I thought about totally busting out a "You like me! You really like me!" a la Sally Field, but I figured it'd be a bit dramatic. I'm so glad everyone loves this story. I think I've finally found a way to wrap up the sappy HG that I've somehow created...though I'm not sure if it was ever my intention...I just started writing and it happened. I've written 50,000+ words in 10 days...something I haven't done in forever, and I honestly think it wouldn't have happened had you all not left your comments and added me as a story favorite - so thank you!

December was never a good month for Hermione. Her parents' anniversary was on the 3rd, her mother's birthday was on the 15th, and ten days later was Christmas. Even when she was knee deep in therapy appointments in New York, Hermione could never shake the funk she fell in during the holidays. She groused at anyone who suggested she try, though those that knew her best didn't dare utter the words. Hermione buried herself in work, leaving with Draco in the morning but returning late in the evening, sometimes after Draco had retreated to bed. Sometimes she'd fall asleep in the study or on the couch in the living room reading, but he would always find her when he noticed the cool spot next to her in the middle of the night. She would always find herself in his arms the next morning, holding snugly around her waist as if he feared she would leave him.

She woke up around seven in the morning on Saturday, damming herself for not being able to fall back asleep. Hermione rotated in Draco's arms and watched him as he slept. He looked so peaceful, all of the lines she would see when he was awake or worried were nonexistent. She had been undeserving of his patience as of late, and was waiting for the moment where he snapped and said he was done with it all. Last week, he finally convinced her to move her boxes out of storage that she packed away before New York and into his basement, though she nearly had a panic attack when he tried to open and unpack things.

"Stop staring at me, Granger," Draco mumbled, his eyes still shut. "It's bloody creepy."

"I can't sleep," she confessed.

"You could if you'd shut off that pretty little head of yours," he said. He cracked his eyes open and saw her. How she was even awake was beyond him. Ever since December hit, her nightmares had come back in full force to the point that she cracked a rib of his with her elbow that he had to heal with skele-gro. She refused to take any kind of sleeping draught, though he was half tempted to smuggle some in a milkshake and make her drink it later this evening. Harry warned him weeks ago that this was coming. Even when they went to visit her last year during December, she was an emotional basket case.

He rolled onto his back and pulled Hermione into him, using his hand to rub soft, slow circles on her back. "Close your eyes," he whispered, closing his as well. "Let me take care of you."

She did as he asked, and before she knew it, he was lulling her back to sleep. He felt a tear slip from her cheek onto his chest, and his heart clenched. He softly shushed her, feeling her breathing start to slowly even out. The kneazle, who Hermione nicknamed Z after James formally named the creature Kneazle, jumped up onto the bed. Hermione's emotions directly impacted Z's demeanor, and as if she could tell when Hermione was feeling stressed out, Z would appear from hiding. He cracked an eye open and watched Z crawl up on his chest, turning around twice before plopping her fuzzy gray body on his stomach, next to Hermione's arm. He reached out and scratched Z's head, earning a purr before falling back to sleep.

Draco was the first to wake up a few hours later. He looked over at the clock and sighed. Ten in the morning was certainly more acceptable than seven in his opinion, though he still preferred to spend his weekends being as lazy as possible if he could help it. Z was still on his chest, only now she was sitting like the Sphinx, staring at him like he was supposed to be fixing her beautiful, yet emotional disaster that was her owner. With a succinct meow, Z used his abdomen as a springboard and went off to find a windowsill to sunbathe in for the remainder of the day.

"What time is it?" he heard Hermione asked as she draped a leg in between his.

"Ten."

"Ugh."

"My sentiments exactly." He stroked his fingers through her hair. She was growing it back out, which he was excited about as he often enjoyed playing with her hair. "How are you feeling today?"

"Alright, I guess," she said.

"…Do you want to talk about it?" Draco carefully asked.

"There's nothing really to talk about," Hermione said, her voice void of emotion. "I just miss them. I wish I could stop but I can't."

He kissed the top of her head. "You shouldn't stop missing them, Hermione. I wish I could say that I missed my father, but I don't. If I could miss him, though, I would."

She looked up at him. "Do you have any fond memories of your father? Any at all?"

