Thought I'd upload quite a sweet chapter today, since I'm in a pretty good mood considering I just landed my dream job and had the best first day ever! Happy days = happy chapters. Would love to hear your thoughts, don't worry, plenty more still to come!

-H

"Hey, Granger" the untidy scrawl in the card was so familiar to Hermione that she didn't struggle to read the rest. It was a Christmas card from Ron, she had received others too, from Harry and the Weasleys, along with a small selection of presents.
It was early Christmas morning, her parents were still fast asleep having spent most of Christmas Eve at the hospital visiting her grandmother. Hermione forced herself to open the wrappings of her first present and push aside any thoughts that might dampen her spirits. She was curled up in the window-seat of her room, snow was pressing against the frigid glass and she had her mother's patchwork blanket across her knees, the first gift was from Ginny and contained very beautiful beaded handbag. The note inside read:

Hermione,

I know that this Christmas may not be the best, but I was in a muggle town with Fred and George and saw this in the window of a thrift shop, it's not much, but I know you'd love the colours. Merry Christmas, if you need anything, please write. Love, Ginny x

Hermione smiled down at the bag that glistened in the light from the candle on her bedside table, coming home for the holidays always presented a small challenge in that her parents didn't approve of having open flames in her room, but she had become so accustomed to reading by firelight that she found the yellow electric lamp distracting, so she had cast a very small shield charm around the candle to ensure that it wouldn't drip any wax that would give her away. She set the bag to one side and opened the rest of her presents; there were sweats from Hagrid, Ron had sent her Honeydukes chocolate with his card, Mrs Weasley had sent a pair of knitted mittens and matching scarf, and Harry… Harry had sent her a truly beautiful new quill. It was a deep, rich navy and had clearly come from some exotic bird, and the tip was golden. Hermione found herself wishing she could hug him then, often she wondered if the boys paid her any kind of attention at all when the topic wasn't school work, Voldemort or Quddich, but she had been in the common room complaining that her favourite quill for letter writing had worn down and was making her hand-writing scratchy… the fact Harry had been unusually thoughtful- the grandfather clock in the hall chimed six and she leant against the icy window tiredly, she hadn't been sleeping well, not since coming home; between her family problems, and Draco…
She scrunched her eyes shut and tried not to think about him, only all that happened was an image of him conjured behind her lids and she found herself playing idlly with her new quill; she could write to him? Surely there was a way, but what if the letter was intercepted? She had heard him mention his aunt Bellatrix to Snape, an escaped Death Eater and murderer, what if he was spending Christmas with her? The picture of them sitting uncomfortably round a dinner table almost made Hermione laugh, but her good humour was very short lived and she hugged her elbows.
She wasn't sure how long she sat, trying very hard to think about nothing and gazing out of the window, but after a long while she realised that she was staring at something coming steadily closer, and closer, and closer to her window. Finally she snapped to her senses and jumped up out of her seat in time to fling the window wide and let in the handsome owl that was carrying a parcel wrapped in black paper.
It landed on her bed and eyed her sternly while she tried to overcome her shock, she thought she recognised the owl, but she couldn't place where from...
Eventually it hooted impatiently and she hurried to untie the parcel, offering it the plate of crumbs from her late night mince pie. She sat down on the edge of her bed with the box on her knee and reached for the black silk ribbon holding it together, only to hesitate- what if it was something untoward? The memory of Katie being cursed from touching the necklace came flooding back to her and she shivered, glancing uncertainly at the owl that was still eyeing her with seeming displeasure. It hooted a second time and she took a deep breath as she tugged on the wrapping, what remained was a faded box that had presumably once been gold but was now rather worn and cracked; her curiosity now outweighing her doubt, Hermione lifted the lid and gasped softly.
It was a book, nestled into ancient satin cushion it had a matte, black leather cover and stamped onto the front in slightly peeling golden letters was the title;

Star Gazing; A Complete Perspective

It was a title Hermione had searched the shelves for in both Hogwarts and Florish and Blotts alike but in vain, an extremely rare old book written by one of the first, most-respected Wizard astronomers who had compared the beliefs of muggles, wizards and magical creatures interpretations of the stars into one extensive and yet apparently wonderfully written volume. With a shaking hand she gently turned to the first page and made a noise of disbelief; an illustrated first edition!
She could hardly believe her eyes, this kind of book wasn't just rare, it was an heirloom, but wherever had it come from…? She closed the cover again and laid a hand over it, this was an heirloom, from a very old, very wealthy wizarding family. It had to be, no one else would ever have access to it, or the funds to purchase it, and no one else would have thought of her as a recipient, "Draco," she breathed, turning to the owl.
Only at the mention of its master's name it finally gave her an approving click of its beak and launched itself back out of the window and into the dawn. Hermione was left simply staring at the box, it was too much, both the gift and the sentiment, but why would his owl not have lingered so she could at least respond? Was he afraid she would return it? Would she?
With all the questions and emotions bumbling around in her brain Hermione could hardly think straight, so when she heard her mother's footsteps coming down the hall, she hastily replaced the lid on the book and tucked it under her bed, before quickly blowing out her candle just in time for the door to swing wide open, "Oh- you're awake, I thought I heard an owl… presents from your friends?"
"Uh," Hermione glanced at the pile on her window seat, "Yes, yes they just arrived now."
She spent the rest of Christmas Day with her family, but all the while her thoughts remained upstairs, hidden under her bed with the book. What was she going to do?