Funny enough, I started working on this last December, but ran into some serious writer's block. I sat down this week and was able to finish it! Hope you enjoy this one-shot with a magical Christmas.
Hermione bumped into him, unexpected, while sitting at a café overlooking the snowy streets of the bustling village in France. She had just sat down at a small table, unwrapping her scarf, and settling into her chair, she looked outside the window next to her and saw him.
He appeared as though he had just stepped out of a magazine – his brown winter boots, and his knit cream jumper was peeking out from under an expensive, dark green peacoat. His cheeks were still white as ever, though, making him still appear as pale as the day she met him. The light snow that had been falling was sticking softly to his blond hair.
Suddenly his sharp, grey eyes met hers through the window, across the stone street, as though he could feel her gaze. For a moment, he looked startled, then she watched as the steel door closed, impenetrable and thick, as he hid everything.
She hastily looked away, wishing for the server to appear with her drink.
He was the last person Hermione expected to see, here in this place, a muggle town, nonetheless.
She used to come here with her parents before Hogwarts—before the war. But that was a long-forgotten past; a past that stung. She was alone this time, taking a much-needed break from it all. From Ron and his wife; from her parents; from her work; from… everything.
Everything had become so muddled over the past three years since Voldemort was defeated. Ron and she had attempted to feign a relationship for several months afterwards… almost to the point of getting engaged. She thought she loved him, but when she had saw him open the box, exposing the ring inside, she saw their life flash before her; she saw tears and frustration, as she was stuck in a job she didn't love, and married to a man that she didn't love enough.
Ron was surprised when she turned him down, but then, she had watched his shoulders slump, and eyes closed, he shut the box, admitting to her that he had known for a while that he didn't love her – not in that way. But everyone expected it, so it must be the right thing to do. There were no tears, no laughter either. They hugged at the end of the evening, as Ron moved the last of his things out of her apartment.
Even though it was mutual, the Weasley's took it hard, and it took a while for Hermione to feel welcome amongst them again. Harry understood, however. Harry always understands. He even understood when Hermione stood in the corner, watching Ron dance with his new bride, tears forming in her eyes. Harry was there, drink in hand and an understanding smile. She wasn't crying because Ron was married—she was crying because she wanted a love like theirs.
Ron had met Crissa on an elevator at the Ministry, just a few months after he and Hermione ended things. He was smitten and they were engaged within the month. A whirlwind romance, and no one could deny that they were utterly right for each other.
Hermione wanted that. Someone who was utterly right for her. She realized that she might not be swept off her feet, quite in the same way, but she still wished for that someone to come along.
The server finally arrived, breaking her from her revery. He placed the small cup before her, along with a small pastry that she hadn't ordered.
"Pour vous," he says, in a smooth voice, with a smile and wink.
Hermione muttered a "thank you" and dipped her head awkwardly. She wasn't used to any sort of attention from men.
The waiter seemed to start to say something more, when suddenly, he was there. She felt his presence before she saw him. He was standing there, his hair slightly windswept, his jaw perfect and tight. He looked straight into her eyes with a warmth that stunned her. With a small smile, as though they were old friends, he gestured to the empty chair across from her.
"May I?"
Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but no sound came out.
He took this as approval, however, and swept into the seat in one motion, somehow magically taking off his jacket at the same time.
Malfoy settled himself, placing his arms upon the tabletop and addressed the waiter.
"A hot chocolate, please," He ordered in perfect French.
Hermione could see the small scowl that appeared on the server's face but found herself pleased when he quickly turned with a nod to her new companion and hurried off to the bar.
A moment of silence passed between the pair before Hermione tried to talk.
"What are…. Why are you…?" Hermione was gob smacked and confused.
He chuckled lightly and it sounds like a thousand bells to her ears.
He only shrugged in response to her half-asked questions and settled back into his chair, as though he was completely comfortable in her presence and that they meet in a café every day of their lives.
Hermione couldn't help but stare at him. There was something about his casual manner, and the way his eyes were full of a mischievous light, that somehow set her blood rushing.
When nothing was said for a solid minute, he motioned towards her forgotten drink.
"It will be cold soon," he reminded her.
She blinked and looked down, breaking from her thoughts. She grabbed the cup, but when she started to lift it to her lips, she paused, frowning.
Curiosity poured off her in waves.
Placing her cup back into its saucer, she looked back up at him, questions on the tip of her tongue. But when she found that he wasn't looking at her, she closed her mouth, watching him.
He was strumming his fingers on the tabletop, looking out the window next to them. She noted the soft pink in his cheeks from the warmth of the café, and it made him seem more… well, handsome, then she had ever cared to admit about Malfoy before.
He didn't seem to notice her assessing him and continued to look out the window. She could see his eyes following people as they perused shop windows and hurried along on their ways to work. Hermione followed his gaze finally, both sitting in silence and people watched.
It was still fairly early in the day and the sun had only just risen maybe an hour past. The snow was still falling gently, though the flakes had grown quite large and fluffy.
Mere minutes passed, when they were both pulled back into the café by the arrival of Malfoy's drink.
"I am surprised to see you here, Granger." Malfoy took a spoon and slowly stirred his hot chocolate, blowing on it gently, not meeting her eyes.
She sat up a little straighter in her seat and tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.
"Yes, well, I feel equally surprised, Malfoy." She tried to keep the bite out of her voice when she said his name.
She noted the small smile that formed on his lips at her words.
"Why are you here?" She asked before the question had even been thought.
His eyes met hers briefly, the warmth that she had seen earlier on his arrival was still there.
He took a deep sip from his hot chocolate before answering.
"I am here on business, for the foundation."
The Malfoy Foundation. Hermione had heard that Draco and his mother had started it after the war. It threw gallant balls and charity events to supposedly help restore the destruction in the wake of Voldemort's death. She admitted that she didn't know too much about all that they did, and she was curious.
"What business would bring you to France?" She found herself asking.
He gave her a stern look, but behind it she could see amusement.
"I believe it's my turn to ask you a question, Granger."
She quirked an eyebrow.
"I didn't realize we were taking turns," she countered.
He shrugged at this and with another small smirk,
"Why are you here, in Strasbourg?"