Draco rubbed his forehead with his fingertips, trying to wrack his brain but came up empty. "He wasn't affectionate, or had any emotion really outside of anger. The best thing I could get from his was a nod if I did something to his liking."

"How awful," Hermione murmured.

"You have dozens and dozens of memories of your parents," Draco said softly. "When you miss them, you should think of a happy memory with them. All of the stories you'll tell your children about them."

Draco was right, and Hermione knew it. He said the same thing she'd heard in therapy time and time again. She was never going to be able to truly move on in her life without finding a way to handle her grief. Everyone around her seemed to be evolving. Draco was a better person every day, even if he didn't see it. Narcissa was learning to relax in Hermione's presence, even inviting her over to her cottage for tea once in a while. Like Narcissa said, changing her thinking overnight wasn't going to happen, but that wasn't to say change couldn't happen. Hermione knew she couldn't spend the rest of her life this way, but the only person that could change it was her.

"Tell me your favorite memory," Draco said.

"To pick one would be impossible," Hermione replied.

"What did your parents think about you being a witch?" Draco asked.

Hermione laughed. She rolled off of Draco and onto her back, shoving a pillow underneath her head. He rolled to his side and laced one of his hands with hers. "My mum didn't really know what to think," she said. "But Dad…he thought it was brilliant. You know how Arthur gets when he finds a new muggle device? Imagine that enthusiasm every time Mum and Dad came to Diagon Alley, or when I would come home to show them what I'd learned."

"Hermione Granger…breaking the underage magic rule." Draco tisked.

"Please. Dumbledore gave me permission before I left after first year."

He rolled his eyes. "Of course he did."

She giggled. "Mum got used to the magic after a while, though she did insist on me learning how to do some things without magic, like sewing. She knew I was a part of a new world, but she wanted me to stay apart of theirs, too. But…there isn't a lot of muggle life in my daily life anymore, and I wonder sometimes if she'd be disappointed."

"I doubt your parents could find it in them to ever be disappointed in you," he said sincerely.

"I do know that I want my children to know both worlds," Hermione said, picking imaginary fuzz from her nightdress. "I want my children to experience school like I did before getting my letter."

Draco snorted. "Please hold back that piece of information from my mother."

Hermione laughed. "She might be used to it by then."

"I'm looking for acceptance, not a miracle," Draco stated. "Though I'm sure if anyone could change her mind it's you."

She rolled on her side to face him. "Why are you so good to me?"

"Consider it my personal penance for my years of taunting you as a child," he replied.

She gave him a peck on the lips. "I wasn't much of a picnic either."

"Yeah…but you never did anything unless I provoked you."

"True." Hermione sighed, closing her eyes as Draco soothing rubbed a hand up and down her arm. "I'm sorry I've been more of a mess than usual."

"Don't apologize," Draco said.

"I have to. I've been distant and I snapped at you the other day and – "

"Granger – " he cut her off. "It's ok."

"I'll get better," she promised.

"I know you will." That's what Draco hoped for, anyway.

Later that afternoon, Draco and Harry stood outside in the backyard of the Potter house, knee deep in snow with transfigured rectangle containers. Inside sat James, watching intently as he sipped on a mug of hot cocoa filled with marshmallows. Harry was using his wand to turn the cold powdery substance into a wet snow before making snow bricks. Draco was completely confused by it all, but he needed to talk to Harry, and this was the only way to do it.

"What in the bloody hell are we doing, anyway?" Draco asked.

"Making a snow fort," Harry said, as if it was completely obvious.

"You do know you're a wizard, right?"

Harry stacked the snow bricks he was making into a large square, leaving just enough of an opening for James to squeeze into once it had walls. "Yes," he grunted. He smashed the bucket into the snow and made a few more bricks before carrying them back to the base of the fort. "And believe me, I figured when James asked me to build him a snow fort it wouldn't require much effort. But then my wife – my lovely, adoring, snarky wife said to James, it's a good thing Daddy's a wizard, because I don't think he could make one by himself. It would be much too hard."

Draco mimicked Harry's brick making and followed the pattern Harry started. "So this is no longer about James getting a fort – this is about you proving your wife wrong."

"Yes," Harry said. "That and my adoring son was pretty confident when telling his mother that I could do anything."

"Your wife's evil," Draco said.

