Piles, Files, and Sleds

This would definitely be the worst Christmas holiday Hermione had ever experienced. And that was saying quite a lot since she had spent Christmas of 1992 in the Hogwart's hospital wing after partially turning herself into a cat.

Christmas 2001, however, was going to put the past to shame. First of all, Ron and her were on a "break." This apparently meant that he was free to date and shag as many witches as possible, while she was supposed to wait around for him to finish 'sowing his wild oats.' And if her love-life, or lack of love-life, wasn't frustrating enough, her boss at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures had decided that she should spend the holidays in the States doing research for a report on how the Yanks had successfully integrated half-giants into Muggle society. According to her superiors, since she wasn't married and didn't have children, it would be less of a burden for her to travel internationally for an extended period of time than it would be for her Ministry co-workers.

Shifting her bag from one shoulder to the other, Hermione waited at the front desk at the Indian Point Resort, in Reeds Spring, Missouri, for the clerk to locate the key to her room. She was exhausted after spending twenty hours traveling and just wanted to check-in so she could fall into bed.

Unfortunately, she had arrived at the resort during the middle of the local homecoming dance and there were high school students running through the lobby throwing confetti and fake snow. Pulling a strand of silver tinsel out of her hair, Hermione grumbled under her breath about the immaturity of teenagers. Before she had a chance to vacate the public space of her new lodgings, a giggling blond and her hulking behemoth of a boyfriend, pressed a Santa hat on her head and shouted, "Merry Christmas!"

Grinding her teeth together loudly and using all her willpower to not reach for her wand, Hermione cursed the fates that had led her here this evening. Her seething musings, however, were interrupted when someone with an English accent drawled from behind her, "Looks like Santa came early this year."

Turning around quickly, Hermione stared directly into the eyes of Draco Malfoy

"Malfoy, what are you doing here?" Hermione gasped.

"Spreading Christmas cheer?"

Her eyes opened wide, she grabbed him by the arm, and dragged him over to the corner of the lobby. "This is a Muggle establishment!"

Shaking free of her grasp, Draco stared down at her condescendingly. "Your perceptivity and powers of observation are as sharp as ever, Granger. It's no wonder that you've faded into obscurity since the war ended."

"If you have anything nefarious planned, I'll owl Harry faster than you can say snitch, let alone catch one."

Draco rolled his eyes. "It has been three years since the war ended. Although your presumptions and opinions of people have apparently not changed, you shouldn't taint all of mankind with your narrow-mindedness."

"My narrow-mindedness?! My narrow-mindedness?!!" Hermione hissed, a little too loudly, drawing attention toward them.. "You are the one who back in school was all hipped on blood-purity and inferiority of Mudbloods. So don't you dare suggest that somehow I'm prejudiced for being concerned about your appearance in a obviously non-magical community."

Shaking his head, Draco began to move away from her.

"Where are you going?"

"To my cabin."

"I'm not done talking to you."

"Oh, but you are," Draco replied with a sneer, turning on his heel and exiting the front door of the hotel.

Hermione was about to go chasing after him when she noticed the desk clerk had found her key. She raced over to the check-in counter, signed her paperwork, grabbed her key and ran out of the door in an effort to locate Draco. She saw him about halfway down the hill leading to the lake.

"Malfoy stop!" she called to him.

Giving no indication that he'd heard her, Malfoy continued to walk down the hill.

"Stop!" she called again.

When he still did not respond, Hermione began to follow him down the path. She increased her speed and soon was able to reach out and grab the edge of his robe. "Malfoy," she demanded, "unless you can convince me that your presence here is in no way a threat to the Muggle community, I will be contacting the American wizarding law enforcement office!"

Halting completely, Draco turned and glared at her. "Granger, have you ever ridden a sled?"

"What?"

"Have you ever ridden a sled?" he asked again.

She nodded slowly, unsure of his intention.

"Then you remember as a small child sitting at the top of the hill being frightened of pushing yourself down the incline, of losing control and just letting the sled race you to the bottom?"

She nodded again, not speaking at all.

"No matter how frightened you might have been, however, you ended up letting go. You allowed yourself to race down the hill, to careen into an unknown future primarily because your parents were there alongside you. They kept reassuring you that it was safe, that you'd have fun, and that there was nothing to worry about."

Hermione swallowed.

"My entire childhood was like being on that sled. I always felt that I had little control over where my life was headed. It was scary and a bit exhilarating, but because my parents were there and because I trusted them, I just held on and allowed events to propel me toward some prearranged destiny."

Malfoy's grey eyes locked on hers and she tried, unsuccessfully, to not shudder.

