I don't own Harry Potter. Meh.

AN: More fluff, but the last of these massive amounts for a while. :) The drama injections begin again next chapter, sort of.

The next night, Hermione waited nervously in the drawing room for her parents to arrive. She was wearing a garish red sweater with a giant, sparkling, dancing snowman on the front and a pair of candy cane striped socks along with a denim skirt (that was her own). Draco had dug the ensemble from out of a pile of unwanted gifts of Christmases past and Hermione had to admit that they fit her fairly well. She imagined he couldn't have been more than ten or eleven when he'd received them. He, in turn had put on the presents Ginny and Hermione had given him- a striped green and red sweater with a giant D on the front of it, à la one of Mrs. Weasley's creations. (It was, in fact, Ginny's first attempt at sweaters. Draco assured Hermione that he loved it. She rather thought he was just a good actor.) His socks were also candy cane striped and he'd insisted they play Christmas carols on the wireless loudly and often.

His ridiculous Christmas spirit was infectious enough to make Hermione's nerves disappear for at least half the day; though by the time five o'clock rolled around her stomach was in knots again.

Narcissa merely smiled and avoided him. She insisted she didn't want to catch whatever was wrong with him; although she, too, was busy helping the house elves make cookies and more mulled wine and she'd gone around all day with a sprig of mistletoe in her hands, looking for the perfect surprise spot to hang it.

Hermione thought they were both quite mad. Then again, what had Draco told her about enjoying each moment? And there certainly hadn't been much mirth in the Malfoy household this year. If they wanted to enjoy these small pleasures before they were gone for good, she supposed she shouldn't let it bother her.

Maybe learning to enjoy the small things, herself, wouldn't be such a bad idea. After all, wasn't that what she tried to do now, with Ginny and Harry and even Draco? It was- they were no different, really. Underneath, they all looked the same, thought and felt the same- their blood ran the same dark red as anyone else.

She jumped slightly at a hand on her shoulder and looked over to find Draco watching her seriously.

"Draco," she murmured. "What is it? Are they here?"

"Not yet," he replied. He glanced at the open doors into the room and cocked his head, as if listening for something. When no sound came, he turned and motioned to her. "Come with me," he said. She followed him over to the tree, curious, and guessed what he meant to do two seconds before he placed the small, brightly wrapped packaged in her hands.

"Go on," he urged. "Open it, please?"

"Draco…"

"Hermione. It's just a gift," he said, suddenly awkward and unsure of himself. "I wanted…to give it to you. Before you left. But before everyone else got here."

"I assumed that's why you insisted on me opening it right now," she said wryly, though she still didn't move.

"Hermione-"

"What is it, Draco?" she asked, quietly. It was small enough to be…but no, there was no way he would give her something that important. Was there? They'd only just declared their love- or overblown teenaged lust, whatever it was- to one another a few days ago. It was far too soon for presents of this import.

"Just open it," he huffed. "Unless you don't want it-" he began and reached for it. She snatched it away and turned around, began ripping at the paper.

"No, I want it," she replied coyly, dancing out his way when he reached for her again. He finally stood still, eyes averted, yet darting to her face every other second, eager to see her reaction, anxious to know how she felt.

It must be a very important gift, indeed.

She finally had the paper off. A logo and name she didn't recognize was engraved in the top of the wooden jewelry box. She eyed him steadily for a full minute before he grew impatient once more.

"Well?"

She smirked at him, but her heart beat faster as she finally lifted the lid of the tiny box. Inside, nestled into blue velvet, lay a silver joint ring; its three hoops reflecting the candle light brightly. Hermione looked up Draco, a question in her eyes.

"Do you…like it?" he asked, hesitant, and she nodded slowly.

"It's lovely," she whispered.

"Good," he breathed, then plucked the box from her hands again. "Put it on," he urged and tugged the ring gently from its place. He reached for Hermione's right hand and slid the ring into place on the fourth finger. It was loose, and he flushed.

"Bloody-" he began, then stopped and looked up at her. "I'm sorry- I can have it resized if you- I think my mum knows the spell-"

"No," she interrupted him. "Here, it'll fit the middle one- there." She held up her right hand and gazed at the interlocking loops, not daring to blink for fear of crying. "Draco, it really is lovely." She turned to him and kissed his cheek impulsively. "Thank you."

