Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or A Christmas Carol. They belong to J.K. Rowling and Charles Dickens respectively.

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews last time! I can't tell you how wonderful it is to hear feedback. Thanks to everyone for reading! I edited this chapter hastily in order to get it up quickly so I ask in advance to please forgive any mechanical errors I may have overlooked. Hope you enjoy this.

Chapter 27: Christmas Eve

Lucius Mafloy was furious. Draco hated seeing his father like this, usually because he often found a way to set the blame of his outrage on Draco. Not this time.

Thankfully the blame was resting firmly with the family member they had been discussing only moments before, little did his father know. Draco found his own anger mounting as his father explained all his cousin had jeopardized. Everything they had worked so hard to create for themselves with this new law, and they were about to ruin all of it! It could not happen. Too much depended on Hermione.

"Perhaps, father, I could take her to the city tomorrow to keep her out of the house. She would not be snooping if she is not here and, as I would be accompanying her every moment, there would be no need for concern."

"Yes, indeed. We need her out with the guest that will be arriving tomorrow as he would be put off by her presence. There is a way in this as well that your cousins can remain here as the guest is very anxious to meet them. Draco there is only one way to ensure her safety and that is to have her with you at all times. Have you bedded her yet?" he asked plainly. Embarrassed Draco looked away.

"No then? Well tonight she must sleep in your room, do you understand?"

"Yes father." He replied automatically.

"Go and make sure she did not encounter trouble on her way to her room."

"Yes father, goodnight."

"Goodnight Draco. You are doing well with her, son." He commended.

"Thank you father." Draco wanted to smile, really he did. Only he found his face very tight and uncooperative.

He could only hope she had not met ill fate in the short distance between the library and her bedroom. He looked down each hall as he hurried along to make certain. Now, this business of getting Granger to sleep in his bed... How in the bloody hell was he going to do that? His father was clearly under the impression he could manage it with ease and he had no desire to cloud that image, however the reality of the situation would prove to be far trickier. Better start coming up with ideas, he told himself.

"Hermione you must come to my room at once for your safety." No, that was no good. There would be too many questions.

"Granger it's about time you join me in my room again, don't you think?" he tried, raising a single eyebrow seductively. Nope definitely not.

"Please do this one favor for me and I will take you anywhere you want to go in London tomorrow, anywhere." That may work, he thought, approaching her door. As she opened it cautiously and peeked out, wand protruding, he was pleased to see his warning did not go unheeded.

"It's just me," he whispered into her room. It was already dark.

"Draco? What it is?"

"I just wanted to make sure you made it to your room safely."

"Unsoiled, thank you." She reported smartly.

"Well, that's good then."

"Yes?"

"What?"

"Did you have something else to say?" Well, this was bloody awkward. She might be open to it she had just kissed him, he pondered. She had kissed him and that was a bold move for Granger. He hadn't seen it coming, not that he hadn't liked it…

"It is of the utmost importance that you grab a few things and come to my room immediately. Don't ask questions, just hurry. I'll wait out here." Her eyes widened. The element of surprise may get her out of there and into his room, then he'd just have to think fast to make her stay.

A few seconds later she was squeezing out of her door with a small bag of things and followed him to his room without a word. Smiling proudly to himself, he shut the door behind her and set about changing into his pajamas. She was already dressed in hers. She looked politely away as he did so, just as he suspected, shy as ever.

"Well?" she asked as he sprawled out comfortably on his bed, hands folded behind his head.

"Well what?" he asked nonchalantly. He had hoped the attitude would be infectious. It wasn't.

"Well what are you doing? Better yet, what am I doing, in here?"

"You're sleeping in here." Maybe it was best to be upfront.

"No I am not!" then again, maybe it wasn't.

"Yes you are unless you want to wake up to find one of them in your room, looming over you while you sleep." Fear was a powerful tool.

"You can't control them?" she remarked somewhat nastily.

"Want to risk it?"

"Well, where am I supposed to sleep then?"

In what he believe was a friendly, inviting gesture, he patted the large space left on the bed.

"No!"

"Excuse me?"

"I am not sharing a bed with you." Well, that was rather rude.

"You have to."

"I What?" she demanded. Uh-oh. Perhaps that was the wrong choice of words, Draco.

