Author's note: and more Christmas, this time with the day itself. as we warned you before (or, at least, i think we warned you) this chapter is very, very long. it's pure self-indulgence, really. we just had too much fun making them all happy. -sighs- and most of it will have to be cut. but it's all good. we just want a record of it here before we get to the painful process of being firm with ourselves and cutting stuff.
Disclaimer: if it doesn't belong to JK Rowling, it belongs to Greenday. you'll get it when you read the chapter...
--kyra

For the next several days, Granger backed cookies. By the end, I was sure that we had enough to feed an army. But she only laughed at my objections and informed me that they'd all be eaten by the time we left. I usually watched her make them, idly admiring the sure way she handled the ingredients and measurements. I wondered if her skill in the kitchen was due to her talent at potions or if it was the other way around. Most of the time she would make me help her roll the cookies and put them onto the sheets, but when she cut them into shapes, I wasn't even allowed to touch them. The molds had been borrowed from some relative or other, and she treated them with the same almost religious devotion as her books.

"When will you stop trying to turn us all into pigs?" I asked, watching her turn out yet another rack of goodies.

She shrugged. "When I'm sick of baking. And don't worry; if we don't eat them all, I'll just ship them off to Ron. He'll eat them as fast as he can."

I snorted, recalling years of having to watch Weasley shove food into his mouth. "Aren't you afraid that he'll come here and beg him for more?"

"Why should he come?"

"I don't know. But you should try and make sure that he doesn't. It would ruin Harry's holiday if his best friend would try to kill me."

"Ron wouldn't try to kill you," she protested.

I raised an eyebrow, and she flushed slightly. "Well, not very hard," she amended.

I rolled my eyes. "It doesn't matter how hard he tries, Granger. I'd still be forced to hit him with something nasty."

"So it's not yourself you're worried about?"

I shook my head. "I am quite capable of defeating Weasley in any kind of magical duel you could wish. I just don't think Harry would enjoy having to pick up the pieces."

She nodded her agreement, then asked, "I've been meaning to ask you. If you're so sure of yourself, why don't you try harder in class?"

"Come again?"

"Everyone knows that you get average grades. I know that you passed all your OWLs, probably with very high marks, or you wouldn't be in Professor Snape's advanced class. So you must be talented. But why don't you show it?"

I considered this. "Granger, have you ever heard the expression, 'keep the standards low'?"

"Of course. But if you wanted to do that, then why are you in Professor Snape's class?"

"Because I'm also interested in staying alive. Look, Granger. If I'm underestimated, then no one will be prepared for everything that I can do, right?"

"I suppose," she said uncertainly. "But how do you learn?"

"I can do everything that the teachers assign," I assured her.

She raised her eyebrows. "Oh really? What about your height?"

I grinned. "Do you want a demonstration?"

She shrugged. "Not really. You're holding my cookies. But can you do it?"

I nodded. "Of course I can do it."

"Then why weren't you in class?"

"Because, as I've been explaining to you, it's better if your enemies don't know what you're capable of."

"Are you telling me that you have enemies in the class?" She said it sarcastically, but I fixed her with a level glare.

"Granger, I have enemies everywhere. Why do you think that the Ministry was so quick to imprison my mother?"

Her sarcasm changed to shocked disbelief. "You mean they want to throw you in jail too? But you're still a kid!"

I grimaced. "My seventeenth birthday is in June, Granger. And you can be sent to Azkaban as young as thirteen."

"They've imprisoned people at thirteen?!" she demanded, shocked.

I shrugged. "It's happened, yes. His name was Vlad Black. No relation to the Blacks who used to own this residence, at least, not that I'm aware of. They got his entire family."

"But what did he do?"

I rolled my eyes. "I would assume that his family didn't support the government of the time. Honestly, Granger, what do you think you need to have done? I would assume that the muggle government is as corruptible as the wizarding ones have been."

She started to protest, then shut her mouth, apparently remembering muggle governments of the past. Finally, she said, "But they didn't throw children to monsters!"

I laughed without humor. "There are human monsters, Granger. Never forget that: the most dangerous of the monsters aren't the ones with fangs. They're the ones who wear human forms."

She sighed. "I am well aware of that," she said acidly. "But that doesn't mean that they should be allowed to run free."

