This is another story in what I've started to call my 'Method' universe. In chronological order there is:

This one: The Original (Christmas) Madness

The Method to Their (Christmas) Madness

Twenty Years Later (Chapter 2 of 'Various and Sundry Dramione')

Star of Wonder

You don't need to read any of the others to hopefully enjoy this, but I strongly recommend at least taking a look at The Method to Their (Christmas) Madness. Happy Holidays!

Draco was distracted, watching Granger and Potter who were seated on the floor of the Eighth Years' common room surrounded by a plethora of wrapping supplies and a seemingly random assortment of other items, when the youngest Weasley fell onto the couch beside him. He flicked his eyes only briefly in her direction before redirecting his attention to his original focus.

"If you don't stop glaring at Harry like that people are going to think you're plotting something," she said, but he could hear the humor in her voice.

"You don't seem worried," he retorted.

"Oh I'm not, but I think the last thing you need right now is more rumors about your evil intentions," she rolled her eyes

He took a deep breath and finally focused on the redhead and jerked his head in the direction of the people he'd been watching. Towards Granger and Ginny Weasley's boyfriend. "And you're not worried about that either? It's not like there haven't been plenty of rumors about the pair of them."

"No," she scooted closer to him. "And you shouldn't be either. But I get it. It took me years to accept how close they are. And it's still taking some adjustment to get used to things after last year, but trust me Malfoy, try and get between them and you'll be the one on the outside."

"How are you okay with that?"

"Because I love him, and I trust him. And," her breath hitched, "because he wouldn't be here without her. I can't possibly begrudge their relationship."

"But I don't-"

"Save your breath Malfoy. Anybody with eyes knows how you feel about her."

He started to argue with her but he found that he couldn't. "What are they doing anyway?"

Ginny's eyes went soft and her lips curved into a smile. "They're making care packages for the school. They don't want anybody to go without a little Christmas cheer." She lowered her voice. "Especially after last year."

Draco just stared at her in disbelief. "All of the students?"

"All of them," she confirmed.

"And they didn't ask you to help?" He continued to prod, it was like he couldn't help himself, maybe he was trying to punish himself.

She visibly hesitated. "This is something they needed to do on their own." She held out a deck of cards in his direction. "Exploding Snap?" She asked.

Draco just blinked at her, wondering when he'd managed to gain a Weasley as a pseudo-friend. But then he caught another glimpse of an outrageously curly head of hair out of the corner of his eye which belonged to a woman who was bossing the savior of the wizarding world around like he was a house elf.

Right.

It had probably happened around the time he'd begun having trouble sleeping without Hermione Granger with all of her insane hair cuddled up against him. Merlin, he couldn't even have a successful fling. He had to go and get invested in the witch.

He took Ginny up on what- even he could admit- was her very kind offer. Very few people would associate with him these days. So he tried to give their game his full attention but it was no use. He played poorly and kept getting singed.

He just couldn't help it. And Ginny's knowing glances were no help. But seriously, couldn't Potter just bugger off and leave him in peace for once?

Okay, yes, in retrospect he could admit that he'd always been jealous of Harry Potter. In the beginning of their time at Hogwarts his reasons had been flimsy. Terrible even. But later on they had been substantial: Draco would have given his wand arm for the kind of friendship and loyalty that Potter seemed to earn so easily.

Draco had learned the hard way that his own father wasn't even as protective of him as the other wizard's friends were of him. It had humbled him in a way he hadn't known was possible. It was a wound he had nursed for years, one that had split right open again after Potter had testified for him at his trial- which left him feeling even more unworthy.

And then Granger had appeared at Hogwarts in September. In some ways it had surprised Draco, but mostly it made total sense, that she had returned to formally finish her schooling even without her sidekicks.

However, it mattered little to him, in the scheme of things. Until it seemed that the professors had entered into a conspiracy (entirely possible) to partner the two of them in every class. And to his eternal frustration she neither sneered at him nor was she afraid of him, which was the reaction of almost every other member of the Hogwarts population. She treated him almost as if he was a piece of furniture.

It should have been an enormous relief, but instead it infuriated him.

She didn't fight with him, even when he made an intentionally stupid argument.

She corrected their joint projects without question.

She only spoke to him when absolutely necessary.