She found herself hesitating, before answering.
"The Christmas market."
"Alone?" his voice reflected his surprise.
She merely nodded, taking a sip of her coffee, before looking out the window once again.
He pressed her no further, but she could feel his eyes still trained on her.
The snow had started sticking to the buildings and streets and was still falling steadily.
"Are you going to eat that?"
She looked at him and blinked.
"What?"
He pointed to the pastry on her plate.
"Oh!" She had a flash in her mind, of how absurd this scene was… Harry would have died laughing, waiting for the joke. But there was no joke. The sniveling boy that she went to school with, a former and reformed Deatheater, who grew up hating her and all muggles, was now sitting across from her in France, and he was asking for her pastry.
Without so much as a second thought, she shook her head at him, giving him the permission he sought.
In a flash he had the pastry off her plate and was already nibbling off a corner.
"Thank you," he said, closing his eyes in relish.
Hermione caught herself giggling at the scene. The sound made him stop and look at her, a smile gracing his face again.
She blushed slightly and tucked her hair behind her ear once again, looking at the falling snow again.
He finished the treat in silence and nothing more was said until the cheque came to the table.
Before she could move, Malfoy had already laid out the Francs for both their drinks. She protested, but he merely pushed away her hand.
"It's fine, Granger. This has been a pleasure for me."
She sat back in her seat at this. Boy, she was going to have quite the letter to send off to Harry that evening back in her hotel room.
The pair stood, donning their winter attire once again. They didn't speak until they had exited the warmth of the café.
Malfoy had opened the door for her and stepping outside, felt the sharpness of the air hit her cheeks. Hermione awkwardly stood on the sidewalk, tucking a strand of her hair back behind her ear and reaching into her purse for gloves, avoided looking at her companion, suddenly nervous about what to do next. Would he want to talk further? Was he going to join her?
He seemed to be unaware of her inner battle and she jumped when he reached out and gently touched her arm to get her attention.
"Thanks again for the company, Granger. It was good to see a familiar face here." He gave her a smile, which reached his eyes.
Before she could respond, he had already turned and started walking away. He only went a few more steps before he turned and looked at her.
"Enjoy the market!"
And with those words, he was gone, turning down the adjacent street.
Hermione stayed rooted for several more moments, staring at the spot from which he had disappeared, before a noisy truck rattled past her on the cobblestones, bringing her back to reality.
Shaking her head with a chuckle at the strangest morning she'd ever experienced, Hermione started walking, to continue in her day of exploration and meandering.
It was still too early to enjoy Christmas lights that would illuminate the city at night, so she decided she would just wander, stopping in different shops and museums before making her way to lunch and then enjoying the market later.
The snow had stopped briefly as she made her way down the streets. Live greenery and wreaths with bright red bows and baubles decorated almost every building that she passed. She stopped in four different bookstores, three old and one new, perusing the titles, but only finding one book to purchase. Simply titled "Fables", the small unassuming book caught her attention and, though it was in French and would take her longer to read, she looked forward to it, tucking it into her purse for safe keeping.
Wishing the shop clerk, a joyous Christmas, she continued two doors down until she reached a bakery. The smell of the fresh bread took her inside. A small bell above the door signaled her arrival and the baker stood patiently waiting on her and the other customers until everyone chose their items. She purchased two warm croissants for later, whispering a quick spell on them to keep them the same temperature, as well as one Madeleine, which she promptly took out of the bag as soon as she exited the store and enjoyed.
Hermione wandered some more, looking through shop windows, entering one here and there, but making no more purchases, making her way slowly towards the square, where the Christmas market was setup. She paused by the canal, finding a bench, overlooking a bridge. The sun was shining fully now through the clouds and the snow had all but stopped, but for a few small flakes.
She watched people going about their day for a period, tucked under their hats and scarfs; a street violinist started playing a mournful Christmas hymn down the canal from where she sat, the notes drifting over the sound of the city and the water rippling past. Joining in the haunting tune, a church bell began to ring, signaling mid-day.
She closed her eyes, feeling the cold air pierce her cheeks and lungs as she drew in a shaky breath.
Hermione felt that she was no longer in France, but back in England—back in Godric's Hollow. Her first Christmas ever spent away from her parents. She could still hear the silence of the village as she and Harry arrived in the place he was born. The sound of winter stillness, snow falling quietly to the ground, the crunch of their feet in the untouched drifts as they walked past the church, the bells beginning to toll, the sound of the villagers singing Christmas carols as they stepped out into the night. Loneliness. That's what she felt; Ron was gone, abandoning her and Harry. Her parents didn't even know she existed, yet the world was moving on. People were living their lives with no awareness of the danger and the magic that surrounded them. No one was there, but Harry, who was just as lonely as she was.
"Granger?"
Hermione opened her eyes, startled. Standing in front of her was Draco, his hands in his jacket pockets, eyeing her with what she could almost believe was concern. She felt the tears in her eyes that had formed without her permission, and quickly tried to blink them away, hoping he didn't notice.
If he did, he said nothing. Instead, he took a seat next to her.
"I hope you don't mind," he said, turning towards her. "I finished with my meeting and was heading to get some lunch when I saw you."
Hermione was very aware that she had yet to say anything since he interrupted her. Why was he there, yet again, prompting a meeting with her, with no forewarning or purpose? Her thoughts started to cloud her mind, and yet, she still had yet to say anything.
It didn't seem to concern him, however. He seemed content just to be there with her.
She felt like she was in a strange dream. The bell tolling earlier had invoked a deep memory within her that she wasn't expecting during this trip; she was here to get away from it all, not be reminded of it.
And now, here she was, sitting on a bench in France with Draco Malfoy, nearly crying over a hurtful memory.
She finally found her voice.
"Why are you here Draco?" His given name sounded strange on her tongue, but she didn't mind it.
His eyes flashed in surprise for a moment, letting her know he didn't miss the name either. But the surprise turned to confusion.
"I told you—I'm here for my foundation."
Hermione shook her head, meeting his eyes.
"No. Why are you here, on this bench, with me?"