"For your safety." He amended hastily.

"I don't have to share a bed with you. I'll just sleep on the couch."

"And what happened when my father comes in and sees you sleeping on the couch? Won't looked very good, will it?"

"Then you be gentleman and give me the bed."

"Will that look I have you under control?"

"Ohh." She fumed. "FINE!" she shouted, throwing a pillow on his bed.

"It's not like I'm thrilled either, Granger."

"Shut up. I have half a mind to go back to my room. I have a wand. I'm a big girl I can take care of myself."

"You're starting to sound like you do have half a mind."

"Draco…" he voice shook with warning.

"Look, here's the thing. Pl- look ,just peal-"

"Do you have a speech impediment Draco?"

"PLEASE!" he shouted at her. She jumped.

"What?"

"I said please, okay? Please, please, please do this for me. Just sleep in my bed tonight and tomorrow I will take you to London all day and do whatever you want. Anything, just please don't fight me on this one thing."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes." He sighed pitifully.

"I never thought I'd see this day."

"What, that I'd say please?"

"No, that you are begging me to get in your bed."

"Shut up." He mumbled, throwing his pillow at her. She laughed, instantly relieving the tension. It was by and far the most awkward moment he had ever experienced. After all that time sleeping in the same room, getting in bed together was unfathomable. To keep it civil, he extinguished the lights the moment she was in and rolled over as to not be facing each other as both tried to fall asleep.

It wasn't until she thought he was asleep that he heard a noise that made his stomach turn over. He hated that sound, had always really hated it. Though he couldn't be sure why, crying made him feel sick, urgent. Immediately, his instinct was to cringe, and he did, but his following instinct he ignored whole heartedly. He did not reach out to her to comfort her, did not whisperingly ask if she was alright. She was not his responsibility.

He imaged she probably missed her parents, what with the holidays and his family present and all. What would he say to her if he had spoken? What possible words of comfort could he offer? He certainly had no idea how she felt, and quite honestly hoped he never would. He could not reassure her everything was to be alright. And what if he were simply to offer her some apologies and condolences, a shoulder to cry on, a warm embrace of comfort? He doubted she would want such a thing from him and he was not about to make a fool out of himself by offering sympathies that were unwelcome.

He lay very still on his side and kept his breath slow and even. He did not embarrass her by calling attention to her private grief. She had kept her sobs quiet, had waited for him to drift off. Actually, he had been feigning sleep. He felt too nervous to sleep. He couldn't imagine why. It was the funniest thing. He almost felt like laughing. This was not the first young woman he had had in his bed. What's more it was Granger. What could he possibly have to be nervous about? But he was. It was earnestly laughable. Preposterous. Still, what if he snored, had a nightmare, said something stupid in his sleep, said something he didn't want overheard…?

Merlin! That sound was really making him sweat. He dearly wished she would stop. Finally, he moaned and shifted, thinking that if she thought she was waking him up she might stop. She didn't. Instead, she was weeping now more audibly and frankly he was never going to get any sleep like this. Sighing with resignation to his awkward fate, he rolled over and took her shoulder gently as to not frighten her. She did not respond.

"Hermione," he tried in his most understanding voice. Again, nothing. Frustrated slightly at her blatant refusal to acknowledge his existence, he tugged her shoulder and, in the other hand, lit his wand. He was startled to find that she was deeply sleeping. Having nightmares, he presumed.

"Odd." He remarked. She whimpered again. With a low growl he accepted there was only one thing he could do if he wanted either of them to be well rested tomorrow. Leaning forward, he whispered in her ear.

"It's alright. It's alright Hermione." She instantly calmed some. Remembering what his mother did when he was sick child, and thinking that in the dark secrecy of his room no one but him would know, he stroked her forehead and hair lightly. She stopped fidgeting. "Get some rest." He concluded, rather pleased with his calming abilities, truth be told.

Draco awoke to his house elf Ninny placing a tray of breakfast at his bedside and stoking the fire.

"Morning!" the old elf greeted cheerfully when she saw he was awake and she proceeded to draw back the curtains a little to reveal a sky so cloudy one would barely notice it was day. "Not too cold are we, young master?" The elf asked. He was about to respond with a 'no' when he felt a body he had nearly completely forgotten shiver next to him.

