A/N: Happy holidays, everyone. Thanks for your feedback, for favorite-ing the story, and for all the views. Please review- it means a lot! (See, I asked really nicely this time!)

Don We Now Our Dark Apparel

..

"Draco, where are you off to in such a rush?"

I snapped my head to attention and stared. "Blaise, what in hell's name are you doing?"

Blaise and Cormac McLaggen were walking closer together than any Slytherin and Gryffindor ever should and McLaggen was wearing a rather sheepish expression. "We're going to sneak into the Broom Closet," Blaise whispered loudly. "Want to join us? You look like you could use a firewhisky, and I'm sure someone will buy it for you—"

McLaggen knocked Blaise in the shoulder. "No, we aren't!" he announced. "We're going off to study—"

"A seventh year Gryffindor jock and a sixth year Slytherin gay boy going off to study the day before holiday break starts!" I burst out condescendingly. "Yes, it sounds quite convincing. McLaggen, you clearly are the sharpest quill in the set—"

McLaggen instantly plunged his hand into the pocket of his robes for his wand. I grasped for mine.

"Relax, Cormac," Blaise scoffed. "Draco's very supportive, despite the way he acts. You have to be in Slytherin. Besides, he likes all the attention he can get. We've snogged before and when you get him drunk enough he'll do this really funny dance he thinks is sexy where he shakes his arse on you—"

McLaggen looked amused and sniggered.

"Don't know why you're so smug, McFaggen," I snapped. "I know all about you!" He fell silent. I cast my angry gaze at the person who was supposed to be my support. "And Gods, Blaise. Shut your very nasty mouth! I only snogged you to get laid! BY A GIRL!" I shouted, my ears turning pink. I lowered my voice: "And no, I'm not going to that awful place EVER again. Fool me once, shame on you—"

"Fool you twice, first gay experience?" Blaise asked sweetly. At my dark expression, he shrugged. "No? Sad. Okay, love. See you later!" He took McLaggen by the arm and led him away. McLaggen turned and fixed me with a very disturbing expression of interest. Ugh. It seemed everyone I hated adored me and wanted in my pants. And most of them were slags or poufs (or poufs-in-training, as it were). Granger wanted nothing to do with me! She just wanted to use my body because she was too nerdy to hold down a proper man. It was infuriating.

I stopped short in my tracks, forcing a gaggle of first year Hufflepuffs to run into me from behind. After I threatened to curse them to bits and pieces and feed them to one of Hagrid's monsters and they'd run away crying, I pondered intensely with a deep frown forming on my face. Did I just separate Granger from the people I hated? Oh no. Oh Salazar. Oh Lord Voldemort. I was definitely experiencing a mental breakdown. I was going insane. I was thinking insane thoughts. I was sick.

I drew in a deep breath and made up my mind that I needed to figure out some way to right myself. Luckily, Christmas break began the next day. A trip home would surely remind me of what was important: honoring my family, hating Mudbloods (including refraining from shagging them), and above all else, not failing my task.

…

"Where's my present, Draco?" Pansy snapped by way of a greeting as I sidled into her compartment on the train. Millicent, Daphne and Astoria all broke out into giggles (well, Millicent didn't exactly ever giggle, but you get my point), apparently so excited by my appearance that they were all instantly stupefied. Tracey merely smirked at me, folding her arms across her buxom chest. I made a face back. I'd tried to locate Crabbe and Goyle but I'm fairly sure they were hiding from me, likely afraid I'd force them to morph into small girls again. Blaise was preoccupied with a compartment full of Snake Pit members, so I was stuck with this silly lot of bints.

I flopped down in the vacant seat next to Astoria and sighed loudly. "Pans, it's not even Christmas yet. And trust me, you don't want me to spoil the surprise. I'm working quite hard on this gift."

"Ooooh!" she squealed agreeably. "Good, good, good. I can't wait!"

I sneered tightly at her. The truth was, I had no bloody idea what I was going to get for her. I figured I'd go shopping after Christmas and perhaps find some marked down trinket that I could pass off as super expensive. "So are you coming around for the usual festivities?"

