Disclaimer: all characters and the wider wizarding world belong to J. K. Rowling.
Ron didn't speak to her for two days after the incident at the station. He confided in Harry (who confided in Ginny, who told Hermione) that he blamed Hermione wholeheartedly for what he called a colossal error of judgement in talking to the snakes at all, which had resulted in his outburst at the station.
Which had ultimately resulted in no pudding the first night back.
Hermione noticed that he warmed considerably when Molly allowed him the biggest portion of apple pie on the second night.
Draco was true to his word and wrote - his eagle owl caused quite the stir the first morning, refusing to deliver the letter to anyone but Hermione and cooing when provided with a treat and a scritch.
"Who's that from?" Ron had all but shouted in between mouthfuls of cooked breakfast.
"Never you mind who it's from, it's not your letter is it?" Molly admonished from the kitchen. "And don't talk with your mouth full, Ronald!"
Ginny caught Hermione's eye and wiggled her eyebrows. The flush on the older girl's cheeks was answer enough and Ginny made a mental note to discuss it - first with Hermione and then with Harry - at length.
George had moved back into the flat above the shop and was working almost every day to beat the Christmas rush, but he came home most evenings for dinner. Percy popped over the first weekend with Audrey, causing Molly to fuss over making an impression for Percy's "lovely young woman".
Ron made some unkind comments about his mother just being glad she was a woman, but Molly quickly made it clear - to anyone who would listen - that she'd have made just as much effort for a lovely young man too.
Christmas Day was to be a crowded affair, with almost all the Weasleys, Harry, Hermione, Andromeda, and Teddy to accommodate. It was decided the meal should be held outside in a heated tent, where everyone could see the snow, but nobody would "catch their death" at the dinner table.
Presents were exchanged after breakfast in a flurry of pyjamas and shouting. When there was nothing left but a pile of empty wrapping paper, and everyone was suitably clad in knitted jumpers, there was a gentle tapping on the window. Ginny jumped up to let in the now familiar eagle owl, who flew directly to Hermione's feet and deposited a small parcel.
"Bloody show off bird, what does he want now, 'Mione?"
Hermione ignored Ron's shouts as Arthur gathered the others in the kitchen to clear away the breakfast dishes. Ginny lingered, sharing a look with Harry, who dragged Ron from the room leaving the girls and Molly behind.
"Well? What did he get you?"
Hermione smirked at the girl and they bowed heads together to inspect the parcel. The brown paper covered a long, flat black box.
"Jewellery?" Ginny gasped. "I didn't think you two were a thing!"
"We're not," mumbled Hermione, looking nervously at Molly who was still in the doorway. She untied the note that accompanied the parcel and read the elegant cursive.
H
Saw this and thought your revision notes would be infinitely better with the addition.
I shall be spending the morning dutifully ignoring my mother's many guests. Feel free to floo call away my boredom - Malfoy Manor East Wing should do the trick.
-D
Hermione pried open the box as Ginny skimmed the note. Inside was a single quill, quite unlike any other Hermione had ever owned.
"That's one of those quills you never have to refill - they're really fancy. And there's a charm you can use to change the ink colour." Ginny's voice was thick with wonder and a little jealousy.
Hermione took the quill from the box. Instead of a feather, the nib was fixed onto a sleek, black shaft of what looked like ebony wood. She scanned the obviously expensive writing implement when Ginny let out a squeak.
"Bloody hell!"
Hermione turned the quill over in her hand. At the top of the barrel were her initials, spelt out in what looked like tiny diamonds. If it had been anyone else, she'd have assumed it was a spell, but this was a gift from a Malfoy.
"Not a thing, eh?" Ginny ribbed, as Hermione carefully put her gift away. "Not for long, I'll say."
"Gin, I can't possibly accept this, it's too much! I didn't even get him anything."
"And you can't think of anything he'd like? Anything he might have asked for?"
Ginny shared a conspiratorial look with her friend as realisation dawned, before turning to her mother.
"Mum, we're going to have extra company for lunch."
Molly smiled, then sighed.
"Ronald!"
