A/N: Second part up! (I apologize for the tardiness)
Disclaimer- I don't own Harry Potter. I never did :'(
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Dress, dress me down
I don't mind
Leave me to my insides
I don't need this lonely skin anymore
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Snow is bad.
Draco curses under his breath as yet another snowball hits him in the back, followed by incessant giggling.
"A little more to the right, Amelia."
That little-
Smack!
This time, it's smack dab at the back of his skull and Draco almost falls over his head. Wet globs of ice trickles down the back of his collar and he throws his shovel aside and swivels around.
"Alright, thats it- don't you two have better things to do on a Saturday!?"
Looking back with the most innocent expressions they can muster, Grangers smiles in amusement as Amelia folds her arms, pretending to think.
"Nope, can't say we do!" she decides "Ain't that right, 'Mione?"
'Mione she calls her now. Draco's not utterly sure if he's fond of Granger's new budding friendship with Amelia. Gritting his teeth, he tries to look as menacing as he can- but really, the irritation is real.
He's spent the past one hour shovelling snow off the walkways, and Granger and Amelia have been nothing but a menace.
"Completely right, Mia. Plus, Draco could do with a little fun sometimes, don't you think? He's so grumpy all the time."
"I am not grumpy!"
"-Just like the dwarf-"
Amelia giggles "He has white hair too."
"They're platinum blonde, Mia. How many-"
"-And then there are the lectures-" Hermione rolls her eyes, having a long-suffering sigh "When will he ever learn?"
"Granger, I swear to Merlin, if you say one more word-"
"But its snow!" Hermione says and her eyes are bright as they twinkle at him "How can you be so engrossed with your work that you don't take time out of your time to enjoy snow?"
He gives her a bewildered look. Sometimes, the way Granger looks when she's talking about something that means a lot to her, Draco gets an ache inside his chest. He's jealous- but he's also getting so dangerously close to liking all these little things about her in such a short time- and it's confusing and baffling and scary.
"I don't like snow."
Granger raises her brows "You said you liked the cold."
"Yes." He proceeds to brush the chips of ice that have trickled down the folds of his clothes "I never said I liked the snow."
"Why? Because its got the capacity to touch you?"
He falters and looks at her. Her gaze is intense, and for a second, he hates her. He hates how she can say one word and somehow end up getting right to the point. One that they hadn't even been making in the first place.
"I have no idea what you're on about, Granger."
Hermione shakes her head "You confuse me sometimes."
He knows. It's okay.
He confuses himself too.
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Its Christmas, and Draco's eyebrow is twitching. What the fuck have they done to this place?
A snowball whizzes at him- his past Seeker reflexes kicking in without him really meaning to, or even realising- he ducks as it flies past him, smacking into the tree behind him. He turns to glare back at a hopping Amelia and smiling Hermione.
"Merry Christmas, Draco!" Amelia calls from the distance, her arm waving, cheeks flushed.
"Are you trying to kill me?"
Hermione rolls her eyes "Don't be ridiculous. A snowball won't kill you."
"No, not at all. There's just the potential risk of me falling and breaking my neck over one of the gravestones, I suppose."
"Nice to know your sense of humour's back." Granger's lips flatten into a smile and she spreads her arms around, gesturing to the graveyard "What do you think? I thought you could do with some holiday cheer!"
Draco's eyes flit back to what he'd been doing before- observing his cemetery.
The entire graveyard is filled with lights. White curtains of snow cover the soft ground prettily, bordering the gravestones, brushed off softly so that the names engraved on them are visible over the string of fairy lights that are dancing from tree to tree, twinkling and swinging. Everything about the place is so calmingly beautiful that it throws Draco off-balance. The soft yellow lights seem to provide enough warmth for him to want to stand there forever, feet dug in the snow, lips slightly parted, in the haze of how subtly pretty it looks.
He has always envisioned the graveyard to be a place of frightening calm for him…but never of happiness- never of such enveloping surge of warmth that it's heart-aching.
"…When did you do this?" he asks, although he wagers he already knows. His day had started with a suspiciously stubborn Amelia, who had woken him up and told him to go to the city and buy lilies.
That it was a matter of utmost urgency.
He eyes Granger, who shifts, smiling sheepishly.
"You made me go all the way to the city so you could decorate the graveyard?"
"Well you are unhealthily obsessed with it. You needed a change of scenery anyway."