I snorted. "Do you want to purge the land of monsters like the heroes of old? You'll need a horse and a sword."

She rolled her eyes. "I believe that my wand will suffice. But that is beside the point."

"Is there a point? I have answered your question."

"You have," she agreed. There was a long beat of silence, then she added, "Are you going to put those down, or will I just have to trust you not to drop them?"

I glanced down at the tray of cookies in my hand. I'd forgotten that I was holding them, but lowered them carefully down onto the table anyway. I had no desire to stay in the room and watch her anymore, and I hurriedly excused myself and retired to my room. She'd stirred up painful memories, and I needed a quiet place in which to force them back into the box that they came in. I had no wish to think of any of them at the moment.

Hermione popped the last tray of cookies into the oven and sat down slowly. The conversation with Malfoy had shaken her severely, and she didn't know what to think. She'd always known that governments could be cruel, and she supposed that there was no reason to suppose that wizarding ones were any better than the muggle ones, but even so… Maybe it was that the wizarding world was still unfamiliar to her. Even after five years of almost compulsive studying, she still felt that she didn't know many of the basic things that people like Ron or Malfoy found instinctive. Of course, she was slowly losing her connection with the muggle world as well. She smiled bitterly, reflecting that if she went on like this for the rest of her life, she would find herself existing with one foot in both worlds, watching both and understanding neither. It was a daunting prospect.

She wondered if Harry felt the same way. He seemed to have embraced wizarding culture wholeheartedly, and she had no indication that he found it as unintelligible as she did. But then, she'd had a loving family and an, if not perfect, then an undeniably decent childhood. Harry had had neither. It was only natural that he would turn to the world that loved and accepted him. In the wizarding world, he had the Weasleys and school. He was famous and everyone knew who he was. Despite what he said to the contrary, Hermione suspected that he couldn't help but bask very slightly in the adoration of the multitudes. It was impossible not to, after all.

And then there was her. She was known only as the brains of the trio, the girl who came up with the answers. She was the Dorothy Ann of the group, and she didn't know if she liked it or not. She wasn't too keen on public recognition, true, but it would have been nice to get some gratitude. She knew exactly how Ron felt, and at times like these, she sympathized much more with him than with Harry.

She let her mind drift back to her previous life, as she sometimes thought of her childhood. She'd been the eldest, and her parents had been proud of her accomplishments. True, she'd had few friends, but the ones that she did have were close to her. They'd drifted away now that she didn't see them all the time, she realized. When was the last time she'd heard from Wendy Fairfield, for example? She couldn't remember. For that matter, she could barely conjure Wendy's face. Brown hair, maybe. Brown eyes, yes that was right. The face was fuzzy, and the personality was indistinct. She frowned, trying to remember. A sense of humor. An overactive imagination. There wasn't anything else that sprang instantly to mind, and Hermione gave up. She resolved to visit Wendy this summer, at least to see if they could still get along.

The oven timer rang, and Hermione deftly removed the cookies. She placed the sheet on top of the oven to cool, and stripped off the apron that she'd put on. She had no desire to make any more cookies, and these wouldn't be cool enough to decorate for a while yet. She walked up the stairs to her room, wondering just what she was going to do. She felt a desperate need to reconnect to the muggle world, but she had no idea how to do it. What would put her firmly on the other side of the tangible dividing line? Music, maybe. She still enjoyed muggle music, though she hardly ever got the chance to play it. How could she? Muggle technology didn't work at Hogwarts, and she had no CDs anyway. She vaguely remembered someone talking about enchanting the Wizarding Wirelesses to pick up muggle stations, but she didn't have one of those either.

She slowed, thinking. She herself didn't have a wireless, but Malfoy did. Would he let her borrow it? She took a deep breath, wondering whether she would be able to work up the nerve to ask him. He hadn't seemed in the mood to communicate more, and she supposed that it was mainly her fault. But she really did want to listen to music, and that was the only way that she could think of to do it.

She knocked on his door.

"What do you want?" he called from inside, not opening to look at her.

"Open the door," she called back.

"What do you want?"

"I want to borrow your wireless."

"Why?"

"To listen to music. Why else?"

"You like wizarding music?"

"No."

"Then what are you going to find to listen to?"

"Muggle music."

"It doesn't get muggle music. The new model hasn't come yet."

