Christmas at Hogwarts was a quiet affair. Fires were blazing in almost every room, however the heat didn't quite do enough to warm the castle hallways during the blazing winter storm that raged outside.
Even though it was a happy holiday, it felt rather somber throughout the castle. Only a few students stayed at school for the break. Those that did gathered at the Hufflepuff table for Christmas breakfast. There was chatter in the air, and smiles on their faces, but Hermione could feel tension hanging heavy, filled with the depressed student thoughts of homes and families they would rather not visit.
Hermione glanced down at the postcard her parents had sent her from their skiing trip in Switzerland which she had decided to use as a bookmark. Her Mom's message seemed so excited about their Anniversary trip and the mountains they'd been skiing together. She seemed happy despite not spending Christmas with her daughter. Hermione felt okay about it, too. Summer break would come soon enough, and Hermione knew they would have so many stories to tell her then.
The tablespace around her was strewn with a few small gifts others had sent by owl that morning. Mostly all book-shaped and heavy, save for Hermione's very own Weasley sweater, a heaviness ran through her at the feelings of guilt that weighed her down. Guilt that she was not at the burrow with everyone else.
Harry and Ron had both sent her books about their own interests, in true boy fashion. Ron's was about the Chudley Cannons Quidditch team and Harry's was about dueling strategy. While Harry's book was certainly sure to produce some pieces of worthwhile information, Hermione couldn't say it was high on her list to read.
Ginny's, however, might prove interesting: The Young Witch's Guide to Beauty and Fashion. While this book was again, not a book Hermione would typically choose for herself, there was no denying that this book might help her do some of those complicated spells the other girls always seemed to do in the mirror. Of course, Hermione didn't have much of a true interest in the current beauty and fashion trends, but after Slughorn's party, she might consider using a spell from time to time.
Then, there was the last book, the thickest of them all, the one that most intrigued Hermione. Astronomical Theory and its Implications in Arithmancy: An Educational Review. Hermione had eyed weeks ago in Professor Vector's personal book collection, but the older witch wouldn't lend it, even to Hermione Granger: the world's best book borrower. A recent publication, it was hard to find, and after asking Madam Pince if she'd order it, Hermione discovered it was quite expensive and the librarian refused.
So swept up by the book in her hands, it was moments before Hermione had noticed the icy silver-blue envelope that peaked out from between the cover pages. Addressed neatly with her name in perfect slanted script.
Hermione knew instantly that this book was from Draco.
She hesitated to open the card, unsure if she was ready to read it. She had no idea what the content of the card held. Had he sent it recently, or was this owl post delivery arranged long ago when they were together? If he'd sent it recently, what else could he have to say to her? Would it break her again to read it?
Who was she kidding? He could have sent her something as mundane as his meticulous potions notes and it would still probably make her cry. Could she even manage it? Would it change anything?
She thought for another few moments, holding the card primly in her hand as she contemplated, before determining that it probably wasn't a good idea to read it right now. Hermione decided that she should open the card in private, maybe another day far from right now, but certainly not while sitting alone eating Christmas breakfast in the Great Hall.
At further thought, she thought that tragically, she probably wouldn't be able to read any of the book itself, either. She huffed in frustration at the realization.
Her initial interest in Astrological and Arithmancy Theory had spurned from their work on the vanishing cabinet and, of course, Draco's encouraging speech about her potential. He really had made her think, hadn't he? About magical theory, book knowledge, research, and philosophy. Even after everything, she couldn't deny that it was not only one of the biggest compliments she'd ever received, but it felt as if a whole portal had been opened, a world of thought she knew she would spend her whole life following. The idea of magical theory linking across curricula made her brain tingle in a delicious way just thinking about it.
But, no, she couldn't fix the cabinet anymore.
It was quite painful to think about, actually. Not only had she lost Draco, but she'd lost the project, the challenge, the intrigue.
She released another frustrated breath and set the book aside.
She'll dive into theory maybe when she's out of Hogwarts. Maybe then, every thought tangent to Draco wouldn't hurt so deeply.
Her brown eyes blinked, once, then again, as Hermione caught herself staring into space toward the group of remaining students. She took a breath, then turned the page in the novel her mom had sent her for Christmas. It was another Muggle romance.
This one, Hermione found quite enjoyable, and she quickly got lost in it. She found herself refilling her tea cup a second and then third time as she moved through the first few chapters.
The noise at the Hufflepuff table had gotten louder, a few cheers tempting her attention, but she fought to ignore the instinct.
Hermione kept reading.
Or… she tried to at least.
It was difficult to keep her mind focused when she could feel Draco's eyes on her every few minutes.
