A/N: Look, I might not be as active, but did you really think I wouldn't come bearing with gifts? I hope you have a delightful Christmas and the coziest time full of warmth and laughter. I am eternally grateful to everyone for coming this far and reading this story, and there are really a few other feelings that could compare to the joy of your comments and thoughts. They leave me with the biggest smile, and my day truly becomes better thanks to it.

Merry Early Christmas 3

Enjoy ;)

—

To A Stranger

Passing stranger! you do not know how longingly I look upon you,
You must be he I was seeking, or she I was seeking, (it comes to me as of a dream,)
I have somewhere surely lived a life of joy with you,
All is recall'd as we flit by each other, fluid, affectionate, chaste, matured,
You grew up with me, were a boy with me or a girl with me,
I ate with you and slept with you, your body has become not yours only nor left my body mine only,
You give me the pleasure of your eyes, face, flesh, as we pass, you take of my beard, breast, hands, in return,
I am not to speak to you, I am to think of you when I sit alone or wake at night alone,
I am to wait, I do not doubt I am to meet you again,
I am to see to it that I do not lose you.

- Walt Whitman

They were both on a mission. Unyieldingly crucial to them, comedically entertaining for us. Draco was determined to find Hermione while she tried to find a space where no one would find her for at least a few days. She had become an expert at building camping sites during the war, and all the steps that needed to be taken were still fresh in her mind.

He swore to himself that he wouldn't let her say a single word from that swotty, irritatingly tasty, and sweet mouth of hers and kiss her the moment he found her. His desire had reached inescapable heights where his years of tedious practicing of self-control served as utterly useless. Not even Voldemort had cracked through him like that, especially considering the endless times he had tortured him. Physical pain stood nothing against the sorrows of the heart. Sneakily, it infiltrates, its claws subtly delving into the abyss of your soul, until one day, it claims total control over your entity, and your eyes are filled with passionate absurdity.

Absurd thoughts mingling with too many opposing emotions richotted in their minds. She wanted to cry and scream. He was filled with a voided lust and drive and annoyance at the needy nature of his therapy partner. She was like honey, but not the good kind, the one which stuck to you despite your apparent reluctance, refusing all his cunning attempts to cleanse her off, leaving no alternatives than a withdrawal to elude her stubborn clutch.

But Granger was the good kind of honey, where you savored the spoon, licking any residue, and felt that warm tingling sensation course through your throat. That addictive sweetness, where once you added it to your morning routine, you wanted to taste it every day and kept a jar wherever you traveled since nothing gave you the same satisfaction. You didn't even have to have a spoon every day, but keeping the jar created an overpowering sense of wholeness and safety, a placid reminder that nothing remained absent in its presence. Him and his honey: a sonnet of completion.

The whirlwind in his mind matched the pace and mobility of his legs as he lapped around the library twice, stomping heavily with his dragon leather dress shoes. The pages of open books fluttered wildly with his expeditious strides. Glances and sneers, but he didn't care. Not today. He almost felt like Snape entering a classroom. A less self-assured version and seemingly as if he was on his way to confess his tormenting sentiments to Lily. But who was he kidding? That man would keep a straight face no matter the circumstance.

Hermione settled at a place near her and Malfoy's previous drowning spot. She watched the lake, angry tears cascading down her cheeks, feeling no need to fight them. She let herself sob as hard and loudly as she desired; no one would hear her, and even if they did, she didn't care. So what? The Golden Girl was crying? Shocker.

Gryffindor's Princess bawls inconsolably after The Boy Who Lived dumped her.

An article by Rita Skeeter

That woman always loved to ship her with Harry. She should've kept her in that damn jar and thrown it into the ocean and charmed it to sail to China. The Chinese family who found it could use it to fill it with honey, as China is a leading honey producer. Skeeter's existence would've at least been useful for once. Perhaps her shrunken version could help collect the residue on the bottom and fill the owner's spoon when the honey slowly neared its final days before being completely devoured.

He walked to his and Theo's smoking spot near the entrance, his room, thinking that perhaps Theo wanted to show her more of his movie collection. He toured all the sections of the quidditch pitch, no sign of her attendance. He even sat on the stairs of the first entryway of the sixth floor for about half an hour. The second entrance for another half hour, anxiously fidgeting his legs and drumming his fingers on the stone-cold floor, hoping for the one-in-seven chance one of her therapy sessions might also take place on a Saturday.

