I don't own Harry Potter at all! Bleeeh.

AN: I solemnly swear I am not trying to proselytize you. It's just a church, ok?

He caught up to her as she stood outside the ancient church, gazing up at the rose window.

"Would you like to go inside?" he asked quietly and she shook her head.

"I hardly- we hardly belong in a place like this anymore, do we?"

He frowned and grabbed her hand. "Come on."

"Draco, what-"

But he was pulling her in side the small church after him before she could finish her sentence. Her breath caught in her throat as she gazed about. The pillars and pews were all decorated for the season, with freshly cut holly and pine boughs. Candles along every window and the altar dressed in white.

"It's lovely," she said softly.

"It is," he agreed. "My family and I still come for Christmas Eve service every year. This will be the first year without Father. I know it bothers her, Mother, I mean," he continued. "But she won't talk to me about it. She thinks she has to be brave for me, or something like that. When really…"

"When really you're the one being brave for her," Hermione finished for him. Draco didn't respond and instead moved into a pew and sat. He didn't motion to Hermione to join him, but she went anyway. As she slid into the seat beside him, he reached over and took her hand.

"So you believe any of it?"

"Christianity?" he asked and gave her a wry look. "I don't know. We always came more as a matter of tradition- the family from the manor house visiting the lowly townsfolk." He was quiet a moment, then went on. "I don't believe in much of anything anymore, except my ability to do magic…and the ability of a madman to kill us all."

Draco looked to Hermione and she pressed her lips together, tightened her grip on his hand.

"And I believe in my feelings for you and this baby."

"Draco…"

"Listen to me, Hermione. I don't care what we said at the beginning; about make-believe and pretending to love one another. We're in it good, now. It's real, not fake. We can't change that. Why not use it?"

Hermione looked away. The sunlight filtering through the old glass, the sheen upon the holly leaves bright and glossy. The feel of his hand in hers. Those things were real and she knew he was right. But what if…

"What if you go back to them?" she whispered. "What if you change your mind again, decide we're not worth it? What if something awful happens to you?" She looked over at him and saw his face was pinched and pale.

"I swear to you, Hermione," he said, "I will never turn on you. That's over. I may- I will have to do some awful things, but I'm not going back to them, not really. Not ever."

"But if-"

"My life, my family's lives, they're already forfeit," he murmured. "Nothing I do now will change that. He'll never trust us again and even if we survived somehow he'd keep trying to kill us. Me, on your side? That's the only certain thing I have right now."

"Draco, I couldn't stand it-" she tried again.

"If I got hurt? If I died? You faced down death yourself last summer, Hermione. Don't try to tell me you couldn't live without me. You'd live and you'd thrive. You were doing well enough before we ever entered into this agreement."

"I know," she whispered. "But the way I feel now…it's different. Even how I felt about Ron, it wasn't this strong, this scary. I just can't give in to it, not yet. Please."

"It's only different because we're in more danger. It's not a game anymore. And you can't just decide that you don't want to feel this way yet. You already feel it. It's not a matter of giving in to it, Hermione. If I tell you I love you I mean it." He squeezed her hand. "I don't know what in hell it means for us in the future, but right now it's real enough and that has to be good enough for both of us." Taking both her hands, he turned her towards him.

"Please, Hermione," he murmured. "Please don't fight it."

She looked down at their hands and squeezed his gently in return. "You're asking a lot."

"I've given a lot."

She sighed and lifted her head, met his eyes.

"Alright, Draco. So we love each other. What now?"

He felt tension drain from his shoulders and his face relaxed into a soft smile.

"Now," he said, "I can kiss you properly."

And he did. It was a sweet kiss, slow and gentle and he pulled away before she could protest or lose her breath. It was the kiss of a gentleman to the woman he loved and it was full of promise. Hermione squeezed his hands again and smiled up at him.

"We should go."

He nodded his agreement and gestured. She stood and made her way from the pew first and he followed. He paused at the door, letting her exit first and then turned back once more. His gaze took in the church, its ancient stone and stained glass and he felt his heart swell with some strange conviction.

"Someday," he whispered to himself. Then he followed Hermione out into the bright afternoon sun and chill wind.

They did a bit more window shopping in companionable silence, punctuated by her cries of delight and censure as he continued to press bags and kisses upon her. This garnered some attention from fellow shoppers, but all who saw the young couple merely smiled or rolled their eyes. Teenagers in love and on holiday was how they appeared and it warmed more than one heart to see them.