"Oh, darling, I forgot to tell you. I'm going to be staying with Blaise for hols. Apparently, his mother's newest fiancée hasn't met him yet and he's very anti-gay. Of course, Blaise and Mrs. Zabini have assumed new identities to win him over because he is also very rich. So I'll be posing as Blaise's girlfriend," she smiled.

"This sounds like it could be your true calling, Pansy," I snorted. "Rent-a-Slag."

"Shut it, arse," she said and stuck out her tongue. "Say hello to your mother for me—"

I nodded and tuned out as the girls discussed their holiday plans in full, tedious detail. My eyes wandered to the compartment window where my heart felt as though it might leap out of my chest anytime I saw a brunette girl wander past. But so far, there was no sign of Granger. She'd given me a narrow-eyed look over at breakfast that morning, which did two things: First, the fact that she'd acknowledged my presence restored my hope that I'd be bedding her sometime in the near future. And second, that I reacted much too positively from the Mudblood glaring at me and I needed my brain examined.

As though I were a ghost of myself, I followed the gaggle of Slytherin girls out of the compartment and through the train hallway, not even recognizing the fact that we'd arrived at King's Cross.

"Happy Christmas, Draco," trilled Pansy, breaking me out of my daze. She kissed both my cheeks. Daphne followed Pansy's lead, and Millicent gave me a bone-crushing handshake and slapped me on the back. Astoria was coming toward me to bid me goodbye when I spied Granger saying her own farewells to Weasley and Potter just ahead of us.

"Happy Christmas, Malfoy," Astoria said shyly, her face all flushed. Unholy Lord Voldemort. Apparently being nice to her once really did turn her onto me. I was slightly disgusted before I recognized that I could use this to benefit myself.

I thought fast, and spoke in an extremely loud, drawling voice: "Astoria, have I told you lately that blue is most definitely your color? Honestly, you put all the Ravenclaws to shame with how well you pull it off. I'm taking a mental snapshot of how lovely you look and I am going to ruminate about it during break to keep myself occupied." Of course, that just sounded like a fancy way of saying I was going to think about her while I rubbed a few out, but she naively didn't seem to realize it.

She glanced down at her navy blue pea coat and fingered one of her dark ringlets. "Really, Malfoy?" she said in a small voice. "Thank you—"

I cleared my throat, my eyes on Granger the whole time. "Yes, you look very well put-together. Happy Christmas." I seized her in a very passionate hug and trailed my arms down her back.

"Malfoy!" she gasped and not surprisingly, she clutched me back. She was a whole head shorter than me and very petite with no tits at all to speak of. It was a bit disappointing but she did smell nice.

"DRACO! What in Salazar's green hat?! GIRLS, LOOK! LOOK AT DRACO AND ASTORIA!" squawked Pansy so loudly that the group of Gryffindors turned to gape. Granger included.

Without hesitating, I grabbed Astoria's face in my hands and kissed her fervently. She squealed into my mouth but returned the kiss, her lack of experience hugely obvious by how awful she was at it. Her lips were soft and wet and the kiss was so sweet it was a bit revolting. So, I roughly grabbed her arse and snaked my tongue into her open mouth. I heard Pansy shrieking with amusement and other students whooping loudly.

Astoria pulled her lips off mine and shoved me so hard I actually stumbled backward. "GET OFF OF ME!" she screamed in a no-nonsense tone, then raised her gloved hand and pummeled me solidly in the face. "Hmph!" she sniffed haughtily. Once more her prim and proper self, she stomped away.

I placed my hand to my hot cheek and watched her go. For once, I was suddenly somewhat intrigued with Astoria Greengrass. That was some impressive hit from a stupid fourth year girl.

"Draco, what on earth were you doing to my little sister?" Daphne shrieked. "You're disgusting!" She ran after Astoria.

"You're a right fool," Tracey snapped, gripping her purse and following them.

"Way to get 'em while they're young, Malfoy! You're my hero!" grinned Millicent.

