Hi all! I'm so sorry for the long break, I had a small bout of writer block but I'm finally past it! This chapter is a little shorter than previous, BUT, next chapter is gonna be a doozy. Hope you enjoy!

Beta love to Mrs_Poncey and FaeOrabel. Alpha love to WordsmithMusings. You guys are seriously the best!

Chapter Nine: The Perfect Christmas Gift

The following three days were pure bliss.

Draco and Hermione spent nearly every minute together. They tried to get some work done but, truth be told, found each other rather distracting. Draco caught Hermione eyeing him more than once while he graded his papers, and he couldn't help but stare at the way the feather of her quill trailed over her beautiful lips.

This current work session lasted all of fifteen minutes before Draco claimed her mouth again, trailing kisses on every bit of skin he could find.

"Draco," Hermione whimpered beneath him while he lavished her neck.

His name on her lips made him want to press her harder into the desk they were both currently sprawled on top of, but he restrained himself. He'd wait to cross that line, even though the tightening of his trousers made it difficult.

A throaty moan left her perfect mouth, echoing against the walls as Draco bit on the sensitive area right at the base of her neck. He discovered that little spot last night in the library; it delighted him to no end to explore her body and find all of the things that made her come alive.

If only she'd let him go further—he'd have her screaming.

"Draco, please. I have a lot of work to do before I leave tomorrow." Hermione rasped, trying to wriggle out of his grasp on her hips.

Draco sighed, kissed her soundly once more for good measure, and stood straight to adjust his shirt that Hermione's eager hands unbuttoned. The way she looked spread out before him, hair a mess and clothing completely askew, made a self-satisfied smirk curl at the corners of his mouth.

The tracing of her tongue along kiss-swollen lips made his cloth-covered cock twitch. She watched—with pink-tinged cheeks, as he righted his clothes, and heaved a breath, straining her breasts tightly against her shirt.

Fuck.

Mentally reciting the recipe for Draught of the Living Death to calm his raging desire, Draco forced himself to pull away from Hermione and sat in the chair across her desk. Maybe her leaving tomorrow would be a blessing in disguise—his only thought since they finally reconciled was how much he wanted her. This witch was going to make him go insane with lust, he just knew it.

"Right." Hermione cleared her throat while she straightened her clothes. Those scraps of cloth were the reason why Draco was unable to control himself in the first place, and he knew she wore it on purpose. The drastic plunging neckline of her dark green sweater, paired with her skin-tight muggle jeans, and those thigh-high lace-up boots... Draco was done in. It was unfair—she knew exactly what she was doing.

Draco's eyes trailed her fingers as she adjusted her sweater, pulling the neckline back into its place. Though the room was already turned into a sauna from their snogging, he suddenly felt a new surge of heat and he rolled his sleeves up, stopping just below his Dark Mark.

Hermione's gaze burned into his arm; he knew she was curious about what had become of his Mark. He perfected hiding it over the years, whether by glamour or with clothing, but now the intimacy of what they shared threatened to expose it. No one had seen his Mark in almost five years, it made him sick with terror, even if it had faded considerably since. It was a stark reminder of his shameful past, something he would never be able to outrun.

The gut-sinking thought of her seeing it instantly quieted the fire burning through his veins.

Finally tearing her gaze from his arm to sit back in her chair, Hermione set about fixing the papers that became a jumbled mess during their snog-fest. "So," she started, keeping her gaze on anything but him. "What will you be doing for the holiday?"

Draco bit back a laugh at her discomfort. She always acted like this after every kiss; awkward and completely flustered.

"I'll do what I've done for the last three years—celebrate here. It usually involves a large bottle of firewhiskey in my room," he replied and leant back in his seat. It sounded more pathetic than it actually was. Really, he enjoyed Christmas at Hogwarts, but he missed his family. He missed his parents more than he ever thought possible, and the only way to shove those feelings down was to get piss poor plastered.

Finally looking up at him, Hermione frowned. "You don't spend it with Hagrid or any of the other faculty?"

Draco shrugged. "I prefer to spend it alone." That was the truth at least, he just didn't think it fair to have someone take care of him at Christmas. It was time for happiness and all that, not to have to drag around a drunkard. Nor did he want to repeat the heart to heart he had with Hagrid; Salazar save him if that happened with someone else.

"What if... Would you like to come with me to the Burrow?"