By the time they arrived back at the manor, a house elf was waiting at the edge of the long drive up to the gates with a small carriage.

"Mistress bids you use it," the elf squeaked out and Hermione was glad to see the small thing was bundled appropriately.

"A magic carriage?" Hermione asked as Draco handed her up. After all, there were no horses and the inside was quite toasty.

"Of course," he replied and then settled back to enjoy the smooth ride up to the front doors. "Mother probably would have preferred we take it all the way in to town and back, but you're not too chilled from the walk, are you?"

"Hmm? No, I think I'll be alright. The coat has that magical lining, after all," she pointed out and Draco smiled at her indulgently.

"Does it? I'd forgotten."

"You forgot no such thing," she said.

"Well I can't have the mother of my child freezing to death. What's the point of a beautiful coat if it's not also practical?"

Hermione snorted, but didn't respond and the carriage finally came to a halt. Draco stepped out and handed her down with ease, then walked her through the open doorway as the carriage pulled away. They met Narcissa in the entry hall and she reached for some of Draco's bags.

"Moppy met you at the end of the drive," she confirmed and they nodded. Draco pulled the bags away.

"Ah-ah," he said. "Christmas gifts."

"Oh, come now," Narcissa began, but he smiled mysteriously and headed for the stairs, whistling. Hermione shrugged when the older woman turned a curious gaze upon her.

"Where is my son and what have you done with him?" she joked and Hermione gave a guilty start.

"He's not-"

"Oh, he's like this from time to time," Narcissa offered and helped Hermione take off her things. Her voice grew wistful. "But it has been a while since I've seen him so happy."

"It's been a while since any of us have really been able to enjoy ourselves," Hermione replied.

"But I see you've worked things out, at least."

"Yes, I- at least, I hope so."

Narcissa smiled broadly. "Good. Now, why don't you come into the parlor and we'll sit by the fire and get you all warmed up. I'll teach you how to play whist."

Hermione just smiled and nodded and didn't say a word.

An hour later, Hermione was feeling much warmer and Draco had descended from the bowels of his room to join them. He'd wandered into the drawing room, in which a large, bare tree stood in one corner, and proceeded to glance about himself before attempting to surreptitiously place a few wrapped packages beneath said tree.

"You're not fooling anyone, Draco, darling," his mother called and he shrugged, sticking his now empty hands in his pockets.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Have you told her yet?" Narcissa asked as she played another hand. Hermione glanced up at Draco, brows raised.

"Told me what?" She looked back at Narcissa, who smiled.

"We're going to have an early Christmas here at the manor. The three of us and I invited your parents to come as well, though I haven't their response yet."

Hermione immediately tensed. She was torn between thinking it was a lovely idea and being terrified that her parents should step foot anywhere near where Bellatrix Lestrange or Voldemort might randomly appear.

"I-" she began, and stopped short. She closed her mouth and looked at Draco, her eyes pleading.

"Cat got your tongue, Hermione? That's alright. I thought you might, er, love the idea," he filled in quickly as he came to sit on the chair beside her. He looked to his mother. "Too shocked we'd think of something as nice as all that to say anything, aren't you?" he said and nudged Hermione with his shoulder while Narcissa gazed between the two of them, an amused look upon her face.

"Well, that's settled then. You're really pleased, my dear girl?"

Draco nudged her again, a bit harder and she responded, a bright smile pasted on her face.

"Oh, yes," she gushed, "I think it's a lovely idea. I can hardly wait!"

"Good. What we'd planned was a nice family meal the evening before you leave and your parents can stay and help you pack and then Draco and I will see you off the next morning."

"Lovely," Hermione reiterated, though her words came out high and breathy. Draco cast a wild look her way before dissolving into laughter. Narcissa eyed him with a frown on her lips.

"What on earth has gotten into you?" she asked and he only shook his head and laughed harder.

The next day followed a similar pattern to the first, and the day after that; the only differences being in hers and Draco's afternoon activities. Instead of walking to the village, they walked around the snow covered gardens. Instead of the gardens, Draco took her to the stables where three beautifully kept horses barely filled a space meant for twenty. They rounded out the day reading to one another from the most boring textbooks they could find in his family library and playing several rounds of whist with his mother and the house elves. Professor Snape even joined them one evening for dinner and drinks.

That was perhaps the most painful evening Hermione spent in Malfoy Manor. Worse, even, than the first night when she'd argued so dreadfully with Draco- but not painful because of some hurt, real or imagined. She'd just never expected to spend time with Professor Snape outside of school, and it was extremely awkward. Especially when he kept casting glances her way and raising one inquisitive eyebrow at her. Really, what did he expect her to be doing? A happy jig? Bawling in misery?