"In sixth year, I was still on this out-of-control sled, but now my parents were not around to tell me that I would be safe. All I felt that entire year and the year afterwards was continual fear that if I fell off, if I failed to reach the bottom in one piece, I would never see my parents again. Once my family was safely reunited after the defeat of Voldemort, I pledged to never get on a sled again, to never again lose control of my life."

Hermione let go of his cloak and took a step backwards. With a sad smile, Malfoy spoke once more. "You have nothing to fear from me, Granger. Muggles have nothing to fear from me. I will never again pursue a path of which the outcome is unclear and my destination uncertain." Inclining his head toward her slightly, Malfoy turned and continued down the walk toward his cabin.

Hermione watched him for several seconds before exhaustion overtook her. She turned in the opposite direction from the one Malfoy had taken and trudged back up the hill toward her room. Although she would not admit it to Draco, Hermione too had shunned uncertainty and ambiguity since the end of the war and had determined that her life would follow a predictable route in the future.

-0-0-0-

Hermione stood outside of the Reeds Spring's high school gym and waited for her contact. The Ministry had arranged for the researcher who had been cataloguing the locations and integration levels of giant and half-giant communities in North America to cooperate with her in writing the report she was supposed to prepare. He had owled her yesterday and arranged to meet her at the high school basketball game so she could observe some typical interactions between magical and non-magical beings. After receiving the message, Hermione had spent the rest of Sunday afternoon reading up on the social and communal benefits of participating in youth sports.

Despite the cold, it felt good to be outdoors. Her outing this evening was only the second time she had left her room since checking in. The first time had been the day before, when she'd gone downstairs for brunch. She had been nervous and uncomfortable in the dining room afraid that she might run into Malfoy. Although she had not spotted him and hoped he'd left the area, she'd chosen to subsist on room service for the last two days rather than risk running into the pure-blooded prat.

A strong, cold breeze blew Hermione's hair in front of her eyes. As she struggled to see again, a voice drawled from behind her, "Granger, let's get inside and buy our tickets before my bollocks freeze off."

Whipping her head up, for the second time in three days, Hermione was startled to be staring directly into the eyes of Draco Malfoy. "Are you following me?!" she demanded to know.

Draco raised an eyebrow at her, as if to suggest that her question was unworthy of a response.

Hermione was not going to stand for being dismissed. "Answer me!"

"I admit it, Granger. You've discovered my wicked plans. I've made it my life's ambition to follow you around and make meaningless small talk. Now that my plot has been uncovered, I hope my sentence in Azkaban isn't too long."

Her eyes narrowed at his sarcasm. "You're a right wanker," she informed him. "Now go away, I'm waiting for someone."

This time Draco raised two eyebrows at her. "Waiting for someone? You don't say? What are the odds that you'd be out here in the middle of the Ozark mountains, miles away from anything magical waiting for someone, and I'd just happen to be wandering around the area? What an amazing coincidence!"

Hermione blushed as the realization finally hit her. He was her contact. He was the wizard who had been doing research on giants. She immediately felt sick to her stomach. There was no way she could work with him.

As if reading her mind, Draco told her. "I am not thrilled about the arrangement either. When I agreed to cooperate with a Ministry representative, I certainly did not expect you to show up. I thought you were just a poster child – the face – of the Ministry, not a real employee."

"Well, I am a real employee and just like everyone else, I have to take on my share of tedious assignments. But to be paired with you is unbelievable. How can the Ministry trust you to be objective about giants or any other magical creature? Why hasn't your name and your past discredited you from anything that might involve understanding magical and Muggle interaction?"

Draco glared at her. "Put your mind at rest, Granger. The Ministry doesn't so much trust me as need me. I'm the only one doing research on giant/Muggle relations and they want access to it. Besides," he narrowed his eyes further at her, "not everyone is as unforgiving as you. Some people actually realize that in the midst of the war, a seventeen-year-old boy cannot always decide his own fate or choose his own destiny."

"A snowflake in an avalanche never feels responsible either," Hermione muttered.

For a moment, Hermione thought that Draco was going hex her or Apparate away. However, he just closed his and took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes, he stated calmly, "This is your report, not mine. If you would rather I not be here to provide you with assistance, just say the word and I'll leave."

He sounded sincere, but it was a hard pill for Hermione to swallow. "Is what's going on inside the gym important for my report?" she asked.

He nodded. For the sake of finishing her assignment quickly and returning to England, she decided to give him one chance. "Alright, then," she sighed. "Let's go in."

-0-0-0-

"So?"

"It was… interesting."

"Just interesting?"

"Give me a few minutes to process everything, Malfoy," Hermione huffed, not liking that Draco seemed to be questioning her analysis. Well, really he was questioning her lack of analysis since she hadn't said much during the entire game. Truth was she had been too stunned to be vocal. If what she had just witnessed was possible here, was accepted here, there should be no reason why it couldn't become a model for half-giant Muggle integration around the continent as well.