"There's a charm."

There was a beat of silence, then the door opened and Malfoy passed the object to her. "Bring it back when you're done."

"Thank you. I will." The door closed in her face, and Hermione carried it all the way up to her room.

Once closeted in the room, she put the wireless on the desk next to her Christmas tree and looked at it dully for a moment. The very thought of using magic seemed loathsome to her for an instant, and only the knowledge of where she was made her pick up her wand and cast the half-remembered charm. The wireless didn't change, but she flipped it on. There was a moment of static, then music began to filter through. It was the end of a song, and she turned up the volume as the next one began. It was by some band that she didn't recognize, but she instinctively tried to identify the words.

I walk a lonely road
The only one that I have ever known
Don't know where it goes
But it's home to me and I walk alone
I walk this empty street
On the Blvd. of broken dreams
Where the city sleeps
And I'm the only one and I walk alone
I walk alone. I walk alone. I walk alone. I walk alone
My shadow's the only one that walks beside me
My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating
Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me
'Til then I walk alone
Read between the lines of what's
Fucked up and everything's alright
Check my vital signs to know I'm still alive
And I walk alone
I walk alone. I walk alone. I walk alone. I walk alone
My shadow's the only one that walks beside me
My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating
Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me
'Til then I walk alone
I walk alone. I walk alone.
I walk this empty street on the blvd. of broken dreams
Where the city sleeps
And I'm the only one and I walk alone
My shadow's the only one that walks beside me
My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating
ometimes I wish someone out there will find me'
Til then I walk alone

The song ended and another one came on, but Hermione didn't hear it. Her mind was still fixated on the words. They resonated within her, and captured something inside her soul. She did walk alone. Neither Harry nor Ron understood what it was like to have been dragged out of a world that she knew and understood and told that she truly belonged in a strange, alien world where she wasn't accepted for who she was. That was Ron's world, and he knew no other. She knew that he would feel the same as her if he were thrown headfirst into the muggle world. And Harry, well, Harry didn't know what the real muggle world was any more than Ron did. He didn't really understand.

There was a tapping on her window, and she looked up in surprise. An owl was sitting impatiently on the windowsill, as though just waiting for her to let it in. She sighed and got up to open the window for it. She glanced around, but there was nothing to eat in her room. She frowned, sighed again, and summoned a couple cookie crumbs, wondering if the owl would eat them. It looked at her, eyed the cookies disdainfully, and turned and flew out the window. Hermione watched it go, then turned to the letter that it had left. It was unsigned, and that piqued her curiosity enough to slit it open immediately. She withdrew a piece of stationary, and recognized it instantly as her mother's Christmas paper. An irrational warmth filled her at the sight of the familiar paper, and she just looked at the holly branch stationary for a moment before reading the actual letter.

Dear Diana,

How long has it been since you were home for Christmas? Years, I'm sure. I know that you're with your friends, and I hope that you're having fun, but I miss you. We all miss you. Belle says that she doesn't care, but you know that she really does love you.

Enough with the sentiments. I know that you don't care for them much. All's well with us, and I refuse to bore you with news from the surgery. You have your father for that. I'm sending your Christmas presents, as well as Harry's by normal post. They're going to my sister, as I doubt that wherever you are is connected to FedEx. I still haven't gotten over this owl thing, and I shudder even to think what you use to send bigger things. They should arrive before Christmas.

This paper is highly decorative and special, as I'm sure you remember, but it only holds about twice as much space as an average postcard. As I'm out of room, I must stop this now and wish you a merry Christmas. I hope that we'll see you over Easter.

Love you,

Mum

Hermione reread the letter, smiling uncontrollably. Once again, her mother had displayed an uncanny sense of timing. Her note had come just when Hermione needed it most, and she would forever be grateful for the small moments like these.

Hermione was bound and determined to get to church that Sunday. She hadn't been to a proper church in ages, and she hadn't realized how much she'd missed it until she realized that she could go again. She nagged Harry and Malfoy until they agreed to accompany her, and then spent all of Saturday evening debating what to wear. Finally, realizing that she had absolutely nothing suitable in her closet, she was reduced to transfiguring something. Her bank account wasn't full enough to justify buying something, and she was a decent enough spell caster to manage the transfigurations needed.