Where the fuck was this girl? Malfoy swallowed—not swallowed, he shoved and barbarously trampled—the final relic of his unwavering pride as he walked up to Potter to ask him for her dorm number.

"Potter," Malfoy voiced, a gaze of disinterest as he kept his eyes on the cobblestone walls of the hallway.

"Malfoy," Harry nods, furrowing his brows, wondering what the reason for his approach could've possibly been.

"Where's Granger's room?" His eyes never met his.

"Why?" Harry asked inquisitively, searching for answers in his mystique eyes.

"Don't make this difficult. Just tell me where it is," Draco ordered, trying to stifle his naturally commanding tonality.

"I will. Only if you tell me why." Harry stood his ground, his gaze on a pair of wide-eyed third years who watched their curious exchange in awe as they lingered near them in a very unsubtle attempt to eavesdrop.

Draco sighed, throwing his head back in annoyance. It was evident through his subtly amused expression that Harry enjoyed toying with an anxiety-stricken ferret.

"I have to ask her something. Happy?" He displaced a strained smile.

"Are you sure It's only that?" Harry teased, keeping a straight face. Draco knew him spending too much time with Theo would only lead to complications. Theo's nature had grown on him, and his asking seemed so out of character.

"Forget it," Draco sneered through gritted teeth and started walking away.

"Fourth floor, second door on your right," the scarhead voiced.

Draco stood in his tracks momentarily before tilting his head slightly to the right and nodded.

Harry had no expectations whatsoever. Receiving thanks was not even a question, but that little gesture spoke volumes and proved to Harry that he had changed. Not so much in retrospect, but this was a significant change to anyone who knew him and his nature. Yes, Malfoy had manners, but those only applied to the pureblood elite, and everyone else remained below peasants in his younger self's eyes. Harry's mere existence was even lower than that, so this was a tremendous improvement in character for the better.

It almost made Harry proud. Okay! This was enough Malfoy-related content for today, and he was already late for class. Splendid. Do you reckon his Golden Boy record would get him excused?

More sneering and shocked expressions as Malfoy burst through the Gryffindor common room.

"You can't be here!" Malfoy could smell a teacher's pet essence wafting out of the fifth year.

That was a lie. The new housing system allowed students to roam to the other houses' common rooms as they pleased to minimize differentiation and house rivalries after the war.

Just a few seconds after ignoring the girl, two sixth years stood in front of him like two tall bricks, folding their arms across their chest, reminiscent of bouncers in Miami positioned at the forefront of exclusive clubs, "Where the fuck do you think you're going?"

See, these antics of forced menacing had absolutely no effect on him. After living with the wizarding world's darkest wizard and missioned to kill its most powerful one, nothing else came even remotely close to intimidating him anymore, except for one little brunette, who was about to receive a love confession never seen or heard in history to this day. Count on it. Pray for it.

"Oh, shut it," Ginny drawled lazily as she descended the steps towards the common room.

The bricks melted quicker than your typical cherry-topped vanilla sundae on a fine afternoon in August as they turned around to face their quidditch captain in awe.

"She's not here," the Weaslette said.

Malfoy raised a brow, "How did you—"

Ginny gave her a look of ' oh come on. I'm not stupid.'

"Then where?" He asked. Everyone in the common room watched them as if Marilyn Monroe had stepped onto stage fifty years after her passing with the same shimmering gold dress and sang Happy Birthday to President Clinton this time.

"Have you checked the li—"

"Yes," there was no need to listen to the rest of that word, and even though it was rude to cut off others, it didn't apply in contexts of severe time-ticking and aggravation.

"The forest?"

Draco looked down to the side and quickly shook his head no. He glanced at her and paused momentarily before saying, "Thank you," and gave her a curt nod before spinning on his heel and walking out. Ginny merely raised her brows at those two words she'd never thought to hear coming from him, at least not to her. About time that stick up his ass turned jello. Improvements. What the hell did you do to that poor, poor man Hermi?

Trying to avoid the assumption and hope that perhaps the place where they had 'saved' each other had become a place she visited frequently, he searched areas near that spot. He wondered how things would've turned out if Seamus hadn't tried to drown him. The Weasel wouldn't have been kicked out, Granger wouldn't have nearly died because of him, Seamus wouldn't have been kicked out, and the list went on. What if he had never had to take the mark? What if Dumbledore hadn't sought that disconcerting and peculiar child who casually conversed with snakes out of the orphanage and brought him to Hogwarts?