Draco ducks again as another snowball flies past his ear, and this time, smacks into a quietly approaching- and from what looks like it extremely drunk- Harold. He flies off his feet with a disgruntled cry, and falls on the floor with a hard thud.
"Aw cheer up!" Amelia cries happily, spreading her arms wide as Harold gets up with a loud groan "It's Christmas!"
"Bloody hell, what 'appened here?" Harold shuffles over to his feet as he stares at the lights around him, "I get Draco's flower obsession, but didn't expect you'd let 'em touch your precious gravestones."
He's carrying his customary bottle of whiskey that he drowns himself in on every festivity- may it be Thanksgiving, New years Eve, or Christmas. Draco faintly remembers a blurry Easter spent in Harold's arms as the old man bellowed out nonsensical songs.
"Ruddy hell, you shoulda been here for last Christ-" Harold pauses, blinking at Granger through bushy eyebrows. His jaw sets and he squints, shuffling closer. "Am I really that drunk or is there a pretty lady in front of me?"
"You really are drunk if you think that's pre- oof!" Draco rubs his torso, wincing from where Hermione has harshly elbowed him. She is looking at Harold's twittering, stumbling figure with fascination. Her eyes are wide, like she is on the verge of interviewing the man.
He sighs,"Granger, Harold, the other grave keeper. Harold, Hermione Granger, the classmate from school I told you about."
Granger throws him an amused smile "Have you been talking about me to everyone?"
In Draco's defence, his "everyone" consists of only Harold and Amelia.
"Oh, the pigtails girl!" Harold grabs both Hermiones' hands with one of his, shaking them enthusiastically "Merry Christmas, lass, Merry Christmas!"
The whiskey sloshes sloppily out of the bottle he's holding with his other hand. Draco suspects he is already halfway drunk and so, doesn't do anything but roll his eyes as Granger eyes him in bewilderment and mouths "The pigtails girl…?" from behind Harold.
Draco turns pink and looks away.
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"Pleeeaase?"
"No."
Amelia's cheeks are flushed heavily, partly due to the warm toasty fire Draco has started in the hearth, and partly because he knows she is currently very angry with him.
"Pretty please? One sip, I promise!"
His jaw clenches, as he grips his eggnog tighter "No, Mia."
"But I promise I won't get drunk! Just one sip!"
"Your father is five minutes away. He will have me by the neck if he hears I gave you eggnog."
"I promise I won't tell him!"
Draco shakes his head "Thats not the point. Eggnog is not meant for you."
The thought of Amelia growing up fills him with a nauseating feeling. She's so much better like this- ten years old and blissfully happy, without a care in the world.
Amelia is here with her father, who had allowed her to go wish Draco a merry Christmas while he had some private time at his wife's grave. Draco's eyes drift towards Granger, who is sitting across from him, engaged in deep conversation with Harold.
Why she's here, he has no idea. She has her friends to celebrate the holidays with. What, then, is she doing here, in a lonely lit-up graveyard with him?
She glances up at him from the other side of the room and smiles, and for a minute, his heart warms. There is an overwhelming rush of… something that feels intense and makes his heart ache for the woman sitting right there in front of him. His heart swells with pride- pride for having made her smile. If he has been able to get such a reaction, such affection from Hermione Granger, then he can do anything.
"Draco, please! Please, please, please! One sip!" The rough, stubborn tugging of his elbow by Mia brings Draco back to earth.
"I'm not going to give it to you, Mia."
"But it's Christmas-"
"I can get you apple juice, if you'd like."
Amelia makes a face "Ew, no. Cold apple juice is disgusting."
"Warm apple juice then?"
"No, I want eggnog!"
"How about hot chocolate with two marshmallows?" his lips twitch "Granger makes great hot chocolate."
Amelia hesitates, and Draco waits with bated breath, eyeing her to see if she is going to give in or not. He can see her inner conflict between wanting to be an adult and demanding eggnog, or admitting to the temptations of hot chocolate.
"I like hot chocolate too." he adds innocently.
She eyes him suspiciously, then her shoulders slump.
"Fine."
"Excellent. Hop along to Granger then."
Amelia tilts her head and stands on her tiptoes, as if contemplating something she doesn't exactly know how to comprehend. Folding her arms over the armrest of the armchair, she peers at him "Why do you call her Granger?"
He raises a brow "Because its her name?"
"No, her name's Hermione."
"Yes, her name is Hermione Granger."
"Yes, but friends call each other by their first names. Even she calls you Draco. But you only call her Granger."