Draco blinked. "You have to be joking, Granger. There is no way in seven Hells I'd celebrate Christmas with the Weasleys. I don't even think they'd let me through the door."

"But they like Blaise perfectly fine—"

"Blaise wasn't a Death Eater."

The silence following that statement hung like a thick cloud in the room, tainting the jovial mood. Hermione still looked at him with that infuriating frown, and it started to annoy Draco. He didn't want her pity, he was perfectly happy to spend Christmas alone. He preferred it, actually.

Alright, well, now he was starting to sound a little pathetic.

"Really, Hermione, it's fine. I'll be fine. Now," Draco checked his pocket watch. "It's nearly midnight, so I best be off before someone thinks we're up to something."

He gave her a wink and her frown finally turned to a small smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. Always the caring Gryffindor, this one. Draco stood, pressed a kiss to the top of her head, and made to head back to his bed-chamber.

"Hold on." Hermione stood and walked towards him before he could open the door. Without even a moment of hesitation, she gripped his face and pulled him down to place a gentle kiss on his lips.

Draco closed his eyes, relishing in the feel of her for a moment before he placed his hand on the small of her back to pull her closer. Her curls were still wildly untamed, and he felt a few strands tickle his face as he tangled his fingers in them to deepen the kiss.

With a sigh, Hermione pulled back and settled on her heels, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Fine, if you want to spend Christmas alone I won't stop you, but you're still getting a gift from me."

It was the worst possible thing she could've said; he hadn't got her anything.

And now he had to.

"Great, can't wait," Draco replied, the words dripping with sarcasm. Internally, his mind whirled—it was only two days to Christmas. How the hell was he supposed to buy her a gift in two days?

Diagon Alley. He'd have to make a special trip and it filled him with dread. Gods, he hated that place—too many eyes following his movements, whispering following every step. It made his skin crawl to even think of it.

Another chaste kiss and Draco bid her goodnight. She'd be gone for two days, and he was surprised to find he was going to miss her.

It was going to be a long holiday.

Normally, Draco was an impeccable gift giver. Gifts were easy; he'd always been able to tell the best thing to give someone. Blaise and Potter still thanked him constantly for their wedding gift; a holiday home he purchased for them on Ischia Island off the coast of Italy.

He'd already got Neville and Susan their gifts weeks ago: a Herbology journal for Neville and an enchanted tea set for Susan, the woman was oddly obsessed with tea. Even his mother's present—an expensive and beautiful set of sapphire earrings—sat wrapped on the living room table. However, he had no bloody clue what to get for Hermione.

Diagon Alley, so far, proved fruitless. After an uncomfortable stop at Gringotts with the grudge-holding Goblins, he immediately started with Flourish and Blotts. He perused the stacks, but getting Hermione a book to add to her immense collection just seemed... lazy. Then, he wandered into the Magical Menagerie but Hagrid already got her Calliope. Draco looked at the various pets inside but couldn't picture Hermione with any other pet besides a cat, and she certainly didn't need two.

Stepping outside into the frigid air, Draco sighed irritably. This was going to take all bloody day, and he did not have the patience to deal with the packed shops. It was Christmas Eve, weren't people supposed to be done shopping by now? Though, he supposed he didn't have much room to talk.

The stares and whispers started the moment he stepped onto the cobblestone street.

"Look, it's Draco Malfoy..."

"What do you suppose he's doing here? Doesn't he normally hide away in Hogwarts..."

"My Frankie loves him, says he's the best professor, but I don't know, I still don't trust him..."

"Ex-Death Eater, that one. Haven't you heard the stories? Well, let me tell you..."

Draco grit his teeth and pressed through the crowd before he said something he'd regret.

"Draco?" A familiar voice called out to him.

Peering behind him, he discovered Pansy Parkinson, arms full of shopping bags and still looking as radiant as ever. Her short black bob was half-hidden by a very stylish French beret that matched her knee-length pea-coat.

But her shoes were what caught his attention the most.

Black pumps with a silver strap in the shape of a snake curled around her ankle. They were the most gorgeous pair of shoes he had ever seen. They would make the perfect gift for Hermione, and he had to have them.

"Where did you get those shoes?"

Pansy smirked, "Five years since I've last seen you, and that's how you greet an old friend? Not even a hello, how are you?"

"I already know how you are, Pansy, I see the articles in the Prophet. Pureblood princess caught in a back alley with Gawain Robards. How is your dear father coping?" Draco retorted snidely.