Dead autumn leaves crushed and rustled with each step as he scouted the area, his ears honed in to solely detect any sound that would come out of her mouth.

Anguished tears. Would they ever end? Things were nice when she was numb. To feel is torture, and those rare moments of bliss that come with it aren't enough to make you want to keep embracing your humanity. Things were at least tolerable when nothing mattered, but her existence was dull. It deprived you of a purpose to wake up, stifled the chirping of birds, intensified the scorch of day, and dimmed the solace of night. Nighttime meant nothing when nothing mattered. It only reminded you of the nightmares to come.

To feel or not to feel?

At this moment, it was not to feel. To feel nothing. To have no purpose. No desire. No will. No tears. Even her tears didn't pour in a satisfyingly cinematic manner, where they slid from the corner of your eyes so perfectly down to your cheeks and drop on the ground. They were all squiggly and mixed up as if enveloped in the tornado of her mind.

Draco heard the pain and blindly ran to the source. It was that girl again—the one with painfully obvious dyed black hair. Her sobs the likely after-effects of realizing her hair was an atrocity. What a waste of time. He rolled his eyes and started walking away, but a faint sense of amiss crept to the forefront of his mind. Such gut-wrenching sobs that kept choking out couldn't have been because of such an idiotic reason.

He approached her slowly, his mind cursing at him for wasting time. But if he didn't, he knew he would have to live with the bitter feeling of entwined regret for a long time. His mother taught him never to leave a crying lady unattended, regardless of circumstances or his feelings. He could at least honor her teachings after all the sacrifices she had made for him.

His skin pricks with the familiar tonality of the girl's sobs. The perfect blend of sweet and soft. Granger, he thinks as his heart drops painfully low.

Breath hitching slightly in her throat, Hermione almost jumped out of her skin as she caught sight of Malfoy's pallid face. She had never seen him look so broken and desperate before as if he had just found out his mother died.

"What happened?" They asked simultaneously, staring at each other.

He stood awkwardly beside a tree, wrenchingly uncomfortable, and his words stolen by the ferociously rustling wind as he gaped at her, breathless.If she didn't know better, she would've thought he was on drugs, which could've highly been the case. Cigarettes only did so much until their smoke lay dormant of hallucinating remedies rendered insufficient, causing the seeker to want something more, something stronger. She was about to ask him what happened, but he beat her to it. "Who did this to you?" He asked, eyes flaring, jaw locked, and his fists clenched, ready to fight.

She shook her head, brushing away her tears.

"Tell me." His voice was tense and a couple of octaves higher than usual. His eyes were so hurt and confused as he stared at her, waiting for her confirmation to kill the source of her sorrow.

Draco realized he was scaring her, so he eased himself up and sat across from her, leaving a good five feet apart to refrain from making her uncomfortable. She saw and acknowledged his calculated move and thanked him from the very depths of her heart. Why couldn't it have been him? Why did she have to fall in love or whatever it was she was feeling towards her therapy partner, who probably didn't even come close to looking as irritatingly handsome as the man across from her who studied her as if she were the world's gentlest flower? She couldn't do this to him. Malfoy was scarred and committed terrible mistakes, but his soul was kind and fragile, just like hers.

After knowing the pain of leaving your soul to another who would only serve to break it, she would never dare do the same to him. He deserved someone who would love him, and she couldn't give him that. It wouldn't be fair.

So, as painful as it was, it had to be done, "Leave me alone."

He withdrew for a moment, processing and saw his features harden again, voiding them of emotion, "No."

"Leave," she straightened her back, more assertive this time.

Wow, Granger. Such a talent you are to think you could assert your dominance in that tiny frame of yours.

"No," he paused, his mind calculating which way to stir the conversation for it not to end up like a shitshow entwined in a hairball of miscommunication, "Not until you tell me what happened." Well, it was official. Theo's questioning nature had created a chain reaction that went to Potter before reaching him.

She sighed, looking at the river. Well, precisely where she had caught Seamus and the other two still unidentified figures trying to drown him, "You're complicating things and fucking up my peace," she made sure to emphasize the word fucking.