Draco doesn't know what to say. How to tell Mia that he can never call her Hermione- it's got such a false sense of familiarity to it. "Granger" is who she has always been to him- Muggleborn, smart distant…unattainable.
Oh, but she's right here.
"Draco? Are you alright? You're smiling."
Before he can come up with an amicable response, he hears the shifting of shoes to find Granger standing there, eyes glinting.
"Don't worry, it's the eggnog." she whispers conspiringly to Amelia "There's not much time before he loses all sense of control, like Harold over there." She points to a flushed Harold, who hasn't realised that Granger isn't sitting with him anymore, and is still talking animatedly to the thin air in front of him.
Amelia looks at the drink in Draco's hands in disgust "Maybe I shouldn't have that, after all."
Granger smiles and Draco eyes her "I'll have you know I have an exceptionally high tolerance for alcohol." -and he's not lying either. When spending the span of almost a year in the company of Harold, one tends to grow a pretty good tolerance.
"Whatever you say." Hermione turns to smirk at Amelia "I think you should give him your present before he loses his mind, just in case."
"Oh!" Amelia rushes over to the other room as Draco glares at Hermione.
"Honestly, Granger, I am not going to- wait, what?" He pauses "Present?"
Granger is looking at him like he is slightly whacked "Yes. Your Christmas present, Draco."
They got him Christmas presents?
Of course, he got them presents. But….he hadn't expected something in return.
Hermione smiles down at him "She put a lot of hard work into her present, by the way. Just letting you know."
Just then, Amelia comes running back, hiding something behind her awkwardly.
"I made it for you" she says excitedly, and her blue eyes are positively shining. Draco can't help but be amused and he tilts his head. She hands him a poorly wrapped present, that is soft and wobbly and crinkles as he takes it.
"And what might this be?"
He tears the wrapping paper carefully, and blinks at what he sees.
It's a sweater.
A grey sweater- obviously hand-knitted, by the amount of loop holes present there- with the letter "D" on the front in emerald green, sloppy and slightly jagged. He takes it carefully out of the paper, running the soft fabric through his fingers.
"So that you won't be cold." Amelia is continuing "You're always digging in the cold."
"Oh no, that's just because he likes the cold weather and freezing to death." Granger says mockingly, but Draco is frozen in his seat. He's oddly touched and the way Amelia is beaming at him, brimming with pride and admiration for him- its suddenly very hard for him to breathe. Guilt and shame seep through his skin.
"Try it! 'Mione took the size of one of your shirts, but I kinda…I made a lot of mistakes." Amelia is rambling, looking abashed as she fidgets with the edge of her dress "But it may fit you and then you won't be cold anymore and you can plant flowers on every grave, even during the winters..."
The words are just passing by him, and Draco feels numb as he slowly gets up, beginning to walk over to his bedroom.
"Draco, wha-?"
He closes the door shut behind him, trying….trying so hard to breath properly and not hyperventilate.
He can hear Amelia go "What did I do? Why'd he leave? Did I do something wrong?" and Granger's comforting reassurances- but everything around him is buzzing, and he clutches his collar tightly, trying to let air in.
He leans over the door, blinking rapidly.
These. These are Muggles. The two people who now mean everything to him- they're Muggles.
They're the people you used to hate.
They're the people you killed. The people you stood by and watched be ripped apart from their families and die. These people- who knit sweaters and read aloud story books and bring flowers for who they care about, who love unconditionally, who live without magic…and yet, somehow don't seem to need it. You thought they were filth. You wanted to kill them.
"Draco?"
There's a knock on his bedroom, and he doesn't know what to do, how to react.
"Can I come in?"
He contemplates not opening. Christmas has never been this warm- this good- and a part of him wants to hide here until everybody leaves, just so he doesn't have to come out and face them. He can't- he's terrible and stupid and why do they even care about him?!
"Amelia's waiting for you out here, you know."
His heart sinks into his chest, and he can't swallow, but he can't let her down- not Mia. He reaches out to unlock the door, and lets his hair fall over his eyes as he hears Granger enter.
"Whats wrong?" He can feel the light travelling into the room. Her eyes are on him, but he can't look into them. Before he knows what's happening, her arms are wrapping around his neck, and she's pressing him to her chest and he can hear her heart beating. Beating just like his own does. "What happened?"
"She's Muggle." he whispers quietly. He can feel Granger ease into the embrace, as if she's understood.
"Yes. And she loves you."
