This is the second fic I wrote for the GE Secret Santa, Hope you can ignore the slight seasonal feel of this at this time of year. This was written for the lovely Aleysiasnape. (Original prompt: Hermione gets surprise gifts from an anonymous wizard.)

Lucius has quite a different feel here than in some of my fics - he's quite a romantic darling, and rather sombred by his past. Still great in bed though. It's two chapters long - next chapter up tomorrow, promise.

Thanks to all who've liked my facebook page so far. If you haven't and would like to, head over and find me on facebook (Laurielove) - the link is on my profile page if you need it. We have a lot of fun over there and it would be so good to have you on board.

Thanks also for all the continuing reviews and support. It is such a heart-warming and stimulating thing to read your words. Hope you enjoy this story. LL x.

Even in the Ministry of Magic, most people were slackening off in the week before Christmas. The normally sombre corridors were decorated beautifully with enchanted lights and garlands which gave it the appearance of a winter fantasy world. This atmosphere infused the people with goodwill and peace, and nobody was expecting hard work for the last few days before the holiday. Most people eased off their workload and took it easy, chatting and laughing together and taking frequent breaks.

Not Hermione Granger.

As usual, she sat at her desk, head down, eyes focused on the details of the parchment before her. She had, as she frequently reminded everyone, an important new law which needed reviewing and amending before the New Year. She had politely declined her colleagues' offers to go for another coffee or for an early drink at every stage.

She enjoyed Christmas as much as the next person, but she was here to work. She tried to pretend the self-satisfied pride overrode the disappointment and sense of humbuggery which sat like a lump of clay in the pit of her stomach.

People eventually gave up, leaving her to her silence. Once the holidays were officially upon them and the Ministry closed for the break, they knew she'd brighten into the radiant friend they knew, but until then, they left well alone.

So it was to everyone's surprise, not least Hermione's, when, on a Monday a few days before Christmas, an owl fluttered across to her desk at ten-past-eleven, dropping a package agilely before her. It was wrapped in gold paper and had a beautiful iridescent ribbon twirled around it. A label dangled from the ribbon.

Hermione looked around, surprised and confused by what lay before her, almost as if expecting its rightful owner to come rushing over declaring there had been a mistake.

Her PA, Veronica, glanced over. Hermione placed her hand over the object, her cheeks flushing with sudden embarrassment.

Veronica continued looking across curiously. Hermione smiled with exaggeration while still trying to conceal the gift. It clearly hadn't worked. 'That's nice. Wish my boyfriend would give me surprise presents at work.'

It wasn't from her boyfriend. Veronica could be excused for thinking otherwise as Hermione had kept it quiet, but in actual fact, her relationship with Ron had at long last come to a natural end. They remained friends, but she knew he'd started seeing someone else. He had always been hopeless at giving presents at the best of times. This was not going to be from him.

Hermione simply smiled more blearily at Veronica and glanced down at the label, trying not to appear too interested in reading it. It was written in a beautiful script of dark blue ink. It was about as far from being Ron's handwriting as was possible.

"At Christmas - atonement - long overdue."

The handwriting alone was enough to entrance Hermione. She stared at it – the letters were long and elegant and written with such fluid distinction it caused a curling of pleasure through her deepest senses. Her mind rattled through a list of who it could be: Harry? Neville? Cormac! No. She almost laughed aloud. None of them would have thought of such a thing. And why anyway? What did any of them have to demonstrate atonement for?

With trembling fingers, she carefully undid the wrapping. Inside was a box, encased in velvet. It was a jewellery box, there was no doubt about it. She glanced up. Veronica was staring over but averted her eyes when she noticed her boss looking.

Hermione's heart had caught in her mouth. She placed the box in her lap, out of the prying eyes of co-workers, unhooked the clasp and opened it. Now she forgot to breathe entirely. Inside was a necklace. A delicately coiled, but not insubstantial, gold roped chain sat proudly in the box, and attached to it was an iridescent peacock feather, made from the softest, thinnest conjoined layers of gold which allowed it to shimmer and ripple. It was spellbinding. Encrusted at certain points on the feather were tiny jewels which Hermione knew instinctively to be real emeralds and sapphires.

She was gawping; she vaguely knew it but could do nothing to stop herself.

'Something nice?'

Hermione snapped the box shut and stared with wide-eyed blankness at Veronica. 'Yes.' She clamped her mouth shut.

Suffice to say, even Hermione didn't get much more done for the rest of the day.

She was seeing Ginny, Harry and Neville later on. Ron had said he might come too. She'd ask them.

