Christmas arrived at Hogwarts. The elves decorated the halls as they always had, and Hermione delighted in the lights and tinsel that adorned the hallways and ceilings throughout the castle. They had woken one morning to find that a fully decorated tree had been installed in their common room, and Draco had laughed fondly as she stared at it, her joy and excitement spread clearly across her face.

But as the days crept by, getting closer to the the big event itself, her excitement started to wain. She would be staying at Hogwarts, as she had been too distracted by Draco to realise the date and it was now too short notice to petition the Ministry for a portkey or to arrange Muggle flights to Australia to spend the season with her parents. She didn't think she could face the Weasleys this year, either. But as those around her shared their own plans, she started to realise that she could be alone for her first Christmas since the war. Her last piece of hope was squashed on December 19th, the day before everyone was scheduled to leave.

She was in the common room with Draco, cuddled together on her sofa. He was sitting upright in one corner of the chair, a book in his hand. Hermione had her back resting against his side, her legs stretched out in front of her, a book of her own lying open and forgotten in her lap. She was absent-mindedly playing with the wristbone of the arm that he had wrapped around her waist to hold her closer.

'I can hear you thinking, Granger.' She didn't need to see his face to know that he hadn't looked away from his book. She sighed, and let her head fall back against his shoulder.

'You're going home for Christmas, right?'

'Yes. Mother has arranged for some of her more ... palatable relatives to join us. I think she's hoping to rebuild the bridges she burned when she married Lucius.' He paused, and she heard him put his book down. She winced slightly as she felt him staring at the back of her head. He was too bloody perceptive. 'And you're going to the Weasleys' with Genevra.' It was a statement, but she heard the question behind it and didn't respond. She just picked at a fraying thread on his sleeve cuff. 'Hermione?'

'I don't think I can,' she whispered. He stiffened, then sat up and guided her shoulders so that she had to turn and sit next to him. He looked down at her, concern furrowing his brow, but stayed silent. She sighed again and continued, 'I don't think I can be there this year. I can already feel the pity from them, everyone watching me, knowing Ron and I aren't together any more and that I have literally nowhere else to be.'

'But Potter will be there,' he said slowly, as if trying to understand. 'And he doesn't have anywhere else to be, either.'

'But he and Ginny are still together,' she said glumly. 'And he's been a de facto part of that family for a long time. I ... I don't know what I am to them any more.'

'OK,' he said, and frowned at the floor for a while, thinking. 'What about your own parents, then?' She flinched slightly.

'Hard to get to Australia and back in time for the new term,' she said, a little too dismissively. He sent her a look, making her aware that he knew there must be more to it than that. She rolled her eyes, simultaneously annoyed and thrilled by how well he knew her. 'And, well, we didn't part on the best terms. They needed time to adjust to the understanding that their life in Australia wasn't what they thought, and to process that they'd had a whole other life before that they abandoned.'

'Right. OK.' She could hear a slight note of panic in his tone as he absorbed all of this, and his knee started bouncing up and down as he tried to think of a way around her being on her own. He froze, then glanced at her cautiously. 'You could always - '

'No!' It came out more forcefully than she had intended, and he reeled back slightly. Feeling guilty, she grasped his hand and did her best to smile reassuringly at him. 'No, Draco, I couldn't. I mean, thank you, and everything, but honestly I don't really know if I'll ever be able to enter your house again, even at the invite of your mother.'

'But it's Christmas!' He sounded really worried now, and he ran a hand through his soft, white-blond hair, leaving it slightly ruffled. 'You love Christmas! You absolutely cannot spend it alone. I'll owl Mother and - '

'And tell her what?' She smiled at him, resigned. 'Tell her you're leaving her at the mercy of her relatives just so you can stay at Hogwarts to shelter a lonely lamb?'

'Granger - '

'No.' She dropped his hand and picked up her book again, ending the conversation before it made her any sadder. 'I'm a big girl, Draco. I'll be fine.'


The next morning he had snuck from her bed early to dress and pack, before returning to wake her with a kiss, a purple box tucked under one arm.

