Chapter One

The Day Before Christmas Eve

Hermione Granger's day was like any other. Her wand, set to wake her at six a.m. sharp began buzzing. She took her lukewarm shower, she fed her balding orange cat Crookshanks, ate a fulfilling breakfast of eggs and toast, and she used the Floo network connected to her fireplace to go to work. Yes, it was a day like any other, except that day, Harry asked her for a favor.

She was in her office at the Ministry of Magic, reading over a proposal for Centaur rights when her best friend Harry came in. One look at him told her that he spent yet another night awake with his and Ginny's month-old baby, James, who was recovering from his bout with Colic.

There was scruff along Harry's jaw and cheeks, black crescents under his emerald eyes. It was time for her to babysit, to let them have a vacation. She had dropped by two days ago to see that Ginny was as disheveled as he, her hair like a wild flame around her sickly tinged face.

Christmas was the day after tomorrow, the air bitter cold, small watery flakes drifting from the bluish gray clouds. It was a thought, to go in with Ron to give the happy parents a vacation - after the holidays, a second honeymoon. That would be the perfect present.

"Harry, you look awful."

"Gee," he croaked, "thanks." He ambled to the new couch between two sets of bookshelves, and collapsed his face into his hands.

She smiled apologetically and stood from her desk to join him. "I'm sorry. Look, why don't you leave James with me for a few nights? I can take care of him. I think I've read a remedy last night that may help."

"Molly gave us one too. It's helping little, but he won't stop crying..."

"Let me have him then."

"No, we can handle this, Hermione."

"That baby has more aunts and uncles than it can count. Now, there is no reason why I or anyone else can't take over while you get a decent nights sleep. You look mad."

Indeed, Harry looked like he was crazy, his sleep-deprived eyes wild, and his black robe wrinkled. She wished he would take her up on her offer, she loved looking after James, the cutest baby she had ever seen.

"I'm not leaving him when he's sick," he told her sternly, using what she imagined to be his fatherly voice. "Whenever I had a cold the Dursely's would keep me sanctioned off in the cupboard until I stopped coughing."

She patted his shoulder in sympathy. It disgusted her to hear about how he was treated. More times than once had she wanted to go over there and set things right, but it was more than once that Mr. and Mrs Weasley made them promise not to, in fear that it would make it all worse on him. He had to stay there on Dumbledore's orders, and they had to play nice.

"You're not them," she reminded him. "You're a wonderful father."

"Thank you, Hermione." He rubbed his glistening eyes. "I do need a favor from you. Where would you find information on this rare beast." He passed her a slip of paper that had been clutched in his fist.

She laughed at the name he messily scrawled at the top of a complaint. "A bad luck Hinkypunk? If you follow them they're all bad luck."

He laughed too, though it was dry. "I thought you'd like that. He's a bloke from Birmingham, threatened us all with those. He's a bit off his rocker, that one."

"This doesn't sound like your kind of case." She knew that he worked only on the most serious and biggest of threats. What else would the Ministry have the head Auror and the man who defeated Voldemort do?

"No, it's Carmichael's, but he's showed it to Ron, then to me... It's a joke in our department. But I do need that favor. He wants to beat him at his own game and he has six other cases on his desk. Think you can research how to catch them during your lunch? I would but I'm swamped too."

How could she deny him when he looked so beaten down? "Of course," she said as she tucked the paper in the pocket of her ruby robe. "Do you want some coffee while I'm out?"

"That would be great." He kissed her cheek. "Thanks. I owe you."

So during her lunch hour, she granted Harry's favor in Diagon Alley, but the research took no time at all, and with the extra time she had she went to a nearby Muggle bookshop. It was quite quaint and had the best coffee she had ever tasted.

While she was there it could do no harm to browse among its lovely selection of books. The tall ornate cases holding the beauties were calling to her. No harm at all. At least, that's what she thought...