"Just one more blanket." He requested. The elf nodded, was gone with a snap, and retrieved it instantly. Draco placed a warming spell on it and covered Hermione with it. The foolish girl had lost everything but the sheet sometime in the night. Accustomed though he may be in sharing his bed he had never quite mastered the art of sharing his bedding.

"And we'll need two trays this morning." He said to the elf.

"Ninny's already done so, young master." She replied. Sure enough on the opposite bedside table, the one he rarely used, another tray was set. Each breakfast was served with a white rose. He lifted it from the tiny glass vase on his tray and examined with a critical eye. An eyebrow raised in question. The elf looked shy.

"Ninny thought it was a nice touch. Winter roses."

"Hmm." He said thoughtfully. They were a nice touch. Charming actually. Smiling his most debonair, sly smile, he plopped his rose in with Hermione's. He then set to work on his breakfast, nudging her to wake up. She woke pretty readily without much coaxing. Perhaps she had slept lightly or perhaps the smell of the porridge was just too alluring to resist. It certainly smelled tasty enough to wake him. Cinnamon was his weakness. Apparently, it was one of Hermione's too. It was deliciously rich and warm, mixed with cream and brown sugar as usual, however, swirled on top, it also had bits of apple and cinnamon. On the side was a buttered English muffin with strawberry jam, a boiled egg, and a glass of chilly, fresh milk. The pair devoured what was on their plates with surprising speed in a pleasant silence. Neither was fond of talking the morning. Hermione thanked the house elf at length; embarrassing the proper elf and making Draco roll his eyes. They took turns in his bathroom just as they had so many times at school, falling back into a kind of rhythm.

He, being a gentleman, allowed her to freshen up first. She was quick for a woman, but he imagined that was partially due to the fact that she didn't do much to get ready. Still, it was nice not to wait an eternity. He got his clothes together and they switched. He hurried as well, not out of courtesy but because he figured, Granger being Granger, she would undoubtedly snoop if left alone too long. She was waiting patiently on his settee when he emerged from the bathroom. Soon, they were apparating to London. The Leaky Cauldron was as close to deserted as Draco had ever seen it, and they passed through quickly.

Diagon Alley wasn't as bustling as it once was. One could feel the presence of the Death Eaters growing. Still, it held a certain holiday charm and the shops that were open an inviting glow. Hermione smiled and he thought she really didn't look too awful when she did that.

"Where to first?" he asked with another dejected sigh.

"Draco," she swatted him playfully. "You know me better than to have to ask that!" Flourish and Blotts took forever, just as he feared, as she had not been in for a year. He really began to think he was going to rot away in that place.

"Please Hermione, I'm begging you. I think if I read another word I'll be sick."

"You said anywhere."

"I didn't say for all eternity. How much longer can you possibly look at books?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"Argh!" he groaned. "I'll do anything to get out of here. Anything!"

"Oh really?" she cocked an eyebrow. He hadn't known she could do that. "Will you take me to the muggle side of London?"

He gulped.

"Just to a show. My parents and I would see it every year-"

"It's not that blasted ballet is it? The nutty one?" He had already seen that ridiculous, dragging thing with Morrissa and had to listen to its greatness more than he ever wanted. He had no desire whatsoever to sit through it again and to hear a historical critique on it from Granger.

"The Nutcracker? No! It's A Christmas Carol."

"Hell Granger, I'll sing you a Christmas carol if you want."

"No, it's a book by Charles Dickens a really lovely story."

"Okay. Tell you what. We'll go by tickets this afternoon, go home and change, then come back for the show and no- I mean NO one- ever knows about this, understood?"

"Agreed."

"Alright. Now can we please get out of here?" She did, after a brief stop at the counter where she collected a total of eight heavy books on various subjects. He offered politely to carry them, but she graciously refused, placing a weightless spell on the bag. Yesterday, he had had to play a pack mule and carry the bulk of Morrissa's purchases. Granger had a streak of independence in her that, however annoying at times, could really be beneficial to his back as well.