'What's that?' she asked, trying to hide her eagerness but eyeing it all the same.

'This,' he said grandly, holding it up with a flourish, 'is your Christmas present. I'm going to put it under the tree, and you are not to touch it until Christmas morning. Not even to feel how heavy it is,' he added, narrowing his eyes at her. She giggled, but nodded obediantly and got out of bed to follow him out to their common room, pulling on her pyjamas as she went. He placed the parcel carefully, right in the middle of the floor under the tree's canopy, and turned to smile at where she had been standing behind him. But she was already moving towards the tree herself. She leaned over to reach behind it and plucked out the large, green-wrapped parcel she had hidden there the week before. She turned back, catching him staring at her behind. He just grinned cheekily at being caught, and she couldn't help but smile back as she handed him his gift.

'Same rules apply,' she said warningly, wagging a finger at him.

'Of course. Thank you.' He carefully stowed the parcel in the top of his trunk, cushioning it with a jumper, and her heart swelled at the care he was taking of something she had given him. She really hoped he would like it, and was a little disappointed that she wouldn't be able to see his face when he opened it.

He straightened from his trunk, turned back to her and opened his arms, pulling her tight against him as she stepped into his embrace. His face dropped to press against the top of her head and he breathed in her smell before sighing.

'Make sure you look after yourself, yes? Don't throw yourself into those books too hard. At least try and get some sleep.'

'Mhmm,' she mumbled, willing away the tears that prickled her eyes. His arms tightened around her.

'I mean it, Hermione. And make sure you eat something at every meal, even when you don't want to.' He paused, then corrected himself. 'Especially when you don't want to.'

She didn't answer this time, just rubbed her face against his chest, trying to absorb as much of this feeling as she could.

'Goodbye, Princess. I - ' He stopped abruptly, and her heart skipped at the thought of what he might have been about to finish that sentence with, before he continued, 'I'll be back in ten days. You'll hardly notice I'm gone.'

'You're probably right,' she teased half-heartedly, trying to keep their parting light. He chuckled, then grasped her chin and tilted her head back to kiss her so deeply that she felt breathless when he finally released her.

'My brave girl,' he murmered, scanning her eyes one last time. 'I'll see you soon.' He let her go, and she waved him out of their common room, her other arm wrapped around her aching chest, desperately fighting back the tears until the portrait swung closed behind him. Then she dissolved on the sofa, allowing herself to indulge in a rare moment of self-pity.


After Draco had left and she had gathered herself up again, she had quickly washed her face, dressed, and gone down to the Great Hall to see the others off.

Ginny, who had accepted her decision to avoid the Burrow with better grace than she had expected, wrapped her arms around Hermione and squeezed her so tight that she almost felt her old rib injury ache again. She had broken away, slightly tearful, with promises of a letter every day and a huge delivery on Christmas morning.

Neville had taken a turn to hug her, then Luna, then Dean and Seamus, and the few others who remained from the original pre-war group. She'd smiled at them all and wished them a Happy Holidays and tried her very best to ignore the pity in their smiles as they finally left her standing in the Entrance Hall, alone.

She wasn't the only student to remain behind this year, but there wasn't anyone left that she felt comfortable enough to spend large amounts of time with. Besides that, she felt a bit lost without the routines she and Draco had been following for most of the term. So, she set up her own ways of passing the time.

She still diligently went down to meals, Draco's prompts to take care of herself ringing in her head, but she struggled to eat. Her sleep was also disturbed again. Her bed felt very cold and empty without him, and she had started to dream again. Nothing like the nightmares of old, but there seemed to be a constant black haze at the corner of her vision, and it made her heart race. She would wake briefly, sweating, then drop back into fitful, restless sleep.

She read Ginny's promised daily letters and found a surprising amount of comfort in them: laughing to herself at Ginny's exasperated re-tellings of the antics and experiments of Mr Weasley; smiling fondly at Mrs Weasley's well wishes, prompts to look after herself and insistance that she join 'the family' in the March break; wiping away tears of pride at the mentions of how well George was doing and how successful the shop was; delighting in the way Ginny wrote of Harry and the evident love in her words. She tried to ignore the conspicuous lack of anything Ron-related, but she still wrote back every day.

