A/n: This was written for the Scroogmas competition on LJ months ago, and I honestly don't remember if I ever even posted it. But I really liked this story, and I wanted to post it for someone to enjoy. It's a little out of date now since it was themed around Christmas, but here it is. Thanks to my lovely beta lozipozivanillabean!

Edited April 4, 2016.

A Christmas Spent in Azkaban

Day 47

She reached up and touched her lips, dry and parched from being in her prison for so long. She counted the days like she'd seen prisoners do in the movies when she was very young; chalk marks on a wall. Each day she drew one mark, counting when the briefest ray of light rested above her cell once a day. She has forty-six marks so far.

When would they come for her?

If she listened to the man in the cell next to her, then they were never coming. But she wouldn't listen to his negativity, even when there didn't seem to be any hope left. As she drew the forty-seventh mark, she heard him speak.

"Almost two months now Granger. That's a long time for no one to find you."

"Yaxley was killed during the final battle," she replied dryly. "He's the one that brought me here, thinking I would be easy to come get later. He never got the chance. But they can't ask him where I am now because he's dead. Someday they'll find me here."

"Someday could mean forever, you know. Those friends of yours aren't the brains of the Golden Trio- you were. How long will it take for them to realise you're in Azkaban? This isn't a place anyone will suspect. Prisoners stay here Granger, not people like you."

"They're going to find me Malfoy," she whispered. She hated when he started acting like this, when he got close to breaking down her hope. "They just need more time."

"How will they find you? There are hundreds of cells in Azkaban. The dementor's don't speak, so they won't give away the secret. The Ministry thinks they know exactly who's here, but they easily forget and the records they keep aren't very good. They don't care so much who's rotting here. The Ministry is mainly concerned about trying to straighten things out after the war." He chuckled, the hollow sound bouncing off their creaky cells. "You should've been there Granger. It was an absolute mess."

"Yes, I should've been." Her tone, filled with remorse and hate, didn't quite match the anger in his. He was locked here for a reason, she was locked here for something she didn't do. "Instead I was here, wasting away without a wand to break free. Even my wandless magic couldn't do the trick. Considering some of the people who passed by before the Order won, the people using Azkaban as a hidden route, maybe I'm glad that I could hide in the shadows and no one could see me. Some of those Death Eaters were positively malicious. If they saw me I probably wouldn't be alive."

"No, probably not."

They lapsed into silence, the same silence that often filled the space between them. Hermione grew used to this exchange over time, the conversations between them only spriging up occasionally and lasting for short spurts of time. If he hadn't been so vocal about his imprisonment when he arrived, she wouldn't have known it was him for days. If the cells weren't in such utter decay, held together only by the ancient magic used to keep people trapped, then it would've been hard to distinguish him from anyone else. Save for the decomposed hole between them, there was no way for the pair to communicate. Oddly enough, she was grateful for the hole between their cells, because it allowed them to talk. Before his arrival she'd been all alone, suffocating in the silence. Even it he was a pain, he was a pain she could hear and converse with. His presence, however misplaced, kept her from slipping off the edge into insanity.

"I think we're due for dinner soon," she said after a while.

"I think you're right. Hopefully they'll start throwing blankets or heat spells in here. It's frigid."

"I agree."

This part of the conversation she could handle. When they spoke of nothing of importance, when they just talked about the nothingness, she could handle those moments. It was when he started taunting her about her friends who hadn't yet come, that she wanted to shut him out.

Only when he was kind was he okay, and those moments seemed to be few and far between. Bitterness hung in his every word, laced into each sentence he bothered to grace her with in the stretching hours of boredom. The war had changed Malfoy, though she didn't quite know what did the trick. War changes everything, and although she now knew the Order won, she didn't know what exactly made the blond boy so bitter. She wasn't even sure what he exactly did to get into Azkaban, other than work with Voldemort. He told her that Harry, surprisingly, testified on his behalf. But it wasn't enough to get him out of a years' worth of time in Azkaban. What he did she didn't know, and she wasn't too excited about asking. Maybe it was better if she didn't know at all.

Rolling on her side, she ignored the dirty floor as best she could. She needed to try and get some sleep.

Day 52

"So Ron survived then?" She'd voiced this question a thousand times, at first jumping with silent joy when she discovered the truth. Now she asked out of routine, needing the confirmation that things were still right in the world. If Ron and Harry survived, then all hope wasn't lost.