She laid out one of the miniscule dresses that Aunt Addy had given her, then closed her eyes. She carefully designed the dress she wanted in her mind's eye, and began to cast the charms that she needed. When she finally opened her eyes, a long black dress was lying in front of her. It was simple to the point of being severe, but when she tried it on, she found that it fit her perfectly. Though her figure wasn't as nice as she could have wished, the black cloth showed off what curves she had. It was modest enough for church, and with a pair of black high heels, she had to admire the effect. She wasn't willing to risk makeup, and her hair was best not even thought about. She would just have to hope that it controlled itself with only a simple brushing.

Harry started when she walked into his room the next morning. She'd warned him that she was going to come in early, and he was wearing clothes, but he wasn't pleased with her. He grumbled for a moment, then blearily kicked her out of his room while he got ready. She wasn't willing to burst into Malfoy's room in the same manner, so she only knocked on his door, waiting for him to open it himself. She delivered her message and, having received his irritated grunt as a response, padded back up to her room. Once there, she locked the door and drew on the black dress, carefully smoothing it down as she did so. A quick charm bound her shoes to her stockings: she wasn't used to heels, and she didn't want them to fall off when she started walking.

Ten minutes later, the three of them were on their way to a small corner church that Hermione had found a few days earlier. They mingled with the crowd, and Hermione reveled in the calm sereneness that saturated the atmosphere. Even with the people talking loudly and animatedly, she could still feel that she was in the presence of something more. It was the same feeling she'd had the first time she entered the Great Hall of Hogwarts: the sensation of being in a truly holy place. Malfoy and Harry apparently didn't feel the same way. They talked as loudly as anyone else, and only frowned when she turned to quiet them. She began to wonder if bringing them with her really had been the smartest idea.

Before she could continue that train of thought, the pastor came out and everyone hushed. He began to speak, and Hermione allowed herself to be carried away by a tide of ecstatic devotions. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed this.

The congregation stood for the first hymn. Hermione nudged Harry hard with her shoe to get him to stand. He glared at her.

"Why did you do that?" he whispered.

She nodded towards the rest of the people. Harry grimaced, then reached down and dragged Malfoy up next to him. Hermione ignored them as the organ began to play. She knew the hymn by heart: it was one of the ones that they always sang around this time, and she didn't need the music book that was open in front of her to sing along. She allowed her voice to mingle with the others', feeling connected to the rest of humanity in a way she never did unless she was here.

As the hymn wound to a close, she sat down with a slight sense of regret. It would end soon, and when it did, she would lose the feeling of connection that warmed her at this moment. She would go back to being Hermione Granger, witch amongst muggles, and the sense of loss would be almost heartbreaking. It always was.

They filed out with the rest of the congregation after the sermon was over. Hermione fought to preserve the feelings that had been welling up inside her, but they bled away as she walked farther and farther up the rows of pews towards the door. Once they'd exited into the sunlight, Harry stretched. "That was… educational," he remarked.

Malfoy looked at him in surprise. "You've never been to church before, have you?"

"How can you tell?"

"If you had, you would have realized that the proper word for it is boring," Malfoy retorted.

"Hermione seemed to enjoy it," Harry pointed out.

Malfoy shrugged. "Granger is apparently a religious fanatic in hiding. Only fanatics go to church, you know."

"That's not true!" Hermione said, whirling to look him in the eye. How dare he say things like that?! They were all lies, and he had no right to taint her morning with lies! "You know it's not! Take it back!"

He frowned, taken aback by her vehemence. "Pardon me?" he asked, swiftly regaining his composure.

Harry looked from one to the other, a frown on his face. "Not here!" he hissed, as Hermione opened her mouth to retort. "If you keep going, you'll end up with wands out and sparks flying. Do it back at the house, if you must."

Hermione glowered fiercely at Harry, but saw the sense in his words. She was the only one of the group who was of age, and it wouldn't make a very good impression on the Ministry officials who would come to arrest Malfoy if they were dueling in plain sight of an entire church's worth of muggles. She forced herself to nod.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. "Let's get going," he said. Hermione began to walk, not even realizing that she was setting the pace. She wanted to get back to the house as quickly as possible so that she could do… something. She didn't know what she really wanted to do. Her gut instinct was to hide in her room and cry, but she'd grown out of that habit years ago. The mature, adult reaction would be to let everyone cool off a bit, then inform Malfoy that she didn't like his insulting her beliefs. Unfortunately, she wasn't disposed to being mature and reasonable right now.