Draco Malfoy loathed Christmas Day.
His mother historically hated the celebration, it being a muggle festival, and busied herself with guests who came to show their respects on this day; tenants, the trophy wives of business acquaintances who wanted to get back in with the Malfoys, old friends.
It was dreadful.
He had been excused from the parade of old, pureblood witches - many with eligible daughters - on the understanding that once he finished his schooling, he was to cultivate these business contacts himself and save his mother the trouble.
He'd included his boredom on the note to Granger in the hope she would go all bleeding-heart Gryffindor and rescue him. He had on his best black suit and was lounging in the East Wing parlour tossing a practice snitch from one hand to the other when the fireplace roared to life with green flames.
"Malfoy!" An unfamiliar voice shouted, and he sat up to see the youngest Weasley's face in the flames. "Oh, there you are. Bring your broom and follow me through."
Ginny's face promptly disappeared, and Hermione's replaced it.
"Draco, sorry about that," she began, flustered. She hoped the green masked some of her blush. "The Weasleys have decided to have a quick pick-up Quidditch game out back and wondered if you'd like to join them?"
He smiled at the evidently flustered witch whose head and shoulders were floating in the grate in front of him. She seemed to be arguing in hushed whispers with someone who was trying to pull her out. Probably Weaselette, he wagered, and her overly baggy shirt was being pulled in all directions allowing him a glimpse of the paw print design on the collar.
"Granger, what are you wearing?"
The fighting stopped immediately, and her eyes widened as she jumped back out of the flames.
Ginny Weasley's face quickly replaced hers. She gave his smart black attire a glaringly obvious once over.
"Bring your pyjamas as well as your broom."
The flames returned to their previous shape but retained the green hue of an open floo connection.
Draco Malfoy was still for exactly 2 seconds before jumping up and running to his room, laughing all the way.
When he stepped through the fire a few minutes later, he was clad in black flannel trousers, a charcoal grey t-shirt, and a black Aran knit jumper. He surveyed the room he'd entered and was surprised to see only three women.
Hermione Granger's hair was, if possible, more chaotic than usual. She had tried to tie it back in a plait at some point, but it was escaping in all directions. Her paw print pyjamas were more pink than he'd have ever guessed. She looked flustered and embarrassed, but the youngest Weasley was stopping her from running from the room with a hand around her wrist.
"Nice pyjamas, Granger."
Her face clashed horribly with her pink ensemble.
Draco nodded to the youngest Weasley and turned to face her mother. Molly Weasley had bested his aunt in battle and lost a child. He didn't ever want to be on her bad side. He quickly presented the bottle of excellent wine he'd brought as a gift, only to see a broad, twinkly-eyed smile break out on her face.
"For your table, Mrs Weasley."
Molly took the offered bottle and patted him on the cheek.
"Aren't you sweet? Harry and the boys have gone to set up in the back field, if you're warm enough in that Ginny can show you where to go."
After some reassurances that his clothing had warming charms worked into the fabric, Ginny grabbed his wrist and dragged him from the room. Hermione was left with Molly to finish clearing breakfast.
"If I didn't know better, I'd say he was making an extra special effort," the Weasley matriarch opined. "This wine is very good - not that you'd expect anything less of a Malfoy - but still, I don't think he's making the effort for us, dearie."
Hermione blushed at the realisation.
"It's nothing, Molly, barely even friends. And Ron is so-"
"The war did a number on us all, and my Ronald is just angry at the moment, but it'll pass. I'm not about to kick you out for deciding that you make better friends. You're family, no matter what."
Hermione faltered as she was enveloped in a hug which nearly brought tears to both their eyes.
"Besides, no matter who his parents are, there's no denying that boy has taste. Now, help me with the rest of these breakfast dishes – they'll have barely enough time to wash and dress before lunch, let alone help me when they're done flying around like hooligans."
By the time the flyers returned nearly two hours later, the tent had been fully decorated and the table laid. Dishes of vegetables were already out, held with warming charms, and Hermione and Molly were drinking tea on the sofa.