A familiar tug makes him look down, where Amelia seems to have entered the room, tiny fists clutching onto the hem of the sweater she's made as it touches the floor. Her eyes are filled with tears; and Draco's heart is suddenly breaking into a million, million pieces.
"Is it b-because it doesn't look nice?" she asks, voice small "Because I t-tried, I swear! but I- I kept on skipping the loops and I wanted to finish it b-before Christmas and 'Mione said you would l-love it anyway, and that it was-"
Draco takes the sweater from her, and begins to pull it on. "Don't be ridiculous." he kneels down to match Mia's height and softly flicks her nose. "It's perfect."
Her eyes widen and she sniffs "Really?"
He nods, eyes softening, and smiles "Better than Granger could ever make it."
"But then- why did you run off?!"
Draco doesn't have an answer for that, but thankfully Granger pitches in.
"Oh he was crying because he was so touched." She breaks into a smirk as he glares at her "And we all know how Draco hates it when people see him cry."
Amelia blinks up at Granger first, then at Draco, as if trying to evaluate the reason given to her, before nodding and slapping both her palms to Draco's cheeks. She pushes them together so that Draco's mouth is all squished up.
"You can cry in front of me, okay?" she says seriously "I promise I won't tell anyone. And even if I do, no one will believe me- my friends think grown-ups never cry, even though I know it's not true. I've seen Daddy cry so many times, and I always keep his secret." She pauses "Don't tell him I said that. But- I pinky swear I'll keep your secret!"
Draco wants to say something just to end her meaningless babble, but it's hard with his cheeks pushed together and he doesn't really want her to stop talking anyway, so he simply nods.
Smiling, Amelia leaps up to hug him and Draco lets her do it, wondering what he did to deserve this much love. He looks up to see Granger smiling at them, and it's the best Christmas he's ever had.
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It has been an eventful evening, to say the least. Amelia left shortly after presenting him with the sweater, and he had his own present- a large book on the species of flowers- ready for her.
Harold had been entirely too drunk for the present-exchanging process, and had insisted on gifting Draco with his empty whiskey bottle. Draco had taken it without comment, while Granger tried to suppress her laughter, and sent him off with a ridiculous, feathered hat. Draco had largely gifted Harold the hat for his own amusement, and now watches as the old man disappears around the bend, singing loud carols with the hat on his head, pink feather bobbing up and down fabulously. Which leaves Draco with….Granger.
Confused, Draco looks around, not entirely sure where she is.
The snow is soft, and has increased over a foot over the ground. Some of the string of lights over the spindling branches are flickering to a close now.
Draco walks over, footsteps digging into the snow, letting the breeze calm him down. It has been one hell of a day, and it has yet to come to a close. It's with a jolt that he realizes that it's been weeks since he last felt any sort of heaviness or frustration that once used to be a part of his daily life.
He looks up, and finds Granger kneeling in front of the graves of her parents a few feet away, and immediately comes to a freezing stop.
From where she is, she can't see him. Her robes are slumped- a deadweight. He doesn't know how to put it…but she looks like she has given up, and its not a good look on her.
It strikes Draco- not for the first time, but definitely the first time he allows himself to acknowledge it- that the people who won the Battle also suffered major losses. They were also left behind. They don't consider the winning of the Battle of Hogwarts a victory at all. They never have. There is nothing victorious about this- about watching and missing and crying for loved ones over their graves.
For a moment, Draco wonders if he should walk away and give Granger some privacy. Before he can do so, however, he hears her speak up.
"They didn't know who I was."
He pauses. He doesn't know what gave him away, but then, he isn't surprised she knows he's there. She is one of the best Aurors of her generation, after all.
At the lack of his response, she turns slightly, and her eyes are shining with tears. Something painful clenches Draco's heart.
"They died without knowing they had a daughter." she says softly, lips cracking into an ironic smile as she plays with her wand. There's a wreath adorning both her parents graves that wasn't there before "It's like….all traces of them are gone, Draco. And whatever they had left, theres no trace of me in it." her voice is shaking "There's nothing they own that shows that I existed in their lives…and I- I w-wish-" her grip on her wand is tight and Draco can't move "-I wish they'd just known. I just-" she shakes her head and hugs herself "-I just wish they'd known, y'know?" She glances up at him, and she is smiling, and Draco is in awe of her.
It's hard watching her struggle, hard to not walk over to her and hug her fiercely and drag her back to his cottage and make her forget everything.