Passionate, perfectionist Granger. The girl who had never stood for him so much as him looking at her askance. The witch who had physically struck him for the first time in his life. The woman who had bored holes into his soul with her eyes as she lay on the floor of his drawing room and endured brutal torture...but didn't give in.

Her seeming retreat into herself was apparently his breaking point. And so, against his better judgement, he started baiting her.

Draco couldn't even remember exactly what he'd said to her on that Halloween night that had her reaching up to strike him. But he'd been expecting it this time and he'd caught her wrist and then, before he knew it, they were tearing each other's clothes off.

It certainly hadn't been the way he planned to lose his virginity.

Early the next morning he'd awoken to the sound of her attempting to sneak out of his room. He feigned sleep and determined to pretend it had never happened, for both their sakes, but that proved to be an impossibility when he discovered the variety of scratches and bruises painting his skin.

He remembered how rough he'd been with her. If he looked like that, he couldn't even imagine how her little body had handled his treatment of her.

His guilt was only compounded when he saw her later that morning and her gait was... stilted. He pulled her aside at the earliest opportunity to apologize, simply relieved that she didn't seem afraid of him and- in the greatest surprise of his life- she'd basically leapt at him.

And at that point he forgot that he'd ever intended to apologize.

For the next month they'd indulged in each other at almost every opportunity, burying the horrors they'd experienced in the pleasure they found together. In the back of his mind Draco recognized that it might not actually be the best idea, but it seemed a better alternative than the copious amounts of fire whiskey he'd indulged in over the summer.

And giving someone else pleasure had to be better than wallowing in your own pain. Wasn't it? And for the first time in years he was something like happy, so he decided to just enjoy it while it lasted.

But then on the first of December, Harry Fucking Potter had shown up with something called an Advent calendar and Granger had lit up like...well, a Christmas tree. He felt as if he'd barely seen her since.

The two of them had seemed determined to cram as much holiday celebration into the month of December as possible. First, they led a group of students caroling. Then decorating all the Houses. After that had been more caroling. Granger had gotten special permission to spend an entire weekend away from the castle to go gift shopping. Then, still more caroling (Potter was a real fan of singing for somebody who was so absolutely terrible at it.) At some point, from afar, Draco was certain he witnessed them attempting to help Hagrid lug the Christmas trees into the Great Hall. Wasn't Potter supposed to be in Auror training?

Granger was as reliable of a partner as ever for assignments, of course. And she still graced his bed more nights than not. But it wasn't the same.

He had admitted, accepted even, that what he had with Granger was purely physical. He knew enough to know that things were more casual in the muggle world. But part of him had hoped for more with the witch who had entranced him without his permission. For a friendship at least. He wasn't certain, but he suspected that given her reaction their first time, that it had actually been both of their first times, so he'd hoped there had been something special about it for her. After all, by definition a 'first' only happens once.

But, of course, he was tossed aside like yesterday's post as soon as Harry Potter showed up. Story of his life.

The same Harry Potter whom Granger followed home to London like a little crup pup when the school holidays began.

By contrast, Draco spent the holidays angrily stalking around the quarters which had been set aside for the so-called eighth years, ignoring the strongly worded missives from home. He felt some guilt for ignoring his mother's pleas to come to Wiltshire, but his anger with his father was like a dagger to his chest and he knew it was best that he stay away.

So, he was certain, in the early hours of Christmas morning, that he was hallucinating when he felt a small body snuggle against him. He startled and clamped down on her upper thigh.

"I'm sorry!" Hermione breathed.

"Fuck, witch, I could have hurt you!"

"I'm sorry!" She repeated, sneaking her hand over his waist and stroking his chest.

"What were you thinking?"

"I-" she froze around him. "I'm sorry, this was terribly presumptuous of me, I'll go."

He immediately turned onto his back and reached his arms around her. "No! That's not what I meant at all. It's just that you surprised me and I could have accidentally hurt you."

"Oh," she let out a puff of breath against his shoulder.

"Stay."

"Okay," she whispered. "Um, I brought you something, but it's probably silly."

Her obvious nerves were more than a little disconcerting to Draco, but he gathered his courage and captured her hand. "What did you bring me? I like presents," he asked, trying to inject a teasing note into his voice to hide his true feelings.

He felt her press something against his chest and he looked down to see a pair of socks resting on his sternum. They were various shades of green along with black and silver, in a pattern which, if one squinted, resembled snakes. He was certain that wasn't an accident.