She hadn't even needed to look up from her book when he entered the Great Hall six and a half minutes ago. The way the hair on the back of her neck took to standing on end gave it away.
Like her, he hadn't wanted to join the collection of mismatched students at the Hufflepuff table.
She forced herself to keep reading.
Which means, she forced herself to keep looking at the pages of the book she set in front of her face, but there was absolutely no reading going on.
She was suddenly far too tired to read, she told herself. After all, she had been up most of the night, unable to sleep.
She'd been unable to sleep because she couldn't shake the image of Draco's blonde head rushing from the library yesterday evening.
She'd spent the night in a state of wondering . Which is usually a very contenting place for Hermione to be. But not this time. She found herself wondering all sorts of nonsensical things. Things she shouldn't care about. No, things she absolutely, certainly, did notcare about.
She'd wondered, at first, if her eyes were fooling her. But she knew that they were not.
She'd wondered, next, if he had seen her, too. But she knew that he probably had.
She'd wondered if he had left because of that fact, or if he'd come because of it.
She'd wondered why he had stayed for the break, and whether or not his reasons were respectable.
She'd wondered if he was still working on the vanishing cabinet, and if he had made any progress.
She'd wondered if he had been thinking about abandoning his task, and if he still felt so helpless.
She'd wondered what ran through his head now when he saw her, and what was running through his mind when he left.
She'd wondered if she should have gone after him, and if he would have minded if she did.
She'd wondered if he replayed their conversations when he was trying to sleep.
She'd wondered if he felt this much pain whenever she thought about him.
She'd wondered if he had found any good ways to distract himself.
She'd wondered why she hadn't seen him at mealtimes the previous week, and then worried that he must not be eating properly.
She'd wondered if those dark circles under his eyes were an illusion, and worried that he must not be sleeping well most nights.
She'd wondered if it was okay that she worried about such things.
She'd wondered if he ever wondered about her.
She'd wondered if she was going mad, and then decided that she definitely was.
She'd wondered if St. Mungos had treatments for girls like her who went crazy over a boy, and then scolded herself for that thought for a full twenty-minutes.
And then she had decided that she wouldn't wonder about him anymore and that she would go to sleep.
As if that actually worked.
She'd tossed and turned and ached for hours before exhaustion had finally claimed her.
His eyes were on her again and she fought the instinct to look up.
She turned the page. She took a breath.
She felt his eyes move away.
She wondered if he could tell she's reading a muggle romance novel from across the room and if he would be offended that she wasn't reading the book that he gave her.
She wondered if she should look up and meet his eyes, if only to convey a silent "thank you" through them. She wondered if he would understand what she meant by it.
She wondered if she'd be able to look away if his silver eyes locked on hers, but she knew that she wouldn't.
When Hermione finally gave into the pull and looked up at the Slytherin table, Draco wasn't looking at her anymore. He seemed to be reading a letter, if his owl sitting next to him was any indication. The way his forehead wrinkled told her that it mustn't be a happy letter and concerns for him flooded her mind again. She watched as Draco ran his pale hands through his platinum hair, each strand falling lazily back into his eyes as he read on.
She wondered who the letter was from, but the way he fiddled with his family ring told her that she probably didn't want to know.
She took another deep breath, steadying herself against the swarm of pessimistic thoughts that plagued her mind. Hermione began to gather her things and make her way toward the Great Hall exit. A few of the students gathered at the Hufflepuff table shouted out warm wishes, and Hermione absentmindedly returned them.
When she reached the doors, she hesitated before pushing them open, thinking back to how cold the castle feels during storms and silently wishing she still had that lovely, thick cloak that smelled like him.
Against her better judgment she glanced in the direction of the Slytherin table again. This time, the letter hung loosely in Draco's left hand while he looked at her.
The stuffiness of the Great Hall fell away as if Draco was the only other person in the room. She almost hated the way he had that effect on her, but she couldn't. Not really.
He looked tired and worn, like a book that has been looked through a few dozen too many times, and she worried about him all over again. And she worried again that she shouldn't be worried about him at all.
But as he looked at her, his eyes were silver and soft, not angry. So she took a deep breath and smiled softly, mouthing a Happy Christmas as she readjusted her heavy book bag.
A moment passed before he returned the smile, though his, she noted, did not match his eyes. "Happy Christmas, Hermione" she saw him mouth back.
Bracing herself for the cold, Hermione pushed through the doors and braved her way into the empty castle. For the first time in a while, Hermione's mind did not have anything to wonder about.
She decided that she would go back to Gryffindor Tower, bundle up by the fire, and read the book her mom had sent her from cover to cover. It was a book, after all; probably a good distraction.
And really, Godric knows the best way to distract Hermione Granger is with a book.