He was doing it again, comparing the two. It was a foolish thing to do really but some things though were too obvious not to notice, like the fact that Hermione was all but finished with her shopping in half the time of his last trip. It was only just late enough for brunch to be served and neither was hungry yet so they strolled to the theatre nearby where they had both been on previous occasions and bought tickets for the evening performance of A Christmas Carol. Draco purposed a place he knew of for lunch and, without contestation, Hermione agreed. The place was the same one he had taken Morrissa. He admitted it; he was curious.

Hermione was unsure what to order. He could see it on her face, but she took him off guard by admitting it openly and asking what he would suggest. He made his suggestion and she ordered it. She made no comment on the quality of the wine and enjoyed her salad while they waited. The conversation dragged, usually about Christmas traditions and memories, but Draco couldn't help but feel the tiniet bit thankful Hermione had interest in ballet.

When the meal arrived Hermione threw a grateful smile at the waiter and commented to Draco how it was ready much quicker than she would have expected. He was pleased. She had not embarrassed him by speaking directly to the server, but she had been still found a way to be nice. Not once did she send her plate back, but savored every flavorful bite. His pork chops were quite literarily mouth watering and he insisted she try some. She only blushed a bit and then acquiesced, even offering him some of her chicken cordon bleu in exchange. It was rather good.

They were fairly quiet as they ate. Draco tipped generously, but she didn't notice. She was too busy actually extending her compliments to the chef. He rolled his eyes. It was as if she'd never been anywhere nice in life. Once outside and on their way back towards the Leaky Cauldron, Hermione turned to him.

"Well, we have a problem."

"What is that?" asked Draco.

"I can't get your present with you with me and it's hard to conceal so waiting outside isn't going to work…"

"Well, you are not disappearing on me Granger."

"I'll be fine for a couple minutes."

"No." He put his foot down. "I'm not having you run off, so forget it."

"You walk me to the store. I go in. You apparate back to the manor and I meet you there ten minutes later."

"No chance." He told her plainly. "Father has some rather important guests right now. Besides, either of us showing up alone would not look good."

"Well then what am I going to do?" she pouted. He could hardly believe his eyes. She was actually, physically pouting.

"Well," he laughed, as they walked into the old pub. "We could get ready here. I mean you could run off and we could get a couple rooms and get ready here. That way you could hide it- "

"Really?" she seemed almost giddy. It was truly ridiculous.

"Sure, if you promise to be back within fifteen minutes."

"Deal."

Draco approached Tom and requested two rooms for which he paid up front. He told her he would be across the hall in number eighteen then gave her the key to room number seventeen and instructed her to hide his gift in her room then come and get him from the bar. They could lounge until evening where they could order up a quick dinner and head to the play. She said excitedly that it sounded like a good plan. He thought so too.

Fifteen minutes later he had finished a pint when, as promised, a breathless but content looking Hermione came down the stairs of the in to fetch him from the bar.

"What now?" she asked, cheeks flushed with winter color rather prettily.

"Care to walk?"

"Sure." The two walked the cobbled streets of Diagon Alley this time as sightseers with no pressing matters and really took in the sights. It was nice to wander not rushed for once. The streets were darker than they once were, she said, a shadow of their former selves, but the holiday buzz as infectious as ever. She seemed to spot someone she knew at some point, but looked away catching sight instead of a Father Christmas figure in a shop window that pointed a wand at a molten golden block which, when you approached it, apparently took the shape of whatever you most wanted for Christmas. A handy tool, but both avoided it.

"Hermione," Draco felt compelled to offer as they passed a vendor.

"Yes Draco?"

"Would you like an ice cream?"

"That sounds lovely." She smiled, no satin gloves to worry about. He handed her a strawberry cone moments later. They ate inside where it was a good deal warmer. She licked away happily, relishing the delicious ice cream. At first, it made him smile, but then he wanted to squirm. She continued swirling her tongue around it, puckering her lips to it, not realizing as she was doing to that cone not, more importantly, what it as doing to him. Draco's eyes had gone wide, his mouth dry while she lapped innocently away, sucking the tip, stroking up the sides…

"Hermione," he coughed. His discomfort must have been painfully obvious judging by her expression.

"What?" she asked truly befuddled.

"Could you please stop molesting your ice cream cone?" His words were tense.