It was a shelf too high, the cherry colored book that she wanted. She stretched, balancing herself on the toes of her sleek black shoes. Her fingertips barely grazed the new binding, it tempting her with its closeness. It was no use, she simply wasn't tall enough, which begged the question: Where were all the workers? They were never around when someone needed them most. She peered at her surroundings, but one was ringing an elderly lady up and another was shelfing others on the floor.

Hermione turned back to attempt the possible again, to reach the storybook. Then, a pale hand snatched it down.

She would have never believed it if she hadn't been staring right at his pointed ferret face. Draco Malfoy. In a Muggle bookshop. Stealing her book.

Against his palm, he slapped it, a smirk leering at her. "Hello, Granger."

"Malfoy," she greeted cordially, albeit a little coldly. "What brings you here?"

"You mean what am I doing in a Muggle establishment," he corrected in his usual drawl.

"I did not say that."

"That's what you insinuated."

She burned. Malfoy hadn't changed at all as an adult. "That is not!"

He held up his hands in surrender, the book tauntingly in front of her. "Cool it, Granger, I'd hate to hose you down."

"You don't even know what that means."

"Don't challenge my intelligence, I made nearly the same marks you did."

"Not in Muggle studies. You could have used it!"

"Didn't need it, and neither did you, Granger. You're -"

"A mudblood," she finished for him, her hands clenched at her sides. Why did he have to anger her so easily? It was easier to keep the peace between him and Harry and Ron, she had to act the adult, she had to keep whatever peace there was, but without them, without any witnesses, there was nothing stopping her from slapping him. Just like she had done in their Third Year when she had finally snapped.

"You're a git."

"Am I?" He startled her, bowing down to peer into her eyes, chocolate to the heavens. "You shouldn't accuse others of prejudice, assuming that they dislike those of Muggle parents," he mockingly whispered.

She wanted to take a step back, to breathe, but it seemed as though her body forgot how. "You're vile."

He straightened, and she sighed in relief.

"You're not a conversationalist, are you," he pressed.

"Now look who's assuming," she loftily said, and satisfied, she turned on her heel, walking to the door without her book.

She didn't look back, but she just knew, that Malfoy was grinning, and she knew by the steadily louder footsteps that he was following her out. Why, she asked herself. Why does he even care?

"C'mon, Granger, don't be like this."

She stopped at the empty sidewalk, her puffs of air floating in front of her much like the exhaust of the pipes the cars were giving off; passing her by. She pulled the hood of her robe up, ignoring the rodent behind her, and went left towards what appeared to be an abandoned clothing shop. She would take the phone booth next to it, enter the numbers into the keypad, scan her i.d. and she would be back into the warm building of the Ministry. She would go straight to Carmichael's office, give him the information, to Harry's, and to her office to focus on that proposal and forget about the confrontation with an old enemy.

"Granger," he called after her. "It's the holiday season, what happened to good will towards men and all of that rubbish?"

"Harry gave that back to us," she snapped.

"Granger! Really now, don't be difficult. We haven't seen each other in three years."

"Go away, Malfoy, or I swear I will hex you!"

"In front of a load of Muggles? It's a good thing you're a lawyer!"

"I'll give you to the count of three, you bouncing blond ferret!"

He laughed.

"Three!"

"You haven't changed a bit."

"Two!"

"Feisty as ever."

"One!"

"Show me what you got, little lioness."

Hermione had gone to spin, but she didn't make it that far, her foot finding a piece of ice. Her heart jumped in her throat a second as she slipped, and fell. Halfway down was she grabbed by Malfoy, her arms bruising in his grip as he struggled to hold her up.

The puff of her breaths came quickly, and joined with hers was his. He was bent over her shoulder as she leaned against him, feeling him lifting her upright. It was a gradual process, moving out of the danger of the sleet.

"Easy there."

She slowed, feeling the spinning. His touch was too hot, it was burning her. "Please, let me go, Malfoy."