Oxygen sat still in the space around him, frozen as he watched Hermione walk away once again. Draco blinked twice, trying to bring himself back to reality, rejoining the world from whatever impossible dream he'd just had.
The mostly-full plate in front of him was now entirely forgotten.
She looked pretty that morning. Well, she always looked pretty, he reminded himself. But this time, he wasn't only stealing glances when she wasn't looking.
She had looked at him. And she let him look back. More than that, she had smiled at him. And even though it wasn't one of her world-changing smiles, it was a smile nonetheless. More than that, even, she had wished him a Happy Christmas. And it was decidedly doubtful that Draco, in his situation, would have any sort of happiness on this day, but just knowing that Hermione wished it meant that his day would maybe not be entirely miserable.
Salazar, Draco would be riding this high well into next week, he was sure of it.
He knew that it wasn't much of anything at all. He rationalized that she probably hadn't meant anything by her whispered wishes, but maybe that's what made it what it was. Simple. Good. Unassuming.
He reached for the coffee that sat in front of him before changing his mind and pouring himself some pumpkin juice instead.
His mood almost faltered when the letter in his hand caught his attention, drawing him from his oh-so-pleasant thoughts. Looking down at his mother's elegant script, in a letter full of both love and pain, Draco felt something settle inside him, and he wasn't quite sure what it was.
My dearest Draco,
It seems it slipped my mind to inform the House Elves that you would not be returning to the Manor for the holidays; they're rather upset about the development, I must admit.
Mipsy made cinnamon rolls, of course, and left the icing off, not quite refusing your father, but as close as she might be able to get away with. I'll treasure the memory of little Mipsy stomping her foot and standing her ground against Lucius himself because "That's Master Draco's job, every Christmas."
We ate them plain.
The star never made its way to the top of the tree without your assistance either.
My love, I don't mean to burden you with the strained heartstrings of a mother without her child on Christmas for the first time since he was born, but in sixteen years that tree has never managed to look quite so despondent and lacking, even adorned in more baubles and finery than the wealthiest pureblood witch.
I have been accused of ruining Christmas by refusing to place the star without your help, but I cannot bear to break the tradition we have made. A masked smile and this simple excuse dispelled any arguments from your father, who returned home last week, but I didn't dare to suggest what I really thought. The demise of my Christmas spirit and dedication as Lady of the Manor has withered thanks to his efforts, his house guests, in particular.
Instead, I bite my tongue.
But it doesn't feel like Christmas without you, my Dragon. My heart aches for years past, when you were but a child and all of this was but a distant memory I had hoped to never relive.
It is my hope that Hogwarts is providing you comfort and reprieve from the loneliness that haunts our home. Don't shoulder the weight of the world, Draco; there is no need. Your happiness and safety are all that I have ever wanted.
Thank you so very much for the gifts, dear one, I will treasure them endlessly. Your taste is (thanks to my teaching I hope) impeccable as always. Diamonds for strength and emeralds for hope. A reminder of the things you always give to me when I am most in need.
Draco, I am so exceptionally proud of you. Do not doubt yourself and your abilities. It is not in our nature to be brave, to protect others selflessly, but I can see that potential in you. You are meant for so much more in this life and I have not done enough to protect you.
Your most admirable qualities, your father lacks. You have always been a better man than he could ever hope to be. I am sorry for how I have failed you, but we will endure. You and I will stand together on the other side of this, so long as I have diamonds for strength and emeralds for hope.
Thank you, my shining constellation of a son. I love you more than words can express. You are my shining star and if I could, I might replace that Christmas star with a portrait of you atop our tree.
Happy Christmas, dearest son, my love for you is endless.
NM
Draco ran his hand through his hair, messing it up in a way that would have made his mother glare. Subconsciously, maybe, he knew he was hurting her. He knew Christmas without him, especially right now, would be difficult for her.
Draco reminded himself that he was protecting her, protecting everyone. Surely, she would understand.
She looked to him for strength.
She leaned on him with hope.
She stood up for him.
She was proud of him.
She believed in him.
Surely, she would… understand.
A/N: There are so many wonderful Dramione stories out there, and that people continue to read mine is an honor. Thank you!
Shoutout to MythalGivesYouDreams and Mercedesdfu for not only being loyal readers, but also commenters. I revived this story from abandonment because of one comment. Comments make the world go around. They make me smile. They keep me writing. Thank you!
Big thank you to Sara who has helped me with ideas, plot, grammar, flow, everything. I am indebted to my generous beta readers! If you are interested in alpha reading for me on this story or a one shot, please let me know in a comment or on Tumblr OxfordElise.
Disclaimer: All publically recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of J.K. Rowling.
Many thanks to anyone who takes the time to read this story, OxfordElise