"Oh." She looked down, embarrassed. "Sorry… have sensitive teeth…can't bite it…"she mumbled. He shook his head, clearing it. Afterwards, she offered him a grinning thank you. He found himself smiling back.

He didn't say you're welcome but instead: "You've got some on your nose." He wiped it away and they laughed. This time it did not relieve his tension.

The two then decided they had enough of the weather for the time being and retreated in doors, setting aside unnecessary layers and plopping down on a couch beside a fireplace. They watched people go in and out, excited children, hectic men running around at the last minute, and harried looking women trudging on tiredly. They shared the paper bit by bit. He found himself glancing up to look at her, glowing in the light of the fire and absentmindedly chewing her lip. She looked well rested and bright eyed, but her hair was refusing to cooperate today. It looked like something grown wild. That's when an idea occurred to him, a very clever one.

"I'll be back. I've just had a thought." She looked up surprised and vaguely interested from her paper but didn't protest. He went upstairs to his room from where he apparated to the manor. He grabbed Hermione's Christmas gift, summoned a house elf to get her dress along with his own dress clothes for tonight. He returned without announcing himself at home and hastened downstairs to tell Hermione his grand idea, but she was nowhere to be found. He became instantly unnerved. Where the devil had that girl gotten to? She was a magnet for trouble. He was only gone a few minutes! Where to run, the muggle side or the Diagon Alley side? He tried the muggle street first, but she was not to be found among the crowds milling down the sidewalk. He raced to Diagon Alley but nowhere down its long stretch could he spot her. Confused, he hastened back inside and bumped into someone talking to the bartender Tom.

"Excuse-"

"Draco?"

"Hermione?"

"You're back?"

"Hermione!"

"What?"

"Where have you been? I've been back and I was looking for you. You can't just wander off! Anything could have happened to you." He was furious, but she was smiling- smiling. What right did she have to be smiling at him like that? He threw her a dangerous look.

"You were worried." She stated simply. Ludicrous! The very idea of him being concerned, nay actually panicked about her well being, was the most ludicrous idea he'd heard and yet…He then shocked the hell out of himself. He didn't argue, didn't mock, and didn't try to deny it because the plain fact of the matter was: it was true. He had been worried.

"Yes Granger," he said seriously, taking her arm. "I was." She looked as taken off guard as he felt and she followed him in stunned silence up to the hall upstairs where both of their rooms were. "I've had an idea Granger." He announced. "Since it is Christmas Eve, let's exchange presents now!"

"Are you that curious?"

"Well yes. And, well, you'll see."

"Alright. We could do that. I'll get yours." He nodded and summoned hers from his room, already wrapped with a gold bow on the top.

"Happy Christmas!" they blurted in unison as she burst from her room. For a moment, Draco was yet again taken aback. Hermione held at arm's length a cage also wrapped in ribbon, this one green. It was a larger cage than one might hold an owl in, and in the dim light of the hall he did not at first see that there was anything in the cage. He swallowed in an attempt to offer her a strained, insincere thank you but her pride in displaying this gift was enough to warrant another look. Something fluttered. He peered cautiously inside its dark confines and caught the eye of a massive, dark bird. He was larger than an owl, longer in shape. In fact, as she moved forward into the light, he thought it most closely resembled a phoenix, if anything. Its feathers were a rich green and black.

"What is it?" he asked, not rudely.

"An Augurey. Also called an –"

"Irish phoenix." He finished for her. "Aren't they supposed to sing before death?"

"That's just an old wives' tale. Actually they sing at the approach of rain." Draco Malfoy in all his days, in all his wildest dreams, had never anticipated something like this. Hermione Granger had bought him the perfect gift.

"Oh, say something Draco. Do you like it?" He had neither the breath nor the words to say really. It was everything she knew about him: his favorite colors, his pride in his pets especially birds, his value of loyalty, even his strange fascination with rain. He wanted to blush it was so personal. And his gift…was nothing like Granger at all.

"How did you-" he finally managed to stammer out.

"I was just reading my Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, about the nundu, and it popped up. It seemed to fit you. I had to order it so they'd have it in when I came, but-you do like it, don't you?"

"It's perfect." He was too in shock to deny it. She smiled widely, brightly as he took the cage and set it down.

"Well what did you get me?"

"Oh I-you won't, I mean-"

"Come on, hand it over. I see it right there."