"The three tall boys on the Reeds Spring's team were all half-giants?"

Draco nodded. "Well, one of them is a half-giant. The other two are probably quarter-giants. Their parents were in the stands, and as far as I can tell the fathers are half-giants."

"Are they all related?"

"The two quarter-giants are brothers. The other one is a cousin of some sort."

Hermione bit her lip and glanced down at the notebook she had in her hands. She'd been taking notes on it all evening, when not caught up in the action. She then surprised Draco by demanding, "How did you get here?"

"I Apparated. Why do you want to know?"

"Let's walk back. I think better when I'm in motion, besides the cool air feels good after being in that stuffy gym."

She started to head down the school's driveway without bothering to wait for Draco's response. He wondered if she been as much of a bossy bint back at Hogwarts and briefly felt sorry for Potter and Weasley. Stretching his legs, he quickly caught up to her and was momentarily over-whelmed by the sparkle in her eyes. She really was amazing when focused and fascinated by a problem.

"How many are there?" she asked, in an excited tone.

"There are about half a dozen under eighteen and another half dozen older than that."

"Remarkable. Did you see how completely integrated they were? It was not at all like those communities in France that Louis Rolland discussed in his article last year."

"Is that the article that described a family of half-giants living on the edge of a Muggle community, working as day laborers?"

Hermione nodded. "Shoddy piece of research really, but until now it appeared to be the best situation one could hope for." A cold gust of wind pushed at their backs and Hermione stuffed her hands in her pockets to keep them warm.

Draco wanted to laugh at her. Every time she talked, she pulled her hands out of her pockets and waved them about while trying to make her points. Eventually, when her fingers started to get cold, she would put them back in her pockets and fall silent until the process repeated itself.

"What I find most thrilling," Hermione began, bringing her hands out into the cold air once again, much to Draco's soundless amusement, "is the socialization not just of those with giant blood, but of the entire community. I mean did you see the support they were getting from the people in the stands?"

"Well, they are the main reasons Reeds Spring won the game," he informed her. "Place any three blokes who are almost seven feet tall on the same basketball team and they are going to get a lot of positive attention from that team's fans."

"So community acceptance of magical beings is in many ways predicated on offering a service that is desired," Hermione speculated out loud.

Draco waited for her to continue, but she had again placed her hands into her coat pockets to warm them up and therefore stopped talking. Shaking his head, Draco removed his gloves from his hands and gave them to Hermione.

"What's this for?" she asked, looking confused.

"It is impossible for us to carry on a discussion when you stop talking every time you need to warm up your fingers."

Hermione blushed. If Draco didn't have such tremendous control over his emotions, he would have thought she looked adorable.

"They are too big," Hermione said, holding up her hands so he could see her dilemma. "Maybe I can put a shrinking charm on them so they don't fall off."

"Don't even think about it, Granger," Draco warned her. "Those are made of Italian leather; a shrinking charm will ruin their integrity."

She rolled her eyes. "Well, they are completely useless like this," she complained, shaking her hands slightly causing the gloves to nearly slip off.

"Sweet Merlin, Granger," Draco replied in a mildly exasperated tone, "I thought you were supposed to be the problem solver." He plucked the glove off of her left hand and placed it on his. He then held her glove-covered hand in his.

"Malfoy!" she exclaimed, choking slightly. "What are you doing!?"

"I'm allowing you to continue talking without having my glove fall off you," he explained, shaking their entwined hands gently to demonstrate his point. This time when Hermione blushed, Draco allowed himself to think that she looked adorable.

-0-0-0-

Draco Malfoy was pacing – again. Truthfully, he had not stopped pacing since Hermione had shown up at his cabin early in the morning with two cups of coffee, a bag full of books, and piece of never-ending-parchment. He had been so surprised to see her, that he'd allowed her to press one of the cups in his hand as she elbowed her way into his lodgings and commandeered the dining room table for her books and materials.

"Granger," he managed to choke out when his tongue started to work again. "What in the world are you doing here?"

"I'm working on my report," she replied, as if should be obvious.

"Why are you working on it here?"

"My hotel room is too small and dumpy. There is much more space here to spread out."

Draco marveled at her audacity. She thought she needed more space, so she just took it, without bothering to ask. It was almost Slytherin-like. "Were you raised by wolves?"

Hermione glanced up at that with a look of confusion marring her features. "What?"

"This is my personal space. It is not the library at Hogwarts, not the hotel's business center, not even your boyfriend's flat. You can't just barge in here without a by-your-leave."