He blinked at them dumbly and before he knew it she was snatching them up again. "Forget it, I knew this was a stupid idea."

He grabbed her wrist. "No, I just don't ? I mean socks are good, everybody needs socks but... is this a muggle thing?"

He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping he hadn't offended her. Luckily she giggled.

"No, not a muggle thing. It's just something me and my parents did, we always had a new pair of socks for Christmas morning."

Draco's heart caught. She wanted to include him in her family's tradition? She drew her leg out from under the duvet and wiggled her sock clad foot at him. The ones she'd chosen for herself were much more ostentatious than his: bright red, adorned with a pattern of snowflakes and somewhat nonsensically, Christmas stockings.

He knew that he should be gracious and grateful and just accept the gesture in the spirit that it had been given. But neither of those things had ever been Draco's strength and- when he would think over the next few minutes in later years, he would also admit that for the first time in a long time, he had felt the freedom to be himself again when he was around Hermione. Faults and all.

Which meant that he nearly fucked it up spectacularly.

"Did you get Potter a pair of socks?" He nearly hissed.

"What? No. Like I said, they're for Christmas morning."

She had her chin propped on his chest, an adorable little frown on her face. There was a voice inside of him screaming; 'Shut up! Shut up! For Merlin's sake just shut up!' But for a Slytherin, Draco had gotten remarkably good at self-sabotage.

"It's just, given the amount of time you've spent with him lately, if you could be arsed to find me one pair, you must have gotten him one for every day of the year."

"I- what?"

The genuine hurt in her voice made Draco's heart clench. He would have really preferred it if she was angry. So, like a niffler after shiny things, he went after that anger.

"Is it the scar?"

"What?"

"Or because he's so famous?"

"What?"

"Or is it the Potter vaults? Untainted by this," he brandished his marked arm in her direction. "I know he's a better choice in every single way. So why are you here crawling into bed with me when you could be with him instead? Am I your walk on the wild side, love?"

She sat up, propping herself on one arm and just gaped at him. And then she slapped him across his face. He was frozen in place but she scurried backwards, looking horrified, until she fell off the bed.

That startled him into action. He moved to peer over the side of the mattress to see her sprawled out, eyes screwed shut. "I can't believe I just did that," she breathed, without opening them.

He sighed. "I was trying to make you angry," he admitted. "And you hitting me, or at least trying to is practically a tradition for us anyway."

"That's no excuse. We're not kids anymore, Draco. I should be able to control my temper."

Any ire he was still feeling disappeared at the sound of his name on her lips.

"Hermione," he whispered.

Her only response was to squeeze her eyes shut more tightly, and then her hand went to her neck, clasping the necklace he hadn't noticed before. The necklace he'd sent to her as a Christmas present. The one he'd spent a stupid amount of time corresponding with the Malfoy family jeweler in Florence to have made. It was a miniature work of art, a rendition of a tiny peacock feather quill. He'd both hoped and dreaded that she might recognize not only its significance, but it's worth.

"I thought we were on the same page," she whispered in return. "I wouldn't have dared intrude otherwise."

"I'm an arsehole," he admitted, reaching out a hand for her.

She looked at it warily. "Is that all that's going on here?"

"Isn't that enough?"

Her eyes popped open and she grinned at him, then she took his hand and allowed him to help her back into bed."

And in that moment he made a decision. One he realized he been prevaricating over for weeks. Her head resting on his pillow, blushing cheeks, the chain of the necklace he'd had commissioned for her disappearing underneath her modest top. He was going to keep her and something about that resolution brought his confidence back.

He drew her into her arms. "Happy Christmas, I'm so happy you're here."

"I'm sorry I hit you," she practically wailed, suddenly serious again, cradling his injured cheek.

"I hesitate to say this, lest you make a habit of it, but it's kind of hot when you get that angry."

That startled a laugh out of her. "What was all that about Harry?"

"It's hard to compete with the saviour of us all," he answered dryly.

"There's no competition," she answered, "why would you think that?" It soothed his ego that she seemed genuinely baffled.

"I've hardly seen you since your so-called Advent started and Potter has made his appearance in the castle almost daily. You made it clear he's your priority."

She let out a long breath. "First of all, don't call it 'so-called Advent' like it isn't a real thing because it's muggle."