For the first time that day, he looked away, staring at his feet. She watched as he shifted in a little and he shrugged.
Before she could question him again, he stood suddenly and gracefully. His back towards her, she was expecting him to walk away. When he didn't however, she sensed he was having an internal conversation with himself. She decided to stand as well after a period of silence and turning to leave she picked up her bag.
For the second time that day, she felt his hand land gently on her arm, stopping her. She looked at him.
"I'm sorry, that was…." He stumbled over his words. "Well, it was rude," he admitted.
He was towering over her, and she had to look up to see his face fully. They were standing very close together and she could feel his warmth. She could see the silver flecks in his grey eyes; the tinge of red from the cold on his cheeks; his breath freezing as it passed between his lips. He was staring deeply at her, and for a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then, in a rush, he released his hand from her arm, and took a step away from her. Her immediate and confusing reaction was to feel the acute distance he placed between them and mourn the loss of his touch.
But before she was allowed to give more than a quick thought to that emotion, he was asking her to lunch.
"I know a place, just down the street here. One of the best in Strasbourg and the owner is a friend," he explained. "That is, if you haven't already eaten…?"
Deciding to do something spontaneous, Hermione found herself agreeing with a nod. He seemed relieved at this and smiled.
He started walking and Hermione easily fell into step next to him. Neither spoke as they walked and Hermione was curious as he led her down a side street, then up a narrow set of stairs that led to an old wooden gate. A small, unassuming sign hung on the door with the name of the business. Draco pushed open the gate, allowing Hermione to enter first.
It was a quaint courtyard filled with plants that were covered and protected from the snow. The restaurant door was past a short stone pathway. Inside, Hermione was met with the smell of delicious food. It was a small place and not very full; only two of the tables had patrons. Exposed wooden beams held up the ceiling that was painted like the night sky, with deep blues and golden stars. Along the length of one of the walls was a series of large windows, where the tables all sat against.
Hermione and Draco stood just inside, taking off their respective coats, when an older gentleman appeared from a small entry to their left. He greeted Draco with a large smile and handshake.
"Hermione Granger, I would like you to meet Gérard Aude, the owner."
Hermione reached out her hand at this introduction and was a taken aback when the man hesitated before following suit.
"Mademoiselle Granger?" his eyes were wide and his jaw slack.
Hermione glanced nervously at Draco, unsure about Gérard's reaction.
The latter saw this and quickly changed demeanor. "Ah," he blushed. "Pardonne, I make a fool of myself." He smiled at Hermione warmly.
"It is un privilege to have you here with us, mademoiselle. I was not expecting you…" the gentleman laughed and motioned for them to further inside.
"Please, please! Sit, enjoy."
Draco led her to a table far away from the other patrons, pulling out Hermione's chair for her. When they were settled, Gérard appeared with menus and with rosy cheeks from excitement, he left them alone until they were ready to order.
Hermione scanned the menu, intrigued by the options. She glanced up at Draco, who was also reading through his own menu.
"This place is lovely," she commented. "I've never been to a restaurant like this before."
Draco smiled at her. "Yes, it's one of my favorite places. The food here is amazing."
Hermione nodded, taking in the cozy ambiance of the restaurant. She noticed that Draco seemed more relaxed and open than he had been in the past.
As they waited for their food to arrive, Hermione couldn't help but feel curious. "You mentioned that you were here because of your foundation?" she prompted, breaking the silence.
Draco's eyes met hers and she forced herself to not look away as he studied her, almost unsure if he could share with her—trust her.
He seemed to make up his mind and took a deep breath, "I'm here for my charitable foundation. We're building a school for underprivileged children in the outskirts of Paris. It's been a long process, but we're finally seeing progress."
Hermione was impressed. "That's wonderful, Draco. I had no idea you were involved in something like that."
Draco shrugged. "It's not something I talk about much. I've been trying to do better, to make up for some of the things my family—things I did in the past."
She cleared her throat. "I admit, I don't know much about what you or the foundation, outside of what the magazine covers show."
He scowled at this, looking down at his water glass, turning it slowly on the table with his fingers.
"Will you tell me more?" Hermione asked.
At this, his eyes flicked up to hers and he seemed to study her for a moment.
"I think it's my turn to ask a question, Granger." His lips turned up in a smile when Hermione laughed, remembering his same remark earlier that day.
"Fine, fine," she relented, feeling at ease with him. "But I still want to hear more about what you do."
She smiled at him when he nodded his head in agreement.
"What do you want to know?" she asked.
He continued to study her, his eyes trained on hers before he cleared his throat and he focused on his glass again.
"Will you tell me what you were thinking about by the river?" His voice was soft and curious.
Hermione froze at his words; her heart started pounding in her chest.
A second ago, they were talking about jobs and waiting for food. Now he was asking her a deeply personal question.
Her eyes flickered over to the door, an exit to freedom, a movement that wasn't lost upon her companion.
He sat forward, leaning in with earnest, his eyes searching her face.
"Please, don't… don't feel like you have to answer it." He seemed to sense her panic and urge to run.
"I was just curious," he continued. "You looked like you were somewhere else – please forgive my impertinence. I do not wish to cause you alarm."
Hermione took a deep breath, willing her heart to slow down. Here again, Draco was surprising her. He seemed genuinely concerned for her. She reminded herself that there was no way he could have known her thoughts on the bench and the inner turmoil she possessed. She tried to relax, but she could still feel her body rigid and tense.
He was still watching her closely, a peculiar look over his expression – was it fear? Fear of what – her? Hermione felt a jolt run through her body when she realized it was fear that she was going to leave.
Before she had time to think on that, a server arrived, bringing their food, and averting their attention for the time being. Gérard approached their table as the server left, bringing a bottle of wine.
"On the house," he smiled warmly, opening the bottle, and serving them. With a satisfied puff in his chest, Gérard wished them a good meal and went to check on his other patrons.
Neither Hermione nor Draco made moves to start eating.
He opened his mouth to say something, when suddenly Hermione felt bold and interrupted him.
"I was thinking about a Christmas from several years ago."