"Upstairs all of you - I expect you all washed and dressed for lunch in half an hour!"
Draco smiled as the Weasleys all fought to get to the bathroom first. Ginny feigned crying after an elbow to the stomach only to jump in the bathroom and, unable to get the door closed, start removing clothing until her brothers slammed the door in her face and elbowed Harry for smirking. Draco observed she'd have done well in Slytherin and made a note to never get on her bad side either.
"Well, young man," Arthur clapped Draco on the shoulder hard enough to make him stumble. "What are your plans for the rest of the day? Dinner with family? Presents and traditions and all that?"
Draco shifted uncomfortably.
"Leave the poor boy be, Arthur," Molly scolded, hooshing her husband up the stairs to follow their brood of hooligans and dress for dinner.
"Do you have time for some tea, or do you have to get back? I'll just go put the kettle on again."
Molly winked at Hermione as she left the room.
"Subtle," Draco mumbled, and they shared an awkward chuckle.
"Draco-"
"Granger-"
More awkward chuckling ensued as Draco gestured for Hermione to continue.
"I just wanted to say thank you. Your gift, it was exquisite, but it's far too much, I can't possibly-"
"You can, trust me. It may have escaped your notice, but I am disgustingly wealthy."
Hermione laughed awkwardly.
"I didn't get you anything, but I do have an idea of something you might like if you can spare the time."
His mind wondered if she was as innocent as all that or just naïve as to what that sounded like. Pushing those thoughts down he cocked an eyebrow at her choice of words, and she blushed crimson.
"Circe, Draco! Why is it that wizards only ever think about that or quidditch? Get your mind out of the gutter!"
He smirked and she laughed and suddenly all the tension was gone again.
"I actually thought if you had the time you might like to stay and meet the rest of our party? They should be arriving soon."
His eyes widened at the implication.
"And if your mother is free, she's welcome too, although I understand if she didn't want to join us for dinner, it's probably not as opulent-"
"Yes."
Hermione ceased her rambling. Draco Malfoy was paler than usual but his eyes - Merlin, his eyes. Although there was fear and apprehension there, there was also gratitude and something else that she couldn't quite place. A huge smile erupted on her face and then his. She couldn't have kept it in if she'd tried.
Draco Malfoy flooed back to the Burrow all of twenty minutes later and was brought face to face with a ghost. He paled.
"I am not my sister," the ghost stated, with a smirk.
The floo activated behind him and he regained some of his composure, enough to check on his mother and cast a quick charm to clean the soot from them both. His mother, however, was uncharacteristically not fussing over her appearance and had locked eyes with the woman who had startled Draco.
"Andie."
"Cissa."
Draco looked to his mother for guidance. Most of the Weasleys appeared to have left them to it and only Molly and Hermione stood at the door to the kitchen. Moral support, he supposed, though he wasn't sure who for. He felt adrift and he didn't dare make eye contact with anyone but his mother, the tension in the room was palpable.
"I don't believe you've met my son, Draco."
Draco turned to face his aunt. She was so much like Bellatrix, he wondered briefly how Hermione could cope being in the same room, but then she smiled, and he immediately saw the difference. This woman was warmth and kindness where Bella had been cruelty and madness. He bowed his head in a formal pureblood greeting.
"Honoured to make your acquaintance, Aunt Andromeda."
"We don't stand on ceremony here, young man," his aunt admonished, but the smile on her face softened the blow. "I'm Andie and you're every bit as polite as Hermione described. Not at all what I expected, Cissa. The spitting image of his father, mind, but I don't suppose that hurts - Lucius was never hard on the eyes."
"Andie, I-"
Andromeda finally swept her gaze from her nephew to her sister, took the three small steps across the room and embraced her as they both broke down. Draco watched as his mother openly sobbed in her older sister's arms - not that he hadn't seen her cry before, but that she would do so in company spoke volumes.
This woman was family. There were different rules here.
Molly bustled in with a tea tray and Hermione followed with a small child in her arms. She seemed perfectly at ease with the tot, who was gurgling in her arms and knotting his fingers in her hair.
