Hello dear readers!

I know it has been a long while since I last posted, and apologies if you've been waiting on an update! I've been through a few trying weeks and hope to come back into the flow of writing more consistently soon!

THANK YOU for being here and for continuing to read my story. I hope this chapter won't dissapoint!

I really hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 6 – Discovery and Gratitude

The chill in the air at Hogwarts carried a sense of foreboding as Draco strode through the castle's dimly lit corridors. He had managed to slip away from the festivities in Hogsmeade to meet with Hermione, and to sneak back in in the late hours of the night undetected.

His shoulders felt heavy under his cape, as if its fabric has been suddenly transfigured to lead.

How did I allow myself to lose my composure with her…

The image of her crying face kept flashing before his eyes as he quickened his stride towards the dungeon, passing by the night's patrolling prefects with ease, having disillusioned himself and silenced his steps. Magic had gotten exponentially easier to wield since his fifteenth birthday, with spells that pose a challenge to most adult wizards being nothing more than child's play for him.

Yet, with all his precociousness, he was quick to falter before her tears.

'That simply won't do,' he imagined his mother scolding him, reminding him of the fragility of their situation.

He sighed as he finally reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room, muttering the password under his breath.

Slumber could not come soon enough.

A few weeks passed and the trees gradually shed their leaves in a cascade of warm autumnal colors, until they were left barren in the cold Scottish air.

And life had only served to get colder and more trying for Draco Malfoy.

His visits to the Manor had been exceptionally more frequent throughout the month, with the Dark Lord growing bolder with his attacks on muggles…attacks he demanded Draco participate in.

The young wizard often felt the need to remind himself that he was still a Hogwarts student, finding himself seldom present in classes.

One late November day, after lunch, he was asked by Theo to meet him in an empty classroom on the second floor for a talk. As he walked in, Draco found himself facing an unexpected interrogation. Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass and Blaise Zabini had also been waiting for him there with Theo.

"Is this an intervention?" He asks, glaring at the trio.

"Draco, where have you been disappearing to lately?" Pansy demanded, her dark eyes narrowing.

Blaise added, "We hardly see you during meals, and you've been absent from our usual Slytherin gatherings. You've missed two Quidditch games for Merlin's sake! The team is seriously thinking about suspending you from your role as seeker and just replacing you with your backup permanently!"

Theo chimed in, "Rumors are spreading, mate. People are starting to wonder."

Draco's eyes stilled on Theo, knowing he must have orchestrated this interrogation. "You couldn't have talked to me one-on-one, mate?"

The brunette ran a hand through his wavy locks. "Yeah Dray, because that's been working out swimmingly for me. Every time I attempted to approach you with the subject, you would deflect or even run off mid conversation, you prat."

"Theo…" Draco hissed.

Daphne quickly shuffled to stand in front of her boyfriend, turning to shoot him a disapproving look before shifting her focus back to Draco. "What Theodore is trying to say is that…he's just worried about you, we all are."

Draco sighed, realizing he couldn't evade their questions any longer. "I've been... occupied with something important," he replied cryptically.

Pansy's gaze turned piercing. "Occupied? Draco, you are never here!"

"I have a lot of matters to handle," Draco retorted, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "Would you like a daily log detailing my activities, Pansy?"

Theo's expression softened, a touch of understanding in his blue eyes. "Mate, we get it. Since your father was captured, you've had to shoulder all his responsibilities as head of the family. By Salazar, so was mine! So, I get it. I do. But you've got to give us something!"

Draco interrupted, his jaw tightening. "I can't say more, Theo. You, of all people, know better than to ask me this."

Pansy sighed, concern replacing her earlier impatience. "Draco, we're your friends. If you're in trouble or if something's wrong, we want to help."

"There's nothing you can do…there's nothing to begin with!" Draco replied, his voice snappy, and his eyes piercing, "it's just been tough at home, that's all."