"I don't have a boyfriend."

"Focus, Granger!"

"Malfoy, you are going to be much more comfortable working in here than trying to squish into my tiny hotel room."

"That is not the point."

"I brought you coffee."

"Still not the point."

"Haven't you ever heard the line – it's easier to ask forgiveness than to ask permission?"

"Yes, I have. And although it is not relevant to our discussion, I have yet to hear a single apology."

Hermione sighed deeply. "I'm very sorry for trying to keep your comfort in mind when choosing a location to work. If you insist, we can pack up, trudge up the hill, and spend the day cramped in my room working on the report."

"Why are you assuming that I am going to even be a part of your project?" Draco asked, exasperated.

"The Ministry arranged for you to consult with me!"

"They asked me to introduce you to the half-giant community in this region. I've done that. I don't see the purpose in wasting my time working on a project that will simply get buried in a file drawer at the Ministry."

"I can make it worth your while," Hermione had offered.

Draco's body had stood frozen in place. His mind, however, had taken off imagining a naked, pliable, eager Hermione Granger in his bed. He reminded himself quickly that he was NOT attracted to her. He could NOT be bought with offers of sex. Still, it wouldn't hurt to find out exactly what she had in mind. "How?"

"I'll co-author an article with you."

"What?"

"In addition to the report I must complete for the Ministry, I think there are enough significant findings to warrant publication in an academic journal. The impact such a piece could have on half-giant/Muggle relations would be tremendous!"

The next words out of Draco's mouth had surprised him. "Fine, you can stay and work."

That had been three hours ago and Draco had been pacing ever since then, pausing only to answer Hermione's questions or to refer to a source book for evidence.

"What are you plans for the holidays?"

Draco stopped pacing. "What?"

"What are your plans for the holidays?" she repeated.

Shit. Why did the witch want to know that? He hoped she was not going to ask him to spend Christmas with her Muggle parents as some sort of pity invite. "I'm staying here."

"Good," Hermione replied with a smile. "We can work straight through Christmas and hopefully be ready to submit it soon after the New Year."

Draco nodded and smiled in response, before he realized that he'd just committed himself to work over his Christmas holiday. Damn, Granger, and her presumptuous personality. He decided right then to steel himself again any further of her overtures. He would not embark on some emotional sled ride with the former Gryffindor. "This does not mean I enjoy your company or relish working with you," he informed her in a harsh tone.

"I would never assume it did," she'd replied. But Draco would have sworn, before she tucked her head back into a book, that she had given him a huge grin.

-0-0-0-

Hermione was exhausted. She'd been working on the integration project fourteen hours a day for the last three days. She'd gotten a late start this morning, however, because Malfoy had insisted on going out for a real – meaning meat and eggs – breakfast, claiming that if all he had to eat on Christmas Eve was sugary pastries, he'd slit his wrists just to put himself out of his misery. She'd smiled at his dark sense of humor, such a contrast to Ron's jokes, which - more often than not - were based on his bodily noises.

It was now two a.m. and all Hermione wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep. Getting up from the table, she walked over to the living room to tell Draco she was leaving. Looking over the back of the couch, she was surprised to see that the blond had fallen asleep, curled up on his side. He looked innocent and handsome lying there in silence. Hermione immediately stopped herself. She did NOT think Draco Malfoy was handsome. It was obviously just the lateness of the evening and the fact that the git had his mouth closed for once that had misled her.

Happy with how she had reasoned away her momentary lapse in judgment, Hermione wondered if she should wake him, but decided to just cover him with a blanket and hope he didn't develop a stiff neck in the morning. She put on her coat, walked over to the entryway, and opened the door. She was blasted back by an icy wind and a thick gust of snow. Quickly shutting the door, Hermione wanted to sob. There was no way she was going to brave a blizzard this late at night. She was also too tired to Apparate successfully to her room.

She glanced back toward the living room and eyed Draco. He most likely wouldn't rouse until dawn. She probably could sneak into his bed, catch a few hours of sleep, and then scuttled back to her room once the sun came up. Draco would never need to know that she had used his bed. Hermione decided that it really was the most sensible course of action and had nothing to do with some deeply suppressed desire to wrap herself in the same sheets Malfoy typically slept between. She was much too practical and protective of her heart to get caught up in any romantic entanglement with the former Slytherin.

-0-0-0-

Hermione felt warm and comfortable. She snuggled further down into the blankets and inched backwards slightly until she was pressed against a source of heat. Making a little mew of contentment, the bushy-haired girl decided that this was the perfect way to wake up on Christmas morning – warm, relaxed, and sated. She frowned slightly. Sated? Where had that come from?