Within no time, she was pushing the door open. Completely ignoring the two boys, she fled up the stairs and into her room. She closed the door and locked it, both physically and magically. She dropped down onto her bed, fighting to regain control of her emotions. It was completely irrational to be so affected by words. She'd known that Malfoy would react like that, hadn't she? Or at least, she'd suspected that he would. After all, he'd shown no signs at all of being reverent. Yet she'd allowed his words to hurt her so much. Why?

She dropped her head into her hands, trying to think. Music. She needed music. She looked around, seeing that Malfoy's wireless was still in her room. She'd forgotten to give it back, and he hadn't bothered to ask. She moved over to it and flipped it on, murmuring the charm that set it to playing muggle stations. She twirled the dial, looking for something to fit her mood. Loud and fierce, hopefully. It would drag her out of her self-pity and get her thinking properly. There! She didn't even bother listening to the words. The melody blasted out of the speakers loudly enough, and that was all that mattered.

She turned off the lights with a quick spell, and then as an afterthought moved over to the desk holding her Christmas tree. She lit her wand to find the matches, then quickly struck one and used it to light the miniature candles. She extinguished her wand and sat slowly back down, hardly listening as the wireless belted out rock songs. She was calming down now, and the events of the morning were receding into a more manageable picture.

Before she could think about it any longer, there was a soft knock on her door. She turned off the wireless and walked over to unlock the door and admit whoever it was. Harry stood outside, looking slightly worried. "Are you all right?" he asked, the moment she pulled open the door.

She nodded. "Yes," she said.

"I'm sorry."

She shrugged. "Not your fault," she said dismissively. "He's a git. You're not responsible for his personality, you know."

He sighed. "I just feel so guilty. He's so nice around me, but then with others… well, you know how he is."

Hermione grinned slightly. "I do," she agreed. "Once again, it's not your fault. Only he determines who he is."

"I know," he said softly. "But it doesn't help."

"No it doesn't," she told him bluntly. "But it's nice to pretend that it does."

She'd surprised him. He burst out laughing, then quieted with a slight blush. Casting around for another topic, he asked, "Why are the lights off?"

Her grin was bigger this time. "I'm enjoying the pretend natural light. Come have a look." She held the door open wider, and he stepped into the room. She shut the door behind him, giving him time to take in the tree in all its glory. Hermione flattered herself thinking that she'd done a good job of decorating it so that the candlelight set all the ornaments off to their best advantage. Apparently she'd been right.

"It's beautiful," he breathed finally. "Where did you get it?"

"I've always had them," she said simply.

"Why isn't this downstairs? You could put it in a window, and people would see it as they walked home."

"Except that they wouldn't, since the house is protected by the charm," she pointed out.

He frowned, then flushed again. "I keep forgetting," he mumbled. "You're right, they wouldn't see it. But still, you should at least let us see it!"

"You're seeing it right now, aren't you?"

"It's not the same, and you know it."

She sighed. "I'd just rather keep it up here. I might bring it down eventually."

He studied it in silence for another long moment, then finally sighed with regret. "I have to go down and start lunch," he said. "I'd rather not, but I didn't think that you would be willing to cook just yet."

"I'm not," she agreed. "Thanks for offering."

"Any time," he said graciously. "Thanks for showing me your tree."

She smiled at him. "You're welcome."

He took one last look at the tree, then walked out of the door, leaving it open a crack as he passed through. She could hear him thundering down the stairs, probably taking them two at a time. She had to grin. Apparently boys didn't change as they grew older.

The peaceful mood had left her again, but she didn't feel angry anymore either. With a sigh, she blew out the candles and left the room, closing the door all the way as she went.

Harry woke up early on Christmas morning out of habit. Years of living with Ron had made it impossible to sleep in on that most important day, and it took him a moment to remember that Ron wasn't there with them. Still, habits die hard, and he slipped out of bed, trying not to make too much noise. He padded down the stairs to the kitchen and poured himself a cup of tea. Holding the mug of scalding liquid in both hands, he walked into the living room to take a look at the presents piled under the Christmas tree. The last of them had arrived the night before, and combined, they formed a healthy stack. Harry set his mug down and quickly sorted through them, unconsciously counting them as he did so. He was just putting the last of his presents down in a neatly piled column when he heard Hermione ask, "Isn't that cheating?"