Before the conversation could delve deeper, a flicker of movement caught Draco's attention from the corner of his eye. His gaze locked onto some glistening threads lurking in the shadows—a hidden figure that should not be there.

His friends observed him worriedly as he quickly reached for his wand while sharply turning towards the doorway.

"Let me guess…it's you,Potter," Draco sneered, his hand tightly gripping his wand "Don't let me undo your disillusionment myself."

Harry emerged from the darkness, invisibility cloak in hand, his green eyes ablaze with a mixture of anger and suspicion. "Malfoy, what are you up to? Where have you been sneaking off to?"

The tension in the unused classroom at Hogwarts reached a boiling point as Draco and Harry faced off, their wands drawn, and words laced with animosity. Pansy, Blaise, Daphne and Theodore, sensing the escalating conflict, moved closer, forming a protective circle around Draco.

"You've always been a thorn in my side, Potter," Draco derided, his silver eyes narrowing.

Harry's response was curt, his gaze unwavering. "You're despicable, Malfoy. Your sudden disappearances, the secrets you're keeping—it's all connected to something dark. I heard you talking just now."

Draco's lips curled into a disdainful smirk. "Always the Gryffindor hero, seeking trouble where there isn't any. Run along now Potty, before I make you regret showing up."

The exchange of verbal jabs intensified, each accusation driving them further into an impending duel. Pansy stepped forward, her voice sharp and defensive. "Enough, Potter! Draco doesn't owe you any explanations."

Theo added, "Don't you have something more important to do, like polishing Slughorn's arse?"

Harry glared at Theo. "At least I'm not licking the boots of the people who go around killing innocent people, like your own classmates and their families, like Hermione and her parents!" Harry's eyes were directed again at Draco, as if daring him to admit to any involvement.

If looks could kill, then Harry Potter would have collapsed then and there from Draco Malfoy's glower "I am warning you again Potter, leave or else."

Blaise, ever the pragmatist, attempted to defuse the situation. "Look, can't we all just calm down? There's no need for a fight."

But the animosity had reached a point of no return. Spells threatened to release as Draco and Harry approached each other, their wands raised.

Pansy, unwilling to stand by, raised her wand, determined to shield Draco from Harry's onslaught.

Theo and Blaise joined in, their loyalty to Draco evident.

"Potter, just leave. You're clearly outnumbered. You have no business being here anyway!" Daphne exclaimed while looking around, trying her best to end the conflict before they can be caught by Filch or any professors.

"You can't face me without your sidekicks, can you Malfoy?" Harry spat, unyielding.

Before Draco could respond, Professor Snape, alerted by the disturbance, swept into the room, his black robes billowing. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, his stern gaze surveying the scene.

Blaise, realizing the precarious situation, quickly stepped forward. "Professor, it's just a disagreement. We were trying to sort it out."

Snape's eyes narrowed, his suspicion evident. "Detention, all of you. Ten points from Slytherin. Ten points from Gryffindor. Now, leave this classroom at once."

Reluctantly, they all moved to exit the classroom, leaving behind a tense atmosphere. Harry's gaze met Draco's one last time, a silent promise of unfinished business lingering in the air.

As the students filed out of the classroom, Pansy shot a defiant glance at Harry. "You don't know anything, Potter. Leave Draco alone."

Before Draco could leave as well, Snape stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder "Not so fast Draco. Not before you explain."

Draco's jaw tightened, his lips a firm line. "Nothing happened. Just Potter putting his nose where it doesn't belong."

Snape, unsatisfied, held his godson's shoulders firmly, looking around to see if anyone else was in sight, then looking back sharply at the blond. "Don't you dare endanger yourself in that way again. Do you not understand the precariousness of your position?"

Draco, fuming, shook himself from his godfather's grip as he hissed "You think I don't? You think I'm not aware of the consequences should I take a single misstep at any point?" He sighed and shook his head, looking back at Snape "I appreciate the concern, godfather, but I need to go back to my dormitory." And without waiting for the older man's response, he walked away.