"Draco, this is your cousin, Teddy."
She was having trouble getting his attention with his fingers so thoroughly entwined in her hair. She winced as he pulled his hand away and Draco stepped forward to help without thinking, freeing the tiny tot, and earning a rather grateful if watery smile for his efforts.
"Teddy, this is your cousin Draco."
Draco had never spent a huge amount of time around children. In the old pureblood families, children tended to be minded by nannies, governesses and house elves until they were old enough to be seen and not heard. The baby in Hermione's arms couldn't have been a year old but he was transfixed by the tall blond boy in front of him. He concentrated hard for a moment and suddenly his hair changed from slightly curly, mousy brown to straight, fine platinum blond.
"He's a metamorphmagus, like his mum," Hermione explained as Draco stared in wonder. "Showed signs almost immediately. Mostly he just does hair colour, sometimes eye colour. Tonks was ecstatic when he turned his hair turquoise at about a month old. I think Remus was just glad he took after his mother."
The 'not his father' went unsaid and Draco swallowed. He realised that everyone was watching him, seeing if his change extended as far as his half-blood, werewolf-spawn cousin.
Draco knew the true horror of werewolves; he'd been around Fenrir enough to know that not all of them were like his old professor. He'd had nothing against the man, he'd been a good teacher, but Lucius had found out about his affliction - probably from Snape - and that had been the end of his career. He tried to loathe him for being a beast and being lesser than a man, but in truth he'd been the best teacher they'd had in the subject.
Draco looked at the small boy in Hermione's arms with his striking blond hair. He could have passed for a Malfoy if it weren't for the smile that had taken up permanent residence on his chubby little face. Draco had to remind himself that his cousin was a war orphan, something that would stay with him forever. But right now he was surrounded by people who loved him, cared for him, played with him. He was happy. Draco almost envied him. He swallowed the urge to say something sarcastic and sneer.
"Hello Teddy, I'm Draco. I'm your cousin. But then, somewhere in the grand scheme of things so is Weasley, and probably Potter too, so maybe don't dwell on that."
Hermione's eyes widened a fraction as Draco Malfoy made Teddy Lupin gurgle with laughter. Somewhere, Voldemort was ice skating with Satan himself.
"Didn't you know Potter and I were related, Granger?"
Laughter bubbled up inside her chest and she had to pass Teddy to Molly in case she dropped him.
"Well, now that introductions are done, come on through to the garden," Molly instructed. "Dinner is ready and if we leave them with it any longer there won't be any left!"
Ron had been taken to one side and told in no uncertain terms that he was to welcome their additional guests and if he couldn't do that then he was to go to bed without Christmas dinner. For the sake of his now growling stomach and the plates containing all his seasonal favourites he chose to simply ignore the Malfoys, sitting at the opposite end of the table where George talked to him about the shop and his newest creations throughout. Hermione took George aside on Boxing Day to thank him for his Herculean effort, but George simply smiled and said something about family being family, which made her eyes shine.
After the meal, which was long and loud, Narcissa and Andromeda agreed a date to properly catch up and shared a hug in front of the floo.
"Don't be long, Draco," she said as she stepped into the fireplace. "After such a busy day I would like to close the connection to visitors, and I think you've had a little too much festive cheer to apparate home."
Andromeda took Teddy from Hermione and grabbed her bag.
"I should be off as well. Hermione it was lovely to see you again, as always," she said as she enveloped the girl in a hug before stepping towards her nephew and doing the same.
"Don't hurt her," she whispered in his ear so only he could hear. Then she drew herself back and smiled benignly at him.
"Nephew, I shall expect you to join me and your mother one weekend when you are suitably free of schoolwork or quidditch practice or some such thing."
The whoosh of the floo left Draco and Hermione standing alone in the living room of the Burrow.
Draco ran a hand through his hair, his nervous tell. Hermione smiled at the gesture, as awkward as she was, she was comforted that he was too.
"I'm not sure what to say, Granger," he mumbled, looking at his shoes. His father had drilled him in so many forms of proper communication and etiquette but thanking someone for a genuinely touching gesture had not been one of them. "I don't know how to thank you."