He glanced up, noting that she was holding her own mug of tea. He grinned. "As long as I don't open them, no. Yours are over there." He nodded to a similar column of presents across the room from him. She moved over and glanced at them, then shrugged.

"I'm not awake enough to care about presents," she confided. "Give me several more cups of tea and about half an hour and I'll care."

Harry nodded. "I could do with a bit of that myself," he admitted, snagging his cup of tea from the coffee table. He held it for a moment, allowing the warmth to permeate his bones, then took a long sip. The liquid burned down his throat and settled warmly in his stomach, eliciting a small sigh of pleasure.

Hermione shivered slightly and pulled the bathrobe she was wearing tighter around herself. "It is freezing cold in this room," she observed.

"Then light a fire, Granger." Both of them looked up to see Draco leaning against the doorframe. He twisted his wand elegantly and said, "Incendio." The logs in the grate burst into flame, and a consistent warmth began to fill the room. Draco smirked. "Better now?"

Hermione nodded her thanks, and Harry smiled at Draco.

"Any chance of coffee in this house?" Draco asked, glancing at their cups.

Harry shrugged. "I have no idea," he admitted. "Go look."

Draco grumbled a reply and vanished into the kitchen. They heard him muttering unintelligible obscenities as he rummaged through the kitchen. Finally, he returned with his own mug filled with black liquid.

"There is no decent coffee," he announced.

"What's that?" Harry asked, nodding to the cup.

Draco grimaced. "Second rate stuff. It'll do, but next time you go to the store, I'd appreciate it if you'd buy some real coffee."

"I don't know what decent coffee looks like," Harry told him.

"I'll make you a list," Draco promised. He dropped onto the ground, landing gracefully with his legs crossed. They looked at the presents in silence for a long moment, then each summoned their own pile. By common consent, Harry opened his first.

"Oh look, Mrs. Weasley's sent me another sweater." He held up the garment so that they could both see it, then placed it aside. Next came chocolate from Ron and a supply of Apparating Apparatuses from the twins. He shoved both of these useful items with the sweater, and pulled open the heavy package from Hermione. Inside was a group of five books, all bearing the words Earth's Children. He glanced at her in askance. She shrugged.

"If you won't read school books, then you may as well learn to appreciate muggle classics. I think you'll like these." Harry grinned, thanked her, and put them with the rest, vowing at least to try to read them for her sake. The next present was from, of all people, Parvati, and he opened it with curiosity. He laughed out loud when he realized what she'd sent him.

"What is it?" Draco asked.

"A remembrall," Harry said. He quickly read her note.

Harry. You promised to take me out on Easter. This is in case it happens to slip your mind. They've been upgraded to insult you in as obscure a fashion as they can until you remember what you forgot. Harry Christmas, Parvati.

Harry read them the note, and both Hermione and Draco laughed. He quickly unwrapped candy from Hagrid, not touching any of it, and opened a small flat box that was from Belle. He pulled out a CD, looking at it in confusion.

Hermione held out a hand. "Let's see."

Harry handed it to her. She glanced at the case, then rolled her eyes. "Greenday. Belle's obsessed."

"Are they any good?"

She shrugged. "Decent, I guess.

"What is it?" Draco demanded.

"A CD," Harry said.

"And those are?"

"They play muggle music. Looks like you've got one too." Harry nodded to an identical package in Draco's pile.

"Wonderful," Draco said dryly. Hermione handed the CD back to Harry, and he tossed it back with the rest of his things. The package from Hermione's parents turned out to be a model of the Statue of Liberty. Ali's note explained that, no, it was not magic, but that she hoped that he'd like it anyway. He made a note to send her a thank you letter by muggle post.

Finally, Harry unrolled the tube from Ginny. It contained a single sheet of parchment on which there was a drawing of a walrus with a human face. He flipped it over and read what she had to say.

Dear Harry, I certainly hope that this does not need explaining! Just so you know, I did not do the drawing, my good friend Emily did. I asked her especially, though she isn't in on the reason why. Happy Christmas. Love, Ginny.