Back in the quiet seclusion of the cottage, Hermione delved into Abraxas Malfoy's fifth journal with a newfound sense of anticipation. The journal chronicled an increased number of encounters between the late Malfoy patriarch and Tom Riddle during their fifth year at Hogwarts. Abraxas's writings reflected a mix of admiration and wariness, as if he sensed the darkness that lingered beneath Riddle's polished exterior.

Or because he so badly wanted to convince himself that Riddle was beneath him due to being a half-blood.

As she traced her fingers over the aged pages of the journal, Hermione found an entry that piqued her interest:

'March 17th,

Tom was engrossed in that wretched book again, 'Anima Maledicta and Sacra.' He claims it holds secrets to unprecedented power. Foolish boy, playing with forces beyond his understanding. The line is very fine between ambition and madness.'

Madness.

This had to be it!

The mere mention of the book sent ripples of curiosity through her. The tome's name could only begin to hint at the potential of forbidden magical practices inside, that skirted the edges of morality and legality.

Anima Maledicta and Sacra…Curses and Rituals of the Soul! – Hermione thought as she translated the title from Latin to English in her mind.

Hours passed as Hermione read more and more, absorbing the details of Abraxas's observations. The references to "Anima Maledicta and Sacra" became more frequent, mainly of the fact that Riddle couldn't seem to be able to put it down, obsessing over its pages.

There must be a connection between Tom Riddle's ambitions and the forbidden knowledge contained within the mysterious tome.

She needed to get her hands on a copy.

After having thoroughly scoured the study's bookshelves with little hope to begin with, she resigned herself with a huff to the fact that the book was, obviously, not a part of Malfoy's regular reading list. She then recalled him mentioning how vast and expansive the library at Malfoy Manor was.

With a renewed sense of purpose, Hermione wasted no time. She retrieved her charmed journal, quill in hand, and began composing a message to Malfoy.

Dear Aragorn,

I hope this message finds you well.

I've stumbled upon a crucial lead—a book that Sauron was known to have an affinity for. I shall write the book's name on a separate page and will make sure to erase it by tomorrow out of precaution.

I need to obtain a copy of the book and was wondering if you may be able to help me.

Best,

Arwen

A full day went by, with no answer from Malfoy. She had attempted to immerse herself back into research all day, but her thoughts would always circle back to the mysterious book and to Malfoy's lack of response. The sun set, the evening passed, and her journal still showed no sign of activity. She huffed as she grabbed the journal and headed upstairs to her bedroom.

As the night progressed, Hermione couldn't shake the sense of urgency that gripped her. She lay in bed, unable to sleep, staring at ceiling, with her journal tucked under her pillow. The pieces of the puzzle were aligning, and with Malfoy's help, she hoped he could unearth the information they needed.

As her eyes began to flutter, slumber finally arriving to claim her, the Missaticum charm glowed softly under her pillow, emitting both light and heat, causing her to jolt up into a sitting position. She quickly yanked the journal from under her and opened it.

Dear Arwen,

I've looked all over the Isengardian library for the book, but there is no trace of it. It must be a very rare and restricted text, but I will keep trying. Maybe my servant can help me find it elsewhere. It might take some time, but I'll keep you updated. Stay vigilant, and if you need anything else, don't hesitate to ask.

Best,

Aragorn

Hermione's heart sank. The search for this book will not be easy. Yet, hope was not yet lost, and the prospect of obtaining the elusive book offered a glimmer of hope in their quest to understand Voldemort's past and, potentially, uncover a weakness that could be exploited.

A few days later, in the dimly lit library of Malfoy Manor, Tilly, the diligent house-elf, as instructed by her master, scoured the shelves for any trace of the elusive tome, "Anima Maledicta and Sacra", which was likely charmed to resist retrieving spells if it was even in the library.

After meticulous searching, Tilly's eyes widened with a glint of triumph as she pulled a dusty, neglected volume from a concealed compartment behind a row of dark arts literature. The spine of the book bore the ominous title in faded golden letters.