"Oh yes, your bloody boyfriend's still alive. He was searching madly for you the last time I saw him."

She felt the briefest of smiles tugging at her lips, and she reached up to brush her fingers over them. She could still remember his last kiss, the last one they shared before she was taken. She'd remember that moment of bliss forever. It might be the last one she'll ever have. But knowing Ron was out there, stressing himself to search unsuccessfully for her, broke her heart. If he couldn't find her, would he eventually give up?

"Do you think he might still be searching?"

Malfoy was silent for a long time on the other side of the wall. Hermione often asked him this question, even if he couldn't possibly know the answer. He never responded right away. "I don't know Granger. A lot was changing even then. People were grieving, some more than others. I can't even guess what Weasley would be doing right now, or Potter either. I just don't know."

Hermione pursed her lips. "Well, thank you."

"For what?" He sounded perplexed, even through the wall. She imagined white-blond eyebrows rising on his head, probably dirty from the terrible conditions they were given. After all this time, she hadn't thanked him for telling her anything. Now, for the first time, she felt like she needed to.

"For telling me something good. There's still a sliver of hope that Ron might still want me when... when I get out of here."

He was quiet, thinking over the tremor in her voice when she spoke. Despite the hand she'd been dealt, she still remained positive, trying to see the light in a terrible situation. "Maybe," he said finally, the words guarded. "I don't know what goes on inside his head Granger."

"I know. But at least now I can hope for something, right?"

He scoffed. "Don't hope too hard. Remember, people think you're dead. It's hard to hope for someone to come back who has already passed."

Hermione frowned, his words sinking down inside her. Just when she thought they might have a civil conversation, he had to go and ruin things. "I guess you're right," she said quietly, her voice growing smaller as she spoke. Falling into silence, she pulled at her ratty stockings. She was captured while the Order was still planning the final stages of the war. Unprepared for an attack, she changed out of her comfortable jeans that day, instead donning an old school skirt and stockings that happened to be in her bag. She'd been wearing them since, and they'd gotten pretty destroyed, both from being captured and from the grimy floor she slept upon.. They did nothing to keep her warm, and even less to protect her skin from the rough ground and walls. There were so many holes they were practically useless now. But she hadn't tried to strip them off yet. Why get rid of the only protective barrier she had?

"Who do you have waiting for you when you get out?" she asked after a while, unable to sit in the silence for too long. For many minutes he didn't respond, and she wondered if maybe he'd gone to sleep.

"I don't have anyone waiting for me Granger," he said quietly, his voice cracking over each word. She could hear him gulp through the wall, and scooted closer to hear his every word. "My mother was killed in the Battle of Hogwarts, the final battle, and my father was given the Kiss shortly thereafter. I was engaged to one of the Greengrass sisters years ago in an arranged-marriage, but when I was sentenced to one year in Azkaban, she came and told me that she'd rather not be associated with me now that I have such a bad record- which is fine with me. I never really looked forward to marrying her. I didn't need her anyway."

She pursed her lips, wondering what could possibly make the stoic Draco Malfoy confess something like that about his parents, never mind the extra regarding his former wife-to-be. There didn't seem to be anything she could say to right the situation."I'm sorry about your parents."

"Don't be Granger. I've long since gotten over it. I've had lots of time to sit in this cell thinking about it as it is." There was the bitterness again, intertwined into his every word. Now however, Hermione understood some of his pain.

"Still Malfoy, it hurts to lose both of your parents. I know the feeling."

Malfoy scoffed, shifting on the other side of the wall. "How could you possibly know the feeling Granger? Your parents are probably out there just like every other thick headed imbecile, looking in vain for you."

She took a breath, ignoring the clear jibe at her friends and family. "Before the war this year, before seventh year and before Harry, Ron and I took off to go searching for Horcrux's I wiped my parent's memories and sent them away from Britain to keep them safe."

For a moment he paused, obviously surprised she'd share such a secret with the likes of him. "That's... very noble. It's also a big sacrifice on your part. Do you think you'll ever go get them and revive their memories, wherever they are?"

"If I ever get out of this cell." She sighed, shivering in the cold. "Well, they brought us food but forgot the blankets. Think we'll get some tomorrow?" She tried to joke about the matter, but a cool gust of wind blew through the poorly insulated cells, causing her teeth to chatter.

"Maybe. Granger, what exactly are you wearing?"

Apparently, her chattering was more obvious than she expected. She paused a moment, staring at the wall as though it'd just produced a clown painting. "Does that matter?"