"Why are you here?" he asks her instead.
Bewildered, she blinks "What do you mean?"
"Why are you here? With me, doing- doing this?" he points to the graveyard all around him "You could've celebrated Christmas with your friends. Then why here?"
"I…"
"Yes?"
"I….thought you might appreciate someone's company."
He grits his teeth, fists clenching. Under the faint lights, Granger's skin in glowing- soft and begging to be touched.
Oh, she really has no idea.
"You…utter….idiot, Granger." he snaps, beginning to walk over to her. Her eyes widen, but she doesn't back away. "Don't you see? This is what you do- you bloody give everyone second chances, even that arse Weasley, even me, even when we clearly don't deserve it! You sacrifice your own happiness to give them a moment of satisfaction. You stupid, selfless idiot-"
"Draco, I-"
"-Even if that means spending time with an ex-Death Eater in a fucking graveyard on Christmas- what is wrong with you?!" he's on the border of hysteria, because how can she not see it?! She stands there- with those brown curls, and the perfect eyes and the perfect smile and the entire world at her feet- and she wants to waste her time on people who don't deserve any of it? "How can you think so little of yourself? Waste away your time on people who are best left alone to wallow in their regrets?! Why can't you get that into your head that you are not meant to fix anyone-"
"You are worth-"
"-You are meant to fix you!"
He is so close he can feel her breath fall warmly on his. His eyes are burning into hers, and he wants to wipe away the moisture in her eyes and fucking punch Potter and Weasley in the face.
How the fuck can they leave her alone on a day like this?
Granger's eyes soften and she laughs drily, raising her arm and resting her hand on his cheek, stroking the skin there.
Draco's heart leaps in his throat. Her touch is warm, and her eyes are gentle, lips curved into a smile.
"I can try." she says, her voice a mere whisper.
And then her lips are on his and she's kissing him.
He freezes, and then his arms are wrapping around her, hands clutching onto her waist and running up her back. The blood is pounding in his ears, the ache rising as it uncoils from his chest and settles in his belly. He can feel her trembling, and he tightens his arms around her because he cannot let go now, and intensifies the kiss, drinking in her gasp and the taste of rain and hot chocolate swirling on her tongue.
He's wanted this…for so long. He can hear the loud thudding of his heart against his chest, that drunken haze clearing- all the confusion and sorrow wash away because the only thing he can really fell is the immense heat that is surrounding their bodies. He breaks away for a moment, his gaze lifting to hers. Her eyes are warm and dark- almost black against the night. He really wants to talk, but he can't- his voice seems to falter and choke in his throat.
"I…" How long has it been since someone looked at him like this- like he was worth something? How long has it been since he last felt this safe? "Granger, I…"
She smells of fire and cinnamon and toffee and she is smiling and Draco's heart couldn't possibly feel bigger-
"I haven't given you your pre-" she begins, but is cut off as he presses his palm against her back. She gasps, arching into him and he kisses her again. She kisses back, her hands coming up to hold the sides of his face. Her long fingers trace the angles of his jawline and down his neck and chest, as the trail of her fingertips burn, making him shiver and break the kiss, trying to catch his breath. He pulls her close and she slides her arms around his neck, lips parting to inhale as he buries his nose into the nape of her neck and peppers kisses down the side of her neck.
"Draco….your p-present.." she breathes, her face buried in his neck as she pulls him closer, fingers clenching into his hair.
He doesn't really know when her fingers had threaded through his hair, or when she had wrapped herself around him, but he thoroughly approves.
"I can think of a thing or two I would want to unwrap." he whispers. Her hands rap him gently on the head and he can't help but smirk. He can feel her lips smiling against his, and oh Merlin, he hasn't felt this happy in his entire life.
"Git. I meant the present I got for you."
He pulls back and looks into her eyes. They're twinkling, all traces of previous tears vanished.
Good. She doesn't deserve to cry on Christmas.
Or any other day.
Or ever. Not as long as he is around. And even afterwards.
He draws her in, capturing her lips in another toe-curling kiss.
"Later"- is all he says before pulling her back to his cottage.
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The snow is falling and something feels different.
If Draco is to be completely honest, he wouldn't have been surprised to wake up to an empty bed. While he's not overtly familiar with one-off's; he does recognise the signs. Granger had been upset, and he had been slightly too aroused, both their inhibitions dimmed a bit by the alcohol.
He grins to himself, turning in bed and burying his noise into his pillow. His sheets smell of Granger.