"Master Draco will be pleased," Tilly murmured to herself, happy to be able to help the Malfoy heir in any way she could.

With the ancient tome carefully cradled in her spindly arms, Tilly disapparated from Malfoy Manor. Moments later, she materialized outside the remote Transylvanian cottage. The night was shrouded in darkness, and the only source of illumination came from the soft burning of a candle that can be seen through the study's window.

Tilly approached the cottage quietly and discreetly. The old door creaked open as she opened it, revealing the cozy interior of the house. The elf then quickly headed to the study where Hermione was engrossed in one of Abraxas Malfoy's journals.

"Miss Hermione!" Tilly's high-pitched voice announced her presence, and Hermione looked up in surprise.

"Tilly! You gave me such a fright!" Hermione exclaimed. She then stood and shook her head softly, offering a smile "What brings you here?" Hermione greeted the house-elf, setting aside the journal.

Tilly bowed low, presenting the ancient tome, eyes brimming with a proud sense of accomplishment. "Tilly found the book, Miss! In the Manor library!"

Hermione's eyes widened with excitement. "You found it! Tilly, this is incredible. Thank you." She took the book gently, marveling at the weight of its significance.

"Master Draco said it is crucial," Tilly explained, her ears twitching with eagerness. "Is there anything else Tilly can do for Miss Hermione?"

Hermione pondered for a moment. "Tilly, keep this between us. Do not tell anyone about this, please! We are working on something important, and discretion is key."

The house-elf nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, Miss Hermione! Tilly will be very discreet." With another bow, Tilly disapparated from the cottage, leaving Hermione alone with the ancient book that held the promise of unlocking the secrets of Voldemort's nefarious past.

Before venturing into the ominous tome, Hermione grabbed her charmed journal from the study's desk and wrote Malfoy the briefest of messages, eager to delve into the book.

Aragorn,

Your servant succeeded in finding the book and has delivered it to me.

Best,

Arwen.

As she opened the book in question, Hermione couldn't help but feel a cold shiver up her spine, dreading what she will find within its worn pages.

But as soon as she began reading, she quickly found she could not get herself to stop.

For days on end, Hermione found herself ensnared in the clutches of the ancient volume, her quest for knowledge taking precedence above anything else. Sleep became a distant companion as she flipped from one page to the next, plunging deeper into the unsettling depths of the dark arts. The rituals chronicled within the book's sheets were a grotesque tableau of malevolence, each incantation and sacrificial act seemingly more abhorrent than the last. The very essence of her being recoiled at the description of acts such as blood sacrifices, consumption of unicorn blood, and even the desecration of tombs—all detailed with a chilling precision that screamed of unspeakable cruelty.

Whoever wrote this book was the scum of the earth, and Hermione's stomach flipped as she imagined the suffering its teachings must have undoubtedly caused.

Regardless, she pressed on, she had to.

The days blurred into a monotonous continuum of research, her eyes becoming bloodshot and her body growing more and more fatigued, but Hermione will be damned before she even attempts to give up.

Suddenly, her breath hitched as she stumbled upon the title of a new chapter, strategically positioned towards the last quarter of the seemingly interminable book. The words leapt off the page, and her racing heart almost stopped. The chapter, seemingly even more macabre than its predecessors, was so horridly titled, she almost couldn't believe her eyes, yet as she re-read it and re-read it, it was undeniable. There it was, the potential key to Voldemort's power, written in bold font:

The Study and Creation of Horcruxes – How One May Fragment their Own Soul

Taking a steadying breath, Hermione braced herself as she began to read into the dreaded chapter. The text unfolded a dark tapestry of magical atrocities, describing the ancient and forbidden art of splitting one's soul into pieces, and these pieces were called Horcruxes.

The whole concept was disgustingly despicable, and it left Hermione feeling sick to her stomach.

Yet she read on…and on…

She couldn't afford to overlook any detail, no matter how unsettling.