She went to the library and threw herself into studying, which reminded her that her NEWTs were only 4 months away. She wrote reems and reems of notes until her wrist ached and her hands were black with ink, and then she wrote some more, until Ms Pince reminded her kindly that it was time for dinner.

At the end of the day, she would sit in their common room on her own, either gazing into the tree while lost in her own thoughts or reading Pride and Prejudice again for the millionth time.

And finally, finally, Christmas morning arrived. She sat up groggily, considering going back to bed, but then she remembered Draco's present, waiting for her under the tree. She heaved herself up and pulled a jumper over her pyjamas, which she'd taken to wearing again after being reminded of how cold it was to sleep naked when alone. She staggered into the common room, and was surprised that the pile of presents at the foot of the tree had grown substantially. She approached it slowly, and a lump rose in her throat as she reached for the top package. It had a very familiar shape and feel, and there was a note tucked into the string that bound it. Hermione sank to the floor next to the pile and, with shaking fingers, opened the note.

Hermione, it began, the familiar loops and wobbles bringing tears to her eyes.

Merry Christmas, dear! We are so very proud of you, Ginny tells us you're working very hard, as usual. You have faced so much, and have kept on going, kept US going, through harder times than I would ever have wished for any of us to see. Keep you head up, my girl. And don't be a stranger. Our table is missing something significant with your empty seat.

All our love, always.

Molly and Arthur

The tears now wet on her cheeks, Hermione tore open the parcel to find this year's jumper inside. It was a deep, rich purple, with the obligatory 'H' embossed on the front. She whipped her own jumper off and replaced it with her new one immediately, using the sleeves to dry her face and drawing courage from it to tackle the rest of the pile.

Ginny had sent her a new quill set for the NEWTs; Harry had sent her a new book about revolutionary female witches throughout wizarding history; George and Angelina had sent her a sheef of his new self-correcting parchment, along with a note from him thanking her for the inspiration for the product and demanding feedback as soon as possible; Bill and Fleur had sent a beautiful, delicate bracelet of Goblin-wrought steel, her initials embossed on the tiny clasp and a shell from the beach by their cottage hanging from it; Charlie had sent her a small book bag, covered in ethically collected dragon scales; and Percy and Andrea had sent her a pot of Romine's Ink Stain Remover, for 'delicate hands', according to the label. She put them all to one side, her heart full of gratitude for the big family that she now realised she was and always would be a solid member of.

Finally, she turned to the last gift of the pile, knowing it could only be from one person. She picked it up and reluctantly reached for the note taped to the front. This note also began with Hermione, and also brought tears to her eyes at the sight of the equally familiar, unbelievablely scruffy and splotched scrawl.

Merry Christmas! How's exam prep going? I hope you're taking your head out of those books at least once a day to eat something!

We're missing you this year. Christmas isn't the same without you running around straightening the ornaments, and between you and me I think Harry is sulking that no-one else is here to understand his jokes about that Sandra Clause person.

I know it's been a while since we spoke, so please write back soon. I need you to tell me about everything I'm NOT missing about Hogwarts!

Love,

Ron

She was crying again. The relief she had felt from Molly's reminder that she belonged with the Weasleys was nothing compared to Ron's acceptance of their circumstances and commitment to returning to their pre-relationship status quo. She clutched his letter to her chest briefly, then opened his present and let out a loud laugh. He'd sent her a photo album, and as she flicked through it she saw he'd collected moving pictures of their entire friendship, from the first year onwards. Pictures of her, with him, with Harry, with all of the Weasleys, even some with her parents were scattered throughout the mix. And in every one, they were all smiling, all of them full of love for one another.

She stopped for a long time at a picture of her and Fred. The lanky twin had his arm around her waist, and his head was dipped towards her ear as he shared a secret with her. Picture Hermione was roaring with laughter, clutching at Picture Fred's jumper to stop herself from falling over. She watched as Picture Fred swept her off her feet into his arms, and leaned back his head to release a howl of triumph while she cackled helplessly.