She didn't really know why she was telling him this. She didn't know why she was even sitting there, except for maybe curiosity. But no – there was something more going on. She hadn't felt this comfortable with someone in a long time, outside of Harry. There was something within her that was wanting to believe that Draco was different, and she was seeing it in his every word and action since that morning.
"Oh," he responded, his forehead creased with a frown.
He seemed disappointed and confused.
Hermione took a sip of the rich wine, closing her eyes and savoring its flavor. She breathed in deep, wondering if he really wanted to hear it all. He had only asked her a simple question, she knew that now, but in that simple question, he had unlocked a deep fear and a deeper pit of anguish.
When she opened her eyes, he had started eating and when she caught his glance, she could see the steel wall starting to close again.
A strange sense of dismay settled over her, and she realized that she didn't want him to be closed off to her. She didn't want their conversation to end and the meal to be awkward. He was asking for trust and deep connection; a new start and making amends…
"I used to come to Strasbourg with my parents almost every winter growing up."
He looked up at her, startled by her unprompted words. She felt a little startled herself, unsure if he wanted to even hear this. But she had started, and she wasn't known to do things halfway.
"We would go skiing and then go through the market. My parents would always buy a new ornament for our tree each time."
Hermione felt her eyes sting with tears, which she willed to go away. Draco was watching her closely, his food forgotten before him, his face stoic.
She sniffed a little, looked down at her hands that were folded on her lap.
"My first Christmas away from my parents was during the war," she whispered.
"That's what I was thinking about on the bench. It was that Christmas."
"Hermione—" his voice was soft.
She had to avert her eyes again, feeling the warmth of his deep gaze on her. She felt a change in his demeanor and a feeling of dread settled in her stomach. While he had asked her the question, she realized that he probably wasn't looking for her history or sob story. He was probably looking towards the exit now, wishing to escape from her company.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to ruin lunch," she said, trying to laugh and break the tension.
He didn't laugh with her, and she when finally worked up the courage to look back at him, she found him still studying her, his lips turned down slightly.
Before she could say anything further, he blinked and picked his fork back up.
"Maybe one day, you can tell me more about that Christmas, and your parents."
The sincerity in his voice took her aback. He wasn't being dismissive, but rather… understanding.
His mouth turned up in a small, reassuring smile and immediately Hermione was at ease with him again.
She returned the smile, then finally picked up her fork and started eating. They sat in silence for several minutes, each enjoying their pasta and wine. She chewed slowly, once in a while focusing her gaze out the window next to them.
The restaurant sat high on the hill over the town, and from this viewpoint, she could see most of the old town. The clouds had continued to grow and large snowflakes were falling from the sky, covering the houses and streets like powdered sugar. She wasn't sure how long they had been sitting there, in comfortable silence with one another when Draco's voice cut through her thoughts.
"I was hoping that we could start over, Hermione."
The sound of her name, coming from his lips sent butterflies through her stomach. Her eyes snapped to his.
"What?"
He cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. For the first time since they had met that morning, he seemed slightly uncomfortable.
"Back by the river – you asked me why I was there." The tips of his ears started turning red, as though embarrassed.
"When I saw you this morning…" he trailed off, a thoughtful look coming over his expression now. "I don't know. When I saw you in that café this morning, it took me by surprise. I was on my way to the meeting, but I was early. I had decided to walk around, and then there you were, perfectly framed in the window, looking at me."
Hermione felt her cheeks twinge pink at this, and she tucked her hair behind her ear.
"You didn't look angry or disgusted… Just surprised too. I don't know what came over me to join you inside. I was even more surprised when you didn't curse me out of there, but you talked to me." Draco suddenly flashed her a dazzling smile and laughed a little.
Hermione felt her breath catch as she stared at him.
"Why wouldn't I talk to you?" she murmured.
She was sad when her words made his smile disappear and she saw his eyes darken.
His eyes were focused on his almost empty plate, and he spun his wine glass nervously.
When he didn't speak for several moments, Hermione leaned forward, and feeling a boldness inside her, she reached out, placing her hand on his, where it lay on the table. She felt him freeze, and he stared at their hands before his eyes met hers.
Hermione panicked and started pulling away, flushing deeply. "I-I'm sorry."
He reacted quickly, and his hand caught hers before she had withdrawn fully.
"No, please. Don't apologize."
His eyes were pleading with hers, his voice cracked.
Hermione tried to focus on his face but was completely preoccupied with the feeling that was rushing through her body from where their hands were joined. It felt as though her hand was on fire, but in a most delightful way, that sent butterflies to her stomach and music through her veins.
He didn't hold her hand for long, but when he released her, he gave it a small, reassuring squeeze.
Hermione reluctantly moved her hand back on the table, pulling it to her lap, twisting it into her napkin, forcing her heart to slow its pace.
When she finally was able to look back at him, he was looking at her with an unfathomable expression his face.
"Are you finished eating?" he asked her, softly.
Glancing at her plate, there was still some of her meal left, but suddenly she couldn't find herself to eat another bite. She nodded mutely to him. Without another word, Gérard was at their table and before Hermione could offer, the bill was settled.
Draco stood and Gérard helped Hermione with her coat. Farewells were made and promises to visit again.
Draco walked Hermione to the door and as they stepped outside, the cold air biting their now warm cheeks, Hermione hesitated in the courtyard. The snow had muffled the city below them though it was now midday. The clouds hung low in the sky. Draco had already reached the gate when he realized that Hermione wasn't behind him.
At first, she wasn't sure why she had stopped, but then realized that it was because she was enjoying herself—tears and hard topics aside. She was enjoying Draco's presence and she knew that once they were on the other side of the gate, they would go back to being Malfoy and Granger. He would have to rush off to his next meeting and she would never see him again.
"Hermione?" Draco had come to stand in front of her, his voice laced with concern.
She tried smiling, though she didn't think she had convinced him. "Sorry, just got lost in thought. You probably have to head out for another meeting."
His eyes searched hers for a moment before he spoke.
"Actually, I was hoping you would let me accompany you to the market, if you wouldn't mind."
Hermione hoped that her face didn't betray the sudden happiness she felt at his words.
She allowed herself a small smile for him. "I'd like that."