"Look, you won't like it, okay?" he snapped, embarrassed at his poor choice. She would surely take it as an insult.

"Then why did you get it? Oh, as a joke, right? Well come on, let's see how funny you are."

"No, it's just…how did you know what to get me?" he finally confessed.

"I know you Draco." She said simply, as if it were a silly question. "It was obvious. Now stop making me wait."

He nearly winced handing it over. She was going t be angry, he could feel it. And why wouldn't she? He might as well have given her a house elf head as well as it fitted her. He just hoped she didn't cry.

Carefully she removed the paper. What a Hermione-like way to unwrap a present, he thought. She opened the fine case inside to reveal the set. Her eyes widened. He watched her closely as she slide her hands along each item nested in the chest taking in its fine detail. And then, horror of horrors, he saw her eyes begin to glisten with tears. Shit! Who gave Christmas gifts that made people cry? He snatched it back from her before he knew what he was doing.

"Look, I'm sorry okay?" he snapped. "I didn't mean to upset you. It was a bad idea and-"

"I'm not upset."

"You're not?"

"No. I love them. They are beautiful. It's just,"

"Just what?" he sneered.

"No one has ever bought me something so, so nice, and so feminine."

He didn't have to respond, his eyebrows took care of that for him.

"It's always a book for the bookworm. It's never something, well something like this. Thank you Draco, they're the loveliest thing I've ever seen."

This was horrible; she actually meant it. In a stupor he handed the gift back. "Let me show you how to work it."

She laughed. "I may not be particularly well kept but I do know how to work a brush and comb thank you."

"No, they are enchanted."

"Oh!" she exclaimed, the added quickly, "They're not cursed are they?"

It was his turn to laugh. "No." In moments she was sitting at the dusty dresser in her room, her dress laid out on the bed and Draco's auburey sitting on the window sill. The beautiful pieces were resting a neat line and he stood behind her.

Remembering the shopkeeper's words he turned the mirror over and went straight for the brush. Taking a handful of her hair gently in one hand he noticed it was surprisingly soft. He made no comment. Then, with the other hand, he ran the brush through it. In only few stokes it was straight and smooth as could be. He went on to carefully brush every strand with a smirk spreading across his features until her hair flowed through his hands like silk. Then he let her see it. She gasped and grinned wide with excitement, hugging him. He gave her an odd look.

"Want to curl it?" he offered, comb in hand.

"No, you don't mean that comb-"

"Sit." He said. She did and combed the sections in haste, perfect curls springing up as he did so. This time she squealed with childish glee.

"I've always wanted to curl my hair like this! This is amazing. Will they always do that?"

"Sure."

"Wow. This is perfect." She played with her locks, examining them in the mirror.

"Well, now for the final touch." He took the perfume bottle in his hands. She lifted her head back and closed her eyes, exposing her throat and collar bone. He blinked. He sprayed the clear liquid on her creamy skin where it dried and shimmered. The fragrance nearly knocked him off his feet.

She opened he eyes and sniffed. "I don't smell anything."

"You can't." he informed her, putting the stuff back in place. "You smell great though."

She was leaning close to him. The smell was getting to him. "I better not smell like dragon dung."

"You don't," he assured her in a somewhat breathless voice. They really were unreasonably close.

'You are not thinking that,' he told himself. 'Absolutely not.' Even so he was leaning closer, their lips at a perfect angle until-

A strange cry filled the air, almost a wail but to beautiful and musical to be so grievous. The Irish phoenix sang in the corner. The sound gave him chills despite Hermione's research.

"Are you sure that's not an omen of death."

"Positive. Just an old wives tale." She reiterated.

"Perhaps we should go grab a bite to eat before we get dressed."

"Yes, okay." She said distractedly.

The meal left something to be desired. At least, he admitted, the stew was warm and the bread reasonably fresh. Plus, butterbeer was butterbeer anywhere, even they couldn't ruin that. It only took them a few minutes to dress and they were ready to attend the play. As they opened the door to the inn, it became apparent they'd be apparating as, just as the phoenix had predicted, it was pouring.

