Disclaimer: I don't own anything recognizable. All credit to JK Rowling.

The sound of clattering pans and the smell of bacon drifted up to Hermione's room and her eyes popped open when she realized that it was Christmas morning. Throwing back her sheets, she rolled out of bed and slipped on a dressing gown before running downstairs to see her parents.

They were standing in the kitchen, drinking their coffee, when she pounded down the stairs and through the door. They laughed when she threw her arms around them both to give the traditional Christmas Morning Hug they enjoyed every year.

"'Morning, dear." Jean Granger smiled down at her daughter. "Howard, love, I think those eggs are done."

"Right, right." He stepped across the kitchen to turn the stove off. Hermione wriggled out of her mother's embrace to fetch plates and silverware.

"Hermione, what time do the Weasleys want us again?" Jean asked once the three of them had sat down at the table. Hermione was caught with her mouth full, and tried to swallow quickly to answer. Her father laughed at the face she made.

"Around noon," she finally replied. The bacon had been quite chewy.

"And what are their names again? I'm afraid I'm going to get terribly confused…"

"Arthur and Molly are the parents. You met them in Diagon Alley a few years ago." Her parents voiced their agreement on this statement. "Bill is the oldest – he'll be there with his wife Fleur – and then comes Charlie. I'm not sure if Percy is coming – he might be going to Penelope's for Christmas dinner. Then there's George, Ron and Ginny."

"Oh my," Jean sighed. "Now, Howard, have you got all of that?"

"Don't worry, Mum. They'll understand if you get them mixed up. They're used to it." Howard gave a small chuckle and patted his daughter's hand.

By the time they arrived at the Weasley's, Hermione wasn't sure if her parents knew how many children Arthur and Molly even had. She had tried again and again to explain who was who, but it seemed her parents kept getting more and more confused. She ended with an exasperated, "You'll see when we get there. All of the unmarried people probably won't hang around long anyway."

The Burrow was brightly lit and bustling with energy. Fairy lights were strung through the trees outside, and all around the windows and door. Through one of the windows, Hermione could see a huge, trussed up Christmas tree. They knocked on the door, and a laughing Molly pulled them through.

"How nice to see you, Hermione! Oh, yes, we've met before, a few years ago. I'm Molly, in case you didn't remember." She bustled them down the hall. "Ron and Harry are right through there, dear. Run along and have fun. Now, Howard, brace yourself. Arthur will be so excited to talk to you about your work –" Hermione stepped out into the hall and into the excited embraces of Ron, Harry and Ginny.

"Happy Christmas, Hermione!" they all exclaimed, before letting her go. She greeted them in turn, and they dragged her over to the tree to open presents. She had, of course, gotten one for each of them. For Harry and Ron, she had gotten pocket watches. Though it was tradition for sons to get watches for their seventeenth birthday, Ron's was a little fragile and fancy for everyday use. For Ginny, she had gotten some chocolates and some bracelets that the redhead had been admiring in Diagon Alley over the summer. Then they all pressed their own presents on Hermione.

From Ginny was a small bottle of perfume, and from Harry a book she had mentioned to him earlier that year. It wasn't very creative, but then again Harry had always been somewhat oblivious to girly fancies. She appreciated it all the same, bless him. Ron had gotten her a small locket engraved with an H. It was sweet and simple, and she put it on immediately.

Hours later, the entire family was settled in the living room, enjoying some tea. The last remnants of Christmas dinner had been cleared away, and Molly, Fleur and Jean had tackled the dirty dishes quickly. Hermione was sitting quietly, listening to the murmur of voices around her, when a flushing Ron asked to speak with her. She followed him out to the hallway.

"Erm, Hermione… I was just – well, how do you think of me?"

"Excuse me?" She thought she knew what he was talking about, and thought it both amusing and endearing the way he was going about it.

"Well, umm… We've been friends a while, yeah? And the last few months, since the battle, actually, we've sort of been… dancing around. And I just want to know if you want to be friends, or something more."

"Ron, are you asking me to, officially, be your girlfriend?" He flushed an even deeper shade of crimson.

"Well, erm… Yes, I suppose I am."

"Then I accept your proposition, Ronald Weasley." Hermione laughed delightedly. He bent down and grasped her arms above the elbow, looking at her questioningly. She nodded slightly, and he bent down even further to place his lips chastely against her own.

"Happy Christmas, Hermione."

"Happy Christmas, Ron."

-O-O-O-O-

Hogwarts castle was not usually this cold. There was something about being taken over by Death Eaters that had sucked all the warmth out of it. Yet he had no time to muse over the state of central heating if he was to make it to his next class on time. The Carrows were never understanding or sympathetic when it came to latecomers. Though he had no desire to sit in on Alecto's "Muggle Studies" class, the alternative was much worse.

Draco made it to the classroom, but was just on the wrong side of the shrill bell that sounded through the school at the beginning of each class. He tried to sit down inconspicuously, but was noticed by the sharp-eyed Alecto. Thankfully, another student entered just as she was about to begin her verbal abuse for being late. It was one of the sixth-year Ravenclaws – Draco couldn't remember her name. Easter holidays were in just a week, and Draco was hoping to keep his head down long enough to make to the break.