She expected him to turn then, to lead them out of the courtyard, but he didn't. She could see him hesitate and the steel door was starting to close, blocking her out.
Again, inexplicably, she felt herself reach out to him. Wordlessly she placed her hand on his arm, her eyes pleading with him.
"How can you do that?" He whispered, looking at her hand.
"What do you mean?" she asked, confused.
He stepped away from her, running his fingers through his hair, agitated.
"How can you be here, with me—how are you able to stand my presence?"
Hermione was now utterly lost and taken aback. Was he regretting their meal and conversations? Did he wish that he hadn't talked with her at all? She felt a tinge of sadness at this thought.
Almost as if he could sense her thoughts, he suddenly came back in front of her, his face very close to hers, his eyes searching for something.
"Hermione, how can you stand to talk to me? How can you stand to be here—talking to me?"
Hermione then remembered the conversation before in the restaurant and how he suddenly was ready to leave.
She decided to repeat her earlier, unanswered question.
"Why wouldn't I want to talk to you?"
Earlier when she had asked, she was met with silence. Now, she was met with a fevered response.
"How could you forget?" His voice broke at this, and Hermione was shocked to see the pain in his face as he spoke.
"How could you ever forgive me for what I did to you?
"What—" Hermione's mind started racing. What had he done to her? Sure, there were the stupid things in school, but nothing that wasn't unforgivable – besides, they all did stupid things in their own ways back then.
"You of all people, have every reason not to talk to me. You have every reason to hate me and curse me."
His anguish was almost enough to make her cry. Hermione waited, unsure of what to make of this moment.
He was still for several moments when he spoke again, his voice sounded emotionless and dead.
"I just stood there—I did nothing." His eyes met hers.
"Oh."
She understood now. To any outside person, those words wouldn't mean anything, but to her, they were an avalanche filled with grief, heartache, and pain. Subconsciously, she reached up, holding tight to her right forearm at a phantom injury. The physical scars had disappeared some time ago, but Hermione could still feel each slice of the blade and see each letter as though it was only mere moments earlier.
His eyes had followed her movement and he started to move, as though he might hug her, comfort her—but stopped himself, shoving his hands deep into his pockets.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered.
Hermione stared at him in disbelief. She felt her pain disappear and some other emotion overtook her.
"Why do you think I wouldn't talk to you?"
"I told you –"
"Yes, I heard you, but Draco…" Hermione saw him clearly now. She saw the teenager who was being held captive in his own home, by his deranged aunt and cowardly father.
"What would you have done?" She asked him, sighing.
"I should have done more –" His eyes sparked as they met hers.
She shook her head slowly, a sad smile on her face.
"You did enough."
He opened his mouth to protest, but Hermione held up her hand, stopping him.
"You knew who we were when we were brought in by the snatchers." She remembered, how terrified she was, when Bellatrix insisted Draco look closely at Harry, to verify who he was. Hermione and Ron were being held no more than a breath away from the pair.
"You lied," she stated, giving him a hard look now. "You lied and you stopped Voldemort from coming right then. You gave us time to escape."
"But I couldn't save you. I still see you, laying there – and your screams…" He broke off, his voice cracking.
"If you had done anything, we'd both be dead."
It was the truth.
Hermione watched his eyes close; his hands were still buried deep in his jacket pockets. His head was downcast, and the snowflakes were laying gently on his hair. He didn't move for several minutes, and Hermione gave him time.
She had come to terms a while ago of those moments within the walls of Malfoy Manor. She had endured and experienced the full hatred and the fuel that caused the war to start – all directed at her. Draco had mentioned her screaming, but she didn't remember that herself. Once the knife had come out, Hermione remembered only the sound of her heart and the overwhelming silence of everything else.
She did remember the acute details of her surroundings though; The way the dust floated in front of the light from the windows, the shadows of everyone watching and the way their feet shuffled around her. She remembered seeing Draco standing there and the way his face was emotionless, except for his eyes – the utter fear and horror that was in them as he watched his aunt.
"Draco."
He opened his eyes, and she felt a smile tug on her lips. This seemed to surprise him, and a confused look passed over his face.
"Look at us now. Look at where we are."
She took a deep breath. "I'm not going to forgive you, because there's nothing to forgive. I admit that I had my doubts and prejudices this morning when I saw you, but you know what?"
His grey eyes were searching hers, his mouth was drawn.
"We're starting over, without having to talk about it or give it any thought. When you decided to come into that café and sit with me, you made a choice, and you started over."
She hesitated and she felt her composure falter a little but continued.
"And I, for one, am happy that you decided to."
He let out a long breath at these words.
"Yeah?"
She smiled back at him, "Yes."
A weight seemed to come off his shoulders and a cloud lifted from around them, the day seemed brighter.
"Well, now that we've cleared that up, I think that we should continue on with this surprise of a day, agreed?"
Hermione stomped her feet, shaking off the buildup of snow that had landed on her boots during their conversation. Tucking her loose hair behind her ear, she fell in step with Draco as he turned, opened up the gate to the street and lead her down the narrow alley back towards the main town.
They walked in silence until they reached a main street. A clock on a bell tower nearby showed Hermione that there was still another hour until the market would be open and another two before dusk. She suddenly felt awkward, not sure of what to do; Draco had wanted to join her for the market, but now there was unexpected time in front of them and nothing to fill it with.
She glanced over at him, finding his hands shoved into his pockets, his eyes trained on the ground, but a soft smile was on his face, the corners of his mouth turned up. He didn't seem to feel any sort of awkwardness and was perfectly at ease. She took a deep, steadying breath. Draco seemed to know where he was going, so she let him lead on.
He started chatting with her, of nothing important, and Hermione was pleased when she found their conversation flowed easily and unhindered. The topic turned quickly to books, and they found that they shared several similar favorites, both magical and muggle. They slowed down when she pulled out her earlier purchase and Draco gently took the book from her hands, his warm fingers brushing against her cold ones. Hermione's heart stuttered at the brief contact, and she dipped her head, hoping that he wouldn't notice her blushing cheeks.
He carefully looked through several of the pages, easily walking while reading. He finally smiled and handed the book back to her, noting his admiration for her find.