Turning on the spot with a loud snap, they found themselves under the awning of the theatre. The line was moving quickly due to the rain and they were inside within minutes. They had gotten a private box, of course. The show, which seemed familiar, was good he had to admit. It started interestingly enough what with the tortured ghost appearing and the end was good. Ebenezer Scrooge was a funny fellow, he reflected. Hermione looked as though she were falling in love through the whole thing, except for the bits with the ghost of Christmas yet to come during which he caught her crying. Afterwards, they decided to walk the few blocks back to the inn though it was freezing. Hermione wanted to see the city holiday lights at night. There certainly were a lot of lights to see.

"Did you enjoy it?" she asked anxiously.

He nodded. "Why do you love that play so much, Hermione?" he asked at last, though he thought he may already know the answer.

"Oh I don't know," she began. "Yes, I do!" she amended. "I love everything about it. It's fascinating from the first words 'Jacob Marley was as dead as a door nail'. But there's so much more. It begins by showing you how bad mankind can be, how self absorbed and compassionless, and then how good man can be. The opposite order of life, which makes you think everything is okay when you are young only to experience the cruelness and harshness of the world later."

He blinked. That was true though he hadn't really noticed it. She continued.

"The thing about Scrooge is he's not really a bad man. He's logical. He pays his taxes which give money to the poor, like he says. He runs his business wisely, legitimately. He doesn't go about harming people. He's not doing anything very wrong or terrible, but he's so self-centered. He doesn't seem to that when you abandon mankind it abandons you. He's so alone."

He thought he saw her shudder.

"But he changes, even someone like him can change, if their eyes are opened to more than their own business. We don't all get three spirits to visit us, but if we wake up and look at how much we affect everyone else, how much we can help... It wasn't his responsibility to save tiny Tim, but then again it sort of was, because he could help…It isn't enough to just what you have to for yourself. It's not even enough for you."

"Are you really so foolish to believe everyone can make a miraculous change?"

"If they care about someone they can." She said stubbornly, naively.

"That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

She looked hurt, but only half as hurt as felt. When they returned to the hotel they spotted her within seconds: Skeeter. They went directly upstairs and packed quickly. Draco checked out.

"Draco! With your fiancée or meeting you lover for a secret rendezvous?" the vile reporter threw at him. He ignored her. When they stepped outside to apparate back Hermione sneezed. They never should have walked in the cold, he knew.

Just like that, the evening was over as was, little did he know, so much else. They were in the entrance hall of his home the next moment. It was strangely quiet and he told her to take her things and go immediately to her room, don't stop. There was no telling who was in the house or what they might do. For once she listened, calling back a thank you. He shushed her, didn't allow her to finish. Something was wrong, he could feel it.

"Draco!" his father's voice cracked like a whip from the dining room. He felt himself pale. He waved Hermione on angrily and wordlessly. Get out of here, he mouthed. He could smell trouble.

His father stalked towards him looking livid, drunk, and something else he did not recognize. "Where have you been?" he spat, enunciating every syllable. Without giving him time to respond he struck him, but there was little force behind it. He hoped desperately his father did not hear Hermione's tiny gasp from the stairs. He had. He turned slowly, looked at her, and then back at Draco taking him utterly by surprise.

"You are to be married tomorrow, son." He said, taking another long drink from his glass of strong brandy.

"Tomorrow? Wh-"

"Aren't you happy my boy?" he asked, then, suddenly seized by fury, grabbed him by the collar and shouted in his face, breath assaulting him vigorously. "Aren't you happy!"

Draco felt himself shake. This man was not his father, not acting like him. Something was wrong, terribly. Behind him the tap of heels or marble bid him look. His aunt was there, dear, mad ole Bella.

"Aunt?" he inquired. She only giggled madly. Then he saw it. She was crying.

His stomach dropped, he literarily felt it. The floor moved under him, unsteadying his knees. He went very cold and still all through his body. Never had he felt fear like this.

"Mother?" he called. "Where is my mother?"

His father answered him, but there was hardly any need. He was already crying. "She's dead." He said.

A/N: Once again, I have wanted to write this part forever. What did you think of the Dramione time? What was your favorite part? How about the end? Did you suspect it with all the foreshadowing? PLEASE let me know in a review!

Also, an augurey is not my invention, but another creature from J.K. Rowling's Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them that she did not utilize.