It was very rare to hear or see someone grumbling on Christmas Eve.

Unless it was someone who worked in the International Magical Office of Law, and that person was Hermione Granger.

"Stupid, idiotic, lazy, half-wit of a boss," she said through gritted teeth as she appeared in the middle of her flat with a small 'pop'. She glanced at the time; it was already ten at night. Her boss had kept her at the office to finish some his paperwork that he had forgotten to do earlier so that he could go on a cruise with his wife. Unsurprisingly, 'some' paperwork was a lie. She probably did most of the department's paperwork.

She was hungry and knackered beyond belief.

She walked into the living room and caught sight of Draco sitting on the sofa, watching the telly with his tail swishing left and right slowly.

"Hello, Draco," she said, "Merry Christmas Eve."
Draco turned to her and yawned.

"Yeah, me too," she sighed, "Aren't you hungry? I'm hungry. And I am going to bed after dinner, so you're free to watch telly until whenever."

Normally she would cook something nice during Christmas Eve, something that wasn't her current menu of pasta salad and fried chicken, but she really had no energy to cook up a storm, and she thought that she was already going to have a feast at Harry's the next day during their Christmas party, so having a mediocre meal was fine at that time – Draco didn't seem to mind, too.

"I'm sorry it's not something fantastic or anything," she said, blinking heavily, feeling like she was about to fall asleep into her food any second, "I'm just really, really tired. Sometimes my parents visit, like last year, and there would be good food on the table. But this year they're in … I think they're somewhere in Asia. And plus I'm really, really tired."

Draco didn't say anything – of course he didn't say anything, he can't! Silly, silly Hermione.

"Hmm," she laughed to herself, "Looks like I'm more tired than I originally thought."

"I don't care if you're still not your real self, Draco, I'm still taking you to Harry's party," she said solemnly, chewing her food with effort.

After they were both done, she dumped the plates into the sink and with a flick of her wand, they began cleaning, wiping and arranging themselves. She normally did it the Muggle way, but alas, she had no energy left.

"Draco, I'm going to bed," she said morosely, after checking that the telly was still on.

She jumped into the shower – took a long, warm one – brushed her teeth, changed into her pajamas and walked out of the bathroom.

To find Draco already on the bed, grooming himself.

"Tired too, huh?" she grinned before switching the lights off. She climbed into bed, not even bothering to pull the covers over herself.

And then everything was blank. She was out within a minute.

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Hermione was between sleep and consciousness somewhere in the middle of the night because her feet were cold.

She was still too tired to move, too tired to even open her eyes – let alone get up and pull the covers over her person. She tightened her arms around herself and shivered a little.

Just as she was about to fall into her half-comatose state again, she felt something shift in her bed and then all of a sudden, she felt warm all over.

Humming appreciatively, she went back into dreamland.

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The second time Hermione woke up was when she realized that she was warm. Not blanket warm, but another kind of warm. And it was very, very warm indeed.

Her eyes opened to catch a glimpse of what looked to be like six pairs of limbs – all wrapped around her.

She blinked a couple of times and tried to focus with extreme difficulty especially since the only source of light was from the streetlights outside and the one coming from the hallway.

And then she frowned in confusion.

There were four arms – not six. And then two of them were definitely hers. The other two, however, were very pale, and very masculine.

And so very warm.

Technically … that meant that someone was spooning her.

She shifted a little, and then she turned.

Her heart stopped and her brain baked, because her questioning eyes met the grey eyes of Draco Malfoy.

Not the cat-Malfoy. Real, breathing Draco Malfoy. With his human face, devoid of any fur. With the tousled blond hair, the pale face, the very big human eyes with that shade of grey, and the perfect nose and the pink lips.

Draco Malfoy was back to normal.

And he was currently sporting an unfathomable mien.

They locked eyes.

"Hello," he said, voice husky and possibly hoarse from sleep. Or was that how Draco Malfoy normally sounded like?

And then her addled brain had to go and take in the details of how not-clothed real Draco Malfoy was. He was naked. Or at least, she thought he was because the blanket, blessedly and mercifully covered his lower half, detracting from a multitude of sins.

Otherwise, his top half was unclothed – totally bare.

"Hi," she answered flatly, as flat as her position was on the bed, looking at Draco Malfoy who was to her right – she didn't know what to do, or say, heart beating like mad –

Draco suddenly moved and reached out to give her a warm, warm peck on her lips … and it lingered more than any other kisses she had ever experienced. Their noses bumped a little when he pulled away, but he was still close enough for her to feel his warm breath tickling her face.

"Go back to sleep, it's only four in the morning," he said softly, stroking her curls.

After many moments of her staring into Draco's eyes and his face, and basking in his warmth and everything, she realized that she couldn't fight sleep again, especially since Draco keeps doing that to her hair.

She fell asleep with one last thought in her head.

Christmas: a day of might, wonder and magic indeed.