Harry grinned hugely as he put the drawing aside. Draco looked at it curiously. Harry shrugged. "It's a very long story," he said.

Draco grimaced but didn't say anything. He nodded to Hermione to open hers next, and she pulled her first package off the column. She opened her presents differently from Harry. He tore the paper off, not really caring if it got ripped or wrinkled. She carefully slit the cellotape and scotch tape that held the paper and folded it neatly, placing it in a neat stack next to her. She opened a book from her parents, a box of chocolates from Ron and a Weasley sweater without much comment. She slipped the paper of Draco's present, and stared down at the books in the box. Carefully, she lifted one out. "Outlander by Diana Gabbaldon," she read. "Who's she?"

"One of the few decent wizarding fiction authors," Draco explained. "She writes about muggles, but there's just enough hints of magic to make it clear to us, if not to muggles, that she's a witch. She's quite popular."

Hermione nodded and lifted the other five books out of the box, reading the titles to herself as she did so. Harry felt his eyes widen at the size of the volumes. What was it with gigantic books this year? Hermione opened Fred and George's present next, and smiled as she found one of their patented daydream charms. He wondered what they'd given her. He realized with a slightly uncomfortable start that he had no idea what kind of daydream Hermione would enjoy. His own present was last, and he watched her carefully as she pulled it out of the protective tube. She unrolled the poster, and grinned hugely at him. "You remembered!" she exclaimed, looking at the poster of the beautiful American figure skater.

He grinned back. "Of course I did," he said. "Just make sure Ron doesn't try to enchant her to move."

"I will," she assured him, carefully slipping it back into the tube.

From Belle, Hermione received a CD by a girl who called herself Avril Lavigne. Harry looked dubiously at the picture on the cover.

"Belle finds her clothes better than her music," Hermione commented.

"She would," Harry agreed. He glanced at Draco. "Your turn," he said. Draco shrugged, and opened his first package. He too was a careful opener, though he didn't save the paper like Hermione did. He opened a package of books from Blaise, grinned, and set them aside. The present from Pansy was much smaller, but, once opened, turned out to be a statue of a dragon. Draco read the note out loud, laughing as Pansy explained that it was capable of being enlarged to life-sized, but that it was unadvised to do so indoors. Draco carefully put the statue down next to his mug of coffee and turned to Harry's gift. He opened it carefully, then curiously lifted the lid off the box.

"Careful!" Harry said, but it was too late. A golden object whizzed out of the box, flitting around the room at top speed. Harry saw Draco's eyes latch onto it, just as his own had, and they moved as one in an attempt to capture the thing before it discovered the door into the rest of the house. Draco lunged, narrowly missed hitting the Christmas tree, and landed with the chocolate snitch safe in his grasp.

"What is that?" he demanded, breathing heavily.

Harry grinned. "Chocolate snitches," he said. "If I were you, I'd keep the lid closed. They're charmed so that only one can escape at a time, but you never know."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Only you would give me something like that," he informed Harry.

"Chocolate or Quidditch," Harry reminded him, grinning slightly. "I gave you both at the same time. Aren't you even going to thank me?"

"Thank you very much," Draco told him, with all evidence of perfect sincerity. Harry didn't believe it for a second. Draco, jamming the snitch back into the metal box, picked up his last package. Once opened, it turned out to be a set of enormous books from Hermione.

"The Lord of the Rings, by J.R.R. Tolkein," Draco read. "Granger, why are you giving me muggle books?"

"You gave me wizarding ones," she retorted. "Besides, everyone should read the Lord of the Rings, it's a classic."

Draco shrugged, and opened the CD from Belle. Either the band was called Evanescence, or the album was. Harry couldn't tell, and Hermione's rolled eyes didn't make him any more confident. Draco looked at it oddly, shrugged, and picked up the last item. He opened the envelope with the help of the handle of his spoon. He read the note, then burst out laughing at the picture that came with it. He refused to tell either of them what he was laughing at, and only promised them that they would find out soon enough. Harry had to be content with that for the moment.