She remembered that day so clearly. She'd been sulking because Ron had been mean to Crookshanks (again), and no-one had been able to snap her out of it. Until Fred requested she join him for photograph, for an experiment he was conducting. She hadn't been able to resist the pull of potential knowledge, so she had obliged. And when Fred had pulled her close, he told her that they had once found Ron wanking to a picture of Professor McGonagall. She remembered the joy in his eyes as he'd set her back down on her feet, kissing her cheek and murmering, 'That's better, little sister.' And she'd realised that his experiment had been a success.

She wondered if Ron knew what a treasure this present was to her. Not just for the memory of Fred, but for all of the memories. The whole book was a physical reminder that she couldn't possibly be alone, not with so much love around her. She determined to tell him so, the next time she saw him.

After spending a little more time watching the pictures, she put the album down and turned to pick up Draco's present. She was surprised again to find that two others now accompanied it.

The first was from her parents. Her heart was in her throat as she read their letter. They wrote that they'd asked Gunnar, the kindly Australian Wizarding Ministry official that had helped her track them down and restore their memories, to pass the parcel on to her for Christmas. They told her about how things had changed in Australia, and asked her to join them for the summer. Their gift was a beautifully carved hairbrush, and the note attached said it was made of bamboo and was specifically designed to detangle even the unruliest of curls. It was a touching gift, and even more of her heart felt healed by the gesture.

The penultimate gift was from Professor McGonagall. Hermione was shocked when she read the label, but opened the package hurriedly. The professor had given her a gift before - the Time Turner that she had used in the 3rd year. She unravelled the piece of cloth in her hands to find a short note tucked inside.

Miss Granger, this scarf is enchanted to soothe the wearer. In times of distress or distraction, the cloth provides comfort and clarity. Merry Christmas - Minnerva

She smiled to herself, wondering what the professor would say if she knew of the other methods Hermione had been using to manage her bad memories and nightmares, but was overwhelmingly grateful to her for the present. It would still be incredibly useful, especially for while he was away.

The reminder of his absence brought her attention to the final gift under the tree. She reached for it, pulling the box onto her lap. She opened it slowly, and his scent wafted out of it and up to her nose. She took a deep breath in, and swallowed the lump in her throat as she read the piece of parchment balanced on top of the neatly folded tissue paper that held the gift.

Princess, she read, her heart fluttering as it always did.

Merry Christmas. I'm sorry that you're alone for this one, I swear it will never happen again for as long as you'll have me. In a few years, you'll probably look back and wish for the time that I wasn't constantly hovering over you during the entire holiday period.

For your present, I've tried to create something that will show you the way I see you. It was a very tricky, pain-staking process to make this, and I worked very hard on it, so please don't burn it straight away. And yes, I'll tell you all about how I did it when I return.

Yours, adoringly,

Draco

She grinned as she heard his sarcastic tone in her head, then her smile softened as she traced his final words with a fingertip. Finally, she lifted the paper, and almost dropped the box. Underneath, there was a picture of her. At least, it sort of looked like her. She recognised the unruly, curly hair, and the freckles on the girl's nose. What she didn't recognise was the way that the girl's lips curved upwards at the corners, as though she was thinking about a secret that only she knew. The girl's eyes were like honey and chocolate melted together, and they were alight, flashing with a firey passion. The girl's body looked soft, curving in all of the right places, hugged well by a dress that Hermione recognised as the one she'd worn to the Triwizard Cup Yule Ball. She didn't realise how hard she was crying until she noticed the ink stains on the girl's slender, delicate fingers, and the sob that wracked her chest made her old injuries hurt.

She realised that it wasn't a girl in this picture. It was a woman. A strong, fearsome woman, who knew her mind and wasn't afraid to share it. She realised that the image that she had of herself in her mind was still of that precocious 11 year old, always labelled the know-it-all, lonely, a 'late bloomer' as her mother had said. And as she looked down at this rendering of herself, the representation of what Draco now saw when he looked at her, she realised that she had been using that little girl as a shield to hide behind, to push others away before they hurt her, to protect herself in many different areas of her life. But the woman in the picture didn't need anyone else's protection. Unless she chose it.