Draco inhaled sharply as he considered this. "That's not what I meant," he answered truthfully, "I'm just feeling a little resentful of Potter essentially kidnapping my witch for an entire month for something I don't even understand."

"Your witch?" She answered in a small voice.

He sighed. "Granger, you're not stupid. I sent you jewelry. You've been in this world long enough, you know what that means amongst purebloods."

"Yeah, I love it." She pressed a kiss against his jaw. "I love you."

He closed his eyes, trying to contain the force of his emotion. She was everything. But she was also so many little things that had brought him back to life: socks, a variety of Christmas biscuits which were exactly what he liked on his bedside table every night this month, the sweetness of her lips, the warmth of her embrace, her very presence here at the moment. He didn't know how he'd ever find a way to love this witch properly, but he'd happily spend his days trying.

"I love you too," he let out on a long exhale. He couldn't remember when, or if, he'd ever said that to another human being.

"And I'm sorry," she continued, "it's not entirely my story to tell, but you're going to have to get used to Harry being around a lot this time of year. We went through a lot around Christmas during the war and it's...comforting to us both to be together and celebrate."

"I'm pretty sure I could even grow to tolerate Weasley if it means I get to keep you," he murmured as he kissed down her neck and then divested her of her shirt.

He raised himself up on his arms to kiss her long and languidly. He laughed against her lips but didn't protest when she shimmied out of her bottoms or when she divested him of his with her feet.

She guided him and he slid inside of her like they'd been doing this for decades instead of weeks. But it meant something more now.

And then one of her sock clad feet brushed his calf. He hadn't realized she was still wearing her socks and he jumped in her arms. She smirked at him.

"Got a whole new impression of Christmas socks now, don't you?"

Draco was proud of the way he managed to hold himself together, given the delicious hold her body had on his. He leaned down and whispered into her ear.

"Which is all well and good until I fill our children's stockings with their own Christmas socks and they wonder why Mummy is blushing."

0000000000

Come New Year's Eve, Draco couldn't even bring himself to be particularly irritated by Potter's reappearance in the castle.

That luncheon was the first meal he and Hermione had taken outside of his room since she'd come back to Hogwarts. And even then she'd kept her thigh pressed against his underneath the table.

Potter was waiting on them outside of the Eighth Year's dormitory. Because, of course, he wasn't regulated to normal security protocols.

"Harry!" Hermione gushed, racing towards him and embraced him.

Draco winced. Hermione either didn't notice, or ignored it. He relaxed when she returned to his side and ignored the way she rolled her eyes when be wrapped an arm around her waist.

"So, you've got it sorted?" Potter asked, looking between the two of them.

Draco started to object but then Hermione said: "yeah," in such a lovely, breathless voice, as if she was the one who couldn't believe her good luck, that he felt himself stunned silent.

"Good."

Draco had expected aggression, even out right threats from the man, but he almost seemed relieved to see them together.

Potter then reached into his bag and pulled out a coronet of holly and ivy which was literally dancing with fae magic. "I wish I could take credit for this," Potter said, "but it's all Ginny and Luna's doing, they wanted to make sure you had it for the New Year."

Hermione had hugged and kissed her friend and Draco had again suppressed his jealousy.

But as he held her as 1998 turned into 1999 and, despite all she'd been through she kept smiling, and quickly after the turn of the new year bolted from his lap to dance with the fairies who had graciously accented her coronet, he also lost every bit of dignity he'd ever possessed.

He was ashamed he didn't have anything to present to her- because he'd had no plan- when she was dancing all over the west tower of the castle to music only she could hear as he watched her, adoration mixed with amusement.

"Marry me," he blurted.

"What?"

"Marry me- I mean please will you marry me?"

She was frozen in place, her cheeks red and her breath heaving.

"Have you lost your mind?"

Draco thought about that for a moment. "No. It's just what I want. I've decided to stop just around waiting for that to happen."

She let out a little laugh. "Don't act you aren't already completely spoiled."

He beckoned her to him. She walked over and fell into his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"So?" He wondered, nuzzling her ear, feeling strangely at peace with whatever answer she might give- he'd convince her eventually.

"What?"

He actually laughed. "Do you want to marry me or not?"

"Oh, that," she wrinkled her nose. "Well of course I do."

She settled against his shoulder, and apparently that was that.