And unsettling it surely was.

Hermione was horrified at the sheer malevolence of the ancient wizards who had sought to defy death through such abominable means. How could one even reach such a point of no return?

The process of creating a Horcrux required the commission of murder.

The act of extinguishing another human life was an essential component, a sacrilegious transaction that carried so much dark magic that it would be enough to tear apart the very fabric of one's soul.

The idea of deliberately shattering one's soul through the act of murder was a perversion of magic, an affront to the natural order. It was a descent into the darkest recesses of sorcery, and she couldn't fathom the depths of depravity required to perform such a ritual.

The book detailed how a wizard could encase a fragment of their soul in an object, rendering them immortal as long as the Horcrux existed. The implications were chilling—the act of murder, the violation of the soul, and the perverse quest for immortality…

It was too much for her to bear.

She quickly slammed the book shut, her eyes stinging with angry unshed tears.

If Voldemort had indeed created a Horcrux, or even more than one, each tied to a heinous act of murder, then killing him will prove to be an arduous task, bordering on impossible. Where on earth would one even begin to look for Voldemort's horcruxes?!

Moreover, the book had absolutely no mention as to how to destroy a Horcrux, which complicated matters even further.

No…it was more than complicated. This truly was impossible.

Hermione slouched further into her seat, roughly wiping the tears away from her cheeks. She couldn't afford to falter; she had to share this information with Malfoy. With a quick glance at the enchanted clock, she realized that time had slipped away unnoticed. It was well past midnight.

With a heavy sigh, Hermione grabbed her charmed journal to pen a message to Malfoy.

Dear Aragorn,

I've made a chilling discovery within the book, one that I fear I can only share with you in person. Let me know when you can come over.

Best,

Arwen

Several moments passed before the journal emitted a soft glow, signaling Malfoy's reply. Thankfully he was still awake.

Dear Arwen,

I will come over as soon as I can.

Best,

Aragorn

Hermione felt both a sense of reassurance at Malfoy's words, but also frustration at the fact that he did not say when exactly he would be visiting her.

After having made this disturbing discovery about Voldemort, her solitude became even more pronounced, enough to make her want Malfoy of all people to be here to share the burden with her.

With an angry huff, she closed the journal, leaving the study bathed in the soft glow of enchanted candles as she headed to bed.

The next day, Hermione spent the daylight hours preparing the cottage for Malfoy's visit. He hadn't specified when he would be able to come, the brat, but she could not think of anything else. She tried to think positively, telling herself that he would be here soon as she arranged the ancient books and texts, creating a space conducive to focused discussion. The snowfall outside on the excessively cold mid-December day also reminded her to add more logs to hearth, while wrapping a fluffy blanker around her shoulders for added warmth.

As the evening approached, Hermione found herself pacing anxiously.

Surely he realizes how important my message was?!

As the sun dipped below the horizon, her patience was running even thinner. She waited, her senses heightening as she stared at the front door, as if willing him to enter through it.

But then midnight came, and there was still no sign of him. Hermione sighed in defeat, blaming herself for getting her hopes up. She grabbed her enchanted journal and wrote him a message:

Dear Aragorn,

I must stress again the importance of my discovery. Please let me know when you will be able to join me.

Best,

Arwen

After waiting for another hour, the journal glowed softly in her hands, and she hastily opened it:

Dear Arwen,

I understand the gravity of the situation, however, having left Isengard for the holidays, I still have not found the opportunity to escape.

Best,

Aragorn

Crestfallen, Hermione stood, the journal still in her hand, and marched up to bed.

As more days slipped away, heralding the arrival of Christmas Eve, Malfoy was yet to make an appearance. Despite the festive nature of the day, Hermione had little to celebrate. In fact, she was miserable at the prospect of spending the holiday alone. Determined to infuse a sense of warmth into the atmosphere, she took to decorating the interior of the cottage, culminating in the addition of a beautifully adorned Christmas tree.