Harry looked over at the back door and saw Ginny holding Albus, sporting a devious grin. "I'm aware." He and Draco continued to stack the bricks of snow, alternating them as if they were laying brick. "You said you wanted to talk – what's up."

"You have to smack some sense into Hermione," Draco said bluntly.

"Yeah, I'll pass on that one. But you feel free to give it a go," Harry laughed.

Draco shook his head, plopping a brick on the fort, now waist high. "Oh no – you owe me Potter."

Harry stared at him before sighing. "You asking me to do something that I absolutely do not want to do."

"She won't listen to me," Draco argued. "She can be sad, Harry. She can be sad every day of her life if she wants. But there are days where she is brilliant and the girl I'm madly in love with and then there are other days where she is a hollow shell."

Harry looked towards the house to see if Ginny was out of sight before taking his wand to carve a small window at James' eye level in one side of the fort. Quickly hiding his wand, he stacked a few more bricks. "It isn't that her parents died. It's that her parents did without any memory of her. That's what eats at her soul"

Draco was confused. "How is that possible?"

"Because she used oblivate on their memories. Charmed them to think they were Monica and Wendell Wilkins, with a lifelong dream to move to Australia," Harry explained. "They were killed by Death Eaters the day they were supposed to leave. Aurors found them in the living room of their home – blood everywhere – bags packed with their plane tickets in hand."

"Did she see…"

"No," Harry quickly replied. "We held a small funeral for them after the war once we all found out. I had the house cleaned and fixed as best as I could before letting her step foot inside."

"Who did it?" Draco asked. "Which Death Eater? Yaxley? Trevors?" He felt his face pale. "Please tell me it wasn't my father."

Harry stared at him in disbelief. "Do you honestly think I would have let you within five feet of her if your father had killed her parents?"

Draco exhaled a sigh of relief. "I just wanted to make sure."

"It wasn't him," Harry repeated. "But I only know that because I'm a nosey git and pulled the file at work. She doesn't know and she doesn't need to know. He's received the Dementor's Kiss – there's nothing she can do about it. It won't do any good for you to know either."

He nodded. "Very well."

"Good," Harry said. He and Draco stood back to admire their handy work. It wasn't half bad for a snow fort built by hand, and it was the perfect size for James. "Take that, Ginny Potter."

Draco laughed. "If I didn't know any better, I'd swear you enjoy the torture sometimes."

"We get our kicks in where we can," Harry said with a laugh. "James will be four next month, Albus is a drooling fool…we've learned to keep it interesting between us."

"So it's like some kind of sadistic foreplay?" Draco asked, chuckling.

"It will be later tonight," Harry said with a smirk. Draco saw Ginny staring at Harry out of the window, shooting him a playful smirk as she told James to go get dressed so he could play in his fort. "I will talk to Hermione," he finally said, shaking the snow off of his gloves. "I'm not going to enjoy it, but I will talk to her. It's probably time someone does, anyway."

Draco gripped his gloved hands together and pointed them in Harry's direction. "Thank you. Honestly – I know if I really push the issue I'll wind up fucking it up somehow."

"Yeah…" Harry trailed. The back door opened and out ran James, as best as he could for as many layers Ginny dressed him in. "Well, what do you think, buddy?"

His eyes were wide as he inspected the outside of the fort, and then the inside. He peeked out of the window Harry made for him and grinned. "It's the best fort ever!"

Ginny stood in the doorway, holding the door open as she watched James. "You see that, Gin!" Harry shouted at her. "Best! Fort! Ever!"

She flashed him a wicked grin. Best fort ever indeed.

Later that evening, Draco told Hermione he needed to finish up some last minute Christmas shopping so that he could excuse himself from the conversation he knew she needed to have with Harry, whether she wanted to or not. Draco could be her lover, her best friend, her confidant, but Draco was also confident enough in his relationship with her to know that there were going to be a small handful of things he could never be there for her for in that regard, and this funk she was going through was one of them.

Hermione was playing the grand piano from her parents' house that Draco moved into the sitting room for her when they moved her boxes into his place. She sat on the black cherry wood bench and softly let her fingers dip into the ivory keys. She remembered how she would sit for hours at the piano as a child, watching intently as her mother taught her the notes and how to read music. Like everything, Hermione picked up on the piano quickly, and her mum was convinced she would be a piano prodigy as there wasn't anything she had found that her daughter couldn't master.