"I'm proud of that bitch! She whaled on you. Daft tosser," Pansy wailed through tears of laughter. "HAHAHAHA! Are you impaired? HAHAHAHA! Are you retarded? HAHAHAHAHA!"

Feverishly, I looked to the Gryffindor crowd. Weasley was shaking his head at me and smiling, and Potter had his mouth covered. "Rotten luck, Malfoy!" shouted female Weasley.

But Granger was already gone. I emitted a growl of frustration and headed toward the end of the platform.

...

Christmas at Malfoy Manor was possibly the most depressing situation I could have walked into. I should have known better. I should have instead arranged another holiday, as even one where I was forced to have needles driven into my eyes would have been more joyful.

When I arrived, I was immediately attacked by Mother who began sobbing into my hair and rocking me back and forth in her arms. That was the high point of family time with her, as what transpired past that point was so utterly morose that I was unable to form actual words for most of the time. Generally we were a family who lived in unified sarcastic hatred of yuletide, but that still meant we had a smashing time together poking snide fun at my father's coworkers, mocking our extended family, and being hateful to the house-elves. I got to be the center of the universe, with my parents showering me with gifts and sweets and listening approvingly to all of my theatrical stories about my cruel, stupid classmates. But this year, Father was in prison and my mother was apparently depending on me to entertain her and bring her out of her misery- a job I was not suited for, as I could barely fake a smile. I was her child! I was her only son, her reason for living! She was supposed to entertain me ! I did give it a try but since I couldn't tell her anything about my dealings with the Mudblood, my year actually came off sounding quite lonely and tragic what with never eating, not sleeping, and holding most of my conversations with a chest of drawers that would not answer me no matter how many times I screamed "WHY WON'T YOU WORK!?". These tales of woe led to her apologising countless times and crying more and more. I pretended I was very tired and ran off to hide in my room. But while in my room, all I wanted to do was choke the hippogriff and think about Hermione Granger. So instead I just spent a lot of time with my sheets pulled over my head, attempting not to express any erratic emotions.

Christmas Eve was decidedly dire, what with family friends stopping in and attempting to cheer poor Mother up with small talk about how the wizarding world was failing us all greatly and how they hoped my father wasn't being beaten senseless for his mistakes, to which she just responded by clutching me strongly by the robes and sobbing into my neck. As sad as it sounds, I wished I was at the Zabinis, watching Pansy play the paramour to Blaise's poufter. I'd have rather been witness to that charade than living my own personal Christmas hell. At least Pansy and Blaise would have been enough of a distraction to keep me pleasantly annoyed rather than falling into a deep gloom.

Mr. Parkinson kept sniffing me out, clapping me hard on the back, and booming about when I was going to come "call on" his "little Pancake". Mr. and Mrs. Parkinson were possibly more greedy and more evil than Pansy herself and they obviously wanted part of the Malfoy fortune, which was why they often showed at our family gatherings and attempted to butter up my poor parents. Professor Snape came by for a bit, no doubt to have an update on his pants, and so I spent much time ducking behind potted plants to avoid everyone. It was horrendous. There wasn't even any proper food! Generally, the house elves fixed enormous feasts but this year Mother had said that we needed to "eat lightly to honor Father's predicament" which apparently translated into "drink our feelings" as she was constantly re-filling our wine goblets. The finest alcohol was flowing but the only sustenance that had been laid out were a few depressing appetizers that my father favored. Where were the things I liked? I was the child! Christmas time was supposed to be for ME!

By evening, I woozily managed to find a fruit basket from Aunt and Uncle Lestrange (no thank you! it was probably poison, as they were too loopy to remember who was family and who they were trying to off), and I refused to live off the cakes Millicent had sent me as a gift since one small bite had told me she'd obviously collected ingredients from a muddy hole in her backyard. Drunk and starving, I managed to stumble to my room and wanked off to thoughts of Granger riding me but when I brought myself to orgasm I was filled with an immense amount of guilt. I grew a bit misty-eyed because apparently breaking into crying fits now ran in the family. But, I told myself, my family members weren't the ones sticking their dicks in filthy Mudbloods. That was me. I was a failure. I was rotten. I was a reprehensible, traitorous wretch. These thoughts alone should have led to me sobbing myself to sleep, but instead the great amount of guilt actually turned me on so much I had to jack off again. This growing habit of masochistic behavior was quickly becoming exhausting.