Completing her merry task, she settled into her familiar armchair by the fireplace, admiring the twinkling lights of the tree. The decorations invoked memories of past Christmases with her parents and the joyous gatherings at the Burrow with Harry and the Weasleys.

It only served to make her feel even lonelier…lonely enough to wish Draco bloody Malfoy was there with her.

But what if Malfoy couldn't make it during the holidays?

The mere thought brought tears to her eyes, tracing a glistening path down her cheek.

With a stifled sob, Hermione rose, walking to the study to grab from one of the bookshelves the only thing in which she could seek solace. As she plopped back on her living room armchair, she found herself amidst the company of Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy in her favorite book and hoped that the regency period drama would provide a respite from the solitude.

As Christmas Eve unfolded into a tranquil night, the hope for Draco's surprise visit dwindled with each passing moment. A sense of resignation settled over her as she prepared to retire to her bed, her thoughts still filled with the unfulfilled wish for company.

The next day dawned with its all too usual quietness, the heavy snowfall outside muffling the sounds of the world. Hermione had just finished eating her breakfast, and even in her attristed state, she made sure to tidy up the kitchen before coming back to the living room.

As she settled back into the familiar embrace of her armchair, clutching her beloved novel, she resigned herself to a lonely holiday. The story unfolded before her, the characters dancing through the pages, yet the world within the book couldn't dispel her sorrow. The solitude that had been a silent companion gripped her heart, threatening to overwhelm her.

As the hours meandered on, Hermione's eyes began to flutter close, and she succumbed to a shallow slumber, with the book laying open on her lap.

It wasn't until the early hours of the afternoon on Christmas Day that a soft knock echoed through the cottage walls, startling Hermione from her peaceful nap. Confusion flickered in her hazel eyes as she stirred awake, only to be replaced by wariness.

Slowly walking to the door with her wand clutched tightly in her hand, Hermione let out a quick sigh of relief as she found the young man with the familiar shock of platinum blond hair waiting outside. He wore dark robes that contrasted with the pristine white landscape, and his gaze carried a mixture of weariness and a subtle hint of sadness. He gave her a curt nod as he met her eyes.

"Malfoy," Hermione breathed, a rush of emotions surging within her.

"Hey, Granger," he replied. "Mind if I join you?"

A sense of solace surged through Hermione like a tide, and this time, it was a happy sob that escaped her lips. She threw her arms around Draco in a sudden and tight embrace. At first, he was taken aback, but then he tentatively circled his arms around her, setting his head atop hers.

The embrace lingered for a few moments, the warmth of shared comfort enveloping them like a cocoon. When they finally pulled away, a blushing Hermione ushered Draco inside, the crackling fire offering a haven from the cold.

"Thank you for coming. I know it must have been hard to escape, all things considered…" Hermione said, a soft sincerity in her voice.

Draco offered her a slight smile, "No worries." They stood in the cozy living room, the flames in the hearth casting a warm glow over their figures. He cast his gaze to the floor while she awkwardly wrung her hands.

"Would you like some tea?" Hermione suggested, her voice slightly louder than intended, in an attempt to break the uncomfortable silence.

The young wizard quickly nodded appreciatively yet desolately, "Tea sounds perfect."

She hastily rushed to the kitchen, slightly but clumsily tripping over the rug as she did so. Cursing under her breath, she did not turn to see his reaction, instead hurrying until a door separated her from the living room. She slumped against the wall, letting out a frustrated yet whispered cry, burying her reddened face in her hands.

Get a grip Hermione! What is wrong with me! I've made a fool of myself in front of him!

Her honeyed eyes then widened as she recalled how she had welcomed him at the door, a groan escaping her lips.

I can't believe I hugged Draco bloody Malfoy! Am I this starved for company?!

