Chapter Three

Christmas Day

Part One

She couldn't help herself, Hermione twirled in the dress, it flying out around her, her hair in her face (sleek from a self-made spell). Like a child, she giggled, a bit dizzy from the motion.

It was silly, how she was acting, as though she were a school-girl! Those days had long past her, and even then she had been quite mature. At the very least, she could say that she owed herself a few private moments to capture the girl that remained in her heart.

Haltering she stumbled, falling backwards on her bed, bouncing from the springs. Her hands roamed appreciatively over the softest material she ever grazed.

Hermione had never been poor, she grew up very well off, but she was not like Malfoy. The finest things were out of her reach, and she never cared. She thrived on knowledge and helping rather than money. Even still, it was nice, to have a such a fine thing.

She laced her neck with a matching green necklace of sparkling leaves. Looking herself over in her full length mirror behind her door, inspecting the light makeup one last time, she approved herself. There was not much else to be done.

It was nearing eight o'clock too, and it was far time that she announced herself at his house. Gentle wings of butterflies flapped in her stomach. It was the kind of nervous that she loved. She didn't date often, but when she did, she loved to feel those butterflies. Although she never expected in her wildest dreams that she would ever get them for Malfoy.

Her reflection shook her head. Of all people, I had to choose Draco Malfoy. That wasn't right, in fact, if she wanted to be defensive (and correct) it was Malfoy that chose her. All she wanted was that bloody book!

Hermione took a final survey of herself in the mirror. Satisfied, she quickly made her way to the fireplace. Before she entered she shook her hands at her sides and inhaled deeply, ridding of her jitters. It felt like Neville's forever-living toad was taking refuge in her stomach.

It was ironic, considering her and Malfoy's history she should have been more nervous due to the chance that he would harm her, if anything other than being a dirty mudblood, in retaliation of the death of his parents years previously. She didn't kill them, but she was fighting on the side that had.

Despite that, she was nervous simply to spend such an important holiday with him. They weren't even friends. Or where the now? Because of proxy? Did Christmas make them friends? Did she want that?

Yes. She did.

Into the smearing embers, a handful of ashes in her hold, she called out the address to the Malfoy Manor. In a green flash and sickening spin, she was on her way.

***

The first thing that Hermione saw was a pallid hand. She accepted it, and with her free hand she tried to shake the ashes from her hair and shoulders, stepping out into a soft red and green glow.

In the light Malfoy looked a tad scary in his black slacks and snow-white button top, a demon with angel eyes as he devoured her. He raked those eyes over her, not in the wolf-whistling manner that many men did, but in an appreciative way a dehydrated man would accept a glass of water. As if he would never drink again...

"Thank you for your invite, Malfoy."

"It's my pleasure, Granger," he exhaled.

Shyly she looked over the lounge. It was large enough to hold her whole house! She wondered, what could he have possibly done with it all, but if she thought harder she could recall a conversation months past. Someone was discussing the use of the Manor for charity events, and she smiled, glad to know that good was coming out of such a horrid place.

Bringing herself back she found the culprit to the lovely hues in the lights strung everywhere. The nine-foot-tall tree completed with shining glass balls and small glittering fairies, the mantle, the framed scenic photographs, and outlining the floor to ceiling windows... They were wrapped everywhere. It was every other bulb of green and red, and she looked up to spot the chandelier (the very one that fell on top of her years ago) to find wooden beams arched above her, and those had lights as well, garland twisting around them like an evergreen snake.

"This is... Beautiful. But where is the chandelier?"

His face became a stone of graveness. "I don't want to talk about that day."

She met his eyes, though it was hard because she remembered those eyes. She connected with them while his aunt tortured her. She had focused on the storm inside of him whilst she listened to the rage in the cellar. It tore her heart out that day, to think that she was to die and leave all of them. To leave Malfoy unprotected in the hands of people that in the end would kill him. It didn't matter of their allegiances. He was her age, he was just a boy, and he was scared.

"Draco," she spoke his name for the first time, and there was a spark of something in him that showed. "I don't blame you for that night."

He turned from her, to the window, where outside full clouds gathered in the sky. He looked up, just as he had that night. Except there was a difference, and that was in his features where it showed his health, the brightness of him that lit brighter than the thousands of lights he used.

"I blame myself. Hermione," he said her name in relent, but not in the way she said his. It was as though he said hers a million times before. "I don't want to say I know what it was like for you, but it was killing me. Watching you like that. Bloody hell, it was one of the worst days of my life. There was so much blood. I've seen it loads of times, but it was yours. It was the same blood I made fun of, that I loathed, and there it was, on my floor, glass surrounding you - on you."

He fists tightened. "I realized then, you know. How little it mattered. It was the same as mine. If I was bleeding to death with you, if it was my blood there, no one would tell the difference. At first I was sad by that, then sickened, then... Relieved. I wished to be like you, to have someone pull me out of that wreckage. For a split second, I wanted to go with you and your friends. I hoped that they would offer, that someone would save me. But no one did, and it was too late when I considered Dumbledore's pledge to keep me and my family safe. I thought I had no choice. I did. I'm sorry. I can't change my past and I'm trying for my future - to make up for it."