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When she woke up, there was no warmth.

There was no warm half-naked (or naked?) body next to hers, and she had the sneaking suspicion that Draco himself had realized that he was naked, too and then went home to get some clothes.

She walked out of her bedroom to see everything else in place (no half-dying cat-Malfoy near the balcony this time), Christmas tree was still lighted up, decorations in place and everything still looked warm and cosy that Christmas morning.

She opened her front door and stalked towards Oliver's door but found that there was a piece of paper stuck to the door.

Off to visit parents. Merry Christmas, Granger.

Oliver.

She smiled at that and tore the paper from the door, walking barefooted to her own flat. Not before she reached her open door, she saw a figure walking at the end of the hallway.

Her heart skipped almost violently at the recognition, for it was Draco Malfoy. He had on a huge black winter coat with the collar upturned, a white scarf wound haphazardly around his neck. Snow was everywhere – on his black boots, his shoulders and his hair. And in his black-leather-gloved hands, was a red box with a green bow.

She waited by the door as he made his way towards her.

"I won't ask why you're standing in front of your flat in your pajamas," he said, eyes twinkling with amusement.
"I wanted to wish Oliver a Merry Christmas," she answered, pointing at the general direction of Oliver's flat, knowing that she was blushing so very madly.

"I see," he grinned. And then he lifted the box in his hands towards her – and she noticed that it had holes all over. "Merry Christmas."

"What's this?" she asked, smiling lightly.

"Open it, you will like it."

"Such confidence," Hermione sent him a teasing look before pulling on the green bow until it came free, balling it and then stuffing it into her pajama pocket (she might need that bow in the future), and opened lifted the lid of the box.

And then she gasped.

At first glance it looked like a ball of snow – mind you, Draco Malfoy could still possess the presence of mind to attempt a joke like that on such an occasion – but then it moved.

Blue eyes peered up at her timidly.

It was a Norwegian Forest kitten.

Hermione was floored – one hand was over her chest and the other immediately went to cover her mouth.

"Oh my goodness," she brought a hand into the box and looked at Draco with watery eyes, "Draco, you shouldn't have …"

She picked up the kitten and drank in every single detail of the kitten with an expression akin to awe.

"He's …" she began, and then quickly checked the kitten's gender, "Yes, he … Thank you, Draco."

She was at a loss of words as she stroked its fur.

"Apparently it's meant to look a little ragged when it's small, but he'll grow up to be quite beautiful," Draco said glibly.
"Just like you, then," she joshed and laughed at Draco's affronted expression, "Come inside, I have a present for you, as well."
"Do you?" he raised a fine eyebrow.

She set the kitten on the floor for it to explore the house before grabbing his hand and leading him inside.

"Wait, what shall I name him?"

"Berlioz, after the youngest kitten in Aristocats," Draco answered immediately.

Funny, it was as if he was expecting her to ask him that.

"Oh, alright then," she conceded, "Come on."

She brought them both to the Christmas tree and sat cross-legged on the floor opposite each other. Hermione rummaged around the tree for Draco's gift – that black package with a white bow.

She finally found it and with a triumphant sound and turned to Draco.

He watched her with warm, grey eyes and a charming smile.

"Merry Christmas, Draco," she grinned, lifting the present.
"Thank you," he said softly and took the proffered package.

He ripped it open – no patience – and revealed a collection of jazz CDs, complete with a portable CD player at the bottom.

They were old-fashioned, Hermione thought when she was purchasing them, but it was a classic – and it was relatively easier to explain to Malfoy compared to iPods and MP3 Players and the like. Maybe she'll get him those for his birthday. Or for no reason at all.

"I magically altered it myself so you can play it anywhere, especially in the Wizarding world – I did the same for the camera thing … I thought that since you loved jazz, I - "

Her words got cut off by Malfoy's warm lips crushing hers in a sinfully sweet, languorous kiss.

"Thank you, Granger," he said, biting his lip and shutting his eyes, his nose touching hers, "It's lovely." And there was that smile again.

"I'm glad," she breathed.

She smiled back at him, before both of them set out to capture each other's lips again, with Draco pulling her until she was sitting on his lap, administering little nips and bites to her lips – right there next to the Christmas tree.

Hermione savoured his kisses, not knowing how she had been waiting for this for a very long time but just that she was, and it was finally here. This was better than Christmas, better than chocolate, better than sweets, better than holidays, better than a warm bed.

And Draco smelled like adventure, he smelled like winter, he smelled like happiness and he smelled like something you never realized was intended for you from the very beginning. He smelled like Draco.

They were due at Harry's in a couple of hours for the Christmas party, but there was much Christmas snogging to be done with Draco first. And if they were late, she couldn't care less. Her world at that very moment consisted of one Draco Malfoy, doing wonderful things with his lips, and making her feel warm on that lovely, albeit cold Christmas morning.

Awww.
Epilogue up next!