She daren't wear the necklace, although she longed to.

xOx

Hermione met with the others at six o'clock in a Muggle bar, far from the enduringly prying eyes of wizard London.

After a large gulp of Sauvignon Blanc, she took a deep breath. 'Well, to whomever of you it was. Thank you. I love it.'

Four pairs of eyes looked blankly at her.

'Come again?' said Neville.

She sighed dramatically. 'Oh, come on. I'm not sure which of you sent it, but I don't know who else it could possibly have been. An owl dropped this beautiful parcel on my desk today. It contained ... an amazing piece of jewellery. Come on, one of you knows.' She glanced from one to the other. 'Don't you?'

Her companions looked at each other, expecting one of them to own up. They all pouted with genuine ignorance and shook their heads.

Hermione persisted. 'All right. I know it's not your handwriting. I mean, you've all got appalling handwriting, but ...'

'Thanks a lot,' huffed Ginny.

'Except you, Gin. But this isn't your handwriting, and this isn't the sort of thing you'd give me anyway.'

'Well ... what is it?' queried Harry.

'Got yourself an admirer already, have you?' Ron didn't sound as amused as he was trying.

'But ... it must be one of you ... I ...' Hermione's mind darted through other possibilities again. There really weren't any.

'Come on, Mione. Show us.'

Hesitantly, she reached into her bag and withdrew the box.

'Bloody nice box,' stated Ron, arms crossed.

She opened it.

'Whoa.'

'That is not cheap.'

'Bloody hell.'

'Someone's trying to impress.'

Hermione sighed with frustration. 'But who? I haven't got the faintest idea who this is from. I really hoped it would be from one of you lot.'

'Yes, but ... isn't it all the more fun now that you know it's not?' Ginny was grinning broadly.

'Nice writing.' Neville had sneaked a look at the label. Hermione snatched it back from him.

'Beautiful writing,' stressed Hermione.

'Let's have a look.' Harry leaned over and studied the writing. 'Haven't a clue.'

She tutted. 'Seriously, what am I supposed to do? This is an incredible gift and I don't even know who to thank.'

'What are you like, Hermione? Always worrying about doing the right thing. Just enjoy the bloody thing.' Ron stood up. 'Right, I've gotta go. I'm meeting ... someone.' He was clearly embarrassed.

'Have you bought her a peacock feather necklace yet?' teased Harry.

'Shut it, Harry. Early days. See you later.' He paced off, not overly impressed with the situation.

Ginny sat with her arms crossed as Harry tried to put his arm around her. She resisted. 'You never give me presents like that.'

'Give me time,' he muttered.

'Right. That's me off. Early start tomorrow.' Neville stood and put his coat on.

'If you have any ideas about ... this ... let me know, will you, Neville?'

'How should I know? But whoever it is, he seems to know what he's doing. Certainly got you thinking about him. See you later.'

'Bye.' Hermione sat, staring at the necklace. 'Who would do this? Seamus? Cormac?'

'Cormac!' scoffed Ginny, nearly choking on the last of her drink.

'OK. I know that's ridiculous. But then ... who?'

'Like Ron said – just enjoy it. We're going to have to go. See you soon, Hermione.' Harry gave her a farewell peck on the cheek.

'Bye, you two.'

And they left Hermione sitting, tracing over the intricate detailing of her peacock feather.

xOx

The next day, Hermione had managed to push the matter to the back of her mind. Work was more important, after all.

So at half-past-ten, when the owl dropped another intricately wrapped parcel on her desk, she squeaked in shock.

Several heads turned this time. She quickly picked up the gift and hid it under the desk.

'Someone's keen,' declared Veronica.

'It's just ... official ... you know ... business ... stuff ...' stuttered Hermione.

Veronica raised a dubious eyebrow.

This time Hermione stuffed the object in her bag and hurried immediately to the stationary cupboard. Locking the door tight behind her, she at last dared to look. Same wrapping, same ribbon, same handwriting. God, she loved the handwriting.

"After stagnation and delusion comes reinvention – a freshness of scent and reappraisal."

Hermione's brows creased, but she could not deny the increased coiling of her belly. Whoever this was, they certainly had a way of intriguing her. She pulled at the wrapping to reveal a box containing a scent bottle, antique clearly, it looked art nouveau. Hermione unstoppered it carefully and sniffed lightly. Immediately, she knew it was right. A heady aroma of lily-of-the-valley under-laced with deeper rich rose wafted up to her. It enticed her instantly and before she knew it, she'd dabbed some on her wrists and neck. She spent hours searching for the ideal fragrances; this person had found it immediately.

