important thing was that she was there with Draco. She felt lost on a different level as well, a level that had nothing to do with physics and everything with chemistry.
She had no idea what this evening, this date, would bring, but she relished in the feeling of not having a plan, of not having her life mapped out for her. There was something about Draco that simply felt right. Ron had never given her that feeling.
She still didn't understand how she had come to fall for Draco. There had been little things at first. Initially, she had an urge to protect him from bullies who thought he should pay for the mistakes of his father, for standing idly by when other students had been tortured by the Carrows. She hadn't understood why she felt compelled to help him. She hadn't even been sure she liked him then, but it had been the right thing to do. Something had changed about Draco after the war, something that had changed inside of Hermione, too. She couldn't help it. If he wasn't near, she suddenly felt as if she'd been filled and didn't realise it until the absence rushed back in and swallowed her. Though, she only realised all that too late when Draco had considered quitting school. She hadn't been able to let him go, forcing him to stay.
That had surprised her, surprised the both of them.
Hermione Granger had fallen for Draco Malfoy of all people. And he seemed to feel the same, too. But he fought it, every step on the way, thought he wasn't good enough for her; a Death Eater. He feared the reaction of other students, her friends, the press. Hermione, however, never gave in - she stayed even when he tried to push her away.
Now she gripped his hand tighter, as if to hold onto him, hold onto the feelings he evoked in her. The butterflies in her stomach, her pounding heart that had nothing to do with fear - for the first time in a long time.
"Where are you taking me?" she asked, a little breathless when Draco suddenly let go of her hand. He had folded a scarf over her eyes and taken a few detours, so she wouldn't know which way they were going.
A Christmas date. He had finally agreed to try, and she was buzzing with happiness and excitement.
Draco chuckled lowly, and she heard him walking up and down a short stretch of hallway. "Nearly there," he replied and eased a creaking door open.
Hermione's gut clenched in anticipation as she stepped forward, reaching for Draco. Her cheeks felt hot, and she nearly vibrated with exhilaration. Her impatience elicited yet another amused chuckle from Draco while he led her through the door. At once, the ground changed. Wooden planks were soft under her feet, making Hermione's head turn around in the hope of identifying her surroundings. But the scarf tinted everything in black.
After the door had been closed and locked, Draco pulled her forward again. A slightly salty breeze swept over them all of a sudden, and Hermione paused.
"Is that … the sea?" she asked, confused. The soft sound of waves seemed to reach her from far away.
"Shh," Draco whispered. "Take off your shoes."
"What?"
"Take off your shoes," he replied patiently. "What do you feel?"
A little insecure, she got rid of the sandals and her feet met warm, sandy floor. "Sand. A - a beach?" Her frown deepened. "I can hear the ocean, even smell it, but … that's impossible!"
Softly, Draco undid the knot behind her head and let the scarf fall to the ground. "And what do you see?"
She gasped and stared around with wide eyes. The Room of Requirement had really done a marvellous job. At the end of a wooden pathway, a blanket, candles, and food waited for them. The whole floor was wrapped into a thick carpet of sand, and where the walls and the ceiling should be, there was nothing but endless white beach, softly moving ocean, and starlit night sky. Of course, the walls were still there, but the illusion was good enough to let them forget that, to give them a taste of freedom.
"Wow!" was all Hermione was able to choke out.
Draco grinned from ear to ear as he lowered himself to the blanket. His surprise seemed to work. "You didn't think I had no present for you, did you?" Her gaze found his and it was full of wonder. "Merry Christmas, Hermione," he added gently and took her hand for a second, pulling her down to him.
She opened her mouth and closed it again, still speechless. It took her a moment to remember how to speak. "The Room of Requirement," she finally uttered. "Incredible." She let the sand run through her fingers. "You are incredible, Draco. Thank you so much."
Happiness bubbled up inside her like gas in sparkling wine. Her chest was too tight to contain all this joy, and tears welled up in her eyes. She couldn't believe he had done this for her, especially after the resistance he'd put up to dating in the first place. There was not a trace left of the Draco he'd been before the war.