She suddenly froze. It was Christmas morning and she had gone to sleep last night in Draco's bed. She glanced at the digital clock on the bedside table. It flashed 9:30 a.m. Oh, shit. If Draco wasn't already awake he'd probably be up soon and if he walked in here to discover her in his bed, she could just imagine what he would say. The naughty part of her brain picked that time to speculate on the various sexual innuendos he could make. She wiggled up against the heat source at that thought and almost screamed when it draped an arm around her waist.

Stupid, stupid, girl! Of course, the heat source was Draco. She forced herself to calm down. The situation was salvageable. Draco was obviously still asleep. She could tell because his mouth wasn't spewing sarcastic comments. Therefore, all she needed to do was slide out of bed, gather up her clothing, and Apparate back to her room. She would then deny everything.

Focused on this course of action, Hermione slowly began to inch away from Draco. She hadn't gotten far when the arm around her waist tightened and pulled her firmly against her bedmate's body. "Going somewhere, Granger?"

Hermione's face flushed scarlet. The git was awake! "Let me go, Malfoy! I want to get up!"

"But sweetheart, you are the best present Santa has ever given me."

She struggled in his grasp. "I'm not your Christmas gift, you egotistical prat. I just wanted to get a few hours of sleep before Apparating back to my hotel room."

"Oh, you protest in the light of day, but last night…"

Hermione stopped moving and turned to look in his eyes. That was a mistake, because Draco's face was now mere centimeters away from hers. She could physically feel every breath he took; she could see every emotion flicker across his countenance. She had never been this close to him before and it left her feeling unsettled. "What about last night?" She searched her memory, but remembered nothing after climbing into bed.

He just arched an eyebrow at her and smirked.

"Liar," she hissed, even though he had said nothing. When he started to chuckle, she pushed herself away from him and hopped out of bed.

He immediately stopped laughing and his eyes clouded with desire as he looked at her.

It was only then that Hermione remembered that she was only wearing a cami and her knickers, having shed her jumper and jeans before climbing into bed last night. She blushed again at the look of appreciation on Draco's face.

She threw a pillow at his face. "Stop staring at me!"

"I am pretty certain that when a witch sleeps half naked in a man's bed uninvited, she loses all claims to modesty."

Hermione grabbed her jumper off the floor and quickly shoved it on over her head. "You are making this out to be more than it is!"

"And what is it exactly?" he asked, his voice huskier than she'd ever heard it. It made her nervous.

"Well, there was snow and I was so tired and you were already asleep on the couch," she mumbled.

"Articulate, as usual," Draco commented, shaking his head.

Hermione wanted to cry. Why was he making this so hard on her? Surely he didn't think that she was offering herself up as some sort of gift to him by sleeping in his bed. "Malfoy, can't we just forget about this? I apologize for being so presumptuous. I promise it won't happen again."

"Pity," he murmured. Upon seeing her look of distress, however, he relented. "Fine, Granger, it never happened. Finish getting dressed and then brew up some coffee. The least you can do for leading me on is to watch me open my real gifts." He then gave her a rare smile/wink combination that she found utterly charming.

"Thanks, Malfoy," she smiled in return, scooping up her jeans and hurrying out of the room.

As soon as she was gone, Draco dropped his back onto his pillow, a faint smile lingering on his lips. "Happy Christmas, Hermione," he whispered.

-0-0-0-

Hermione lingered in the kitchen confused and a still a bit embarrassed by her morning encounter with Malfoy. In part, her confusion was due to being unsure how to categorize the latest interaction between Draco and her.

Hermione had three mental folders into which she filed all the experiences she'd ever had with the blond. The largest folder, by far, was labeled 'Prat' and contained most of Hermione's run-ins with Draco during Hogwarts. The second folder was labeled 'Cunning' and included those actions of his that couldn't be classified as cruel or mean, but rather sneaky and self-serving. The final folder, the one that only recently had begun to grow, was entitled 'Helpful.' It contained her and Draco's work on the half-giant/Muggle interaction article. It also held a small subfolder marked 'Humorous.' She justified including it in the 'Helpful' folder, since Draco's humor did help her relax and not take life so seriously.

Her current problem was that the interaction between them this morning – the Christmas Morning Incident, she'd decided to call it – did not fit into any her three Draco folders. Had Malfoy been seriously attempting to manipulate her, then she could have thrown it in the 'Cunning' folder. Or had he taunted her until she'd fled his cabin or burst into tears, it could have been placed in the 'Prat' folder. But the Christmas Morning Incident was neither of those things, it matched no other experiences she'd ever had with Malfoy. In fact, the closest thing she had to compare it to was some of the desire/lust experiences between her and Ron. She refused, however, to mentally create a 'Lust' folder for Malfoy. Something warned her that if she made such a folder, she'd start wanting to fill it up.