Walking home with Ginny after work, her friend leaned into Hermione and mused, 'You smell fantastic. New perfume?'

'Hm.'

'What is it?'

'Not sure. There was nothing on the bottle.'

'That's unusual.'

'It was an antique perfume bottle ... another present.'

Ginny's eyes widened. 'From your secret admirer?'

'Apparently so.'

'Bloody hell, Hermione. You lucky, lucky cow.'

'Hang on, he may turn out to be seventy, obese and with putrid halitosis. Although I have to say, he does have gorgeous handwriting.'

'And he can't exactly be poverty-stricken if he's showering you with presents like that.'

'No, but ... it's weird. The things on the labels; they're ... as if he's expressing regret ... it's so odd.'

Ginny laughed. 'Perhaps it is Cormac – he was always such a knob at school!'

'There's no way he would give me anything like this though.'

'Oh well, your mystery man is bound to reveal himself at some point. One a day so far. See what tomorrow brings.'

xOx

The next day an owl dropped another present on her desk. Hermione was past embarrassment. A thrill ran through her as she saw the now familiar handwriting.

"By a great medieval mind – to a great modern mind."

Flattery now. And as much as she tried not to let it, it was working.

She opened the parcel. It was a book, or rather a hand-written beautifully bound volume of manuscripts. Hermione stared, not quite able to believe what she was seeing.

Before her lay what was clearly an original manuscript edition of 'Spellecrafte of the Courte of Gralorium – the Lore of Truest Magicke'.

The Gralorium Lore was an almost mythical text which many doubted even existed. It detailed many original spells first invented in the court of the high wizard Gralorium in the fifteenth century. To see it now brought such a course of electric excitement running through her she practically flew out of her chair.

'Everything alright, Hermione?' queried Veronica.

'Yes,' she beamed.

'Yet another gift?'

'Umm. I'm going to call it a day now. Christmas and all that. Lots to do.' In fact, all she wanted to do was to go home and read the book. She could not have asked for a more perfect gift. She may not have known who the mysterious stranger was, but he certainly seemed to know her. Hermione hurriedly grabbed her bag and coat.

'Don't forget the Ministry Yule Ball tonight,' reminded Veronica.

Hermione's heart sank. Just when she'd hoped for a quiet night in with her new treasure. 'Oh ... I ... right ... I'll have to go, I suppose.'

'Other plans?'

'No ...'she sighed. 'I'll be there.' And tucking the book safely in her bag, she made her way out of the office.

xOx

After spending most of her time back at home poring with fascination over the book, Hermione forgot she was going to the ball. When a niggle at the back of her mind at last forced her to look at the clock, it was after seven o'clock. 'Shit!'

After jumping in the shower, she dried her hair haphazardly and then opened her wardrobe. Hermione threw on the first dress that her hand touched. It happened to be black. As she poured herself into it she'd forgotten quite what a plunging neckline it had. She tried to yank the material across her prominent cleavage but failed.

'Just don't bloody lean forward, Granger,' she muttered to the mirror.

She reached for a necklace. Nothing seemed suitable, either too short or too dull. She knew the perfect thing, but until she had discovered the identity of the person who gave it to her she hadn't intended to wear it.

Hermione sighed. To hell with it. It was a gorgeous necklace; she didn't have time to work out what else to do. Lifting it from its box, she placed the gold rope around her neck and stepped back to admire the feather as it fell in the perfect spot, nestled tantalisingly at the dip between her breasts. Throwing all caution to the wind, she now grabbed the perfume bottle and dabbed some liberally onto her pressure points.

Hermione gave herself a satisfied look in the mirror. Perhaps she could get into the Christmas spirit a little after all.

xOx

The ball was not the grand affair it had been in the past, but it still brought out the great and good of wizarding society, and the not so great and good. Events such as this always threw up certain people Hermione, Harry and their friends tried to avoid but could never quite manage: Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson … Draco Malfoy.

In the years following the war, various trials had taken place. It always sickened Hermione how many people, the Malfoys being top of that list, had managed to avoid a stint in Azkaban due to their apparent repentance. She had seen little evidence for it. Admittedly, the Malfoys kept their heads down now – especially since Narcissa Malfoy had walked out on her husband – but they were still accepted amongst wizarding society. And sure enough Hermione saw Draco and his fiancé Astoria as soon as she walked in.

'Can't he just stay away?' she muttered to Harry, taking a long drink of champagne.

'Don't let it bother you. He's doing some good work, to be honest. And apparently Astoria's a great influence on him.'

'Bully for her,' sneered Hermione.