"You're very welcome. Are you hungry?" He reached for a picnic basket.
"Starving, after you convinced me to change into a dress," Hermione replied with a crooked smile. She tugged at the seam of her knee-length cotton dress, whose colour varied from off-white to a nearly ivory shade with grey nuances. It had three-quarter sleeves and buttons down the front. She had opened the first three, revealing a simple silver necklace. It was a very casual dress, but Draco's gaze suggested that she looked stunning.
He didn't look too bad himself, she had to admit. The navy blue shirt brought out the blue speckles decorating his silver eyes.
"It was worth it, wasn't it?" he asked impishly, smoothing out nonexistent creases in his crisp shirt.
She shrugged and tried to push the sleeves a bit further down her arm to cover her scar. Mudblood. She hoped he wouldn't see it and suddenly remember who she was and who he was; remember the reason he loathed her and she despised him; remember why they shouldn't feel anything for each other.
But they did.
"Don't," he breathed. "You're beautiful. Perfect."
She looked questioningly at him for a second, then averted her gaze. He couldn't possibly mean that, could he? "Is there food now or not?" she asked roughly, trying to distract him.
Draco pushed the basket over to her and let her open it while he took two glasses and filled them with home-made lemonade. His old self would have probably ordered champagne, but he wasn't his old self anymore, and she appreciated that. She preferred something simple.
"Who prepared all this?" she asked, captured again by amazement. "I mean cold soup, couscous salad …" Her eyes widened. "Coronation Chicken? And here …" She took out a bowl with round brown balls. "Scotch Eggs! Really?"
"You don't like it?" Draco asked anxiously. "I've never prepared a picnic before; that is my mother's specialty." Quickly, he snapped his mouth shut as if he'd said too much.
She shook her head. "It's perfect. There's even Eton Mess as desert! You can't possibly have made that."
A lopsided smile danced onto his lips. "Why not?"
Hermione opened her mouth to answer, but he was faster. "You are right, of course. I didn't cook anything. I just asked the elves if they'd help me. I didn't expect all this!"
"Elves?" she asked, slightly alarmed. Had he ordered house elves to prepare this?
"They wanted to help me, believe me," he replied sincerely, as if sensing her dismay. She scrutinised him for a moment, but found nothing except for the honesty in his eyes.
"O-okay," she gave in and took a sip of the lemonade. "This is good. I can't believe how good this is."
Draco handed her a plate and she heaved food onto it. The elves had outdone themselves.
"I've never really celebrated Christmas like this, you know," Hermione suddenly disclosed between two spoons of tomato consommé. "I don't like to make something grand out of it. When we were at Hogwarts before, it was just Harry, Ron, and me, and sometimes Ginny, doing something together, something casual. And last year …" She interrupted herself. She didn't want to think about how they'd barely escaped Nagini by the skin of their teeth.
"Is it too much?" he asked, again anxious he had overwhelmed her with his efforts.
She let the happiness engulf her, wrapping the delight of this moment around her like a blanket. "Actually, it's nice," she smiled at him. "I don't need it, mind you, but I like it. It makes me feel … special."
"You are special to me," he answered huskily and suddenly blushed. He looked handsome and alive with his flushed cheeks.
Hermione also felt a bush blooming on her own face and quickly took another mouthful of soup. "Thank you," she muttered.
"You deserve to have some fun."
A ghost of a smile flickered across her face. "Do Slytherins know how to have fun?"
"Oh yes, glittering parties lasting the whole night." He reached for her hand, intertwining their fingers. "Is there anything you want, anything you'd wish for?"
She turned to him. "You mean I can wish for something from you? As a Christmas gift?"
He nodded. "Anything."
Hermione's eyes glittered mischievously when she answered him. "I want … a kiss."
Suddenly, Draco's mouth went dry. "Oh." He had hoped for something less… physical.
She pulled her mouth into a pout. "Come on, Draco. It's Christmas." She turned her head and leaned forward, so he only had a few inches to bridge. Her face seemed to glow in the silvery night – to him she was beautiful and he wanted nothing more than to accommodate her, to kiss her senseless. The way her lips called to him seemed like magnetism.