"Splendid, Hermione!" Mrs. Granger would cry, clapping her hands after seven-year-old Hermione played for her the piano accompaniment for Concerto for Two Violins in D Minor. "You're doing so well!"

"Thank you, Mummy," Hermione always said, grinning. She did most things with her father, as she was truly a Daddy's Girl, but Hermione loved that she and her mother had something to share as well. She loved it when her mother would bring home sheet music for duets, so that she and her mum could sit and play together. Hermione was always amazed at how effortlessly her mother's long fingers made such fluid moments with each keystroke. "Mummy how did you learn to play so well?"

"Practice," Mrs. Granger said. "You always have to practice - even if you think you can do it perfectly. Practicing will keep you humble, and if you make mistakes when you practice it's ok. Because that's what practice is for, you see."

"I want to practice at everything," Hermione confessed. "I don't like messing things up."

"You get that from Mummy," Mrs. Granger said with a chuckle. "Us Granger women like things to be perfect. But I have to tell you a secret that you can never tell Daddy."

Hermione gave her mother the most serious of nods.

"Sometimes, though Mummy will never admit it to Daddy, it's ok not to be perfect. Trying to be perfect all the time will make a person go mad. You should always try to do your best - which you always do, my sweet girl. But it's ok if sometimes, your best isn't perfection. Do you understand Mummy?"

"Yes," she said. She gave her mother a hug. "I love you, Mummy."

"Mummy loves you too, Hermione."

"What are you playing?"

Hermione practically leapt out of her skin. She looked at Harry as he sat down on the bench next to her. "Who in the bloody hell taught you to sneak up on people like that!"

"Ginny."

"Merlin," Hermione scoffed. "That woman should've been a Slytherin."

"Some days I think the same thing," Harry replied with a laugh. "The piano looks good in here."

Hermione nodded as her hands played O Holy Night without even thinking about it, the notes light with a slow tempo. "Mum and I would sit here for hours, just playing."

Harry rubbed a soothing hand on her back. "I know." He sat in silence with her as she continued to play. "Draco says you have a lot of boxes in storage. Have you thought about unpacking them…maybe making it look like you and Draco both live here?"

She quickly shook her head no.

"Can I tell you something…without you completely losing it, or inflicting bodily harm on me?"

"Of course you can," Hermione said. "You're my best friend."

"I think December may be a bit easier for you, and every day in general, if you had reminders of your parents, your childhood, out for you to see instead of keeping it packed away in boxes," Harry confessed. "Just because you oblivated their memories doesn't mean you have to oblivate yours, only to feel bad when you do remember. Because that's when it's the worst, isn't it? Suppressing it for so long only to have it bubble to the surface?"

Hermione continued to play, a tear streaming down her face. Of course Harry knew exactly how she felt, and exactly how to express it. "I hate that they died not knowing me."

"I think them dying and worrying about you would have been worse," Harry countered. "To know they couldn't protect you? I knew your parents, Hermione - I promise that alone would've killed them. You were everything to them."

"Maybe," Hermione said as she stopped playing, her fingers resting on the keys.

"I also know that they wouldn't approve of this," Harry said, brushing a tear away with his thumb. "They would want you to go out and conquer, to be great, to live life. They would have never wanted you to be sad. You can be sad, Hermione. I don't remember my parents - and when I see pictures of them, or think of all the things they never saw me do - let alone my own children, I feel it in my heart. I do. But I also know that they are proud of me. Just like your parents are proud of you."

She blinked back tears as she nodded her head in agreement. "So I unpack boxes?"

"You unpack boxes."

"And it gets better?"

"Eventually, yes," Harry replied. "I also think you should unpack the boxes with Draco."

She sniffled, wiping her eyes. "I don't know…"

"Draco loves you," Harry said. "Draco…I don't even know if he's ever been in love the way that he loves you in the time that we've been friends. You're it for him, Hermione. When he sees his future, he sees it with you."

Hermione smiled. "I see a future with him. And not the way I did with Ronald. With Draco…I feel like everything just works - even when we fight. He loves me, even when I'm like this. He's probably crazy."