"It's bitter outside. I'm just curious if Yaxley left any of your clothing intact."

She blushed at his words, thankful he couldn't see how uncomfortable she suddenly was. They'd been sharing a wall for weeks now and he never gave a damn until right now. "Yes Malfoy, he did, thankfully. I have stockings, though they are now mostly torn up now, what's left of a skirt and my shirt. It's pretty bloody cold, not that it matters, but thanks for asking."

He chuckled at the sarcasm in her tone, a sound he hadn't heard in ages. "That's all? You didn't even bring a jumper to try and stay warmer?"

"Remember Malfoy, I wasn't sentenced here, I was abducted. By all rights I shouldn't be here at all. Yet here I am. It's not like he gave me some time to pack the necessities."

"Yet here you are," he echoed, seeming to null the words over.

"I didn't have the luxury of grabbing an extra jumper before Yaxley and your Aunt stole me away," she continued, the words tumbling out. "She gave him the job of hiding me, and he did to damn good of a job. Anyway, they should bring blankets in the next few days. I've read about Azkaban before. The dementor's have to ensure that there are no unneeded deaths."

"I see." Silence settles over them again, and Hermione attempts to make herself as comfortable as she can on the dirty floor, rubbing her thighs for warmth.

Minutes later she hears something being pushed through the gap between their cells. Rolling over she panics, fearing that the dementors have discovered their communication route and decided to cover it up. If she was left all alone in this place again, she'd surely lose her mind.

"Granger, stop crying in there," he snaps, unable to handle a mental breakdown. "It's just a bloody jumper."

She paused, reaching forward until she felt the soft material. Snatching it up, she wrapped the jumper around as much of her body as she could, sighing contently at the warmth. But he shouldn't be giving her his things- right?

"Why?" she asked a minute or so later when she was comfortable again. "Won't you get cold now Malfoy?"

"I'm wearing a lot more than you are Granger," he says, his voice dreary with sleep. "It's less likely that I'll freeze to death. Keep the bloody jacket; I'm fine."

She smiled into the material, marveling at the warmth. "You're not the same heartless Pureblood I remember from the war. You've certainly changed in the last month since coming here. You've even grown nicer since you arrived. A week ago you would've told me to bugger off."

"I changed long before then Granger."

When he doesn't elaborate, she drops the topic. They've come to know when to stop asking each other questions.

Day 81

"What day did you come here Malfoy?"

"I don't know. I was sentenced on the sixth of October, and brought here on the seventh."

"It's Christmas."

There's some shifting o nthe other side of the wall, as though he's attempting to process what she said."Beg pardon?"

"Today's Christmas Malfoy. I was trying to do the math, but I don't remember what day I came here. So, I subtracted the days until you got here, and then added from there. Today's December 25th."

"And we're spending it in Azkaban," he muttered.

"Yes."

"With each other."

"Yes."

"By talking through a hole in the wall between our cells. How pathetically sad."

Hermione scoffed. "Well, it's definitely never how I imagined spending any of my Christmas's."

"At least now we have blankets."

"Yes, thin little pieces of fabric that barely fight off the cold. I think mine might be moldy."

"They're better than nothing," he chuckled, obviously finding humor in her discomfort. On some level, she thought it should be the other way around. Where did his stingy personality go?

"I suppose." She reached up and played with the old ribbon that held her hair back. Technically, her ribbon was a makeshift piece of fabric that she tore off her shredded stocking and used to keep her hair back, but no one had to know that.

"Happy Christmas Granger."

She froze at his words, uncertain what to say next. "Excuse me?"

"Happy Christmas. If we can only celebrate with one another in these rank little cells, then we may as well make the most of it."

"Oh, right. Well, Happy Christmas to you too Malfoy."

It was weird to wish Malfoy a happy anything. Only a few months ago, she couldn't stand him. Now, he was like her only friend in the world.

At least, the only friend who knew she was alive.

"What's your wish for Christmas?" he asked a few minutes later. Again she was surprised by what he said. He rarely brought up conversations first.

"My wish? I think that's self-explanatory Malfoy. I want to get out of Azkaban."

"Fair enough."

She sighed. "And what's your wish then? The same thing?"

"Not at all Granger. In a year I go free. I can wait that long if I have to. My wish would be quite different."

"Well, what would it be then? Go on, don't be shy. It's not like I'm going to go off and tell someone. It'll stay between you and me."