She noted, the more they talked, the more aimless their destination seemed to be, and the slower he seemed to walk, turning his body more towards her, asking her about her job and life back in London. He opened up to her more about the work of the foundation, the school he was overseeing there in France.
"My wish is for there to be a similar school in several European countries in the next five years."
They approached a large bridge, over a point in the river and he slowed even further, leading her over the edge of the bridge, near the middle. The river flowed quietly underneath them, as they both leaned against the stone barrier.
The snow had stopped falling and the view from the bridge was breathtaking. Hermione was surprised to find that the sun was almost set and was much later than she had realized; the surrounding olde world homes and restaurants were turning on their lights, illuminating and reflecting off the water surface.
"Beautiful."
His voice was soft and filled with emotion.
Hermione turned to look at Draco and was surprised to see him staring at her. Their eyes met and Hermione felt warmth spread through her body.
He was the first to look away, sweeping his eyes back over the river.
"I've always loved this view in the evening."
Hermione blushed heavily, shaking her head slightly as she turned to look as well, furious with herself for thinking that he could possibly be talking about her. He was Draco Malfoy after all. Even after the day and the conversations, she couldn't ignore that fact. She pushed aside all thoughts of anything else, determined to just enjoy his company and newfound beginnings to a friendship.
She reached into her bag at this point, having remembered another purchase she had made earlier in the day. She pulled out the two croissants, and handed one to him, enjoying the way his eyes lit up as he accepted her unexpected gift.
He took a bite, his eyebrow raising slightly.
"Still warm," he observed, a hint of appreciation in his tone.
She nibbled on the end of the croissant staring down at the water passing below. Silence surrounded them and she felt content.
Draco finished his pastry before she did, but it didn't take long before she had enjoyed the last bite as well.
Church bells started ringing in the distance, whose notes were muted by the fresh snow, still carried across the water.
Hermione closed her eyes, focusing on the melody, suddenly feeling a lump in her chest. Godric's Hollow flashed through her mind again. The carols, the graveyard, Harry.
"Hermione?"
Draco's voice was soft and concerned.
She forced her eyes open, finding herself staring up into his grey eyes again. She felt a tear run down her cheek. Then another.
Before she could speak, he had moved. She was suddenly in his embrace, his arms coming tightly around her, her face buried in his coat. Hermione cried. The tears fell, unhindered, and she let herself cry harder than she had in years. Draco said nothing but just held her firmly in his arms, allowing her to release. The moments stretched into minutes and finally her tears subsided. He tentatively loosened his arms from around her, pulling back to look down into her face.
Hermione could only look at him for a brief second before she was aware of how close they were and how good his arms felt around her. Then the embarrassment started to settle in, and she looked down at his chest, noticing the wet marks left by her breakdown. She started to pull away, tears starting to form again.
Before she could fully move though, he suddenly conjured up a handkerchief, handing it to her silently, still with one arm around her.
She wiped her eyes and looked up at him, wondering what he must think of her. She expected to see alarm or possibly even disgust from her sudden outburst, but once she was able to focus past his intense gaze, she only saw a softness and friendly concern.
This calmed her thoughts only slightly and she chuckled out of nervousness.
"You must think me daft," she laughed hoarsely, trying to smile.
He didn't smile back, but his eyes searched her face before he seemed to make up his mind about something. He reached up and gently tucked the loose strand of wild hair that had fallen into her face behind her ear. Hermione's breath hitched at the intensity of such a small act, and she suddenly wished that he would kiss her.
He continued to focus on her face before he let out a deep breath and stepped away, but only just enough to fully let his arms fall to his sides.
It was then that Hermione became aware of how many people were around them. Families, couples, individuals; of all of whom seemed to be enjoying the scenery, instead of noticing the grown woman weeping in a man's arms.
She started to blush at the scene she must have created, mortification seeping into her mind, when she felt a hand holding hers.
She looked down to find Draco's, holding her steady.
"Don't worry about them," he said as if he could read her thoughts. "I cast a concealment charm on us. They don't even realize we're here."
Hermione's eyes widened in surprise, her embarrassment fading as she realized what he had done. The warmth of his hand in hers provided her with a sense of reassurance amidst the crowded bridge.
"Thank you," she whispered, her voiced heavy with gratitude. "You didn't have to do that."
Draco's lips turned down slightly, his brow furrowed. "I wanted to make sure you had the space you needed…"
As the lights twinkled around them, Hermione took a steadying breath. Draco's eyes were piercing, staring down into hers with an unwavering gaze. He wasn't pushing or expecting anything, but her mind was made up.
She started telling him everything from the beginning – her last Christmas with her parents. She described how she had ensured they spent it in Strasbourg; she encouraged them to do everything they wanted to do as a family. She did it for herself, as they wouldn't remember any of it.
As Hermione poured her heart out to Draco, she could feel the weight of her past and the war lifting off her shoulders. She was surprised to find a relief to finally confide in someone, to share the pain and loneliness she had been carrying all these years. Draco listened attentively, never interrupting her.
As she spoke, the emotions she had suppressed for so long came rushing to the surface. She recalled the guilt and regret she felt for modifying her parents' memories, for erasing her presence from their lives. It had been a necessary sacrifice to protect them during the war, but it had also left her with a profound sense of isolation.
Draco's eyes never left her face, and she could see the empathy and understanding in his gaze. She had never imagined that he would be the one she could confide in. It was as if a barrier had been broken between them.
When she finished speaking, she took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest. She waited for Draco's reaction, unsure of how he would respond to the depths of her pain and her past mistakes.
"You're not alone, Hermione," he said softly. "I can't imagine how hard it must have been for you, but you're not alone. Not now. We've all done things we are not proud of during the war."
She knew this of course, but she found that hearing the words out loud was cathartic.
Draco stepped away from her, leaning his back against the railing. He dug his shoe into the snow that was piled up against the edge.
"Does Potter and Weasley know all this?" he asked, looking sideways at her.
This was the first time that Harry and Ron had been spoken of between them and Hermione was surprised to find a lack of venom in her companion's voice.
He seemed to sense her thoughts and spoke again, running his hand through his hair.
