Christmas Eve at the Burrow had always felt like something out of a fairy tale – glowing candlelight, the scent of cinnamon and pine needles drifting through the air and the warmth of laughter echoing through the crooked walls. But this year, the magic felt dimmer.

Fred's loss weighed heavily, lingering like a ghost in every shared glance and unfinished joke. And despite the festive atmosphere, Hermione felt more distant from Harry and Ron than ever. Her parents, still oceans away in Australia, had sent their love in a carefully worded letter but ink on parchment was a poor substitute for their presence.

Sleep had been elusive since the events of the Christmas party back at Hogwarts. So, when Hermione found herself alone in the kitchen at dawn, it was no surprise. The Burrow's usual comforting chaos was stilled in the hush of early morning, the only sound the occasional creek of the old house settling into the winter cold.

She leaned against the worn wooden counter, cradling a steaming cup of tea between her chilled fingers. The warmth spread into her palms but it did little to thaw the heaviness weighing in her chest. Hermione's gaze drifted to the frost-laced window, where the first streaks of silver-blue light crept over the horizon.

Then, a flutter of wings. A grey owl, sleek and unfamiliar, landed on the windowsill, its sharp yellow eyes fixing on her intensely. A rolled piece of parchment was tied securely to its outstretched leg. Hesitation flickered through her before she reached forward to untie the letter, assuming that she was, in fact, the recipient. The owl didn't move, watching her expectantly as she uncurled the parchment.

Dear Hermione,

Draco told me what happened between the two of you. Please don't be mad at him, I can be very convincing. I knew something was up when you both left the party early. He was being weird and evasive when I saw him later and you didn't even say goodbye when you left the next morning.

Don't worry, I'm not mad. I'm just worried.

You don't have to respond to this letter but if you could find a way to let me know that you're okay, I'd appreciate it.

I haven't had a chance to look for the dagger yet. Narcissa won't leave me alone long enough to give me the opportunity. Hopefully it's here. We have a lot of work to do when we get back to school.

Merry Christmas, Hermione.

Theo

Hermione exhaled slowly, pressing the parchment flat against the counter. She felt bad for leaving Theo in the dark. Especially since they had grown so close in recent months and he was even closer with Malfoy. She wasn't surprised that he had told Theo what had happened between them. She took a moment to quickly scratch a response on a scrap piece of parchment laying in the kitchen.

I am fine.

Happy Christmas, Theo.

H.

Hermione handed it carefully to the grey owl who quickly set off, ruffling its feather once before launching into the crisp morning air and vanishing beyond the tree line. She watched it go, her fingers tightening around the edge of the counter. She knew Theo wouldn't believe her, not really. And she hated that he was right to worry.

She sighed, rubbing a hand over her tired eyes. Theo's letter reminded her of how much work still lay ahead – of the dagger they needed to find – of Grimmauld Place, where she had searched the night before in vain.

"You're up early," a familiar voice appeared beside her, snapping her from her thoughts. The front door had swung open, allowing a gust of cold air to sweep through the room, rustling the pages of the book she had abandoned on the table. Standing in the doorway, framed by the golden light of the rising sun, was Charlie Weasley. A single, well-worn leather bag hung over his broad shoulder, his cheeks tinged pink from the bite of the morning cold.

"Charlie!" Hermione greeted enthusiastically. "I thought you weren't coming this year."

Charlie chuckled, stepping forward to envelop her in a firm hug. "I thought I'd surprise everyone."

"Your mum will be thrilled," Hermione said, returning the embrace happily.

Welcoming the distraction, Hermione busied herself in the kitchen, brewing fresh coffee while Charlie settled into a chair at the wooden dining table. The scent of rich, dark roast filled the air as they caught up in quiet tones, their conversation weaving between topics effortlessly. He asked about her arm, his gaze flickering to the place where – as far as he knew – she had been injured. Hermione, forcing a reassuring smile, lied smoothly, assuring him it had healed completely, thanks to the salve he had been sending her.

By nine o'clock, the house stirred to life. Molly was the first to emerge, still tying her apron strings as she bustled into the kitchen. Upon seeing Charlie, she let out an emotional cry, pulling him into a tight hug. She wasted no time launching into preparations for breakfast, her annual Christmas Eve feast quickly in full swing. The scent of sizzling bacon, fresh bread and spiced eggs soon filled the air, wrapping the house in a comforting embrace.

The meal was an animated affair. The room buzzed with conversation, overlapping voices and bursts of laughter as the Weasley family gathered around the table. Eventually, one by one, family members drifted off to begin their holiday tasks, leaving only Hermione, Harry, Ron, Ginny and Charlie still lingering, engaged in lively discussion.

Charlie was midway through recounting a particularly harrowing – albeit amusing – encounter with a rookie dragon trainer who had nearly set a Romanian Longhorn loose, when Ginny, who was several cups deep into Molly's famous eggnog, abruptly narrowed her eyes at him and Hermione, scrutinising them with an intensity that made Hermione shift uncomfortably.