Granger.
He shoots up.
Outside the snow is falling, feather light against his window and the breeze blows.
And Granger's not there.
His heart leaps into his throat, and he looks around.
It's when his eyes fall on the ground and he spots the socks littered all over the wooden floor that he relaxes. Mismatched, knitted rainbow socks are all over the place and really, Granger is the only one who can make her presence known this way.
"Granger?" he calls out.
He doesn't realise he's holding his breath until she replies "In here."
She's sitting on the couch in the small living room, fingers deftly working a pair of knitting needles. He resists the urge to rolls his eyes- but only because he's too busy noticing how she's clad in just a plain white shirt, and nothing else.
Hair untameable in the bottle cold morning, milky white thighs crossed underneath her, Granger looks soft and so beautiful. Draco can see a hint of cleavage down the two first buttons that are undone.
He doesn't remember owning such a shirt- but it looks infinitely better on her anyway.
He walks over to her- feet padding softly on the rug- and even though it is freezing outside and he is almost naked, its warm inside thanks to the warming charms she's put. She raises her head and catches his eyes and smiles radiantly, and all he really wants to do is carry her back to bed and make her smile like this forever.
"Good morning."
Draco acts on impulse, falling onto the couch next to her and reaching out to grab her by the waist, nuzzling into the skin between her collarbones. He replies with a muffled, satisfied "G'morning."
She laughs "You look like you slept well. Oh, careful, you'll hurt yourself!"
He blinks and, at closer inspection, finds that she's holding a pair of knitting needles, and has been knitting something.
He arches a brow,"Knitting again?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
She looks amused "Because I like to knit…?"
"I know that. But knitting at seven in the morning sounds…a bit out of order."
"Oh?"
"Yes." he responds firmly "At this time, one is meant to be in bed with a lover, wrapped up in their arms and comfortably asleep." He eyes the shirt she's wearing "Preferably without any clothes."
The eyebrow she's quirking at him is all-too knowing as her lips twitch. She hasn't bothered to tie her hair- not that he cares. He likes them like this.
"I wasn't aware it was an unspoken rule."
"It is." he replies, rolling onto his back and firmly placing his head on her lap. He still isn't wearing a shirt, but he notices Granger peeking at his chest and smirks inwardly. "What're you knitting this time?"
"It's a pair of socks." she smiles.
"First Amelia, then you. What is with you and knitting?"
"I'll have you know that knitted clothes are very cozy and warm."
"Yes, but I already have you for that."
She rolls her eyes "Maybe. That's why this is not for you."
"I'm hurt." he glances as she starts working again "Who is it for, then?"
"Winky." At the confused look he throws her, she adds "She's a house-elf."
He blinks "That raises more questions than it answers, Granger. Are you still on that freeing elf spew thing?"
"Its S.P.E.W! And no! Winky used to be a really good friend of Dobby's. He helped her out a lot when she was going through- um- a rough time. And Dobby loved getting new pairs of socks- preferably mismatched." her lips thin into a sad smile. Draco recalls Dobby as one of his former house-elves. "I used to knit socks for all the house-elves back in Hogwarts, but only Dobby accepted them."
Draco snorts "I wonder why."
She raps him softly "After Dobby's death, Winky was very distressed. She went back to drinking and sulking in a corner and refused to come out. I thought maybe this would help." Granger is looking at her needles, and for a minute there is complete silence between them.
Draco eyes the bright green sock that she has completed half-way. Granger seems to be only slightly better at knitting than Amelia, but something about the flimsy fabric in her hands makes him feel incredibly hollow and ashamed.
He's the reason- he had been there when his aunt had flung the dagger at Dobby.
He'd been there, watching as Granger had writhed and screamed, when her blood had trickled and pooled around her barely conscious body on the cold marble floor of the hall.
What had he done?
True, his knuckles had been white from gripping his wand tightly, from restraint, because if he heard her scream one more time, he would've gone mad- he would've lashed out.- done something- cursed Bellatrix and ensured all their deaths- and in the end, he'd done nothing- all this was his fucking fault.
Draco doesn't feel warm anymore. His stomach lurches at how sickened he is with himself. He doesn't deserve her- he's been such a fool, so selfish, to continue being with her when he knew she deserved better. He hates admitting it- hates it beyond anything- especially the realisation that despite his tawdry personality, Ron Weasley is the one who's better. He had always been there for her. Always supportive, always caring. It had been Draco who had left her.