He looked at her then, the small witch in front of him. Her hair was sticking out in all different directions and the wine from dinner had put a blush on her cheeks that he wasn't even denying he found delightful and endearing any more. She had her hands at her sides, clenching and unclenching her fists as if she weren't sure what to do with her hands.
Hermione was still for a moment. This really was easier with Gryffindor boys. Even with Dean or Seamus who she wasn't as close to, she'd have just hugged them, and everything would have been just fine.
"Oh, sod it."
Before Draco had time to consider what that meant, she had flung herself forward and was enveloping him in a tight hug. He stood completely stationary as her hair brushed against his chin. She smelled of cinnamon and Christmas and something feminine that he couldn't put his finger on. He tentatively wrapped his arms around her shoulders, and she squeezed his torso in return.
She pulled back all too soon, and Draco tried to forget the feel of her small form pressed close, but he suspected it would stay with him for a while. She ran her hands down his arms to take his hands and squeezed them.
"You're welcome, Draco."
He knew he was smiling like a loon; he couldn't even bring himself to care, merry as he was and with no audience but her. He stepped into the fireplace and felt himself whisked away to his destination. When he stepped from the fireplace in the East Wing his mother was sitting on the sofa waiting for him.
"Draco, do we need to talk about Miss Granger?"
The warm, cosy feeling that had settled in his chest was quickly replaced by fear and the shutters he'd spent years perfecting fell into place as he straightened to look at his mother.
"I don't know, mother. Do we?"
Narcissa Malfoy shifted on the sofa and tapped the seat next to her. Draco obeyed the summons and sat awkwardly beside his mother, elbows on his knees, avoiding eye contact.
"Your aunt is quite taken with her. She considers her family, alongside Mr Potter and all the Weasleys. She says she's quite the natural with your cousin, she tells me sometimes she and Mr Potter and the two youngest Weasleys use their free weekends to help out with him, giving her a break and spoiling him with presents."
"What are you getting at, mother?" Draco growled, his patience wearing thin. He loathed the artifice of Slytherin conversation when it was just the two of them. "I'd rather you just spoke your mind. I don't think you stayed up to have a conversation about what Potter and Granger get up to on their weekends."
Narcissa pursed her lips, but nevertheless made a small sound of agreement before continuing.
"Are you using your relationship with her to repair your reputation?"
Draco suddenly wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole. He regretted asking his mother to be more direct and wondered if there were any way to put this conversation back into the shadows where it had begun. The thought of another night on the importance of his blood status and the responsibilities of a Malfoy, the last scion of the ancient and most noble house of Black had him feeling sick to his stomach.
"Mother," he groaned, moving to get up from the sofa. "Can we not-"
"Draco Lucius Malfoy answer the question."
The tone was unmistakable. He sat back down and resumed his previous position.
"Well, we don't have a relationship, mother, so it would be a trifle difficult for me to use it."
"Draco-"
"We don't, mother. I don't even think of her that way, it's just Theo and Blaise being arseholes, putting thoughts in my head, and I have no illusions that she considers me anything more than a social justice cause." The bitterness was evident in his voice as it tailed off. "Even if by some miracle she did like me, I know my responsibilities."
Narcissa blinked back tears. He might never have noticed if her voice hadn't wavered slightly.
"My dragon, your first responsibility now is to yourself. I simply wish for you to be happy."
Draco pondered the words for a moment before turning to hug his mother. He pretended not to feel her tears on his shoulder, and she pretended not to see the raw emotion and gratitude in his eyes when he pulled away to wish her a good night.
This was turning out to be one of the best Christmases ever, Draco thought as he made his way back to his room, goofy grin and all.
The day after Christmas - Hermione had called it Boxing Day, which was apparently a muggle thing about the poor - was quiet. Draco and his mother shared breakfast late in the morning and he took his broom for a spin around the grounds to clear his head. If she could hear his whooping and hollering from the house, she didn't mention it, but she did have a sly smile when she asked him at lunch if he'd enjoyed himself.