Quickly, Draco looked back into her eyes, but she still had the same expectant determination in them.
"O-okay," he mouthed, his voice too weak to speak. With one hand he framed her face, the other trailed along her arm to intertwine their hands. Then, very slowly, savouring the tension between them, he leaned forward and touched her lips with his. He had intended for it to be a light kiss, but her reaction took him by surprise.
Hermione seemed to moan deep in her throat and hungrily returned the kiss with so much passion that he couldn't help responding. The hand that had cupped her cheek travelled into her hair, and he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss. As inexperienced as he was with relationships, kissing he knew. Pansy had taught him a thing or two.
Finally, Hermione broke away, and he froze. Had he gone too far? Was it too much? She smiled at him as if the kiss had blown all of her worries away.
"I'm better now," she grinned, and it made his heart light. He had made her smile. Even if he had accomplished nothing else in his life, that would be something he could do, and it would always fulfill him. Through her, he would know what happiness felt like.
Then she added, almost as an afterthought, "Are you okay?"
"Yes," he answered as sincerely as he could. Being here, with her, was better than riding a broom, better than anything he had ever done in his whole life. And that kiss … oh, that kiss.
Hermione scrutinised him. Draco knew she was looking for the guilt he tried to suppress. He didn't deserve her, and he really shouldn't have kissed her. But he wanted to.
To distract her, he grabbed his plate and took a bite of the Scotch Eggs. She followed suit.
"I don't want you to feel like you can't come to me," Hermione said suddenly, her fork with the chicken hovering in front of her mouth. With a clink, she put it back down on the plate. "You don't need to shelter me. I don't want you to pretend you're fine when you're not."
Suddenly, the happiness he'd felt only a minute ago vanished. "Is it because I didn't tell you about the Quidditch accident?"
Hermione stared at him. "Accident? It was not an accident, Draco! Someone hurt you on purpose."
He shrugged. So much for keeping it casual tonight. It was no use to say that he deserved as much because she didn't see it this way. "It wasn't about sheltering you," Draco concluded. "Can we drop it?" His tone had been harsher than intended, and she flinched at it. He ignored her, biting into the chicken. It didn't taste half as good as when he last took a bite.
"Sorry," she murmured, finally. "I didn't want to spoil the evening."
He forced a smile on his face. "It's okay. You didn't spoil anything." He sighed. "And you were right, in a way, but not because I think you can't handle it, but because I don't want you to see the bad sides. I don't want you to blame yourself for anything."
Seemingly deep in thought, she chewed her couscous salad and swallowed. "Next time you'll tell me, okay?"
He looked into her determinedly burning eyes and knew he had lost. "Fine."
"And, actually, I don't want you to blame yourself either," she added forcefully. "I know you don't want to hear it, but nobody deserves to be beaten up or thrown out of a café just for the mistakes he made in his life."
"You call being a Death Eater a mistake?" he asked, incredulous.
"You were never a Death Eater, Draco, not the way the others were," she stated softly and reached for his hand. He didn't stop her from touching him, but he also didn't relax. "Besides, you were just a kid."
"I'm darkness, Hermione. I might not have been a Death Eater, but I'm not a good person. I deserve to be punished for the bad things I did." He let his shoulders slump and his head fall. "I really don't understand why you stay with me. Today … when I saw you with Ron …" He swallowed painfully. Harry and Ron visited Hermione at Hogsmeade for Christmas and he'd tagged along. "Ron deserves you. He's kind, and loyal, and strong, and much more of a hero than I am. I – I'm just nothing like that."
Draco felt her move rather than saw it. She cursed under her breath when she spilled her lemonade over the blanket, but that didn't stop her from crawling towards him until she could reach for his head and force him to face her. "I'm not looking for somebody with some superhuman gifts, a hero or fairytale prince, Draco. I want someone who understands, someone I don't need to be strong for, someone I can kiss. I want something just like this." With that, Hermione bent forward and crushed her lips to his.