"Not crazy. Just in love." Harry gave her a wink. "You're an incredible woman, Hermione. Brilliant, amazing, loyal, beautiful…I know I wouldn't be where I am without you. You sacrificed everything for me and Merlin knows I would have dead loads of times if it hadn't been for your quick thinking."

"I'm merely practical," Hermione replied, resting her head on his shoulder.

"You're practical about everything and everyone but yourself," Harry countered. "Promise me you'll start taking care of you. Let Draco take care of you. You don't have to save anyone, and you don't have to be brave for anyone."

Hermione nodded, holding onto his arm. "You're a good friend, Harry."

The two of them sat there in the silence, seeking comfort in each other a bit longer before Draco came in through the door. Hermione wiped a thumb underneath her eyes a final time and flashed a brilliant smile as when she saw him peek a head into the room. "You're back! We're you successful in your adventure?"

Draco unbuttoned his grey wool coat and removed the gloves from his hands, stuffing them into his pockets. "The holidays always remind me why Muggles do their shopping on the Internet." He held his arms open as he saw her get up from the piano bench and walk into them. "Miss me?"

"Of course," Hermione said. She placed her hands to his rosy cheeks to warm them up. "You want me to make you some hot cocoa?"

"That would be lovely," Draco replied, stealing a kiss.

"Harry, would you like some as well?" Hermione asked.

He smiled and shook his head no. "I have to get back. Ginny and I have some…unfinished business to take care of from earlier today, and Gin should be back from dropping the kids off at the Burrow." He grabbed his coat and scarf from the chair he draped it over and bundled up. "You two have a lovely evening."

Draco laughed. "You too."

"Oh, I plan on it," Harry smirked before apparating out of the room.

Hermione looked at Draco. "What was that about?"

"Believe me, you don't want to know."

She got the hint and grimaced. "I'm going to go make cocoa now…while I try to burn the image out of my mind."

Hermione brewed a batch of hot cocoa on the stove, just as her mother used to do when she and her father would come inside after a day of playing in the snow, topping the oversized coffee cups off with an enormous amount of marshmallows. Draco loved it when Hermione made hot cocoa. He never drank it as a child - and if he drank any hot drink, it was usually black coffee with just one sugar. The two took their mugs into the living room and curled up on the couch together, sipping the delicious treat while watching It's a Wonderful Life on TV.

"Thank you," she said, picking some of the marshmallows off the top and popping them into her mouth.

"For…"

"Telling Harry to talk to me," Hermione said. "Don't look at me like that - I know you asked him."

"Did he - "

"I just knew," she replied.

Draco took a drink and set his mug on the end table next to him. He removed her drink from her hands and set it on the coaster on the coffee table so he could snuggle close to her. "I didn't know how to talk to you," he admitted. "Harry's better…with that kind of thing. With you."

Hermione twisted her body, nestling a leg in between his as she placed a hand on his chest. "You don't ever have to be afraid to ask me anything. I promise."

Draco brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. "You have turned me into a complete sap, Granger. You know that?"

She grabbed his hand, holding it with hers as she kissed his knuckles. "If that's the worst thing you become…"

"It's one of the best things," Draco corrected. "Do you feel better? After talking to Harry?"

She nodded. "I do. And for the first time…I mean it."

Draco exhaled with relief. "Good." He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her as if he was trying to have her absorb the love he had for her.

"I was thinking…" Hermione said, wrapping her arms around him. "Maybe we could go through some of my parents things tomorrow. Maybe put some of the pictures of my family out…make it look like we both live here."

"Really?"

"Really."

He let go of her so he could kiss her. His lips met hers and he kissed her slowly, threading a hand through the back of her head, feeling her hair between his fingers. "I would love that," he whispered.

"Ok," she said, dragging a finger across his lower lip.

"I am hopelessly in love with you, Hermione Granger," Draco said softly.

"Well good," she said, giggling. "Because I am hopelessly in love with you."

"You better be," he teased. "I have big plans for us."

"Oh really?"

"I do."

"Do tell, Mr. Malfoy, what these big plans of which you speak about consist of."

He grinned. "It would ruin the surprise. All you need to know is that one day, I'm going to ask you a question. All you're going to have to do is to say is yes."