Christmas

As Christmas grew closer and closer, the knot that had made itself home in Hermione's chest seemed to tighten so much that it was hard to breathe. She and Ginny hadn't spoken since the disastrous night at the Hog's Head, so Hermione had busied herself working on grading her students' homework and prowling about the castle, trying to push away the memories that threatened to strangle her.

Christmas had always been a large ordeal at the Weasleys' home and the fact that Hermione wouldn't be part of it that year felt almost worse than her marriage falling apart. There was so much lost in the divorce, but breaking the connection between her and the rest of the Weasley family weighed on Hermione like a Hippogriff sitting directly on her chest.

It may have been the holiday break for Hogwarts students, but those that stayed behind kept Hermione busy. They were also quite helpful in keeping her mind off of the still-fresh divorce and constant reminders of not only Ron but Harry, Ginny, and the rest of the Weasleys that constantly lurked around the castle. It seemed like everywhere she went, reminders followed and tugged at the raw hole in her chest where her heart used to be.

Before Hermione knew it, Christmas Eve had arrived and she was looking at just having only Crookshanks and the castle ghosts as company as she wasn't sure she felt up to going to the usual feast that occurred in the Great Hall. There would already be plenty of teachers there to supervise, including Headmistress McGonagall, who still taught Transfiguration on top of her Headmistress duties, so Hermione wasn't worried about being needed. In fact, she had bought herself two bottles of special elf-made wine from Hogsmeade shortly after her last meeting with Ginny and was saving them for Christmas Eve so she could try to drown out the doubts and insecurities screaming at her in the back of her mind.

It was a lot harder to try and be okay with the divorce when the ultimate holiday for "quality time with family" was staring Hermione in the face. Had she made a huge mistake by leaving Ron?

All of the students were in their dormitories and Hermione was just finishing up a late-night corridor patrol when she decided to make a stop in the library to see if she could find any interesting books to keep her and the elf-made wine company over the impending holiday.

Hermione had been teaching Artihmancy at Hogwarts for several years now, having turned down offers to work with Harry and Ron at the Ministry of Magic. When she and Ron had first married, Ron had insisted that she stay home so they could try for a family, but as the years went on and things kept getting worse, Hermione had secretly started brewing magical contraceptives to prevent getting pregnant and taken up teaching at Hogwarts, where she felt safe and at home. It was no surprise to her that, month after month, there was only one line when she would pee on the stick, though she did admittedly feel a little guilty for deceiving her then-husband.

At first, Ron was kind, loving, and supportive; he was excited to start a family and had a picture in his head of everything being perfect that he clung to desperately…

…

"It's okay, 'Mione," Ron said, putting his arm around Hermione's shoulder. "We'll just keep trying."

Hermione looked into Ron's vivid blue eyes and gave him a watery smile while she wiped her tears away. They had been trying for a baby for almost a full year, but, for some unknown reason, had not been able to conceive. Hermione had never thought much about children as she was growing up – there had been much more pressing matters at hand – but now that the war was over and she had married the love of her life, the idea of starting a family greatly appealed to her.

"It's been seven months, Ron," Hermione said. She sank away from his embrace and sat on the toilet in the small bathroom at the Burrow. They had been visiting family and hoped to surprise Ron's parents, brothers, and sister with the good news. "If it hasn't happened yet…"

"Didn't you say that it can't be considered – anything else until at least a full year?"

"Well, yes, technically," Hermione conceded, "but most people get pregnant in just a few months' time."

"Well that just means we get to have more fun trying to make this baby," Ron said, kneeling so his face was at her eye level. He leaned forward and buried his face in her hair, his mouth finding her neck and his hands moving roughly up her body to press harshly against her breasts. Hermione swallowed hard and tried to shy away, but his hands moved to her back, locking her in place and rendering her unable to move.

"Ron - " she protested, now trying to push him off of her. "Not now – we're at your parents' house, for God's sake - "

"You're no fun, you know that?" Ron snapped as he suddenly pulled away from her. "You used to be so spontaneous and exciting. Now you're just a prude. No wonder we can't get pregnant."

With that he walked out of the bathroom and back into the throng of people visiting, eating, and drinking together, leaving Hermione feeling icy cold to her core and more alone than she had ever felt in her life.

…

Hermione returned violently to the present, taking several long moments to realize that she was now sitting on one of the benches in the Restricted Section, clutching her arms to herself and swaying side to side. There were no tears, but breath clawed its way out of her painfully and it took everything in her to try and remember her old therapist's tools for re-grounding after an episode.

Five things you could see… she saw books, lanterns, ornate wooden shelves that stretched to the ceiling, a rug that looked like it had been placed on the floor when the library was first built, and chairs around small tables for people to read at.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Four things you could hear… she heard… footsteps?

Her head snapped up and she immediately tried to squash the choking anguish inside of her. If someone was coming, she didn't want them to see her like this.