Christmas morning, Mother and I sat in silence drinking tea and eating the smallest pieces of toast I'd ever witnessed in my life until the house-elves brought out a pile of gifts for me. Although I received the usual designer robes, books, and silk socks, Mother took it as an opportunity to tell me she didn't know what to get me this year as she "wasn't certain what the next few months would hold" as "it very well might be our last Christmas together" and burst anew into sobs. I tried to be as polite to her as I could, but honestly what did I do to deserve such a rotten Christmas? I was relieved when the house-elves quickly exchanged our tea for red wine and soon enough I found myself properly buzzed and completely dismayed by my sorrowful life. Mother was huddled across from me, crying quietly whilst going through our family albums. As soon as she looked down long enough to utter several long howls, I ran off to my room.

I couldn't stand another second and I was ready to be free of my misery. Slightly drunk, I weighed my options for fun. I did not want to see any of my thick friends as they had no idea what I was going through and would make it worse as usual. Shagging Granger was out of the question as I did not know her address and I certainly did not want to crack before she did. I was hoping I could forget about her for at least three days but just the tiniest thought of her sweet little arse sticking up or of her taking my cock in her mouth was enough to drive me into a horny rage. I definitely needed sex, but I needed to stop depending upon Granger. It wasn't like I fancied her or anything. Who could I get off with?

Pansy came to mind first but I was neither desperate nor drunk enough to ride that old broom again. If only I could remember the name of that hot Ravenclaw I'd eaten out last year... I searched for the list of addresses I'd obtained for several Durmstrang girls that I'd bullied Karkaroff into giving me, but it was nowhere to be found in my room. And then suddenly, I perked up. Tracey! Why hadn't I considered her yet? Yes, our eight-month "relationship" had been wrought with tedious moments and petty arguments but we'd had a slightly regular, albeit routine sex life. Still, at this point I'd take the unexciting two minutes of terrible fellatio, ten minutes of my superior eating out skills, and eight minutes of mind-numbingly boring missionary sex. In my current state of intoxication, I couldn't quite place why this had ever been so abysmal in the first place. Yes, I'd call upon Tracey and she'd take me out of my misery by giving me some guilt-free Pureblood sex. Eagerly, I took out some parchment and my quill set and sketched out a note with a languid smile across my face.

Hello Tracey,

Happy Christmas, how about I stuff your stocking with ... my cock. Yes, this is Draco. Long time, no shag. I miss the times we had. Come around to my manor and we can go at it, for old time's sake. Then afterward if you would like we can work on our Defence Against essays. I'm not quite sure how to end mine and I happened to see yours last weekend. It isn't great but it's not bad. You should give me some ideas.

Looking forward to it,

Draco

Not only was the letter appropriately flirtatious and friendly, it was funny as hell. I laughed greatly as my owl Duke flew off into the night and then lost myself in the task of writing fresh new insults for my classmates in alphabetical order by last name. I was in the midst of a particularly good quip about Neville Longbottom's round cheeks resembling an ogre's backside when Duke rapped on my window loudly. I'd very nearly forgotten about Tracey and hoped she was writing to say she'd be arriving soon as my tipsiness was wearing off into anxiety again. I ripped open the emerald green envelope and stared. Her words were all running together as though something wet had dripped onto the parchment.