Knowing better than answering her own question in her mind, Hermione quickly busied herself with the teapot, silently willing her cheeks to return to their natural subtle flush. As her heartbeat began to calm down, she couldn't help but think of the restrained sadness he was trying so hard to hide. The weight of the world seemed to lay on his shoulders, and her curious mind was begging her to ask him about it, but she didn't wish to disturb the pleasant moment they were currently sharing…at least not yet.

Not when her own spirits were finally getting lifted for the first time in weeks.

As the tea was done brewing, she poured the contents of the kettle into a porcelain tea pot and placed the latter, along with two cups on a tray. She took a deep breath and steeled herself as she carried the tray, marching back to the living room.

As they settled into their respective armchairs, teacups in hand, the crackling fireplace separating them, the air was charged with unspoken unease as Hermione tried to recover from her unfortunate earlier blunder, and Draco's saddened eyes focused on the dancing flames.

"Granger-" Draco began, his voice tinged with a heaviness that mirrored the weight on his shoulders and his downcast irises holding a hint of guilt, "I'm sorry. I know you've probably been going barmy with solitude…I should have come see you sooner."

Hermione's lips couldn't help but part in surprise, yet then spread into a shy smile.

"Malfoy, it's Christmas. Despite everything, we should take some time to enjoy it. I think we owe it to ourselves, after everything that has happened…don't we?"

He nodded, finally meeting her eyes, offering her an all too quick smile.

Had she blinked, she would have probably missed it.

Hermione's fingers nervously played with a strand of her curly hair as she realized he may not be able to keep her company for long. "How long will you be able to stay?" she blurted out, her then gaze averting his in embarrassment, choosing to focus on her hair instead.

"My godfather managed to convince the Dark Lord that they needed to spend time strategizing over next steps only within his innermost circle. This left me the opportunity to have the remainder of the holiday to myself." His eyes softened at her honey-colored eyes snapped back up from her locks to look at him, a beautiful smile tracing her lips.

"So that means you'll be staying here until after New Year's?" She couldn't help but feel excited at the prospect.

He nodded and said, "I will still have to check back in for an hour or so everyday, but essentially…yes."

Hermione internally squealed with excitement before she could stop herself, hoping her exterior did not betray her and that Malfoy could not perceive her elation at his news. "I think I'm in the mood for some cake if you are." she announced as she stood, rushing towards the kitchen to grab them two slices of a chocolate cake that she had prepared the day before.

As Hermione returned with the plates laden with cake, she noticed a subtle change in Draco's demeanor. The heaviness in his eyes seemed to lift momentarily, replaced by a flicker of something akin to gratitude. The aroma of the rich chocolate filled the air as she set the plates on the table, and they both took a moment to savor the sweetness.

Draco, though still reserved, seemed more at ease as they indulged in the decadent treat. The atmosphere shifted from heavy tension to a momentary reprieve, a respite carved out in the midst of their troubles.

"This is incredible," Draco remarked, genuine appreciation in his voice.

Hermione couldn't help but smile, the act of sharing a simple pleasure like cake creating another bridge between them. "Thank you."

They spent the next hour talking about lighter topics, steering away from the looming darkness that had surrounded them for so long. Laughter mingled with the crackling of the fireplace as they exchanged funny stories and memories from both Hogwarts and their childhoods before it, and through it discovered that they had more in common than they may have realized before.

She told him of her favorite playwright, George Bernard Shaw, to which he expressed his deep appreciation for Pygmalion. His preferred playwright however was Molière.

He told her of his favorite composer, Beethoven, to which she enthusiastically agreed and went on to gush over how beautiful his ninth symphony was.

"Do you play the piano?" He asked as he sipped on his second cup of tea.

She shook her head, "No, it's a regret of mine to not have pursued learning it when I was a child. Do you?"

He nodded. "My mother began teaching me as soon as I turned five. At first, I hated it, as a young, spoiled child would, but I quickly learned how beautiful and rewarding it was, especially when I started composing my own music."

Hermione's eyes were wide as saucers. "You…compose your own music?" she parroted.