He did as she requested, stepping back. However, she noticed that his empty hands were out, as if ready to catch her again. She didn't know whether to be offended or thankful, and instead she settled with confused. It wasn't a joke, that she knew for sure, so what was it? Why was he being annoyingly kind (for the most part)?

She fixed her twisted robe, blushing furiously at her feet. "Thank you."

"Granger -"

"I have to go."

"Granger -"

"I said thank you, Malfoy, now please, I have to be at my office. It was nice seeing you." Nice?

"Granger," he muttered as she walked quickly and carefully.

A day like any other, except that she ran into a kind, yet vexing, Malfoy

***

It was a day that Hermione would consider a good one. She approved the proposal, scanned the others, won a case that evening... And when she had gone home she found Harry at her fireplace, a little blue bundle in his arms.

"Ginny suggested that we need to take you up on your offer. Do you mind?"
She smiled thinking of the ways that Ginny "suggested" that. Harry had to have given in early, the sleep deprivation too much for him. She was glad, he needed rest, they all did.

"I'd love to." Diligently she took little James from his arms, holding him close to her chest. "Precious as always."

"Is there anything you need?"

"I didn't throw out his things, Harry, I still have the cob and his milk is in the fridge. He'll be fine, I'll call if we need anything."

He hesitated.

"Do you not trust me?"

"You know I trust you, Hermione, but... He's finally stopped crying an hour ago, maybe he needs -"

"His parents to have some shut eye. Really, Harry, this is ridiculous. Go home! You live five houses down from here!" It went without saying that four houses down from her was Ron.

At the end of the war it was hard for them to be separated, the danger too great and recent to feel completely safe. For the first few weeks they stayed at Harry's their wands at their sides. Harry still slept with his...

Harry nodded, not taking his sights off of his son, as though every second was precious gold not to be spent. "I'll see you in the morning." He ducked under the mantle of holly and candles and into the fireplace, vanishing in a light of flames.

James' brown eyes were closed, his small lips parted, sleeping soundly. It was quiet and Hermione relished it, not trusting that he wouldn't wake and start screaming again. The sound reverberated off of the walls. It was a legitimate fear that Harry or Ginny would hear.

Off of the lounge was an archway to the hallway, where there was a reasonable sized bathroom and her room. It was painted in calming colors of blue and silver swirls. Dean and Luna helped her paint it when she moved in, and above her large bed was leafy greens said to help with the nightmares of the war. She was certain however that it was not the plant that got rid of her nightmares, but time itself.

At the end of her large bed was the apple cob, and she set the baby very gently in it. She covered him with the cotton blue blanket, set his stuffed lion close by, kissing her fingers pressing them to his forehead. "Goodnight, James. Sweet dreams." She closed the door behind her.

Through all of that, she forgot about Malfoy. That was, until she was reclining on her couch, her legs on the light coffee table, and there was a short but distinctive knock at her door. Her heart skipped a beat, and she paused for a few seconds listening for any peep from her room, but James did not wake, and she breathed again, moving to her feet.

She glimpsed out of her flowered curtain, but she saw no one out on the porch nor on the frosted yard. She reached behind her, clasping her vine wand as she opened the door. She looked down and saw a book lying on a thin beige cloth, protecting it from the cold and damp concrete. It was not any book either, it being the exact one that Malfoy had taken from her.

Stepping out she frantically looked to both sides of the road, but it was empty, the lined houses with their modest lights leaving much to the shadows. If he was there, she didn't see him.

It could have been a trick, but Malfoy and his family... They weren't the same. In the end, they chose their family over their wrongful duty. That did not mean that they were nice people, but it meant that it was unlikely that her old school-mate would play such an awful trick, and for what? Because she was a mudblood? He would have done it long ago, not then, when the battles had been fought, and everyone moved on as best as they could.

She picked up the cloth and book, and brought it inside. She tossed the gray material onto the coffee table and returned to her couch, the book in her lap. She lovingly caressed it, as she did with every book before she opened it.