He blushed again and tucked the box in her pocket. "Better hang onto that," he said. Then he looked up at her.

"I promise, Hermione," he said. "I promised in the church and I swear to you again, here. I won't change my mind again. I'm…for you. And your baby."

"Draco, you don't have to say-"

"I want to," he insisted. "I need you to understand that. All our talk of feelings and compartmentalizing and motives…I need this."

Hermione bit her lip and glanced away, up at the tree. Her eyes caught the ornament he'd bought her and she smiled softly.

"Fine," she said, turning back to him. "Thank you, Draco. I...I'll wear it everday."

He smirked and raised a brow at her, but took her hand with surprising tenderness.

"Come on, I think your parents just arrived."

Hermione eyed him a beat longer, a smaller version of his smirk gracing her lips. Then she followed him out into the hall. She suddenly wasn't sure if she was ready to leave Malfoy Manor, or stay there the rest of her life. Either way, the clamor of emotions high in her breast had drowned out the arrival of her parents, who were indeed in the front hall, arms full of gifts, being greeted by Narcissa Malfoy and a house elf.

Hermione had seen many strange and unsettling things in the last five years, but this was perhaps the strangest of all. Her mother and father merely blinked in surprise at the tiny elf, greeted Narcissa with kisses (her mother) and a stern handshake (her father) and then turned their gazes to their daughter.

And Christmas officially began.

Days after she'd left Malfoy's home and was settled back with her parents; after the eggnog was drunk, the figgy pudding eaten, and presents opened; an owl arrived from Ginny, who insisted on knowing all the dirty details. Had she shagged Draco yet? What had he given her for Christmas? More importantly, was it worth more than all of Ginny's possessions combined?

Hermione grinned at her friend's impudence and penned a quick reply; telling her that she'd be there for the New Year party the Twins had planned at their Diagon Alley shop; and that she'd spill the beans then and no sooner.

She was just finished sealing it up when her mother walked into the living room.

"Leaving tomorrow, right darling?" she asked and set a mug of hot cider down at Hermione's elbow.

Hermione looked up at her and smiled. "Just for a couple days. School starts again after that anyhow. You won't miss me much, will you?" she asked and reached behind her to place the letter into Pigwidgeon's waiting talons. The tiny owl accepted the reply and a treat before he scooted off into the bright afternoon sky. Ron had been much better about letting Ginny use him after the entire mess back at the start of the year. He'd been nicer to her, in fact- especially recently, and right before break. Thinking of him now made Hermione's stomach twist in knots and she drew herself back to what her mother was saying.

"Oh, I think we'll manage without you," Mrs. Granger replied, smiling, but her eyes were sad. Hermione hugged her mother about the waist and the older woman sat down beside her, closing the window behind them. "I'm glad you had a nice time at the Malfoys'," she went on. "Your father even managed to enjoy himself the other night, it seemed."

Hermione grinned, remembering her father's forays into the world of whist. Narcissa had whipped him for a good three rounds before he'd challenged her to a game of bridge. Hermione wasn't certain, but she thought that maybe the witch had lost on purpose, to preserve her dad's masculinity. It seemed like a Slytherin thing to do, and besides, Hermione knew how to spot the fake smile of a Death Eater anywhere; and Draco had definitely been sporting one for the sake of her father's good spirits. On second thought, maybe it wasn't a Slytherin thing to do. Maybe it was just a womanly thing to do.

And maybe she was crazy hormonal and confused. Her stomach knotted itself further and she snuggled into her mother's embrace.

"He did enjoy himself, didn't he?" she replied now to her mother. "I'm glad you like Mrs. Malfoy so well, Mum."

"Mmm," her mother responded. "She's a lovely woman. Cares about you, I think, and not just because her son knocked you up."

"Mum!"

Mrs. Granger laughed. "Well what would you call it, sweetie?"

"Blergh," Hermione said. Then she tilted her head back and looked up at her mother again. "And Draco?"

"I still think his name is ridiculous," Mrs. Granger began, while Hermione poked her ferociously, both of them laughing. "But he's a nice boy. As nice as he can be, I suppose. He likes you a lot, I can tell."

"How can you tell that?"

"He gave you that shiny new ring you've been wearing, for one," Mrs. Granger pointed out, arching a brow at her daughter.

Hermione flushed to the roots of her hair. "It's just a gift- a sort of promise ring," she finished, mumbling.