Deciding that she had procrastinated long enough, Hermione poured two cups of coffee and brought them into the living room. Any embarrassment she might have felt at seeing Draco again so soon after the Christmas Morning Incident evaporated immediately at finding him sitting in the middle of the floor surrounded by presents. He looked so eager to tear into his packages that she couldn't help but giggle.

"Shush, woman," he insisted, taking his coffee from her. "My mum tends to go a little overboard."

"You don't say?" Hermione teased, before sitting on the couch.

"Would you like to Apparate back to your room and bring your gifts down here to open?"

She shook her head. "I'm going to have a late Christmas with the Weasleys and my parents after I return to London. I'll just watch you."

Draco nodded, grinned, and began to open his gifts. Hermione smiled at his enthusiasm. One might think that someone as indulged as Malfoy would be blasé about receiving presents, but each gift that he opened seemed to thrill him. Draco shared with Hermione the stories behind his mother's choice of Quidditch equipment, the books she'd gotten him, and the clothing she'd picked out.

"Why aren't you with your parents this Christmas?" Hermione asked, as he neared the end of his pile.

Draco frowned. "My father has been less than pleased with my decision to study the interactions between Muggles and magical creatures. Rather than argue with him and ruin the holiday for my mum, I used my work for the Ministry as an excuse not to go home."

"Surely it is not a permanent rift?" Hermione asked.

He shook his head. "No, he'll get over it. Especially if our article is taken seriously and his colleagues begin to inquire about our findings." Draco gave her that wink/smile combination again and something in Hermione's belly fluttered in response.

Eventually there was just one gift left. It was small, but covered in expensive-looking, brightly coloured paper.

"Aren't you going to open it?"

"It's not for me," he replied with a grin. "It is for you."

Hermione's eyes grew wide in surprise. "B-but I wasn't expecting anything," she stammered.

"Just open it, Granger," Draco ordered. "It is the season for giving, after all."

She slowly removed the wrapping paper to reveal a velvet-covered box. Inside it was a silver book-shaped pin with a tiny quill attached to it by a chain. "It's lovely."

"Take the quill off the chain," Draco told her.

She followed his instructions and immediately the quill expanded to a size that made it usable. In addition, the book grew and opened, revealing a notebook full of parchment. Hermione looked at Malfoy in amazement.

"For those times when it is impractical to carry around full-sized writing implements."

"I adore it," she told him truthfully, watching the notebook shrink back to pin size when reattached to the quill. "I feel bad because I have nothing for you."

"Does it look like I need anything?" he responded, gesturing to all his gifts. "Give me a thank you hug and we'll call it even."

She nodded, genuinely touched at his thoughtfulness. Rising, Hermione crossed the room and bent down to hug him. Before she could put her arms around his shoulders, however, she tripped on a discarded box and fell into his lap.

Draco laughed at her clumsiness. "My goodness, Granger. Is there something about the holidays that causes you to throw yourself into men's arms?"

Hermione pushed lightly at his shoulder. "Stop teasing me," she giggled.

"I don't want a thank you hug anymore," he told her.

"You don't?" she asked, sounding a bit hurt.

"No. I would much rather have a thank you kiss."

Hermione's eyes grew wide once again, but quickly fluttered shut as Draco's mouth descended upon hers.

The kiss was short, but Draco's heart beat furiously. He couldn't believe he'd just kissed Hermione Granger. He braced himself to be slapped, yelled at, or worse. When she opened her eyes, however, Hermione just smiled at him.

He started to apologize, but she placed a finger on his lips. "Don't ruin it by talking," she joked.

Draco rolled his eyes, but his mind raced. He was worried that Hermione would soon leave and go back to her hotel room. This thought was simply unacceptable to him. He wanted her to stay longer. He refused to analyze why he wanted her company. He just knew he wanted it, and it was Christmas, and he always got what he wanted for Christmas.

As he was mulling over what might tempt her into spending the day with him, she started to rise from his lap. "I should probably be going," she began.

Draco shook his head sadly. "I never expected you'd be so cowardly, Granger."

Hermione cocked her head at him from her standing position. "What are you on about, Malfoy?"

"It is clear you are simply trying to avoid competing in the annual Malfoy Family Non-Magical Snowman Building Contest."

She crossed her arms in front of her chest. "The Malfoy family has a yearly snowman building contest where you don't use magic?" Hermione asked, looking skeptical.

"It's of recent origin," Draco replied with what he hoped was a confident shrug.

"I don't know. I should go."

"Cluck, cluck, cluck, cluck, cluck."

"Did you just make chicken noises at me?"