He hesitated for a moment. "I'd wish my mother back to life."

She froze for a third time. There he went again, surprising her with statements she didn't expect. While her wish was needy and desperate, his was heartfelt and warranted through pain that she only vaguely understood. They were both wishing for the things they wanted most.

Hermione had never realised he cared so much about his mother. She thought the relationship between Draco and his father was stronger, but maybe that's only because he was constantly talking about telling Lucius things when he was younger and didn't get his way.

She was sitting directly next to the hole today, blankets wrapped around her body. She glanced down to where she knew the hole was, a brief flicker of daylight having shown her its location more than once. Reaching her hand through, she cleared her throat.

"Come sit by the hole, Malfoy."

"Why?"

"Just do it- please."

They never asked each other to do things, never. But today he listened. She could hear him shifting around on the other side of the wall, until he finally spoke again.

"I almost crushed your hand with my foot."

"It wouldn't be the worst thing that's ever happened to me Malfoy. Now grab hold."

"Why?"

"Because, everyone should be with someone at Christmas. And all we have is each other. We might as well make the best of it."

There was the briefest pause of hesitation before his hand fell into hers. Hermione gave his hand a squeeze, and he squeezed back. It was the only connection she'd had to another human in three months.

She rested her head back against the wall, feeling the tears roll down her face. She wanted to be out of there more than anything else. But in that moment, she'd readily take Malfoy's comfort. They needed each other to stay alive at this point. It was the only way they wouldn't end up like Bellatrix and Lucius and everyone else who ever spent time in Azkaban.

"Granger?"

"Hmm?" She didn't dare speak for fear that her voice might crack.

"I'll get out of here in October, unless I get out earlier, like in August. When I was sentenced, my friend Blaise was already working to get another trial and might get me out earlier. Whenever I get out of here, I'd like to bring you with me if possible."

"What?" She didn't drop his hand, but pulled away from the wall, staring at the black space where she assumed his face would be on the other side. "You won't be able to."

"Not the day I leave, no. But Potter and Weasley will readily jump at the idea that you're alive and hidden. If they don't, I'll come back and get you out myself. You're not technically a prisoner. You don't have to stay here."

Her breath hitched. "What if the dementor's don't let me out?"

"The dementors answer to the Ministry now. I'll get a note or something, I don't know. But you don't need to remain here. Besides, when I'm gone, you'll have no one left to talk to. I can't leave you like that for long."

"Afraid I might get a little loopy?"

"I'm afraid you'll lose your fucking mind. My father lost his for a bit after his first stint in Azkaban. My Aunt came out of this place an absolute demonic nut-job. Without each other, we wouldn't have made it this far. You've kept me sane in this rotting dungeon Granger. I won't just leave you here to rot. And when Potter and Weasley have an idea of where you are, I'm sure they won't leave you here alone either."

Merlin, she hoped not. She desperately kept hoping that they would come for her. "Okay then. But Malfoy?"

"What?"

"I'll agree to your deal if you agree to mine. If for some strange reason my friends do figure out where I've been hiding, then I want you to come with me. If you refuse to leave me here, then I sure as hell won't leave you."

"Are you sure Potter and Weasley won't be offended that you're bringing someone like me along?"

"I don't care if they are. You'll be coming with me. Now, do you accept my deal? If you do, I'll accept yours."

"Then it's a deal Granger. We're both going to get out of this place, someday."

Things changed on day 189 for Hermione. Draco was thrown a letter from the Ministry with his food, and she sat on her side of the wall waiting to hear what he had to say.

It took him a long time to say anything to her. He kept trying to stop the dementor's, to get them to listen to something he needed to say. They wouldn't listen. Eventually, he sat down beside the hole, letting off a slew of curses.

"What was all that about?" she asked, sitting eagerly to hear what had happened. Nothing exciting or new had happened since Malfoy became her neighbour.

"They've upped my release date," he muttered, though he didn't sound happy about it.

"Malfoy, that's great! When is it?"

"No Granger, it's not great at all."

"What? Why not? You should be excited to get out of here."

"Granger, a Ministry official is coming."

Her eyes widened. "That's even better! That means-"

"It means that the bastard probably won't believe a word I say," the blond spat, surprising her. "It might come as a surprise to you Granger, but I'm really not the Ministry's favorite person. They don't listen to me most of the time. If I tell them you're in the cell next to me, they might not believe me and they might leave without you."