Draco was already feeling the boredom sink in when the manor's floo connection lit up and Theo Nott fell through, red faced and covered in soot.
"Theo, what the fuck?"
"Fucking ministry bastards!" His best friend exclaimed. "Someone thinks they saw my dear father in London, so they've come to search the house - again!"
Not a moment later the floo lit up again, this time spilling out the impressive form of the Minster of Magic himself.
"What the fuck now?" Theo exclaimed. "I was told I could get out of the aurors' hair-"
"Mister Nott," Kingsley's deep voice cut him off. "I am sorry for the inconvenience, but I'm sure you understand why we have to be thorough."
Theo bristled at the insinuation but otherwise calmed in the face of the highest authority in the land. He had no desire to make things worse.
"As it happens, I have come to speak with Narcissa Malfoy."
Narcissa swept into the room, drawn by the commotion, just as the minister said her name.
"Mrs Malfoy," Kingsley began. "May I call your sister here? I understand the two of you have reconciled and it would be easier to speak to both of you together."
On her nod Kingsley threw a handful of floo powder in the hearth and stuck his head in. Moments later, Andromeda stepped through the connection with a half-dressed baby with bright blue hair on her hip. She quickly appraised the situation and the grave look on the Minister's face.
"Draco, be a dear and take your cousin."
Draco's eyes widened a fraction, but Theo was practically gawping. He took the small child from his aunt and, after fussing a bit, Teddy changed his hair to white blond and settled into his arms to sleep.
"Where did you learn to-"
"Granger taught me," Draco mumbled, cutting off whatever retort his friend had in mind.
"Andromeda, Narcissa, thank you for receiving me at such short notice."
They sat at Narcissa's invitation and she called a house elf to provide some tea.
"I'm afraid I have some distressing news," he began. "There was a break-in at the Black family plot yesterday. Some vandals have caused some damage to your father's grave."
Narcissa and Andromeda had schooled their features. Even if they hadn't been pureblood witches who kept almost everything close to their chests, Cygnus Black had hardly been the sort of man one weeps over, even after death.
"There's also been a robbery - at this point we're not sure if the incidents are related, but with connections to both families, we thought we should speak to you.
"An item was taken from the Lestrange family plot, a small box, we believe, judging by the space."
Andromeda looked to her sister for an explanation. Narcissa had paled, even more so than usual.
"It was a small, unmarked memorial to my sister - our other sister. I thought it best not to draw attention to it, it was just an item of hers that I placed in a sealed box and in the vault. It's not like there was a body."
Andromeda placed a hand over Narcissa's.
"What was in the box, if I may ask?" Kingsley continued, delicately.
Narcissa may have been a little shaken, but her eyes were clear when she faced the minister, and he was reminded that this woman had lied to Voldemort himself.
"Her ring. The Black family ring. I couldn't bear to have it in the house anymore; every time I looked at it, I felt as if there were a dementor in the room. It was too dark to keep here so I locked it away."
When Kingsley left, Narcissa noticed the dark-haired boy sitting with her son. She also noted the warm feeling that settled in her stomach at the sight of her son holding a blond-haired child to his chest. He was far too young, of course, but children were such a blessing. Perhaps connecting with his cousin's child would be good for Draco.
"Theo, dear, I didn't see you - have you come for a flying visit or will you be able to stay for dinner? I'm assuming my sister and her grandson will be staying, as it's so late, so an extra space will be no trouble."
"Actually, Mrs Malfoy, the aurors are searching my house as we speak," Theo explained, dipping his head in a traditional formal greeting. He was sacred twenty-eight after all, he remembered his manners. "I wondered if I might impose terribly on your hospitality and stay until they've concluded?"
"Of course, Theo. Draco would be happy for the company, I'm sure. Why don't you ask your elves to bring you some things - you may as well get them to bring your trunk. It's so close to the end of the holidays and I'm sure you'd rather be here than cleaning up after the ministry." She smirked as she and her sister left the room.
"Speaking of cleaning up, perhaps you can get the elves to teach you how to change a nappy."