He let out a quick laugh, "I do, Granger. Though it is not a fact I wish to advertise, so do keep it to yourself."

She smiled sadly, "your secret is safe with me…it's not like I can tell anyone while I'm stuck here."

His eyes met the floor at the sad truth in her words. "I'm sorry…I—"

"You can pay me back by playing me some of your compositions some day."

He lifted his gaze to meet hers and found her offering him a gentle smile, which he unknowingly returned.

"Maybe I will."

As the day unfolded into evening, the pair shared a turkey dinner that Hermione had prepared a couple days before and maintained with a stasis charm, followed by even more cake. The enchanted candles cast a warm glow around them, and the snowfall outside painted a serene backdrop. Hermione couldn't help but feel happy, grateful at the way Malfoy's presence had unexpectedly transformed the solemn space into one filled with welcome camaraderie.

As the clock chimed midnight, Draco's gaze met Hermione's with a soft intensity. "I did not notice the time…thank you for this," he said, his voice sincere.

Hermione smiled, her eyes reflecting her own gratitude. "Thank you too."

He looked at her with twinge of sadness, but then offered her a sincere smile as he clinked their teacups together in a silent toast.

"Ah, I almost forgot!" She exclaimed as she suddenly stood and rushed towards the study and back, holding a neatly yet festively packaged box in her arms. "Here you go!" she said as she excitedly handed him the box.

Draco looked confused as he undid the Christmas themed wrapping and ribbons and opening the box to reveal a green and silver knitted scarf.

"I knit it myself" she added, an adorable tinge of pride in her voice "had to pass the time somehow."

It tugged at his heartstrings as he wondered how much time she must have spent making this for him. The sheer idea that THE Hermione Granger, the witch he had tormented for so long, cared enough to offer him such a special present.

"I don't deserve your kindness."

He was shocked that he had said it out loud.

She shook her head "It's no bother. Consider it thanks for informing me of my parents' wellbeing…and for the macarons."

He gave her a soft yet thankful smile as he wrapped the scarf around his neck, struggling to find the words to respond to her overwhelming gesture. "Thank you, Granger."

Before she could respond, Draco stood and walked towards the entrance, where his cloak hung on the tall wooden coat hanger. He grabbed a small beautifully and expensively wrapped box deep from pocket of his cloak and walked back towards the brown-haired witch, who was looking at him curiously. He knelt in front of her seated form and placed the gift on her lap "For you, milady".

Hermione was surprised by his elaborate yet, dare she think, traditionally gentlemanly posture. She focused back on the object on her lap, studying the shiny silver and green wrapping. She rolled her eyes as she thought 'Ever the Slytherin' as she gingerly removed the intricate paper and opening the box. Her eyes widened and her lips parted, gasping as she saw what was inside. A platinum chain adorned by a pendant that can only be described as exquisite. It was shaped like a small star and was made of white gold adorned with diamonds and a stunning emerald in the middle.

"It belonged to my mother" Draco said softly "It holds a protective charm, one that would cast a strong shield and disillusionment spell over you should you be faced by sudden danger."

Hermione was rendered almost speechless at the value and significance of the gift "Malfoy…I – this is too much – I cannot accept this—"

"Please don't – I would feel much more at ease while away knowing you have an added layer of protection. Please…may I?" Draco said as he gestured at her to hand him the necklace to put around her neck.

Fully speechless now, she nodded and turned around, lifting her hair as gently clasped the chain in place, the hairs at the back of her neck rising as his fingers touched her skin in the process. She turned back to face him, her cheeks red and her eyes sparkling as she stared down at the beautiful pendant "It's so beautiful…thank you."

He smiled "Happy Christmas, Hermione."

A laugh escaped her lips as she looked back up into his shiny silver eyes "Happy Christmas, Draco."

Hermione found out about horcruxes! Draco and Hermione celebrated Christmas day together!

How did you find this chapter? What do you think of Draco and Hermione's dynamic? Where do you think the story is headed?

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Until next time!

Cleo26