Pansy's smirk grew wider at his words. "Probably trashed the entire house when he read it. Though, I haven't spoken to him in years, so I couldn't tell you exactly."

Draco matched her devilish smile. In truth, he did miss Pansy; her friendship had been invaluable to him during his Hogwarts years. She was a steady rock, ready to give a decided opinion on anything troubling him. Then during fifth year, they went further in an attempt to quell the darkness clawing at them from Voldemort. They were each other's firsts; it had been awkward and clumsy, but Draco would be lying if he said he hadn't enjoyed it.

The bliss barely lasted a month.

Someone tipped off their parents of the relationship and any form of friendship broke apart instantly. Pureblood women were supposed to be intact for their husbands, and Draco ruined her. Though Pansy didn't seem to give a damn, her parents still blamed him. The Malfoy's paid dearly for his transgression; Voldemort Crucio'd Draco for the better part of an hour and made his parents watch every minute.

Starting sixth year, Draco vowed never to deal with a pureblood witch again—especially one that was tied to Voldemort. But the part he played, the stress of keeping his family from harm, wore on him. So, he sought comfort in Daphne Greengrass's skirts, and she complied willingly.

Another transgression, and another Crucio.

"What are you doing here, anyway? Draco Malfoy never comes to Diagon Alley." Pansy wrapped her hand around his arm, pulling him to start walking as the crowd eyed them suspiciously.

"I'm looking for a present for... a friend."

"A friend?"

"Yes, a fucking friend, Pansy." Draco sneered as they walked aimlessly down the street.

"Hmmm." Pansy pursed her lips, the corners tilting up in a mocking smile. "And what, exactly, does this friend like?"

"Why do you care?"

"Oh, because I'm going to help you shop, that's why," Pansy stated matter-of-factly.

Draco stopped walking, and an elderly wizard bumped into his back at the suddenness of it, muttering a swear under his breath as he stepped around him.

"You are not shopping with me. I can handle it on my own." Draco replied, glaring down at the smirking witch.

"Oh come on, Draco. We haven't seen each other in five years, we have a lot of catching up to do."

"No."

Pansy's smile grew wider. "This wouldn't happen to be a gift for a female friend, would it?"

Draco masked his face; he wanted to tell her, he truly missed their friendship, but could he trust her? Pansy had been his friend in school, yes, but that was nearly ten years ago. He didn't know this witch, he didn't know this version of Pansy.

But she knew him, and she saw right through his mask. "Oh, my. Is Draco Malfoy smitten?"

And now he remembered why he hadn't bothered to rekindle his friendship with Pansy. This woman irritated the absolute shit out of him.

"Come on, we're going to my shop and while we walk you are going to tell me more about this witch. Who is she for starters? What does she like?" Pansy yanked on his arm again and Draco reluctantly let himself be led down the walkway.

"I'm not telling you anything about her."

Pansy huffed, "Stop being such a prat, Draco, or I'll have to start guessing. Let's see... no, not her, she's married... Astoria? No, no she's engaged..."

Pansy thought aloud whilst listing off various witches and their current marital status. Draco could feel the vein in his forehead start to throb.

"Oh, what about someone you work with? How scandalous would that be? Susan Bones, maybe? Oh lord, please tell me it's not Granger..." Pansy joked.

Draco tried as hard as he possibly could to steel his emotions but Pansy saw through his mask for a second time.

"Draco! You can't be serious!" Pansy clapped a perfectly manicured hand over her mouth to cover the escaping laughter.

"Shut up!" Draco hissed, lowering his voice so the ears around them couldn't hear. "No one can know, do you understand me?"

Pansy smirked while tapping a shiny black nail on her lips. "You know the drill, Draco; a price for a price. Come to my store and I'll forget just who it is you're buying this gift for."

With an irritated sigh, Draco agreed and the pair continued down the walkway. As they approached, the sign above the black and white striped canopy marked, Mort ou Mode glistened brightly. A large crowd was gathered around her store, and through the throng of people, Draco could spy various mannequins in the window display draped in high French fashion.

"Normally, I only cater to the more... elite of our society, but I put a large selection of items on a one-day-only sale. It's interesting how people forget who owns the store with the promise of a discount." Pansy remarked with a wink as they came upon the backside of the mass.

"It's about as interesting as what you named your store. Death or Fashion—really?" Draco commented.

Pansy shrugged, "It's my motto in life, darling, and from what I've heard through the grapevines, your witch would agree with me."