"Granger?"

"What the fuck?" Hermione said the words before her brain had time to process what she was seeing.

Sure enough, she had recognized the voice. A tall white-blond man standing in front of her, dressed completely in black and looking rather bemused. It was Draco Malfoy again.

"We've got to stop running into each other like this," he said smoothly.

"What are you even doing here?" Hermione asked. Her voice sounded weak and her mind was still racing. "Shouldn't you be skulking around your manor or something?"

"Such a sharp tongue," Malfoy's voice was like silk. Hermione's mind latched on to the familiarity of it and her head began to clear. "I could ask you the same thing."

"I don't have a manor to skulk in," Hermione retorted. Malfoy laughed and Hermione was caught off-guard with his mirth. She didn't remember hearing genuine laughter from him at school – every time she heard any semblance of joy come from him, it was at the expense of another person and felt hollow and empty.

"I think you know that's not what I meant, Granger."

Hermione eyed him suspiciously. "Are you really surprised to see me in a library at all hours of the night?"

"Well, when you put it like that… no, I'm not surprised at all," Malfoy said. There was a smile on his face and it too seemed genuine. The more time Hermione was spending with him, the more his demeanor was throwing her off. This was not the Draco Malfoy she had known back in school.

"I also believe I asked you what you were doing here first."

"That's fair, I suppose," Malfoy replied. "I'm here doing some last-minute research for a personal project."

"No, I mean here at Hogwarts in general. You don't teach or - " Hermione caught herself right before she finished her sentence. The smile on Malfoy's face faltered, but didn't slip. He sat down across from her so they were at the same level and each facing the other head-on.

"Professor Thomas asked me here to lecture the Defense Against the Dark Arts students about some Dark objects."

That made sense. The Malfoys had always been collectors of rare, unusual, and Dark artifacts and Draco had inherited most of it when his parents passed several years earlier. Since then, Hermione had learned that he had not only continued growing the collection, but had also become somewhat of an expert in the Dark Arts, though he had stayed quiet and out of the public eye for the most part. His family's previous alignment with Voldemort had tarnished their reputation and it seemed that Malfoy, while not continuing in his father's footsteps, also wasn't outspoken against the Dark Arts.

"You were invited over Christmas break?" Hermione asked, curiosity piquing her interest. "Most of the students have gone home for the holiday. Nobody is here."

Malfoy smirked; it had the ghost of his old sneer from their school days, but none of the outright malice.

"What can I say? I missed Hogwarts. I wanted to come spend some time here before it became crowded and noisy again."

Hermione couldn't say she entirely believed him, but she wasn't sure it was her place to press for more information. She and Malfoy weren't exactly close and he had become excellent at protecting his privacy.

"Are you just planning on lurking around the library all of Christmas?" Hermione asked. "Surely there are more fun things to do than that for someone as well-off as you are."

Malfoy's silver eyes bored into Hermione and she squirmed slightly under the intensity of his gaze. There was a new heat behind them and she was just about to break off the eye contact when Malfoy finally spoke again.

"I'm surprised to hear you think there's something more fun than hanging about in a library, Granger."

Now it was Hermione's turn to laugh.

"Maybe I've changed since you knew me in school," she heard herself say. As soon as the words left her mouth, she felt a blush creep up her cheeks and was grateful that the dim light of the library wouldn't give her away.

"I hope you haven't changed too much," Malfoy said.

Silence the size of an Hungarian Horntail followed his words. Hermione was too shocked to speak.

"You hated me in school," Hermione said quietly.

"I hated Potter and Weasley," Malfoy corrected. "I still don't like them much. But you… you were competition. You were the only one better at me in class, which father never let me forget."

"Competition?" Hermione repeated, feeling suddenly stupid. "What about Seventh Year, when you just ignored me completely?"

"You were with Weasley and eyeballs-deep in the hero worship of Potter like the rest of the wizarding world," Malfoy said. It was the first time Hermione heard bitterness in his voice. "Unlike everyone else, I had to pick up the pieces of my family's bad decisions."

"I'm sorry," Hermione said. "I – I didn't even think about that."

Malfoy laughed derisively. "Not many people did. Astoria… she understood. She was a little younger, but had similar troubles with her family. When we ended up together, it seemed natural, easy like breathing."

Hermione held her breath as Malfoy spoke. She had never heard him speak about his late wife, though she had heard some details from the Daily Prophet and other publications that had been insatiably thirsty for news of the core people involved in Voldemort's rise and fall.

"Draco, I - " Hermione began, but faltered when she realized she had used his first name instead of his surname. That was the first time she had ever referred to him as such. She pressed on. "I'm so sorry for everything you've been through."

The man sitting across from her suddenly didn't look like Draco Malfoy at all, but a vulnerable human being that had not expected to either open up or receive kindness from someone with whom he had been enemies with for most of their lives.