When she did, a neat cursive in ink caught her attention. On the inside of the hard cover was her surname, and a short message.

Granger,

Here is your book. All I ask in return is that you give me one Christmas day. I'll prove it to you, I have changed.

Your Slytherin Enemy, Malfoy

Hermione narrowed her eyes at it. If she was confused before, it was nothing in comparison to how she was feeling then. Why Christmas? Why Malfoy? Why her?

There was a second knock at the door causing her to jump in surprise, the book falling to the floor. She laid it on the table, and stood, once more looking cautiously out the window, but this time she saw him, standing there with his hands in his cloak.

As she opened the door she leaned against it. She was too tired for the games; it was too close to Christmas to be playing cat and mouse with an old bullying classmate, but that thought nearly melted into the ice he was standing in when she saw the hopeful look in his features, as though he expected her not to answer.

"What do you say, Granger? Spend Christmas with me?"

She kept her face smooth, clear of the lies that could be shown. If she had learned anything from Ginny it was to lie. Sort of... "The gesture is nice if not odd, but I have a family to spend it with."

"You're lying to me," he assessed instantly. "Your parents are going to Rome. The Weasley's are going to visit one of their many sons in Egypt, and Potter with them. You're all alone for the holidays."

"Who told you that?"

"I have my sources inside of the Ministry. You two don't check your surroundings when you talk, do you?"

"Mind your own business, Malfoy," she snapped. "It was a choice to stay here." Indeed it was.

Everyone of the Weasley's and Harry asked her time and time again if she wanted to go with them, but she politely declined. She wasn't bitter about her parents choice of activities for the holidays, that was fine by her, as much as she loved them, she had always been independent. The Weasley's, well, they were family, of course, but spending the holiday where there was no snow was not appealing to her.

Neville and Luna had likewise offered for her to be with them, but her mind was made up. She would spend Christmas alone.

Malfoy tilted to the side looking over her shoulder at the seven foot tree, decorated in red berries, blue and silver ornaments, blue lights circling its body, and a twinkling glass star at the top. There were a few neatly wrapped presents underneath saved for when her family returned. Greenery hung over the archway to the kitchen, red and green colors scattered over side tables, blue lights wrapped in sparkly, clear fabric.

She tilted as well, blocking his view.

He heaved a sigh. "I'm alone too."

Hermione pressed her lips together, her cheeks coloring. She had forgotten that Malfoy had no family. His parents, his aunt, his friends, they all had died in the war. He was more alone than she was. All he wanted was company, and if she was to be honest with herself, she wanted it too. He was being nice and so she wondered, what harm could it cause?

"I'm not a Death Eater anymore, Granger. I know that I was a terror, I know that I did despicable things. I had no spine. I'm sorry. Forgive me. It's Christmas, and we're both alone. We don't have to be. We can have our second chance."

She bit her lip, a last second of indecisiveness, then a howling wail pierced her. She hurriedly went to her bedroom, leaving Malfoy on the doorstep grimacing at the sudden noise.

James' mouth was opened wide, his small face red, screaming at the top of his lungs.

She scooped him up, coddling him against her chest, bouncing on her heels. "Shhh," she soothed, "shhh."

Malfoy came in then, his blond brow raised. "You have a kid," he stated.

She shook her head, and bent to kiss the top of the baby's head. "He's Harry's."

"Oh." There was a tone of relief.

"I'm taking care of him for the night." When did she start spilling information to him?

"Oh."

Glimpsing a last time at him, she yielded. "Okay, Malfoy. Christmas Day. You can see yourself out."

He nodded, a light smile. There was something in his eyes, as he gave a final glance to them, but she couldn't decipher the meaning, her head was reeling. The day, which should have been like any other, turned into the most susceptible of surprises.

In that odd day, she had agreed to spend Christmas with Draco Malfoy.