"If the feathers fit, Granger."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Malfoy, you just challenged the wrong person. I can't wait to crush your Christmas spirit beneath my superior snow crafting skills!"

Draco just smirked at her in response.

Twenty minutes later, Hermione put the finishing touches on her snowman.

"Is your snowman drunk?" Draco asked her.

"No," she replied. Although her snowman was leaning awkwardly, Hermione was proud of her creation, which looked like it was playing baseball - or rugby -or some other sport involving a ball. "At least my snowman has more going for it than being anatomically correct," she mocked, glancing back at Draco's handiwork.

"For the last time, Granger, that is his ARM."

Hermione laughed at him. It made Draco's heart swell and then contract. He wanted to wrap his arms the girl until he regained his equilibrium. "Fine, you win. What would you like as a prize?"

"Make me Christmas dinner."

"You mean order us Christmas dinner from some fabulous Muggle establishment?" Draco responded, attempting to correct her.

She shook her head.

Draco grimaced than gave her a half smile. "Alright, it's your stomach."

"I have faith in you, Mr. Malfoy," Hermione told him, grinning brightly.

This time Draco returned her full smile, feeling a bit of faith in himself as well.

-0-0-0-

Dinner was inedible. Draco took one bite of the entrée before pushing his plate away with a grimace. Hermione valiantly made it through about half of her helping of mashed – something – before Draco picked up her plate and threw it in the bin. "Grab your coat, Granger."

"I'm really not that hungry anymore," she lied.

Draco just stared at her until she complied. "You are too easy," he mocked.

"Shut up," she muttered in reply.

They walked up to the hotel's restaurant in silence, each deep in thought about the last few days. Hermione was concerned that her mental pile of uncategorized interactions with Draco had continued to grow. It was starting to make her anxious. She did not do well with clutter, mental or physical. Since the war had ended, she had neat little piles of experiences, nothing unexpected, nothing out of order, just tidy – clearly labeled events. It was obvious that her systematic, methodical life could not survive close personal contact with Draco Malfoy.

Draco, on the other hand, had begun to slip and slide. As a man whose feet had been firmly planted on the ground since Voldemort's defeat, the sensation of moving without being in control made him feel uneasy. Whenever he was with Hermione, however, it was like being pulled into a new direction, shoved toward a new destination, one that he had no power over and couldn't manage. It left his stomach jumbled and his mind foggy.

Both froze before the entrance of the restaurant looking at the mistletoe that hung above the door. "I'm knackered," Hermione whispered, taking a step back from Draco. "I am just going to order room service this evening."

He nodded briskly. Parting now was definitely for the best. "I'll talk to you tomorrow," he replied.

She gave him a weak smile. "Happy Christmas, Malfoy."

He clenched his hands into fists to keep from reaching for her. "Happy Christmas, Granger."

-0-0-0-

Hermione sat at Draco's dining room table, determined to finish their article today. She'd spent a lot of time thinking the night before and decided that the best option for her sanity (and her heart) was to complete this project as quickly as possible, return to London, and reconcile with Ron. There could not be a future for someone like her with someone like Malfoy, so it made no sense to contemplate an alternate reality that would allow them to be together. She would just push the seemingly real attraction that existed into the back of her mind and place it in a folder labeled: Impossible Crushes.

Unfortunately, Draco was not making it easy for Hermione to get her task accomplished. He refused to sit still and revise their work. Instead, he was wasting time taking down the tree, putting away the Christmas ornaments, and using Evanesco to clear away his discarded wrapping paper. "Malfoy, would you PLEASE help me?"

"No."

She growled in frustration. "Why not?"

"Because I'm busy."

"That can be done later!"

"So can the article."

"No, it can't!" Hermione complained. "I'm leaving tomorrow and want to get it finished before I go. Who knows when we'll ever see each other again. I'd rather not have to finish this by owl."

Draco frowned at her. "Why are you leaving so soon?"

"My project for the Ministry is finished. You knew I was only going to be here temporarily."

He nodded slowly. "Well, I'm about done here too. Why can't the article wait until I return to England?"

Hermione blinked; she had not expected that. "Ur… there are a couple of reasons it can't wait."

Draco remained silent, but arched both his eyebrows.

"Primarily, I want to complete it because I hate leaving projects undone. I'll end up in hives if I just set this aside unfinished and try to focus on other things."

"And what is your other reason?"

Hermione cleared her throat, not really wanting to discuss this. "Well, it will be inconvenient for us to get together later. It isn't like we move in the same social or professional circles. I can't picture you inviting me over to the Manor so we can hunker down in your father's study and contemplate half-giant/Muggle interactions over tea."