"What's that?" Mr. Granger asked, strolling into the room, the newspaper under one hand and an ale in his other.

"Nothing," Hermione and her mother chorused before exchanging an understanding glance and secretive smiles.

It was only the next day, as Hermione was double checking her trunk and other things that her mother cornered her and decided it was high time they had a heart to heart.

Hermione looked at her mother curiously as she saw upon Hermione's bed, hands folded, and asked if her daughter had things under control.

"Yeah, just about finished, Mum," she replied.

"Oh, well, that's good." She glanced about the room, a fond smile on her face. "Remember the summer we helped you choose the paint?"

"And dad threw a fit because he said 'Neon green is no color for a young lady's room,'" Hermione replied, doing a gruff imitation of her father. Her mother laughed. "Yeah, I remember. How could I forget? And he made you promise to buy me a pink bedspread, to make up for it-"

"But we got the lovely blue one you wanted instead, that had-"

"Batman all over it," Hermione replied, laughing. "The one you're sitting on, you mean."

"And then the next summer, just as your tastes were changing again, you got your letter. And we never redid it."

Mrs. Granger smiled at the poignant memory, but Hermione paused in her folding and sat down beside her. Her belly was protruding some, finally, though it still wasn't terribly noticeable, and her mother put her hand over it impulsively, then hugged her daughter. Hermione started to feel concerned.

"Mum? What's going on?"

"It's just- oh, we'll never get it redone at this point, will we? There will always be something…" She shuddered and then pulled away. "You're growing up so fast."

"Oh, Mum," Hermione began, but her mother hushed her.

"No, darling, listen to me. I just…I just want you to promise me- and your father too, really, because he feels the same way, even if he isn't saying it- I want you to promise us that you'll think very carefully before you make any big decisions."

"Like what, Mum? I'm already- I already decided to keep the baby."

"I know, my darling girl, I know." She hugged Hermione again, held her tightly. "But this other thing, with the young man in question-"

"Draco, Mum," Hermione protested and Mrs. Granger sighed and nodded.

"Yes, Draco," she said, pulling away again. She looked at Hermione seriously, searching her face. "This ring…I know you said it's only sort of a promise ring, but a mother knows, Hermione. I saw the way he looked at you and you looked at him- and trust me, teenagers don't have the exclusive rights to feelings of puppy love, or young love, or crushes. Adults remember perfectly well how it felt to be that age and feel as if nothing would ever keep them apart."

Hermione wrinkled her nose. If only her mother knew the half of it.

"Mum, I promise that Draco and I…we have no illusions about the future. Anything could happen. I know that, trust me. I'm not betting my entire life on how I feel for some boy right this instant."

"You say that…"

"I mean it," Hermione replied.

"But this ring changes things. I want you to promise me that if you ever feel differently about him, don't be afraid to let things go, to try something new. I don't want you to let promises you make to a young man when you're seventeen and hormonal determine the rest of your life."

"Mum," Hermione said, equally serious now, "I promise." If only her mother really knew what was going on- that with Draco, Hermione was trying something new. That with him, nothing would ever be certain, not until a murderous mad man was dead. That her only daughter's life was in danger every second, simply because she chose to make friends with an innocent boy her first year of school. They really ought to be giving muggle parents a lesson on current wizarding politics before they allow them to send their children off to become witches and wizards, Hermione thought. If my parents had known about Voldemort before they sent me off…

But of course, everyone had thought Voldemort was gone for good back then. She sighed and focused on her mother.

"Alright then. I'm sorry for getting into your personal business, but you are my daughter. You're my only child and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't very worried about you. Every second of every day."

"Oh, Mum," Hermione said again and this time she was the one pulling her mother in for a tight hug. Hermione suddenly felt terrible for all the lies, all the danger and intrigue. She wished desperately she could be a normal daughter for her mother, just an average girl her mum could take out shopping and to lunch; and the most they would argue about was how much make-up she wore.

But that life wasn't hers. Draco was right; she had to enjoy the small things while they lasted. There was no telling what the future held, but whatever happened she needed these good memories. Time spent with her mother, memories of decorating her room, visions of happier, more innocent days.

She had a feeling her mother needed those things, too. So, she hugged her for a very long time, until her father came to her room to see what was keeping them. And then she took up her trunk, put it in her parents' car, and they drove her into the city, to Diagon Alley.