Draco bristled and stopped himself before he told Pansy off. Her words made him think; was Hermione his witch? They hadn't spoken yet on the subject, aside from him telling her he didn't want her as a trophy. But, what did that make them instead?

"Now, let's get the crowd out of here so I can actually think while I help you."

She flicked her wand at the door and it slammed shut. Cries of protest filled the area as red words scribbled on the glass window in an elegant scrawl, closed for a private appointment. A feline smile graced the former Slytherins lips as the people dispersed. Once everyone left the storefront, Pansy reopened the door and called out to a nearby employee as they entered.

"The store is closed for a private appointment. Please tell the customers in here to finish their shopping, and you and Ann can take your lunch breaks once they all leave."

The young girl readily agreed and scampered off to inform her coworker.

"So," Pansy said as she led them towards a pair of large french settees in the back of the room. "What does Granger like? As far as I remember, books and following around Weasel and Potty like a lost puppy, but apparently that's changed."

Draco scowled and she answered with a grin. "What about shoes? You asked me where I got mine earlier and I'm well-aware of what Granger used to wear around the Ministry, the little minx."

Now that they were sitting, Draco was able to thoroughly inspect the heels Pansy wore. The black leather-hide of the shoes shone with the soft light of the store and he could spy twin emeralds as the snake's eyes.

"They aren't dragon-hide, are they?" Draco may enjoy the quality fabric but he knew for a fact if he purchased Hermione shoes made from dragon-hide she'd throw them at his face. And his face was much too pretty to have a shoe imprint on it.

"Salazar, no. I'm still a vegetarian, Draco. I don't eat meat, and my clothes certainly do not use any animal products."

Draco pondered for a moment before nodding. "Fine. I want a pair of heels, the best ones you have."

Pansy grinned and flicked her wand at a pair on the shelf. They floated into Draco's eyesight for him to inspect; peep-toe pumps in white patent faux leather, as Pansy made sure to inform him, with a sparkling crystal ankle strap. They were pretty, but they didn't evoke anything special.

"Not quite what I'm looking for." Draco frowned and the heels whisked back to the shelf. Pansy showed him a few more pairs but nothing called to him. They were all exquisite, to be sure, but they weren't anything compared to what Pansy had on her feet.

"Do you have anything similar to what you're wearing?"

Pansy glanced down to her snake adorned heels, the silver metal glinting as she turned her foot. "These? No, they're one-of-a-kind, but I do have something similar... Hold on."

She stood and left to a backroom where Draco could hear the sounds of boxes being shuffled about. Returning a few minutes later, Pansy held a black velvet box and she handed it to Draco.

"Take a look. They're the prototypes to these, I didn't care for the colour on me."

Draco cracked the lid open and his breath caught in his throat.

Inside lay the perfect pair of heels; they were similar to the ones Pansy wore, but so much better. The dark emerald colour of the shoe contrasted beautifully against the black box. The snake, made of gold instead of silver, was even longer. The tail met the point of the toe and the head curled twice around the ankle, even the eyes were different; Pansy's snake had emeralds, this one had rubies.

They were beautiful, and he needed them. "Charge it to my vault, I'll take them."

Pansy gave him a feline grin. "Perfect. Would you like it gift-wrapped?"

"Yes," Draco said as he reluctantly placed the lid back on the box. "But send it to the Weasley's home. I want her to have them for Christmas."

"Yes, Sir." Pansy mocked and stood to take the box to the front counter.

Draco scowled at her retreating back, but was happy he finally found the perfect gift for Hermione. He only hoped she liked them as much as he did. Merlin, he hoped he could convince her to wear them with nothing else on...

"Draco? Are you coming up front?"

Draco stood quickly, hoping the heat he felt in his cheeks didn't show. Apparently, it did since Pansy's grin widened as she took in his face.

"Is there anything else I can help you with?" She asked in all politeness, putting on a sweet shop-girl voice.

Draco grimaced and she laughed.

"I'll have these sent out later today. Your witch will have them bright and early tomorrow morning for Christmas."

Draco gave a curt nod, "Thank you, Pansy. They're perfect."

With one of the only genuine smiles Pansy ever gave, she sent him off with a 'Happy Christmas.' Just as he was about to step out the door, he heard her call to him from behind the counter.

"And you better start writing to me, Professor!"

Draco continued out the door without bothering to turn or acknowledge her request. He had already planned to write to her, anyway.