It was quite disconcerting.

It was the fourth night of their break and Hermione and Draco were busy placing ornaments- including the beautiful pink, miniature baby shoes- upon the tree. Draco kept throwing tinsel at her when she wasn't looking and then pretending the house elves were doing it. She merely settled for tossing left over popcorn and cranberries his way. Amazingly, their Christmas traditions seemed incredibly similar to her own family's, with the exception of the candy canes Draco had insisted they each suck on as they worked.

Across the room, seated in front of a roaring fire, Narcissa and Snape spoke in quiet tones over some glasses of mulled wine. A bemused expression had taken the place of Severus' raised brows and Narcissa followed his line of sight.

"Staring again? What on earth is the matter with you, Severus?" Narcissa asked, taking a sip of her wine.

"I'm merely…surprised," he murmured. "They're getting along well."

"You've seen more of them than I have," she pointed out. "From what I understand, they spend more time in broom closets than in classes."

"Mmm," Severus replied. He turned his eyes to Narcissa. "And how are you taking it all?"

"Quite well," she replied and settled back in her chair. "I really…I really wasn't sure what to expect when you first flooed me about it all. But now I've spoken to them both- Draco at some length- and, well, it's obvious to anyone that they really care about one another. Just look at them," she said, gesturing over to where Hermione had just pelted Draco in the forehead with a berry. He was now chasing her around the tree.

Severus wasn't certain that it was entirely love mottling Draco's face that lovely pink color as he chased the young Gryffindor about. In fact, he thought it looked more like-

"I'm sorry?" he said, turning back to Narcissa, who'd gone on talking. "You know, I'm really not the best judge of young love," he murmured apologetically, a small sneer on his lips.

Narcissa raised a brow at him. "No, I know, Severus. Well, I suppose it's getting late," she said by way of ending the evening and the potions professor checked the clock on the wall and then nodded.

"It is, rather. I'll see you again soon, I hope?" he said as they stood and he allowed her to kiss his cheek.

"Of course. Draco, Hermione, Professor Snape is leaving."

Hermione halted abruptly and turned to wave. Draco crashed into her and they tumbled to the ground. Draco pulled his head up, still pinning his beloved down, and rolled his eyes at his professor and mentor. Snape sneered at him.

"I'll see you after break, children," he said pointedly in their direction and Hermione blushed fiercely and pushed at Draco. Narcissa waved her hands as if to say, what can I do with them? Nothing. Then she followed Snape from the room.

"Finally, we're alone," Draco muttered and looked back down at Hermione, who was gasping for breath.

"Draco, will you please- ugh- get off?"

"What's that? Get bent?"

"Draco!"

He smiled at her and finally rolled off and into a sitting position. "Alright, come on," he said, holding out a hand and helping her up as well. "There you are."

She scooted over to sit next to him and together they sat in silence, gazing up at the tree. They could hear voices beyond the door, from down the hall. So, Snape was still here, taking his leave. Draco rolled his eyes over at her and made a face. She frowned, trying not to giggle, but it was impossible.

"How do you do it?" she asked once their quiet laughter had subsided.

"Do what?" he asked as he admired his handiwork with the tinsel, idly picking strands of it from her hair.

"Compartmentalize this way? Be so happy here, with me, but then go and…betray your teachers, your fellow students? How can you live with it?"

He froze and his hand dropped. He looked away and shrugged.

"It's the only way I can live," he said. "It's the only way my father lives. Though I suspect Azkaban will have changed that."

"But how-"

"Look, Hermione," he began, turning to her again. "You live with your emotions; no matter how conflicted you feel, you accept them all and you work through them. I don't. My father doesn't. Snape doesn't. It's how we are. Isn't it enough that here, with you, I feel happy and I let myself enjoy that moment?" His eyes pled with her for understanding. "Isn't it enough to take each moment as it is? What more do you want me to say?"

She pressed her lips together and after a long second, she nodded and reached for his hand. He let her take it and smiled at her again.

"Thank you. For letting me have this much."

"You're welcome," she replied, her words a whisper in the great room. Somewhere, a large door banged shut and footsteps echoed down a hallway; but in that moment there was only Draco, and Hermione, and a baby, waiting to be born.

The promise of a new life.

AN: Oh, gawd, the fluff. Save me from the fluff!