Draco,

Do you possess any memory at all? I thought we broke up because, (I'm going to paraphrase), I "drove you mad with boredom, so mad you'd rather keep watch for a giant squid sighting than ever snog my adequate-looking face ever again". Or maybe it was because you "could do so much better"? Or was it that "shagging me wasn't worth the inane conversation and humiliation of being seen in public with my whiny face"? You broke up with me during sex, you berk! Did that slip your mind? And then a week later, you whined you were lonely and I told you NEVER AGAIN! Oh, but now you're probably bored and lonely again... As goes the pattern, eh? Poor Draco. Is that why you're now making out with poor Astoria who by the way had NEVER BEEN KISSED? Is that why you're so pathetic you'll nearly get shagged at the dining room table? And you assume I'll come over and indulge you? Well, let me just say I am no Pansy (go ahead and tell her I said this, I don't care about you two and your juvenile games anymore). I won't lie down for you just because you're sick of twiddling your own thumbs. I finally got over you, Draco Malfoy! I never loved you but I thought I did because I was naive and ridiculous. Well, guess what? I do not love you! I think you're a dunderheaded snob! You took my virginity, wasted nearly a year of my life, and then you treated me like utter dung and NOW YOU ARE ASKING FOR ME BACK? How dare you ruin my Christmas! How dare you! You have no soul.

Never again, Draco! NEVER AGAIN

Tracey

"Well, that was straight and to the point. Barmey lovesick bitch. Good thing I dumped her before things got too serious," I yawned and reclined on my bed. Still... My problem was not solved. I rolled over on my side and contemplated the pros and cons of owling Granger. I must have still been a bit sauced because rather than my usual hour plus internal dialogue, I simply seized my parchment again and wrote out a fresh letter, deciding I'd better not talk to Granger like one of my Slytherin girls. She'd never stand for it.

Dear Granger,

I do hope your Christmas was well but do you know what would make it better? Because I do. If this letter gets to you, send me post and I can stop by your house for a rendezvous. I've never stepped foot in a Muggle's home before but I'll make an exception if you make it worth it to me.

Season's greetings,

Malfoy

On the envelope I wrote:

HERMIONE GRANGER
SOMEWHERE IN LONDON
MUGGLE HOUSE
BRICK OR WOOD?
LIKELY WITH WINDOWS
PARENTS WITH PROFESSION IN MUGGLE TEETH
GREAT BRITAIN
THE WORLD

With hope in my heart, I watched Duke take off again and I was ecstatic when, only an hour later I received a response. Granger's stationary was crisp and her writing orderly as always. I read her letter and then broke into a whooping shout of excitement. I dropped the letter and instantly ran for my broom.

Malfoy,

It just so happens my parents are in bed for the evening. They are opening their practice early because they are nervous people may have had lots of sweet-induced tooth problems over the holiday. I've attached my address (did you really assume Muggles might live in houses with no windows? Seriously, what planet do you live on?) and I'd assume it is a brief broom ride. My window is on the second floor, with blue curtains. I will keep them open and watch for you. Don't do anything foolish like pound on the glass or I won't let you in. My parents are quite old-fashioned and won't want you there. They don't really enjoy people over as they like peace and quiet and I respect their rules. See you soon.

Hermione Granger

..

Nearly an hour later, I located Granger's house and descended my Firebolt downward. While not as extravagant as my manor, Granger's house was surprisingly very nice. It was a tall, grey brick house with a large chimney and a very nicely kempt back garden. A quick fly around the back led me straight to Granger's window and I hovered before it, pressing my face to the glass. The chill air had knocked all but some of the wine out of my system and I was very ready to be indoors. From the far corner of the room, I saw Granger perched in a plush chair with her large ginger cat in her lap. A book was covering her face. Involuntarily, I grinned and knocked ever so lightly on the window. Granger gave the cat a last pat before casting it off her and rising. She had her long hair in a thick, messy bun and I could make out that she was wearing a very form-fitting pajama set. The deep blue looked fetching on her.

She very quietly slid open the window and put her finger to her lips. "Be quiet," she warned.

"Nice house, Granger. Much nicer than I expected," I greeted in a whisper, swinging off my broom and sliding into her open window. I propped my broom in the nearest corner and scanned her room. She had a large four poster bed with a striped blue and white comforter, and three bookshelves filled to the brim with novels and school textbooks. The large plush chair in the corner sat in front of a desk with what appeared to be a large box with a dark window inside it. "What's that thing?" I asked, my voice rising to its regular drawl. "Got enough books, Granger? Is that seriously homework over there? Are you aware it is Christmas? Do you ever stop?"