Hermione held the picture to her chest and let the emotions consume her. She grieved for the loss of the child she had been, and embraced the changes that had been there under her nose for so long. But mostly, she felt love. Love for herself, past and present. Love for those around her, that had helped her to become the person she was today. And, most strongly and surprisingly of all, she felt love for Draco Malfoy.

It took Hermione a long time to pick herself up from the floor by the tree, and when she finally did she noticed that she'd missed breakfast and was going to be late for Christmas lunch if she didn't hurry. She dashed to her bedroom and switched her pyjama bottoms for jeans, then grabbed her new scarf as she raced back through the common room, ran along the corridors and down to the Great Hall, skidding through the door just as the food appeared on the table.

She quickly found a seat at the one long table that had been set out for everyone to sit at together, and grasped the end of the cracker that her smiling neighbour, a shy-looking first year Ravenclaw boy, proferred. They pulled, and the boy laughed in amazement as sparks flew from inside. As he dug through his prizes, Hermione turned her head to find Professor McGonagall sitting at the head of the table. Their eyes met, and Hermione raised her glass of mulled wine in her direction, silently thanking her for her gift, which she'd managed to wind round her neck as she ran. The professor raised her own glass in response, a kind smile on her thin lips, and they drank together.

The meal passed quickly, a blur of chatter and the bang of crackers and hoots of laughter and joy as prizes and hats were swapped and shared up and down the table. Hermione relaxed into the atmosphere, her emotional morning leaving her feeling contented but drained. She managed to make it through the Christmas pudding, but her eyes began to feel very heavy in the warmth of the Hall, her stomach so full of food. She rose and bid everyone a Merry Christmas, smiling at the chorused response that she received from the whole table as she made her way out of the Hall.

Her walk back to her common room seemed shorter than usual, without her taking much interest in it. She gave the password and scrambled through. Something about the emptiness on the other side seemed to dismiss the fatigue of moments before, and she found herself standing in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do with herself. To try and distract herself from the unusual quietness of the room, made more obvious by the buzz she had left behind in the Great Hall, she wandered over to their study table and ran her hands over the piles of books there. They had grown significantly smaller over the weeks of him trying to find something, anything that he could use. She scanned the remaining titles with a vague notion that she could work through one herself.

The portrait door flew open behind her, and Hermione jumped and whipped around. Her heart was hammering at this unexpected intrusion, and she cursed silently as she realised she'd left her wand in her room. Weaponless apart from the few disarming charms that she could cast wandlessly, she braced herself, waiting to see who would appear through the entrance.

She hadn't known who she expected to see, but it certainly wasn't the person who finally tumbled out into the common room. It was Draco, his blonde hair mussed and damp with snow, his pale face tinged pink from exposure to the cold. He only had on a pair of jeans, a forrest green jumper, and a grey scarf wound haphazardly around his neck. He shook, but she wasn't sure that it was just from the cold. Her defensive stance fell away as she stepped towards him, scanning his body with her gaze to see if he was hurt.

'Draco! What are you - ' He marched right up to her, his eyes wide, urgent. 'Is everything - Draco!' Without a word, he had grabbed her left hand with his and roughly pulled her sleeve down. She tried to pull away, but his grip was too tight. His eyes still hadn't left hers, and the intensity in his gaze was starting to scare her. Memories of people acting under the Imperious curse flooded her mind, and she felt cold fear grip her heart.

Then he lifted his right hand and laid it over her skin, over the scar. She felt warmth spreading under his fingers, and looked down in time to see a golden glow that was only just fading. Slowly, he lifted his trembling hand away, and she gasped.

The scar was still there, but it had faded significantly, much more than it ever had after any other Healer's attempts to vanish it. The edges were finally smooth and the letters were now a pale white instead of the usual angry red. And the stinging pain had finally stopped. She looked up at him as hot tears spilled out of her eyes, and was surprised to find that he was crying, too.

'Merry Christmas, Hermione,' he whispered.