"I see," Draco drawled, in the coldest voice Hermione had heard him use since she'd arrived. "Miles away from the wizarding world you have no problem being seen with me, but around your friends in the heart of magical London, heaven forbid that the Gryffindor Golden Girl socialize with the son of a Death Eater."

Hermione's eyes grew wide. "That isn't what I meant!" she exclaimed.

"Save it for someone who gives a fuck, Granger."

Standing up from the table, Hermione took several steps toward the angry blond. She wanted to shake him, but was afraid if she got too close her determination to end this before it got started would crumble. "I am the LAST person who would hold your family's history against you! I would have thought that was obvious." When Draco blushed, she continued. "But you must admit that our lives are completely different, we do not have anything in common, our pasts have not prepared us to approach issues or problems in a similar manner."

"It sounds like you've thought a lot about this."

"I have."

"It also sounds like you are talking about more than just research collaboration."

"I am."

Draco took a step toward Hermione. If he reached out he could touch her. "I've thought about this, as well," he informed her. "I think that further joint projects between us could succeed. It is plain to me that in spite of our lack of common experiences we are compatible on several levels. Perhaps in some areas of our lives we are supposed to just let go and slide. Perhaps we aren't supposed to worry about exactly where we will end up. Perhaps what is most important is who we travel with and not how we get there."

Hermione swayed slightly, but wrapped her arms around her waist to steady herself. "I'm not sure I can do that. I don't think I can just let go, especially when all evidence, except for our most recent experiences, suggests that this will end badly."

His eyes bored into her. "I would like the opportunity to change your mind."

She shook her head, her eyes bright. "I can't. Please don't ask me."

Draco grimaced. He didn't argue with her, but he hadn't agreed, either. "Leave the article, Hermione. I'll finish it up and owl it to you by the end of the week."

She nodded. She wanted to thank him, to tell him that at a different time or in different circumstances, things might have worked out. She was afraid, however, that if she opened her mouth, she would cave in to him. She bit her lip so she wouldn't sob and then Disapparated back to her room.

-0-0-0-

Hermione sat in her office on Friday, December 28th and waited for five p.m. to arrive. An owl from Draco Malfoy had delivered his revision of their article earlier that afternoon. Hermione had not read it, however, because it wasn't official Ministry business. Ever since she'd criticized Harry and Ron for starting a Quidditch pool while on the clock, she needed to be above reproach.

As soon as five o'clock arrived, Hermione ripped into the package and began reading Draco's changes. The introduction was essentially the same, but halfway through the first page he had added a new paragraph. It came right after the section that contained their thesis about successful half-giant/Muggle interaction depending on the magical creatures offering an important service to the Muggle community. It began:

While the relationship between Muggles and half-giants can be established and strengthened by their sharing a common objective or by half-giants being able to provide a significant component to a Muggle community's agenda, these associations can be fleeting in nature. Longer lasting and deeper connections require more personal and intimate bonds. These bonds are most effectively established by intermarriage that results in full integration into the community.

Hermione read the last line three times – intermarriage that results in full integration into the community. She had never suggested that this argument be brought into their analysis. After all, the Malfoy family's belief about blood purity was common knowledge. Maybe a completely new filing system was in order to cover her interactions with Malfoy. When she looked up from the article, it was to see Draco leaning against her doorframe.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

"Do you mean it?"

"I wouldn't have put it in writing if I didn't believe it," he responded.

Hermione pushed her chair back from her desk, a smile on her face. "It is an interesting theory, Malfoy. And I must admit that is seems to hold up to scrutiny as far as the community at Reeds Spring is concerned. However, I'd say more research is necessary before it can be confidently applied to other magical creature integrations."

"Oh, I couldn't agree more," Draco replied, standing up straight. "That's why I'm here. I've been trying to convince your boss to assign a Ministry representative to travel with me to a Chinese village in the Shaanxi Province to examine a Muggle community which has integrated elves into their society."

Hermione stepped around her desk. "It sounds like an interesting project."

"I had hoped you would think so," Draco responded taking a step toward her.

"What are you going to do while you are waiting for the Ministry to respond to your request?" She licked her lips.

"I was hoping we might conduct a little case study of our own," he grinned, opening his arms slightly and then hugging her tightly when she stepped into them.

"A case study?" she asked, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head on his chest.

He kissed the top of her head. "Thought we might do some research on the acceptance of Muggle-born and pure-blood dating among the wizarding community."

Hermione raised her eyes to look into Draco's face. "I think that I would like that," she told him.

"Well, there is no time like the present to begin," he smiled, before covering her mouth with his.

The End

AN: The snowflake quote is from Voltaire. This was written as part of the 12 Days of Christmas Drabble Challenge sponsored by dramionedrabble community at livejournal. A big thanks to Floorcoaster for betaing this.