Chapter Fifteen
Christmas Surprises
For Christmas Dumbledore managed to get them a fir tree, and several boxes of plain glass balls of red, gold, silver, and green. Draco, and her decorated it in silver, and gold, a good medium between two rival houses, and Hermione placed the very real glittering star on top by wand. He strung lights outside, and she hooked fireproof stockings on the mantle of the fireplace.
Three days before Christmas Hermione rolled onto her side expecting to feel Draco next to her, but instead her finger came in contact with something sharp. Hastily she woke, and saw on the Slytherin green pillow was a red rose. With thorns apparently, her forefinger bled. She sucked on it while she picked up the card. It read: Stay in bed.
Short, sweet, to the point. She smiled inspecting her finger.
There was a knock on the open door, and she saw Draco's foot tapping it. He carried a tray in his hands. "Breakfast?" He sat the tray carefully on the bed. There were two plates of scrambled eggs, and toast.
"This is so sweet," she said admiring a second rose in a vase that sat between the plates.
Draco smiled proudly, but it slid as he saw a drop of blood fall on her flannel pants. "How'd that happen?" He took her hand in his, inspecting it himself.
"Every rose has its thorns."
He nodded understandingly. "Forgot to take them off, sorry." He took his wand out of his pocket, and pressed it to her finger, and instantly it healed. "Now, time for breakfast, tuck in."
"Is there a reason for all this?"
"Let me know how those eggs are." He avoided the question.
The next day she woke to a pink carnation. This time, there were no thorns, but there was another note. Look under the bed.
She did as the note told. On her hands, and knees she peered in the dark shadows underneath the bed. There was another carnation, and under it some sort of book. She pulled it out, and sat cross legged on the floor with it in her lap. She was wrong, it wasn't a book, but an album of black leather, and golden corners. She flipped it open, and her breath caught.
On the first page was a picture of her parents with her as a baby in front of a blurry zoo sign. They were smiling, and tufts of her brown hair had static sticking up in all directions. She turned the next page, and there she was on her first birthday cake all over her face, her mother trying desperately to wipe the chocolate off her wide grin. Another was on their ski trip three years ago. She had her mothers hair, and figure, and her father's eyes. The album held every picture of her, and her parents, and near the end she was crying tears of happiness.
Hermione looked up, and saw Draco leaning against the doorframe of her room. "How," she asked.
"Dumbledore had to take the pictures out of their house. I asked him if I could have them. Do you like it?"
"I love it!" She jumped up, and ran to him, hugging him tightly. "It must've took you forever to put all that together. And it was in chronicle order!"
He laughed kissing her hair, but didn't explain further, and Hermione's curiosity grew.
The next morning it was Christmas Eve, and again, Draco wasn't in bed. She wondered what surprises waited for her that day. Again, there was a lily, and a note. Go into the bathroom.
She stretched, and stood, her feet becoming chilled on the wooden floor. She prodded the door to his bathroom open. She knew it was identical to hers, but it was dark inside, the shades drawn over the windows, but there were candles lining a foot away from the walls, and they surrounded the tub that had large purple, pink, blue, and gold bubbles in it. She looked around for Draco, but didn't see him.
Hermione walked around the room, and saw a note stuck to the cabinet mirror above the sink. Enjoy, you're breakfast awaits when you're done. She grinned appreciatively, and stripped off her pajamas. She took her time soaking in the steaming water, and thousands of bubbles.
Thirty minutes later she dried off, and dressed in sweats, and a gray shirt she took out of Draco's drawer. When she entered the kitchen she saw her breakfast of several muffins, and a tall glass of milk. She sat down, and wondered where Draco was. Usually he showed up sometime during his little surprises, but this time he was MIA. She took a hesitant sip of her drink, and found that it was still cold. She didn't think he had just poured it, but put a spell on it. Clever, she thought.
She was putting the dishes in the sink when Draco came in. He appeared to be a little windblown, his cheeks red from it, and there were flakes of snow on his shoulders that gave the impression that he had bad dandruff.
"Where have you been?" She noted how she sounded like a nagging wife, and bit her lip. "I mean..." There was no way around it, they've been living together too long.
"Dumbledore called me in."
"What for?"
"My father's in Azkaban. One of the Order caught him." By Order he was referring to the Order of the Phoenix, an organization Dumbledore founded to stop Voldemort.
Hermione was dumbfounded. She didn't know what to say, she didn't know how he felt. He sensed this.
"It's okay, Hermione. I'm alright. My father had it coming."
"What
about your mom," she asked resisting the urge to brush the snow
from his shoulders.
"Are you kidding? She has the house to
herself, she's loving it." He took off his cloak, and shook the
snow off it.
Hermione took out her wand, and flicked it through the air, the puddle that would soon form on the floor evaporated.
"Sorry," he mumbled, and hung his cloak on the back of his chair. "How about we forget this? I want you to teach me how to make those Christmas cookies."
"Seriously?" Hermione had talked with him one night about Muggle traditions.
"Sure, sprinkles, and all."
And later that evening they did just that, but not before they went skating on the fully frozen pond. Hermione had skated a lot when she was younger. Her mother taught her. Draco had never once stepped out onto ice, and instantly fell on his behind. She took his hands guiding him, pointing out suggestions that he took grudgingly, but he was a quick learner. In no time they were skating in circles, never letting the other go, and only stopping for a short lunch of sandwiches.