'Come on. Just ignore him. You look great by the way. Love the necklace.'

'I thought I might as well wear it, although I'm no further along to knowing who gave it to me.'

Neville approached with a drink for Harry. 'There ya go, mate. Malfoy just spoke to me. Can't believe it. Nearly choked on m' lager.'

'Draco?'

'Yeah. I hate to admit it, but he was actually quite … nice. Apparently his dad's here somewhere too.'

'Oh great,' moaned Hermione with a roll of her eyes. 'Why settle for one Death Eater when you can have two?'

'Draco's not the only one doing good work, you know. Lucius has also come up with some pretty decent suggestions and ideas for the redevelopment of wizarding society. The war was a long time ago, Hermione.'

She stared at her friend in disbelief. 'Lucius? Since when have you called him Lucius? Have you gone completely mad, Harry?'

Harry suddenly averted his eyes and coughed. She creased her face in confusion at his reaction before becoming aware of someone standing behind her. Hermione spun around only to come face to face with Lucius Malfoy.

'Oh.'

'Miss Granger. How lovely to see you again.'

'Umm. Hello.'

'Lucius. How are you?' Harry reached across and offered his hand to Malfoy who shook it firmly. Neville did the same.

'Mr Potter. Mr Longbottom. I hope you are well?'

'Yeah, good thanks, Malfoy. Err. Mister … Lucius,' stuttered Neville.

Malfoy looked back to Hermione. His eyes dropped to her cleavage. She flushed bright red and took a step back.

'What a perfect necklace for your dress, Miss Granger.'

She flushed even more scarlet and brought her hand up to cover both the feather and her cleavage. 'Umm … thank you. It was a present.'

'Indeed?' said Malfoy, his eyes lifting to hers again.

'Yes. Well ... there we are. I have to go and … mingle. Goodbye. Coming, you two?'

As she swept past Malfoy he took a deep inhalation of breath. Glancing back at him curiously, Hermione saw him turn to watch her go. A curl twisted through her belly just like it had when she'd opened her presents. She tried to ignore it.

The evening wore on without any more interruptions from ex-Death Eaters. Hermione kept an eye on the presence of both Malfoys, intending to stay well clear of them again. Draco was certainly engrossed in Astoria. He was laughing a lot, something he had done so rarely before. She had to admit, they made a good couple. Lucius Malfoy also appeared relaxed and at ease. He didn't seem so disdainfully arrogant as she remembered him. She even noticed him chatting to some prominent half-bloods occasionally. When he smiled, she thought he looked younger. He had nice eyes.

Hermione coughed on her sip of wine. Nice eyes? Since when had she remarked on Lucius Malfoy's eyes? She glared at him as if he had forced the image of his eyes onto her. He was talking to the Minister now, writing on a document of some kind which the Minister was peering at. Malfoy was tall, she thought, and the cut of his jacket highlighted his long, broad torso. Hermione spluttered out another cough and quickly turned her back on him.

A while later she found herself at the bar; it was her round.

'Miss Granger? May I offer you a drink?'

She looked around. There, turning up once again like a bad penny (albeit a very shiny, lustrous one), was Lucius Malfoy. 'No, thank you.'

'You don't accept drinks from former Death Eaters?'

'Something like that.'

'The war ended a long time ago, Miss Granger. We've all had time to think things through since then.'

'Think things through, Mr Malfoy? And what conclusions have you reached?' She was surprised at how bitter she sounded.

'You may be surprised.'

'Surprise me then.'

'Will you accept my offer of a drink first?'

She nearly said yes. He stood before her, looking down, his eyes fixed into hers. She could only admit: she liked him standing there.

'I can't.'

'You could.'

Hermione sighed and turned away from him. 'I said I'd get one for the others. I'll stick to Plan A.'

'Do you have it all planned out, Miss Granger?'

'I like to think so.'

'And what happens when something unexpected happens? We all need to allow for spontaneity and surprise.'

She spoke forcefully. 'Oh, I think I know how to deal with surprises. I've had quite a few in my day.'

'As have I. Some more enjoyable than others.' He smirked down at her. She found her mouth curling back into a smile before stopping herself.

Malfoy settled up his order at the bar. 'Well, if you won't allow me to buy you a drink, I shall simply settle for this one.' Malfoy gave her another smile. There was that bloody flip of her belly again. 'Goodbye, Miss Granger.'

As he was putting his wallet away she saw a piece of paper dislodge itself from his inner pocket. He hadn't noticed. Malfoy turned and walked away. The paper fluttered to the ground. Hermione picked it up and called after him. In the noise of the room, he didn't hear. She hurried after. He was moving to a quiet table away from the main area. She rushed to catch up with him.