Her face paled. They both knew from the beginning that it was unlikely that they could leave together, but the hear the realization with such finality from the man who'd been her cellmate for so long was heartbreaking. "Well then, I'll… I'll just scream. Whoever comes will have to listen then!"

"Yeah, if they aren't a dense fucker. Granger, the Ministry's quite tight-lipped these days. And they really don't listen to anything anyone has to say. If they don't believe me, they might not believe you even if you are screaming. Anyone could live in that cell since their records are shitty. They won't take my word for it unless we can prove it. And since the Ministry is all about not wasting time, they aren't going to come over here and check your cell. I bet you they ignore your cries, since anyone who even spots them walking around in here is going to beg to be released."

She felt panic setting in. He was going to leave her. The person who'd been with her for months was going to leave her all alone here. Sure, they made a deal, but once Malfoy was free of Azkaban would he even think twice of her? Would he even tell her friends? She withdrew from the hole, moving to the opposite corner as she tucked her knees up tight towards her. She was getting afraid now.

"I'm sorry Granger, I really am. I'll do everything I can to get you out of here as soon as possible."

"Thanks," she replied, though her voice was strained. Doubt clouded her mind again. Would he really come back just for her?

Day 190

She was alone. The Ministry worker came to get Malfoy, and didn't pay a second thought to her cries or Draco telling him who she was. He ignored the both of them like a jerk.

And he was gone. Her friend was gone now. In the minutes following his absence, Hermione was surprised to find herself crying.

She wasn't supposed to be attached to Malfoy. But they'd become attached to each other and learned to lean on each other for support in this situation. Without her support column, she collapsed.

A small part of her mind kept saying that he wouldn't come back. No one would ever come back for her. She tried to force that part away, afraid of having it cloud her whole mind. She wouldn't go insane after only a few hours.

Hermione refused to go insane at all.

Day 231

It took Draco longer to get back to Hermione than he ever planned. When he got out of Azkaban he was hounded by reporters, swamped in bills that he needed to pay, and left in charge of everything his father and family ever owned. He had to straighten out his own life.

He did those things in his free time, which wasn't often, as he was focused on getting Hermione out of Azkaban.

She had been there forty-one days longer than he had. He wasn't sure what kind of toll that would take on her mind. He wasn't even sure how she would react to seeing him again.

He knew one thing though; it had taken way too long.

At first her friends had thought he was playing a cruel joke. But when he broke down, the Draco Malfoy cried and broke down and told them that they were fools for not going back to help their friend, Harry and Ron started having second thoughts. He was contacted by the pricks a week after he told them she was alive, saying that they believed him and would go to the Ministry with him to get her out. It took them way too long in his opinion.

One could not just march up to Azkaban and demand that someone be set free. A dementor might eat your soul for that, you might die, or be left extremely scarred by what a dementor could do to you to make you turn back. Draco knew nothing would be accomplished by going that route.

It took a lot of bribery from his personal funds to get the Ministry to let the trio go back and get her. Each day he wondered how far she was slipping down the path of insanity, and how long it would take her to break. Each day, he prayed she could just hold out a little longer…

Today on her 231st day in Azkaban, he was going back to get her. Potter and Weasley came along, following him down the same path he'd walked twice, both eager and frightened to see their long lost friend who'd been gone for over six months. They weren't sure how she would be after all this time.

Draco led their little group, his heart hammering with every step he took. He too was afraid of what he was going to find.

When the door to her cell opened he was the first one inside, crouching down beside Hermione's body, which was curled up on herself. The woman who he shared many conversations with for weeks at first pushed him away, shielding her eyes from the unfamiliar light. He threw his wand into his pocket, forcing them back into darkness, and then picked her up.

She trembled in his arms.

"I'm sorry Granger," he whispered, slowly rocking her back and forth in his arms. "I'm sorry it took me so long to come back."

Her only response was a squeak, and he squeezed her closer to his body at the sound. She didn't appear insane, at least not right now. But that didn't make him feel any better. She was still damaged by the experience of being left alone.

Because he left her all alone. He should've written a letter to the Ministry in his own blood explaining the situation the same day the note was delivered. Maybe then she wouldn't have spent forty-one days all alone in this hell.

"I'm sorry Hermione," he whispered, kissing her forehead. "I'm so sorry."

He didn't expect a response from her, but when Hermione's voice broke through the sound of his soft cries he heard her loud and clear. "I forgive you, Draco."