"Potter and I have worked together on several occasions – he and I have let bygones be bygones."
Hermione wasn't all that surprised, as it was in Harry's nature, but it was new information that they had worked together. She wasn't sure where their paths could have crossed, as Harry works in the Ministry as an Auror, and Draco - well he works for his foundation.
But those were thoughts and questions for later.
"Harry knows everything; So does Ron," she admitted. Draco nodded, but his gaze was focused on the feet of the passerby's.
"Harry understands… he's the only one who does. He and I both experienced terrible things during the war together – that Christmas away from my parents, during the war? It was the first time that he and I were truly alone. There was no one there for us; no one we could turn to. We were camping in forests, in snow, hiding, waiting… We decided to visit Godric's Hollow, where he was born, not realizing the day—that it was Christmas Eve. It was breathtaking beautiful when we arrived, but within hours we would be fleeing for our lives, witnessing horrific crimes, nearly dying."
Her voice trailed off as she stared out over the water.
Moments passed, before Draco's voice broke through her thoughts.
"Shall we move on?" he gestured towards the market.
Hermione nodded, her eyes focused on the street in front of her.
Draco kept pace beside her, his hands in his pockets. "Where was Weasley?"
"Oh…" She hesitated, but when she glanced over at him, she decided to tell the truth. "He had left us by that point. There were… situations that led to that moment. I didn't forgive him for a while; leaving us like that, during those times…"
"Is that why you didn't marry him?"
The question took Hermione completely by surprise; Stopping, she looked wildly at Draco.
He seemed to blush at his forwardness, a shy grin appearing on his face.
"You're not the only one who sees things on the front of the papers – it was quite the scandal when you two parted."
Hermione laughed a little, moving forward again. "No, no, Ron and I just weren't meant to be. It had nothing to do with the war." She tilted her head a little, "He never really understood though—what I had gone through. What it did to me; how it changed me as a person."
"Hmmm…"
As they walked towards the Christmas market, only a block away now, Hermione kept stealing glances at Draco. With each step, she became more aware of their closeness, the way their shoulders or hands occasionally brushed against each other. It felt both nerve-wracking and exhilarating at the same time.
After the fourth time of their hands connecting, Draco took her hand firmly in his, stating he didn't want to lose her in the crowd. Hermione felt her cheeks grow warm, but she realized it wasn't from embarrassment, but rather out of joy. They walk in relaxed silence together.
When they arrived at the Christmas market, the festive atmosphere engulfed them in twinkling lights, holiday scents, and cheerful laughter. A small choir stood nearby, singing hymns under the large Christmas tree.
Draco led her down the first row of stalls, his demeanor as comfortable as ever. He laughed and chatted with her about the various decorations and trinkets they came across, setting her perfectly at ease. Hermione couldn't help but admire the way he effortlessly seemed to navigate through the crowd. He released her hand only to purchase hot chocolate for them both.
As they strolled through the market, Hermione was filled with delight. She had been to the market countless times in the past, but she had never experienced it in the same way before. She felt a freedom she hadn't felt in years, a sense of weightlessness that overwhelmed her. The burden of her past and the heaviness of the war seemed to fade away, replaced by a childlike wonder and excitement. For the first time in a long time, she felt like a carefree child experiencing Christmas magic all over again.
As they moved from stall to stall, Hermione's eyes were drawn to the intricate ornaments and the handmade crafts. She couldn't help but exclaim with delight every time she discovered something new. Draco matched her enthusiasm with his own, and together they shared laughter feeling more like old friends reconnected after a lifetime apart.
The world around them seemed to blur as they lost themselves in the holiday spirit. Hermione found herself entranced by the beauty of the market, but even more so by Draco's presence. There was a newfound lightness in his eyes, a playfulness in his smile that she had never seen before. It made her heart skip a beat every time he laughed or looked at her.
One stall made her stop and peruse more than the others. The ornaments were simply beautiful and reminded her of ones that her mother used to hang on their own Christmas tree at home. Glass baubles with etched gold snowflakes adorning the glass. Hermione touched one hesitantly, admiring the craftsmanship.
Draco came up behind her, peering over her shoulder.
"It's beautiful," he said. "You should get it."
Hermione shook her head. "They're too much," she admitted quietly, turning towards him, sighing a little. The sign stated 50 Euros each. She shrugged and turned towards him smiling.
"I think I saw one back a couple stalls that I'll get instead. Wait for me?"
Draco only nodded. "I'll be right here," he promised.
It only took her a couple of minutes to locate the previous ornament she had seen earlier – a small wooden ornament, carved like a snowflake.
She was tucking it into her purse when she saw Draco waiting for her in the crowd. When his eyes met hers, he smiled, but her heart sank when she realized he also looked regretful.
"Everything alright?" she asked as she got closer. Fear started to creep into her chest.
"Well, I just realized that I'm about to be late for a dinner meeting – I apologize, I didn't realize how much time had passed." He looked truly sorry to be telling her this.
"Oh!" she said, relief filling her.
"I hate to leave you alone—"
"No, it's fine," she assured him.
He seemed agitated suddenly, running his hand through his hair, strands falling back in place across his forehead. He looked around them, as though searching for something.
He reached out, grabbing hold of her elbow, steering her out of the center of the crowd, towards a small alcove next to one of the shops. It was by no means secluded, but it was more private.
Hermione was keenly aware at how close he was standing towards her, looking down into her upturned face.
"I leave tomorrow," he finally told her, his face serious, his eyes searching hers.
"So do I," she responded, unsure of what he was getting at. Her heart was pounding in her chest. She wanted to stay… she wanted him to stay. She didn't want this evening to end. But what was he to her? This morning, she didn't even think of him - not in any form, and here they were. She was honestly sad at the idea of him leaving, but what right did she have to his time.
"Hermione?" He hesitated, taking a deep breath.
"Yes?" she whispered.
In a moment, which passed into an eternity between them, he closed the short distance between them, his finger wrapping through her hair, their lips meeting in a breathless kiss.
All of Hermione's senses were heightened with every pass of breath, each touch. She could feel his heart pounding under his jacket as her hand reached up between them, pulling him in. She'd been kissed before, but this … this was something else. In that moment, she felt like she was the most desirable woman in the world – not sure if it was the kiss or if that's how he actually felt about her.