"Ah, decided to show up, did we love?" Alecto's shrill voice echoed in the classroom, a feral grin on her face. The Ravenclaw nervously gave an answering smile, hoping that she would be able to sit down and class would continue as it had been. Then, any trace of joy was wiped off of Alecto's face. "Malfoy, Trumble, come with me. The rest of you, read chapter twenty in your books and discuss the vulgarities of Muggle… cinema. Behave!" There was no doubt the class would obey – nobody crossed the Carrow's unless they didn't mean to.

Draco silently gathered up his books and followed Alecto into the hallway. He knew it was doubtful he would be coming back to class. Alecto marched them through the hallways at wandpoint, daring them to misbehave. A bone-chilling giggle suddenly sounded in the hall.

"Alecto, darling. What have we here?" Bellatrix LeStrange appeared from the shadows and sauntered over to their little group. "Oh, my dear nephew. How nice to see you," she cooed at Draco, smiling at him.

"Auntie Bella –" he managed to say, before she cut him off.

"Where are you taking them?" she addressed Alecto, putting all of her innate Black family regality into practice.

"Down to the dungeons. They need to learn a little… civility for being late to class."

"How true. It does not do to be tardy." They continued to move down the corridor, and Bellatrix fell into step beside Draco. "Actually, Alecto, I would like to speak with Draco… privately. I assure you that I will take his discipline into my own hands." Carrow considered this, and nodded before leading Trumble away. Draco and Bellatrix walked for a bit before she stopped him near some stairs.

"Draco," she crooned. "Draco, Draco, Draco. What am I to do with you? Being late for class, and I've heard that you refused to punish another student when they misbehaved. Tsk," she clicked her teeth. "I know what it is. Dumbledore was too soft on you. 'Spare the rod, spoil the child,' as they say. Well, I'm here to make up for it, never fear. And if you're a very good boy, and learn your lesson, maybe I'll teach you some new curses. Or perhaps help you with your Occlumency. How does that sound?"

"That… That sounds very nice, Auntie." There wasn't much else he could say.

"Good. Now, this is for your own good. I'll just take a look-see and see just how bad things are. Wouldn't do to have my lessons based on wrong assumptions." He braced himself under her leer. "Legimens."

Fragmented images and memories danced behind his eyes, and he fought to keep her out and away. Desperate, he took a step away from her. Right onto a damp stone, half frozen and icy in the still-wintery cold. His legs slid from under him, and he felt himself losing balance and tumbling through the air. What should have been stone was simply more air as he tilted towards the stairs and overbalanced.

Draco woke up, flailing his arms as though hoping to catch himself as he fell down the stairs. His arms encountered nothing but blankets, however. He forced himself to calm down, and was secretly glad his dorm mates had gone home for the holidays. He shivered slightly, and was unnerved to feel something heavy at the foot of his bed.

Then it struck him that it was Christmas, and that there were actual presents at the foot of his bed. There had been no Christmas the past year – obviously part of the plan to rid all of the young witches and wizards of any sentimentality they might have. Draco felt a small grin curl his lips at the fact that people had actually sent him things today.

He had, of course, gotten things for his parents, and Blaise, and Pansy. He wasn't sure if Azkaban allowed prisoners to receive presents, but perhaps Lucius would be able to enjoy a new book on seventeenth century art. There wasn't anything remotely threatening about the book, so Draco hoped his father would at least have that to keep today from being just another day in the monotony of prison routine.

Draco sat up and shuffled through his presents. There weren't many, but they were there, and he was especially drawn to the small package with his name written on it in his father's hand. He reached for it immediately, and slowly opened the paper, wanting to save the scrap with his father's writing. Inside was a letter and a small ring box. He opened the box first. Nestled in white silk was the Malfoy family signet ring.

"Oh, shit, shit, shit," he whispered under his breath. With shaking hands, he unfolded the parchment.

Draco,

Happy Christmas. I am so sorry to have to place this burden on your shoulders. This moment should have happened in years when I was almost senile and you were ready to settle down and receive the responsibility. It is not that I don't trust you with this – I can think of no better hands than yours to place the Estate in. I had just hoped you would have been able to see the world and have a life before becoming Lord Malfoy.

Please forgive me. When I have finished my time in Azkaban, perhaps I may give you the chance to go and be young, but until then I lade you with this burden. I wish things had turned out differently, but they haven't, and I have only myself to blame.

Draco, please do what I have prevented you from doing for too long. Take your life into your own hands, and become a man you are proud to be. You are a credit to us all, and make me proud to be a Malfoy.

I wish I had said this more often, but I love you, and I wish you happiness in whatever you choose to do. And I am terribly, terribly sorry for pressing this obligation upon you.

Fondest regards,

Your Father

Draco sat in stunned shock. He felt a surge of anger rise towards his father. How dare he spring this on Draco – surely he knew that an eighteen year old couldn't handle this. But then the anger was replaced with sorrow, that his father's hand had been forced into doing something he hadn't wanted to do. He slipped the ring onto his finger – it fit perfectly. Along with the weight on his hand, he felt a new load pressing on his shoulders, bowing them under the responsibility and commitment.

Ignoring the rest of his presents, Draco curled up around a pillow. He was once again glad he was the only one left in the dorm – no one would see the few tears that escaped his tightly shut eyes as he tried to fall asleep and escape, for a little bit, the heaviness that lay over him and settled into his bones.

A/N: So, I hope you enjoyed. The last bit was a little bit angsty, but, hey, it's Draco alone on Christmas. What's an author to do?

Let me know what you think! Reviews much appreciated!

- GusGus