"Oh… my…" she started slowly when there was a break in the conversation. "You two have had sex!"

A stunned silence fell over the table at Ginny's random outburst.

"Merlin, Ginny!" Hermione sputtered, nearly knocking over her coffee. "Have some decorum." Heat surged up her neck and into her cheeks. Across from her, Harry and Ron both stared down at their plates, looking anywhere by at the pair in question, as if willing the conversation to disappear.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Ginny retorted, unbothered. "Am I wrong?"

"Yes!" They answered together.

"Then what in Merlin's name is this weird energy between you two?" Ginny asked, seemingly disappointed in her inaccuracy. Hermione dropped her gaze to the floor, her fingers tightening around the handle of her mug. Charlie cleared his throat and actively supressed a smile. "What?" Ginny pressed upon seeing their reaction.

"Nothing," Charlie responded quickly, raising his hands in mock defence.

"Liar!" Ginny accused, jabbing a finger in his direction and blinking heavily to see through her drunkenness. Hermione glanced to Charlie who was attempting to suppress his laughter at his sister's antics.

Ron, who had remained quiet up until now, suddenly straightened. His expression shifting. "Bloody hell, she's right, isn't she?"

"Ron," Harry muttered, trying to prevent his friend from indulging his girlfriend's accusations.

Hermione sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Fine," she relented. "We may have shared one… tiny little kiss."

"Ha!" Ginny erupted. "I knew it!"

"See 'Mione, I told you he'd be a good match for you," Ron added with a smirk.

"Ronald!" Hermione hissed, mortified.

"Don't get too excited, little brother," Charlie said, leaning back in his chair. "It was just a drunken kiss. Nothing came of it and nothing is going to come of it." Hermione sighed in relief; glad she wasn't the one to have to clarify the status of their relationship.

"That's disappointing. He would've been good for you," Ginny said, focusing her attention on Hermione. "Much better than your shitty Christmas party date."

It only took a second for a near drunk Ginny to recognise her mistake. Ron's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he tilted his head to the side questioningly. "Wait," he said slowly. "I though you both went to the party single?"

"Uh, we did," Ginny responded, trying and failing to backtrack.

"Who did you go with?" Ron questioned, ignoring his sisters' comment.

"Nobody," Hermione lied, her pulse quickening. "It doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does," Ron countered playfully. "If you're dating someone, I want to know who it is. I need to see if they're suitable for your or not."

"Oh, sorry, Ronald," Hermione said sarcastically. "I didn't realise you were in charge of my dating life."

"I'm not!" he flushed. "I'd just like to know–"

"Mate, just leave it," Harry chimed in, sensing Hermione's discomfort.

"What?" Ron defended himself, yet again. "I don't see what the big deal is? It's not like you took Malfoy or something."

Silence.

Hermione pressed her lips together as her gaze dropped to her lap. She felt a slight sting course through her arm – the first pain she'd felt since the party. Ginny looked equal parts embarrassed and concerned, keeping her mouth shut to prevent herself from making this situation worse. But it didn't take long for Ron to catch on. His playful smile turned into an expression of horror. "No…" he drawled, looking between the girls. "Tell me you didn't go with Malfoy."

"Mate–" Harry tried again.

"Hermione," Ron ignored, his gaze fixed on her.

Hermione refused to meet his gaze, afraid that the look on his face might make everything too real and her carefully constructed ability to ignore the whole situation would crumble around her.

"She didn't want to go with him," Ginny interjected, trying to defuse the tension. "She was forced."

Hermione's stomach twisted. "Ginny–"

"Forced?" Ron interrupted, his voice rising. "How the hell did that happen?"

"It was an initiative," Hermione began, realising there was no way she was going to get out of this conversation without explain what happened. "McGonagall wanted us to come up with an initiative to promote interhouse unity. So, we decided on the Christmas party and thought we should lead by example by going together."

"We?" Ron questioned. "As in you and Malfoy? What does any of this have to do with him?"

"He's Head Boy, Ron," Hermione clarified.

Ron's reaction only confirmed Hermione's instincts to have kept this secret from him for so long. His face deepened to a furious shade of crimson – redder than his own hair – as he unleashed a torrent of curses at the absent Malfoy. Hermione felt tears sting her eyes, threatening to surface but she forced them back. The ache in her arm flared anew, a burning reminder of why she had burred this truth in the first place. And she resented Ron for dragging it back to life without even realising it.

It wasn't until Charlie escorted him out of the room that the suffocating tension finally eased.

"Hermione, I'm so sorry," Ginny said genuinely, having sobered from the intensity of the moment."

"It's fine, Gin," she said softly. "It was bound to come out at some point."

"He had no right to react that way," Ginny countered.

"He's just protective of her," Harry clarified to Ginny before turning his attention back to Hermione. "He'll get over it, 'Mione."

Hermione nodded before excusing herself from the table, hoping that Christmas Eve would come to a close more quickly than ever.