"That's very kind of you to say, Hermione."

Another silence unfolded between them, but this one felt much warmer and more comfortable, almost familiar. Hermione was lost in thought, drifting further and further away until Draco spoke again.

"Are you planning to creep around the library over Christmas, then? Is that why you were so worried about whether I would be here too?" His voice had returned to its lighter tone.

Hermione blushed again. "No," she said, "I have plans with some elf-made wine. I was here to see if there was something interesting that I hadn't read yet."

"Then you're doomed to be alone with that wine," Malfoy said matter-of-factly. "Everyone knows you've already read everything there is to read in this godforsaken library."

"Even so," Hermione said in a wavering voice, "I still need something to do instead of going to the feast." She had no idea how Draco was getting under her skin with so little time spent together, but her whole body was heating up as she continued to think about how close their knees were to touching…

"Then come spend it eating dinner with me."

Hermione's mouth dropped open and she stared at the man in front of her incredulously. Whatever she had expected him to say, that was the furthest thing from it. Once is request fully sank in, she found that there was curiosity and a tinge of excitement that had settled into her stomach, which solidified her decision.

"Okay, yes."

"I'll come by your room at seven," Draco said, standing up and nodding his head slightly. "See you then."

And he disappeared back into the shadows, leaving Hermione alone once again.

Hermione fiddled with the hem of her dress, nerves jangling. In one hand, she held one of the bottles of wine, but the other was empty and she didn't know what to do with it. Perhaps she should have grabbed both bottles.

A soft knock on her door pulled her out of her thoughts. She took a deep, steadying breath and opened it.

Draco Malfoy stood in her doorway, looking sharp as ever in a deep black fitted suit and Slytherin-green tie. His hair was neatly combed and in place and there was a fresh glint in his silver eyes that made Hermione's heart stutter.

"Don't you look dashing," Hermione said, now clutching the bottle of wine with both hands to try and keep them steady. Malfoy snickered.

"I could say the same to you." He offered Hermione his arm. "Let's go."

He led Hermione around the castle, both of them stopping frequently to admire the perfect Christmas snowfall from the stained-glass windows that were scattered about the building. It was quiet and beautiful; Hermione found herself sliding into an easy back-and-forth with Draco. There was a fresh comfort between them that she would never have expected, but appreciated greatly. It turned out that they had more in common than she realized and had been through quite a few similar things.

"Here we are," Draco said. They had stopped in front of the large painting of a bowl of fruit that led the way to the Hogwarts kitchens. Hermione looked at him, a little confused.

"The kitchens?" She asked. "I would never have pictured you coming down here."

Malfoy smiled at her and reached up to tickle the pear, which giggled before it allowed them passage. "Haven't you realized yet that everything has changed, Granger?"

This time, when he used Hermione's surname, it was gentle, almost in a sweet tone. Hermione smiled to herself as she walked through first. She kind of liked the way it sounded coming from him.

As soon as she stepped through the threshold, at least seven house-elves rushed up, nearly knocking Hermione over.

"I is sorry, Miss!" The elf that had run into Hermione squeaked. "I wasn't paying attention!"

"Oh, that's all right," Hermione said soothingly. "It was just an accident." She turned to Malfoy. "What are we doing here?"

"Well they were supposed to help me get something ready," Draco said with a slightly amused, slightly annoyed expression on his face, "but it seems like there was some miscommunication."

"We tried, Mister," another elf piped up, "but we needed a bigger feast because of all the students that is staying at Hogwarts this year. We has been busy all day, sir!"

Hermione watched Draco carefully to see how he would react to this news. She was pleasantly surprised when he simply sighed, took a deep breath, and then turned his silvery eyes back to her.

"I suppose we'll have to find somewhere else to dine," he said. He turned back to the house elves. "Do you have any leftover food we could take with us?"

At once, several of the elves disappeared and came back with a large basket packed with food, some of which was still steaming. It smelled delicious and forcefully reminded Hermione of past Christmases when she, Ron, and Harry would steal food from the kitchens and have their own private feasts in the Common Room, sometimes joined by the Weasley twins and Ginny, but always going late into the night and full of laughter and the simplicity of their friendship. Hermione swallowed hard and tried to push the rising lump in her throat down. She didn't want to think about them tonight.

As it turned out, Draco knew of plenty of the castle's secrets and before she knew it, Hermione found herself crammed into a small room that looked like it used to be a classroom but was now obviously abandoned. There were desks and chairs strewn everywhere and cobwebs all over the place. She was surprised that neither Harry nor Ron had ever found this place, and then a warm pleasure rippled over her as she realized that this would be her night to make memories untainted by the past.

This was a taste of moving forward.

"Are you all right, Hermione?"

Hermione turned around and met Draco's gaze. She smiled.

"Yes… everything's perfect. Happy Christmas, Draco."