When dusk settled Hermione kept her promise, and taught him how to make, and roll out the dough. As he was fighting with the roll pin complaining that the dough wouldn't stick to it she took a small handful of flour, and sprinkled it over the pin. She stood behind him her chest to his back, holding hands over his teaching him the simple task of rolling.
"Am I doing okay," he asked over his shoulder.
"Just fine, I think I can let you go now."
He spun around snatching her wrists before she moved away. He snogged her deeply for a few long moments taking her breath away. He smiled mischievously. "I don't know... Think I could use some more help."
"Maybe you do," she agreed.
Draco didn't do so bad for his first time baking cookies. They were edible to say the least, and were in shapes of fir trees, snowmen, snowflakes, Santa, and reindeer. They sat at the table eating a few. Afterwards he went to pick up the plate, Hermione smartly smacking his hand.
"What
was that for?"
"You leave them out for Santa."
He
rolled his eyes. "There's no such -"
"It's
tradition, and don't tell me he doesn't exist, because in 13 -"
"Oh, please don't go into a history lesson," he whined. "Fine, we'll leave them out."
Hermione smiled pleased that she won. "Alright then, I'm off to bed. Are you coming?"
"No, I think I'll wash the dishes. Go on, I'll be up soon."
Hermione nodded slowly, feeling that it was more than washing the dishes. It wasn't long ago that he had found out about his father, he needed time to absorb that.
When
she got into her bedroom she thought about the last three days. They
had been wonderful, but there was no reason for him having to do
those things. He wouldn't tell her, perhaps his journal would. It had
been a very long time since she read it. There was no need to Draco,
and her being so close. But it wasn't like she hadn't read it
before... What harm could it do reading it again?
She talked
herself into it, waited as the journal came flying in to her. She
only hoped that Draco stayed in the kitchen long enough for her to
find out what was going on with him.
22/12/96
It's my fault that Hermione can't have her parents with her at Christmas. If only I stood up to my father earlier then none of this would have happened. I need to make it up to her somehow. For three days I'm going to give her little surprises, hopefully it'll take her mind off of it. Today I woke up at three in the morning. I took one of the roses out of our front garden, and laid it next to her pillow. Unfortunately I forgot to take the thorns off, but I hope she was pleased none-the-less. I wrote a note to tell her to stay in bed, and I made her breakfast.
I wrote Dumbledore for the pictures I knew he had taken out of Mr. and Mrs. Grangers house a month ago, and received them immediately. The album is finally done.
Deeply she sighed. It was because of her parents. Draco was blaming himself for it all. She read on.
23/12/96
I transfigured one of my quills into a carnation. Thanks to my mothers constant attention to our gardens I know my flowers, not that I'll admit that to anyone else... I left another note, and she found the album. She was crying when I checked on her. She hugged me. It's the closest thing I can do to bring her her parents.
She closed his journal, and reflected. It wasn't his fault. A child shouldn't be expect to stand up to his father, and if he had stood up to Voldemort, he would be dead, and there would be someone else assigned to his place that wouldn't think twice of killing her. She had been lucky. Of course, there was no way for Hermione to tell this to him, because it would be admitting that she read his journal.
Then she heard shuffling in the hallway. Draco was on her way up. She still held the journal. She panicked, there wouldn't be a way of sending it back without him seeing it flying past him. Quickly she rolled onto the bed, and dropped it between the wall, and the bed. Then, as if on cue, she heard his voice.
"What're you doing in here?"
"Oh, um... Nothing. Just checking for... Dust." That had to be the lamest excuse she ever gave in her life.
Draco stared at her. "Coming to bed," he asked.
"Sure," she smirked glad of the subject change.
Hermione was fast asleep when she felt Draco stir, his breath on the nape of her neck. He smiled as she breathed, "happy Christmas."
"You too."
"Breakfast, or presents?"
"Breakfast, I'm starving."
Draco cooked as Hermione waited at the table impatiently. She couldn't wait for him to open his gift so she could see the look on his face.
Once they ate they went into the sitting room where a small pile of multicolored presents laid at the base of the sparkling tree. They gathered around it, Draco handing her each present.
Hermione received two thick books from Harry, Ron, and a new silver quill from Ginny. The fourth present was from her parents. They must have bought it before they were... She ripped it open, and saw another book, tears in her eyes.
Draco who sat there watching her with amazement, said, "do you ever get anything else?"
She shrugged. "They know what I like."
He bent over wiping away her silent tears. Gently he took the book from her, "come on, lets keep going," he said quietly.
She took the second to last present from him, beautifully wrapped in red, and gold, his name scrawled on the line of "from." She tore off the paper, and saw yet another book, but she started laughing when she saw what it was. The history of Gordric Gryffindor, an ancient drawing of the Gryffindor Founder on the front with his red robes, and wild beard.
"I thought you would like it," he said sadly.
She caught her breath, "I do, it's just... Open yours."
He looked quizzically at the last present. He undid the silver bow on the green materiel that slid off the book. He smiled, and chuckled. "And you said we were nothing alike." He held the book similar to hers, with the exception of a long faced, evil man on the front that was Salazar Slytherin.
Hermione, hopeful asked, "how was this Christmas?"
"The best ever. Thanks to you."
"Really, Draco, this can't be any better, you only had one present."
He shook his head. "Two. I have you, and that's loads better than anything you could've gotten me."
They smiled, they laughed, and they spent the rest of the night talking of nothing but the best days they've had. Most of them included each other.