'Mr Malfoy! You dropped thi –' Her eyes glanced at the paper. She saw a signature at the bottom – Lucius Malfoy – and amendments in the same hand over the document. Hermione recognised the handwriting immediately. She staggered, almost stumbling. He turned and saw her holding it. She looked up, her eyes wide with confused amazement.

'You? … It was you.'

Malfoy stood, his own breathing heavy, realisation dawning. Hermione's hand instinctively moved to the gold feather around her neck.

'The necklace, perfume … the book … all you.'

For a moment there was a fragile silence.

Malfoy looked to the ground. 'I had not intended you to discover ...'

'But I … Why? Why you?'

'Like I said, Miss Granger … I will surprise you.'

'Mr Malfoy … I don't know what to say.'

'Then you should remain silent.' And with a genuine but soft smile, he inclined his head slightly and turned to walk away from her. She couldn't bear to see him go. He was going out towards a terrace. She followed.

'Mr Malfoy!'

When she at last caught up with him, he did not at first turn back to her, but merely glanced over his shoulder. 'You don't need to call me that, you know. You should go back to your friends.'

'Why … Lucius?'

For a time she was not sure he was going to speak, but then, quietly, steadily, he did, all the while looking out over the Ministry gardens.

'There comes a time when we all need to assess what has passed, when we need to move on. I have found myself unable to do so. I needed to … make amends somehow. They are silly gestures, but it was my way of easing my conscience, so to speak.'

'Why me?'

'You, out of everyone, are the one who preyed on my mind the most. Over the years, it was you who suffered the most, due to the attitude of my son, due to my attitude, and then pain, great pain … in my own home.'

'I thought you enjoyed my pain.' Her words were steady and unwavering.

He sneered, not a bitter sneer of refutation, but one of regretful acknowledgement. 'The situation I found myself in, which I admit I brought upon myself, led to certain expectations of behaviour, both from others and from myself. Eventually, I knew no different.'

'So you did enjoy seeing me suffer.'

'At times, the suffering of others can dull one's own pain somewhat.'

She stood, staring at him, half wanting to strike him, half wanting to clasp him to her for his frank self-analysis.

'And now? Why now - this reappraisal?'

'The person I purported to be was destroyed during the war, Miss Granger. Time alone could rebuild. And it has taken many years for me to even dare to do so. This is merely the start.'

She stepped up and stood close to him, not close enough to touch, but she could smell his musky cologne.

'Were you ever going to tell me it was you?'

'I don't know.'

'Why not?'

'Because I was too ashamed. Gifts and trinkets can only go so far to achieving what must be done.'

'You say you know what you put me through. How do you know? How do you know what I went through?'

He looked briefly at her. 'Because I went through it too. Isolation and humiliation. In Azkaban … in my own home … imprisoned by my own weakness and inadequacy. I was a coward and a fool. My wife knew it; that is why she left.'

They stood in silence for some time. A rabbit hopped cautiously across the lawn before skittering off into the bushes. Lucius' eyes followed it absently.

'So what do you want from me?'

He glanced across to her. 'What?'

'What do you expect, Lucius? What is this about?' She searched his eyes.

'I don't understand.'

'What are you trying to gain from this?' She shrugged with bewilderment but asked outright, 'Are you trying to seduce me?'

'What? No!' He seemed genuinely affronted.

'But these gifts are so precious. They're so … right. So right for me. I love them. I love them all.'

'I don't want anything in return. I just want to ease my own pain. It's selfish I suppose. But then – I am selfish. I always have been. Weak, cowardly and selfish. That is why I send anonymous gifts to a woman in order to try to ease my conscience.'

'That book, Lucius … it's incredible. I didn't even think it existed. Did you know how much I'd adore it?'

'I suspected.'

She shook her head in bewilderment.

'Are you disappointed they're from me?' he questioned.

'I don't know,' she stated frankly.

'You have every right to be.'

'You're just … so different to what I thought. So different.'

'I confess … I don't quite understand myself yet.' In the dimness, his eyes burned fiercely. Hermione reached out a hand towards his arm. He stepped back, denying her touch. 'Goodbye, Miss Granger,' he said gently. 'I think I shall go home now.'

And he turned and left.

Come back, Lucius!

Find out tomorrow if he does (oh, you already know the answer, don't you?)

LL x

*whispering subliminally* facebook facebook facebook facebook facebook

Alright! Enough already, I hear you shout! I know, I know, but how else can I spread the news?