"Would you shut your mouth for five seconds?" she chided me softly, narrowing her eyes. "My parents have the room directly below me. If you make unnecessary noises, they will wake up so you need to calm down and stop babbling."

"I am calm," I argued. The ginger cat, who was now rubbing itself on my leg, chattered a reply. I leant down to pet its head and it darted away. "Well, fine!" I said, slightly offended.

Granger laughed softly. "He's not very friendly to anyone besides me." She looked me over. "You seem very wound-up," she remarked. "And you're shaking—"

"It's rather cold outside in case you hadn't noticed. Being that it's winter and all," I replied quickly, rubbing my hands together. "Good Christmas, Granger?" I asked coolly, still staring around her room. There were a few moving photographs of her and the Gruesome Twosome but most of her pictures were stagnant Muggle pictures. I held back laughter as I noticed a photo of Granger pre-tooth miracle.

"Most of it was good. Not that you even care, but I got slightly annoyed. Once again my generosity was met with forgetfulness," she said, and I caught a hint of sulkiness in her tone.

I folded my arms as I adjusted to the room temperature and shuffled my feet back and forth. "I have no idea what that means," I replied. "Care to clarify?"

"I've got a friend who never ceases to forget my birthday and Christmas. Year after year, I get him a gift even when he's being a right idiot. But I suppose he still doesn't even realize I'm a girl," she said dryly and mirrored me, crossing her arms over her chest.

I laughed aloud and she glared at me. "It's just, it's obvious you're a girl. A naggy, obnoxious girl but a girl all the same. Obviously this prat has his head in the clouds," I sniggered. I wanted to know at once who this was, and whether Granger fancied him. Granger really was shaping up to have awful taste in blokes, aside from shagging yours truly.

"It's rather sad, isn't it?" she said a bit sadly. "Even Draco Malfoy gets it…"

"Sad? How rude of you," I snapped. "Obviously I see you're a girl. I've never seen a bloke with tits like yours—"

Granger laughed a bit. "You're absurd—"

"Absurd? Because I speak the truth? And who's this idiot anyway? Someone I know, I reckon? Potter, is it? Don't despair, Granger. Potter wouldn't know a girl if she bit off his willy, he's a bit too obsessed with defeating Lord—"

"I'm sorry I brought it up!" Granger interrupted, wringing her hands. "Anyway, how was your Christmas?"

I let out a snide laugh. "Oh, it was just precious. Lots of upsetting moments. My mother's completely beside herself over Father being in prison. She kept crying. I can't stand seeing her that way. I'm sure you find all of that quite hysterical. I wouldn't be surprised if you wrote to Weasley straight away so he could have some fresh things to say toward me after break—"

"Don't be an idiot," Granger replied, but her tone was soft. "You're the one who can't help but be foul to everyone around you. I don't really care for what your father stands for but that doesn't mean I'm wishing harm on your family. I'm above all that, Malfoy. Anyway, are you okay?" She asked, not meeting my eyes. It was decidedly awkward discuss real life matters with Granger, especially since she was actually being nice about it.

Immediately I did my best to curb the touchy-feely moment which is just another thing I'm good at. "No, Granger. I'm ready to sob myself to sleep whilst I rock back and forth," I said curtly. "Look, I thought the rule was that we weren't going to discuss personal matters and I'd rather stick to it."

"You're right. Sorry," she said, nodding. She picked a bit of fuzz off her pajama top.

"This is exciting," I sneered.

"It is, isn't it? Honestly, I can't even believe I let you in my room. I must be barmey."

"I can't believe I owled you. I must have been bored out of my sodding mind," I retorted.

"Well…" she said, trailing off.

"Er…" I said, staring up at the ceiling. I pushed back my bangs and reasoned with myself. Obviously, she'd let me in for a reason and the reason wasn't to have uncomfortable chats about Christmas drama.

We made eye contact and at the exact same time, we headed straight for each other and wordlessly began to snog.