She'd only been with him for a few hours, but suddenly couldn't imagine life beyond him. The idea overwhelmed her and all too soon, she pulled away. Feeling light-headed, she leaned back against the wall, finally opening her eyes again. He was still standing over her, one hand around her waist, a smoldering look in his eyes.
Hermione glanced back at his lips, causing him to smile as he watched her.
"Have dinner with me."
"What?" She was finding it hard to concentrate on anything at the moment.
"Dinner with me, Christmas Eve."
That brought her out of her occupied thoughts, her eyes snapped to his.
He continued, "There's a Christmas market – a magical one – in Edinburgh. Have you ever been?"
She shook her head slightly, still unsure of her voice.
He stepped away a little, but only enough to pull both her hands into his own, bringing them against his chest in earnest.
"I know this is crazy, but I've not had such an enjoyable day as I've had with you, in years – maybe in my entire life. I would like a repeat if you're willing."
Hermione was more than willing. For hours now she was trying to talk herself out of her attraction to this man, and now knowing that he apparently felt the same, was elating. However …
"Dinner on Christmas Eve, in Edinburgh?" she repeated, her thoughts racing. What about Harry – they usually spent it together – but he would understand, wouldn't he? Besides, he could always go to the Weasley's…
Suddenly a shadow passed over Draco's face. "Unless, you already have plans?"
It only takes a moment to pass before Hermione allowed her mind to shut off, the thoughts stopping. Her heart already knew the answer.
"Tell me where to meet you – I'll be there." A thrill ran through her at the words.
His face lit up, his eyes becoming bright as he looked down at her. Hermione felt bold and tipped forward, pushing her lips against his, she could feel his smile through the kiss and when they pulled away again, both were breathless.
"Sorry – I've been wanting to do that for a couple hours now," she reddened at her confession.
Draco didn't seem embarrassed or shocked by her words, but rather raised a hand up, tucking a loose hair back behind her ear, before tracing her jaw line with his finger.
He sighed deeply before pulling away.
"I wish I didn't have to go."
"Then don't," she teased.
He let out a short laugh, before his expression turned somber.
"More than anything, I wish that were possible."
He released her hands then, stepped away.
For the first time since that morning, he seemed shy to Hermione.
"I'll send you an owl, with the time and meeting."
Hermione's expression was soft as she gazed at him.
"Okay," she responded, giving him a reassuring smile. "I'll count on it."
He took another step away. "Hermione…"
"Mmm?"
There was a moment of silence then before he laughed a little.
"I'm honestly not sure what to say right now. 'Goodbye' doesn't seem quite appropriate, but nothing else does either."
She smiled at this revelation, realizing herself that she also was unsure how to end their evening.
"How about, I'll see you next week?"
He flashed her a grin. "Perfect."
"Thank you for everything today, Draco." She hoped he knew how sincere she was.
He smiled. "See you in Edinburgh, Hermione."
And with that, he turned, disappearing through the crowds, leaving a breathless Hermione in the alcove.
x x x
A week later, Hermione stood nervously in front of her bedroom mirror, adjusting the neckline of her turtleneck sweater, and tugging slightly on her skirt. Draco's owl had arrived the morning after their kiss, a simple location and time written out in his elegant handwriting. There was nothing about where he was taking her, past her knowledge of a wizardry Christmas market. So, she had chosen a simple grey sweater, tucked into an emerald green skirt, that hung loosely down to her calves with a lighter green tulle overlay, adding an elegant touch. She had her normal loose curls tucked up into a tasteful twist. Overall, she felt very refined.
She slipped on her black heels and long coat as she glanced at the clock. Ten minutes to go – but she was ready and nervous. Grabbing her clutch, she took one more glance in the mirror, before disapperating.
She appeared with ease, finding herself in a part of Olde Town Edinburgh she'd never been to before. The cobblestone streets were covered in fresh snow, with large flakes still falling. She could see witches and wizards making their way through the area, all on their way home, most likely to spend Christmas Eve with loved ones.
Hermione's thoughts turned briefly to Harry, thankful for her friend. He could hardly believe her when she told him of her time with Draco, but when she got to the part about spending Christmas Eve with him, Harry's jaw all but fell off. She was thankful she had kept a couple of private moments out of her story, leading up to Draco's request, not sure how her friend would handle that news, if a simple dinner invitation was too much.
But, much to Harry's character and Hermione's relief, he was able accept the turn of events and without Hermione even asking him about their own plans being displaced, Harry promptly told her that if she wanted to go, nothing should stop her. He even sent an owl to Mrs. Weasley within the hour to ensure that he would still be welcome.
Inexplicably, Hermione had found herself throwing her arms around Harry at his behavior and encouragement. He had held her tightly then, each refusing to be the first to pull away.
When they did, Harry had looked her in the eye and asked her if she was happy.
For the first time, in a very long time, she had been able to tell him yes.
"Don't let anything take that away from you, Hermione …" he leveled his eyes with hers. "And if Malfoy is what makes you happy, then don't let him go."
A sudden snap brought Hermione out of her thoughts. Turning she found Draco standing a couple feet away from her, his hair combed back and long green coat sweeping as he turned around. Their eyes met instantly, and Hermione felt all her nervous energy leave her. His grey eyes pierced hers and an easy smile graced his face.
Taking a calming breath, she walked towards him. He met her halfway, his eyes searching her face.
"You're here," she whispered, honestly a little surprised to find him so. She realized her nerves from earlier were more a deep fear that he maybe had forgotten her in the past week. Or worse, remembered and decided that he had better things to do.
His gaze hardened at her words, though, much to her chagrin.
"You didn't think I would be here?"
"Afraid, is more accurate," she admitted, her cheeks reddening.
His gaze softened, and he reached out his hand to hers, giving it a squeeze. "Well, I guess I'm just full of surprises," he teased.
Hermione laughed a little, feeling more at ease.
"Something tells me you'll be surprising me a lot."
"I plan on it," was his response, before he bent down, kissing her soundly.
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