They didn't go out that day, preferring to curl up and play with their new toys. Harry and Draco directed a rather spirited game of Quidditch in the library, using Draco's chocolates and a model Quidditch team that Draco had discovered in his room. Harry, who didn't have such models to work with, improvised with Chess pieces. As the chocolate was slightly bigger than most of the players, they agreed that the first to brush it would win. Directing non-sentient players turned out to be much harder than it looked, and soon they were having to stop the game for minutes at a time as they renewed the flying charms on Harry's pieces, and Draco lectured his team about being nice.

"Now I know how Madam Hooch feels," Draco muttered, turning his Keeper loose once again. "I might even be nicer to her after this."

"Might?!"

"I'm still winning that Cup, Potter."

"In your dreams," Harry shot back. They sent their players back up into the air to continue the duel.

Hermione, meanwhile, had closeted herself in the living room with her new books, and they heard nothing out of her until nearly five hours later. In that time, Harry and Draco had caught four chocolate snitches (and eaten two of them), brought Draco's dragon to as close to life-sized as they could without breaking the ceiling, and attempted in vain to bring it to life.

"You do realize that, if you had managed to bring that thing to life, you'd just have had to kill it again," Hermione pointed out over dinner, as they recounted their adventures.

Harry shrugged. "We could have given it to Hagrid," he suggested. "He's still in mourning for Norbert."

Draco chocked. "You're saying that he had a dragon and he named it Norbert!?"

Hermione winced. "We did try to talk him out of it," she said plaintively. "He wouldn't listen to us."

"Where is it now?"

"In Rumania, with Ron's brother Charlie," Harry answered. "We sent it off during our first year. That's why we were in the halls when McGonagall gave us detention."

Draco grimaced, apparently still remembering that first foray into the forest. "When you said that you tried to talk him out of it, are you speaking of him having a dragon in the first place, or of him calling it Norbert?"

"Both," Harry said instantly. "Though I suppose Norbert is better than Fluffy."

Draco waited a beat, presumably for some sort of explanation, then demanded, "Fluffy?"

Hermione sighed. "It's a long story," she said, and Harry knew that Draco would have to be content with that. It was clear that no more would be forthcoming from Hermione, and Harry himself was not at all eager to recall the events that tied in with Fluffy. Draco looked from one to the other, the grimaced.

"How much will it cost me to know the entire story?" he asked.

Harry glanced at Hermione. "Far too much," he said. "It's not worth it, trust me."

Draco raised his eyebrows. "Isn't it?" he inquired.

"It is," Hermione said firmly. She pushed her chair back from the table and carried her empty plate to the sink. A quick spell cleaned it, and she put it away again. "Happy Christmas to both of you. I'm going to bed."

Draco snorted. After Hermione had vanished through the door he said, "Ten to one she's going to read all the books before she goes to sleep."

Harry raised his eyebrows, remembering the size of the books.

"Well, at least the first one," Draco amended.

Harry grinned. "True," he agreed. "Of course, you're going to do the same thing."

Draco only grinned, not denying it for a moment.

"At least you've only got three to read," Harry said. "I've got five!"

"I'm sure it won't kill you," Draco told me. "It'll do you good to take some time off from Quidditch for book learning."

"You're asking me to take time off from Quidditch?" Harry demanded.

"It shouldn't dictate one's life," Draco said firmly.

"Oh really? And why not?"

"Because there are more important things out there."

Harry grimaced. "Maybe. But Quidditch is by far the most fun of all of them. Why shouldn't we have some fun once in a while?"

"I didn't say that we shouldn't. I said that it shouldn't dictate our lives."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Well, it doesn't at this point. Still, given the choice, I'd rather Quidditch dictate my life than some of the things that do right now."

Draco didn't contradict him, and after a moment he excused himself as well. Harry didn't doubt that he too had gone directly to the living room and picked up the first book in the series. He supposed that he should do the same, but he couldn't quite bring himself to move. He couldn't quite forget the thoughts that had been drifting through his mind all day, especially when he was alone with Draco.

Author's note 2: hihi, finally, harry realizes what he should have known all along!

Kyra, be quiet! You'll give it all away!

-pouts- but it's exciting!

You heard Caroline. Shut up now or else!

or else what?

Or else I won't post anymore. You don't want that on your concience, do you?

-gasps- you wouldn't do that... would you?

Of course I would.

-sighs- sorry people. i can't say anymore. be patient. slash will come. we promise!

--kyra, Caroline, Tamara