Draco simply couldn't resist her - all his defences crumbled under her kiss, and he found himself returning it. He was instantly aware of every part of her body that was touching him, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her in closer. The need to touch every part of her was all consuming, and Draco lost himself in the passion of the kiss.
The temperature in the Room of Requirement must have risen ten degrees, and he didn't understand how his body could be so warm and yet still shiver.
Hermione wound her fingers through his hair. Her body seemed to mould against his as if she were liquid, and just like that, Draco knew that whatever he was feeling was mutual. She loved him back. She really bloody loved him. The thought was pure bliss, pure happiness, and it made him feel warm inside, like a fire burning within.
But then, abruptly, Hermione pulled away, hair mussed and lips slightly swollen, and stared at him.
"That was …" she whispered hoarsely.
"A hell of a kiss," Draco said, no less hoarsely.
"… wholly unexpected," she finished her sentence at the same time.
The stared at each other for a second, breathing hard, and Draco had to fight the urge to kiss her again.
"You can't tell me you didn't feel that," she whispered and tried to distance herself from him, but he wouldn't let her. He wanted to never let her go, wanted to touch her and keep her close forever.
"I …" he uttered helplessly. She loved him, true and unfeigned. She really wanted him, him – the Death Eater, him - with all his darkness and guilt. He still couldn't wrap his head around it.
"Love is not about deserving it, Draco – although you do! – love is a force of nature, an element, like air to breathe and earth to stand on. You can't stand in its way, and you sure as hell can't deny it. We are right for each other!"
"I …" he repeated. All she'd said sounded so right, so perfect. Could he allow himself to be happy? "I know," he gave in, forgetting logic for then.
He wanted nothing more than embrace the gift she had given him, the joy, the delight of her company, the almost painful happiness he'd felt when they'd kissed.
A roguish smile crept onto Hermione's lips, recognising his words as the defeat they were, and she leaned forward to kiss him again.
Later, after they had eaten all of the delicacies the elves had prepared for them, they sat down on the hammock that had appeared in midair and gazed up at the stars glittering on the ceiling sky above them. Hermione had never felt this good, so full and whole, in her life. Her head fit perfectly in the crook of Draco's neck, as if it was made for her.
"I have another surprise for you," Draco said gently and reached over to a low table where something big had been concealed with a cloth.
"Another one?" Hermione asked, grinning. "You spoil me."
He grinned back and removed the cloth with a sweeping movement, revealing an old gramophone. With a mischievous smile, Draco pressed play, and the gramophone came to life.
"What …?" Hermione asked amazed, but interrupted herself when the first notes of the song reverberated through the room. They seemed to touch something inside of her, making her heart swell. It was the band she had told him about, a dark night long ago when he'd wanted to run, to quit school and disappear to France; the night she'd realised her feelings; the night she'd convinced him to stay. Slowly, she turned to look at him, her eyes suddenly too bright. "You didn't forget," she whispered, her voice raw with unshed tears and emotion.
"Don't cry," Draco answered and pulled her close, letting her nestle her head on his shoulder.
"With the lights out, it's less dangerous. Here we are now, entertain us," Kurt Cobain sang in the background.
She could hardly speak through all her tears. "I'm not crying because I'm sad," she explained. She was happy, insanely happy; so happy, in fact, all she could do was cry.
Draco pulled her closer still and listened to the music. "Thank you for introducing me to Muggle music," he broke the silence after the song had ended.
She straightened herself, wiping her tears away and lifting her chin proudly. "You're welcome. How did you manage to get Muggle music to Hogwarts?"
Smugly, he grinned at her. "I have my ways."
Hermione tilted her head, her eyes glistening in the starlight. She'd felt so utterly lost after the war, and Draco had found her, held her together when she threatened to fall apart. Now, because of him, she wasn't lost anymore. This might have been the best Christmas ever, the best date ever. She couldn't remember having ever felt this joy.
"I think I love you, Draco Malfoy."
*Written for the Houses Competition, Year 2 - Round 7*
House: Ravenclaw
Category: Themed
Prompt: [First Line] It felt good to be lost in the right direction for once in his/her/their/my life.
W/C: 3, 398