"Oh, just like you were before I found you?" He scoffed, "Save it, Granger, and be honest. For once."

"For once? When have I ever lied?" She shot back.

"Stop changing the subject. What. Happened." This witch! Could she, for once, make things easier for him? Just once?

"Why do you care?" Her tone was somewhat harsh, making him feel unwanted, like that shirt tucked in the depths of your dresser, dreading your existence when you have to wear it where all your favorite shirts stumbled and rumpled in the washing machine.

Why do I care, huh?

He scoffed.

"Stop scoffing. It's annoying me," she said irritatingly.

"What doesn't annoy you these days?" He snapped back bitterly.

"If you're going to—"she paused, running her hands through her hair, with the strongest impulse to tear every strand, "I'm not feeling well. Please," she begged, "Leave," her tone indicating her evident desire of finality.

His body didn't seem to listen as he found himself inching closer, heading towards her lips.

It felt like a stab through his heart when she pushed herself back, placing a firm hand on his chest, voiding him of heaven.

He gingerly lifted his hand to her cheeks and wiped the last escaping tear. The little boy in him shined through his eyes with each passing second in which she left him without answers, "Just tell me what happened. That's all I want," a pause, "I promise." Only sincerity gleamed in his eyes, and it broke her.

Why were her petty sobs so important to him?

He retracted to his initial spot, keeping the five feet between them. She felt so far as if he would never reach her no matter how close she stood.

The reason for her sorrow seemed so stupid and childish. What was she going to say? That she was hurt by someone she didn't know and had never seen. Golden Girl, my ass. How weak would that make her look? She helped defeat the darkest wizard, and now she was defeated by a voice—a simple voice, almost like the one in her head.

She considered telling him; after all, he had already caught her in the act before a wave of embarrassment overtook her, "No," she shook her head, "I can't." Some things should only stay within. Besides, when did it come to the stage where she had to tell him? Yes, they grew rapidly close this year, but not even Harry, who she'd known since she was eleven, knew everything about her, "Why did you come to the forest?"

You. He wanted to scream as if the way he looked at her right now wasn't blatantly obvious. Though blatantly obvious for Malfoy meant an almost indiscernible micro expression in the eyes of the rest. But the ones who truly knew him would see through it.

"You shouldn't just stroll around here like that," she added.

He came here to confess and know he was being lectured on the perils of walking alone in the forest as if he were a child. He found it hard not to laugh. Let's just say he wasn't expecting this while he scoured the entire castle grounds for her. But this was Granger, and though her reaction was perfectly predictable and in character, he hoped she wouldn't be so damn Granger at this moment.

"So you're worried about me now?" He inquired, his words betraying the desire of his lips.

"Of course I am. You should know that by now already."

Then, why can't you just shut up so I can kiss you already?

"Mhm," he looked to the side in an attempt to occlude and stifle his urges.

"Don't do that."

Which one? Occlude? Wanting to kiss you? Look away? It could mean many things.

"You have to be specific about what it is you don't want, Granger."

"And here I thought you were clever enough to read between the lines," she supposed there was a reason he always came second to her in school.

"So, did I," he turned to look at her, eyes heavy and intense, "So, did I."

He was like a tick right now, sticking to her when she didn't want to and sucking at her already drained soul. She didn't want to lose him but couldn't handle him right now.

I don't want to talk to you. I never did.

The words of her therapy partner reverberated in her head, creating a new wave of cascading tears. She brought her hand to her mouth and bit her index finger to stifle it. It hurt so much.

How could he be so selfish and confess while she was in so much pain?

"I want to be alone right now," she said in between sobs, "If you truly cared, then you'd leave me alone."

"That's not how it works."

"It's how I want it to work." He briefly studied the seriousness of her words reflected on her countenance before the lake's murmur melded with the sounds of his footsteps as he walked away.

Karma, you twisted little thing.

—

A/N:

I probably should've mentioned that I'd be taking the role of the Grinch this year instead :D

Perhaps a better present after New Year's?

Keeping Dreaming. Maybe they'll come true :D

I cannot tell you how relieved I am to finally be able to write the epitome of cliche sentences, "Who did this to you?" But who are we kidding? We both love it.

I also love that, in this context, it's literally him. Makes me laugh. Ahhh, my sweet dummies. Love them, but it doesn't change the fact they're dummies.