"Draco, I can hear you thinking." Granger's voice trails from his side lightly.
At a normal time, he would retort back with a sarcastic reply, but he doubts he can say anything right now without wanting to fall to his knees and take his head into his hands and apologise over and over again, because surprise, surprise, he feels guilty too. Even he has a heart.
"Draco? Are you alright? If you want, I'll make a pair of socks for you too." her eyes twinkled "You don't need to sulk."
He snorts, and that flooding warm feeling envelops him once again. He really doesn't deserve her- but he's too selfish and determined to let that make him walk away from her. He'll just have to work harder for her.
"I don't need socks. Especially ones that are mismatched."
"Oh! That reminds me!"
Granger leaps up and pads over the floor, aiming for something under the heavy Christmas tree she and Harold had dragged inside.
She appears from the tree; a large package in her hands, and beckons it to him.
"Merry Christmas."
He blinks and sits up, accepting it graciously, trying to guess the contents inside. Granger is squirming in front of him, biting her lip. He knows that she's not deliberately trying to look attractive, but she looks incredibly kissable when she does that.
He leans forward and fishes out a box form behind the couch, handing it to her "I believe this is for you."
"You….got me a present?"
"Obviously." he fights the urge to look sheepish "It's nothing too extravagant, but…" he clears his throat "…I thought you would appreciate it."
She casts him a bemused look and unties the ribbon, reaching for what's inside the present- a copy of Pride and Prejudice.
She blinks.
"That's….my favourite book. I didn't- I didn't think you'd know that." she looks amazed "Thank you, Draco."
He shakes his head. She doesn't even know. "I didn't know it was your favourite book. It's-" he hesitates "-this is your copy of Pride and Prejudice. It's got your name on it. "
Granger freezes, and then fixes her eyes on him.
"What?" she whispers.
Draco shifts on his feet "The neighbours- they arranged the funeral of your parents. They- er- they gave me a bunch of items your parents wanted donated, in the case of their untimely death. But- they wanted to be buried with this. Apparently, they always felt like the book was special. It was your mother's favourite book to read." he runs his fingers through his hair sheepishly "It was only after you told me they were your parents that I opened it and saw your name on it." He watches as Granger gingerly opened the book, and ran nimble fingers over the neat handwriting that spelled out her name on the first page "I- erm...well, I'd been planning on burying it next to them rather than in the coffin, but then I thought gifting it to you would be better " his eyes survey her as she looks up at him, "You told me last night you didn't have anything to show you existed in their lives." he shrugs, smiling wryly "Turns out that my present kind of ended up helping you with that."
Draco hadn't pictured how Granger would react, but is saved an awkward silence as Granger crushes him into a hug. She is shaking, and holding onto him so tightly he can barely breathe, but it's okay.
His vision is obscured by bushy hair, but he can feel the heat emanating from her.
"You…confusing, amazing, impossible person." she whispers, face buried in his neck "You're- I can't- thank you. Oh, thank you."
His eyes soften, an he allows himself a dry smile "Better not let Potter and Weasley hear you say that. They might have a heart attack." he pauses "On second thoughts, maybe we should let them hear that."
She raps him on the head, but she can her lips smile softly against the warm skin of his neck. She pulls back and raises her hand. A pair of keys are dangling from her fingers. The keys to his shed.
He abruptly draws back, checking his pockets, before realising he's in his boxers "My- how did you-"
Her eyes are twinkling "I've got very skilled hands."
"Oh, I know that."
It's her turn to blush as she huffs, rapping him on the head once again.
"They're for your Christmas gift."
He looks at her drily "Thanks, for giving me the keys to the shed I already own."
"Yes, but I put something in that shed." she's smiling widely as Draco continues to stare at her. "Open your present!"
Blinking, he deftly tears the wrapping paper when his eyes fall on what's inside. He freezes, heart racing.
Quality Quidditch Supplies' Broomstick Servicing Kit.
"But….I don't have a…" his voice trails away.
He can't move, and he can't speak as he looks at Granger, who jingles the keys in her hands. She's smiling.
"Go unlock the shed, Draco."
.
.
.
Draco feels like a ten year old boy as he races across the snow. He had hurriedly thrown on a T-shirt and a dressing robe and tore through the graveyard, over to his shed, as Granger wore her clothes at a more moderate pace. He nows stands in front of the shed, unlocking the rickety old door with trembling fingers that have nothing to do with the cold weather.
And there it is.