A warm trickle of a tear leaked out of the crinkle of Hermione's eye, sliding down her cheek. She stood behind Malfoy - Draco... She stood behind Draco, and placed her hand on his shoulder. It tensed and then relaxed.

"I forgive you. Forgive yourself. You were just a boy."

"I was a man. I had responsibilities."

"Please."

He looked over and down at her, and astonishingly pressed his lips to the part in her hair. She didn't know how long they stayed that way, but she wished to never move. It felt... Complete. It was odd, she never knew there was a piece missing.

He moved from her to the coat rack by the door. He got his cloak and swung it around her, clasping the gold buckle below her neck, and lifted her hood. "Lets try not to catch a cold, eh?"

"What are you doing?"

"You thought this was it? No. I want you to come outside, I have a present for you."

"The gown was gift."

"I'm a liar."

She sighed exasperatedly. "What is it?"

"Take my hand." He held it out, and again, she accepted.

***

Solid ground was below her, cold wind on her face. She squeezed, not letting go of Draco's hand as she opened her eyes.

In front of her was beauty. A frozen pond, cast blue in the low light of the gray sky, dying sprouts of grass, and surrounding trees sparkling with ice. She was rendered speechless by it all.

"We're a couple of miles from the house, behind the cluster of trees. The property extends for another three miles ahead."

Her head reeled. "It's gorgeous..."

"Have you ever skated?"

"In France."

He shot a shocked expression down at her. "France?"

"My parents travel a lot. Every Christmas we'd go there, and my mum would shop, my dad would take extended naps, and I'd sit on the balcony of our hotel and read. But it was skating that we did as a family. There was this huge rank, and with my mum at one side and my dad on the other, we'd skate as a family. Once, my dad rented out the whole rink for just the three of us. It was the most perfect Christmas..."

"I know."

Suspicious she slid her hand out of his. "How do you know?"

He set his jaw, staring forward. "I'm not proud of it."

"How do you know," she reiterated.

He rounded on her. "Know this, I had my sights set on you from the beginning, since you were on the train looking for that ruddy toad. My father told me all of my life that I can spot a mudblood and you proved me wrong. I thought you were pure, and when you put on that hat, when you got placed in Gryffindor, when Nott told me what you were... I hated you. I wanted to make you miserable because I couldn't have you. You and your bloody friends. I hated you so much I loved you. And when mother and father died..." His eyes glistened. "It took more effort than I ever thought possible to stop hating you and to love you with the purity I thought myself to be. My father's last words were sorry. Sorry, Granger. He was wrong. We all were."

Her fingers twitched, wanting to wipe the tear that escaped him. It was unnerving, to see him cry, but at the same time, it was comforting. It showed him to be true to what he said. Not that she had any reason to doubt him anymore.

"I'm not happy about what I did," he continued, "I screwed up my whole life. I didn't want to waste the rest of it. Nott works in Magical Corrections, and... He owed me a couple of favors."

Her stomach plummeted. "Are you saying you had him spy on me?"

"The last condemnable act I will do. I had to do this. It was my last chance."

She pieced it together in her head. "This... Me... You're correcting everything through me."

"Damn it, you're not getting it!" He stepped closer to her and she stepped back.

The swirling and sinking feeling of being tricked and degraded settled over her. "You want me to redeem your name."

"You're putting words into my mouth, Granger!"

"Is it true?"

The silence that ensued spoke volumes. He was debating whether or not to tell the truth. "...Partly."

She held out her hand. "Take me home."

"Listen -"

"Take me home, now, Malfoy." Her eyes stung terribly refusing to blink knowing that if they did, the tears would fall over, but she did, and they did. And she was crying, her chest splitting open.

Instead of taking her hand he took her shoulders, clutching them so she couldn't move. "Listen to me! This isn't all about redeeming my name."

"It isn't about your heart!"

"That's all it is!"

"You're contradicting, Malfoy!" She shoved him, but he brought her to him, and she stepped on his foot.

He yelped, letting her go and holding his wet boot. "What in the bloody hell is the matter with you?!"

With gusto she raised her chin and spun, sauntering to the trees painted red in her anger. She would walk the three miles until she was off of his property and then she would disapparate home. Never would she go back. She would pretend that Malfoy hadn't come into her life at all.

"Granger!"

She ignored him.

"Granger!"

At the edge of the pond was a pair of crisp white skates. She bit her quivering lip.

"Granger," he huffed behind her, wrenching her arm to face him. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Let me go."

"Please?"

His pleading struck a cord. She never knew the Malfoy in front of her, but it was too late. He made a fool out of her, he ruined what was supposed to be a quiet Christmas. Hermione twisted out of his grip, obtaining her distance as he pursued her, and then there was a crack under her heel.

She didn't move fast enough, taking half a step to the grass, but the ice gave out from under her weight, and sucking in a breath she fell into the depths of the frigid water. A hand scratched her arm, her hand, slipping, and she heard a muffled yell above her, the water and fear clogging her ears.

Tucked inside of her shirt was the moon pendant. The one she was going to give Malfoy. It pressed against her, and she wondered, when he pulled her body out of the water and found it, if he'd know it was meant for him.