The brand new Firebolt 360, polished wood practically shining in the light.
He can't breathe. The happiness- sheer ecstasy is threatening to burst out of his chest as he stands there, feeling like a child been given his favourite candy. And oh Merlin, it's this woman right here- this woman, smiling breathlessly at the door, her hair wild and cheeks flushed- who has made it possible.
"Granger…" he looks on at her as she smiles.
"I thought…since you couldn't do magic, you'd appreciate a broom." she brushes snow off her shoulder "I take it you like it?"
Like it?
He fucking loves it.
"It's…it's brilliant." he says, at a loss for words.
She nods "Try it, then."
He looks at the broom sitting there, then back at her. Merlin, he really feels like a child- full of doubt, aching for permission. "What if someone sees?"
Granger raises her wand "I can put a couple of disillusionment charms around. You should be fine." her eyes are bright "What do you say?"
He's forgotten how brilliant she is. And beautiful. And abso-fucking-lutely amazing.
"Only if you come along."- he finds himself saying.
Granger backs away, eyes widening. "Oh no, I brought this for you. I can use magic, I have no-"
"Oh please, Granger. Save the excuses."
"I'm serious! You can manage just fine without me!"
He knows that. He looks at her, eyes solemn.
He doesn't want to, though.
She's slowly walking backwards, eyes flitting towards Draco, and then the broom in uncertainty.
Ah. She's scared of heights.
He smirks, leaning against the wall "What's the matter? Too chicken to fly?"
Her expression hardens as they turn to him, and he almost cackles with glee. The best way to get a Gryffindor to do something they're scared to do- dare them.
"No." Granger scoffs "It's just a broomstick."
"Come fly with me then."
"I don't see the need to prove myself to you."
He shrugs "Chicken it is."
"I am not scared!"
"Nooooo, of course not." he runs his fingers down the smooth, polished wood as he lifts it up to inspect it carefully. "How can Hermione Granger- one-third of the famous Golden Trio, vanquisher of all evil, epitome of goodness- possibly be terrified of something as mundane as flying?"
Her eyes narrow at him. He smiles back sweetly. When Granger marches over and snatches the broom from his hands, he grins to himself.
Oh yes, he knows Granger alright.
.
.
.
This is what freedom feels like.
This is happiness, this is un-inhibition.
The wind is whipping his hair back, the graveyard a mere blob of white below them, merged with the rest of the snow. He can hear nothing but the strong wind howling past him, he can see nothing but the clear clue sky, and the morning wind as it chills his already numbing fingers, but he's okay, because a pair of arms is tightly wrapped around his chest and a soft body is pressing deliciously hard into him from behind and he's never felt warmer.
He's tempted to raise both his arms to the sky, but the last time he tried it, Granger had shrieked into his ear and they had almost crashed into a thin trail of foliage below.
Since then, she had resorted to wrapping herself as tightly as she can around him- and he can't say he minds.
It's so exhilarating and exciting- the feeling of being so entirely carefree and happy that if he could, he would reach up and hug the clouds.
He can hear Granger's teeth chattering in his ear over the howling wind, clothes damp from the snow- and he wants to kiss her. He wants to dive in and swoop up and go round and round and up and down in circles and somersaults in the air. He wants to- he wants so much…and it's so astounding that he still has the world at his feet. There is so much to look for, so much to see- such a beautiful world, waiting for him out there.
What is he doing here- taking care of dead people, wanting and failing to make the difference he so desperately wants to make?
He's changed- he can be changed. He can make one as well.
With Granger- brilliant, beautiful Granger who sees so much more in him that he sees in himself- he thinks he can make a change, the kind that can clear his conscience. Maybe dampen the guilt that never really wore away by planting flowers on the graves of Muggles who died because of Voldemort.
He wants to laugh, and so he does, and once he can, he can't stop. It's so liberating- the sky and the snow and the cold, cold weather, and Granger's arms around him as she yells something he can't really hear….
…And he thinks he's finally ready for the New Year.
.
.
.
The clouds hold a storm over this road
You're dreaming, or at least you've got your eyes closed
And this dormant love you've built, inside your stubborn ways
It's begging now for air, of the silent breath of change
.
.
.
A/N: This ended up being update waaaaay later than I promised….so yeah….
Well anyway, hope you liked! Constructive criticism is always appreciated, and I love all types of messages!
Please check my other fics out, and leave a review, it would mean so much!
Hope y'all had a good day :)
Much love,
~SS~