Summary – At the request of her daughter, single mother Hermione leaves out the obligatory milk and biscuits for Father Christmas on Christmas Eve, even though she knows he doesn't exist. Imagine her surprise when a man with white hair and a red robe comes through the chimney on Christmas Eve. Good thing she decided to fall asleep with the fireplace poker in her hand.

Disclaimer – All characters and canon situations belong to JK Rowling and I make no money from the writing or publishing of this story. Thank You.

Through the Chimney

By

AnneM

Part I –

Something about Christmas time sent Draco Malfoy in to a tailspin every year. It could have something to do with the cold weather, he supposed. People always assumed he liked the cold, but they would be wrong. It could be the fact that the sky was grey and the wind blew unyielding. It could have to do with the fact that everyone went around with fake smiles upon their rosy-cheeked faces pronouncing sappy sentiments like: 'Happy Christmas time' to each person they had the misfortunate of meeting. Or it could be because his best friend died four years ago on Christmas Eve.

However, he preferred to believe he hated this time of year because of Hermione Granger.

"Does she seriously think she can deny me access to the girl this Christmas?" Draco Malfoy quipped, squashing the letter from Hermione Granger into his fist, and then banging his fist upon the table.

Throwing the piece of parchment on to the floor, he added, "She's my only goddaughter, flesh of my best friend's flesh, fruit of his loins! I have every right to see her, yet the girl's stupid, Mudblood mother thinks she can deny me the very basic right of seeing her on Christmas Eve! Furthermore, she cancels my visit with only two days prior notice. Bloody bad form, if you ask me."

As he took a deep breath to reign in his temper he knew there was more to his anger than the fact that Granger cancelled his plans to see his only goddaughter. Still, it rankled him, it did.

His fist banged on the table. "It was bad enough that she told me I couldn't give her what I wanted to give her for a Christmas present!"

He looked over at his father and squawked, "I mean, seriously, Father, you concur with me, don't you? What harm is there in sending a girl of eight years of age the deed to a castle in Scotland? Everyone needs a castle!" He stood up so suddenly he knocked his chair over with a thud. "But no, Granger told me there was no way I was giving her something as extravagant as her very own castle. She told me to buy her a book or a toy. A TOY! For Christmas. I mean, can you imagine?"

His teeth clinched then he added, "You bought me my first castle at seven!"

"Six, darling," his mother interjected from the other end of the long table. "You were six. You were deeded the chalet in the Swiss Alps at seven."

"Well there you go!" Draco argued. "The poor little sprite has been neglected for two years! Two years without her very own castle, or chalet! Poor, little sweet girl! I bet Adrian is rolling over in his grave at the thought that his only daughter is being neglected like that! I promised my best friend on his death bed four years ago that I would look after his only daughter, yet Granger thwarts me at every turn."

If only Granger would see that he had the little girl's best interest at heart – but no, Granger preferred always to think the worst of him. She always had and always would. Even though he'd tried everything to show her that he had changed! And now she wanted him to buy her daughter…a toy? What would that prove?

"I wouldn't even know where one goes to buy a toy!" he tacked on.

Without lowering his paper his father said in a dry draw, "A toy store?"

With a derisive laugh and a snort Draco responded, "Right, like those exist. A toy store, good one, Father."

His mother smiled and said, "I could help you find a suitable present."

"That's not the point, Mother! The point is that, that woman has gone out of her way to try to extricate little Ivy from my life, but I tell you I won't have it! Not at all! Christmas Eve is my time with her! Adrian appointed me godfather for a reason. He wanted a pureblood to look after her education and upbringing."

Pacing back and forth beside his chair, he continued his rant while his parents continued their breakfast. "She'll be heading off to Hogwarts in three short years! She has to know what to expect. No one's taught her pureblood etiquette or history or traditions!" He made a disgusted sound deep in his throat when he added, "instead, all she knows is her mother's Mudbloodly Mudbloodness!"

Even to his ears that sounded like a feeble excuse. The truth was he wanted to see Ivy because she gave him a connection to the only true friend he'd ever had, and because down deep he had feelings for her mother, even if he rather die than admit as much. He picked up his chair and sat back down. Stabbing a large piece of sausage on his fork he said, "It's bad enough that she has to be around Mudbloods and Muggles every Christmas, along with people like the Weasleys, or worst, Potter."

Even Lucius shuddered slightly at his end of the table at that sentence, and then expelled one strangled, disgusted phrase… "Ugh, Potter."

Draco persistent, "But to think, that she won't even let me SEE HER! I've seen her every Christmas Eve in the past, but this Christmas, Granger claims she's going out of town for the holiday. What a load of hippogriff shite…sorry, Mother."

"It's alright, darling, you're upset," his mother said with a smile.

Draco took a long drink of black coffee, looked down the long table for a long time at his father, who appeared to still be reading the newspaper.

"Father?"

There was no response.

"Father? Have you heard a word I've said?" the younger Malfoy whined.

Malfoy senior finally placed his newspaper on the corner of the breakfast table, gave his son his best haughty glare and said, "What?"

"Weren't you even listening to me?" Draco demanded.

"Of course I've been listening to you," his father leveled. "You've been crying, boo-hoo, boo-hoo, for forty-five minutes now. One couldn't help but to listen to you, Son. You sound almost like a little girl yourself. You make me almost ashamed to call you my son; in addition to that, you've ruined my morning constitution. Yet you want to know if I was listening to you? Yes, I was. I had no choice."

"Now you listen to me," his father said while standing, "If you want to see your goddaughter, instead of sitting at MY breakfast table crying, go do something about it. In my day, I would have taken care of my problems instead of prattling on about them, but there you go, the old ways are long gone."

"Yes well, in your day, you went around wearing long black robes and masks! In your day you would have probably just swooped down into the house while no one was looking and…and…wait…you've might have given me an idea, Father." Draco narrowed his eyes, looked over at his mother, and said, "Mother, father's being a bit of a bore, but he's given me a wonderful idea. I know just how I'll get to see them, I mean, her, this Christmas without her mother being any wiser. Hmm, yes, I think it'll work. Thank you, both. I must be on my way. I have things to do, unlike you two laze abouts."

With that, he stood, went over and kissed his mother's cheek, and then patted his father's arm, before he walked out of the room without looking back.

His mother looked at his father with a smile on her face and said, "You're brilliant, my love."

Lucius sat back down. "I know it," he returned with a twinkle in his eye, "I know."

Part II -

Hermione Granger threw one last jumper into her daughter's suitcase and then closed it with an audible sigh. She hated that they wouldn't be home for Christmas, and by the look on her little girl's face, she knew that little Ivy hated it too. Nevertheless, it couldn't be helped. Hermione's work was important to her, and her employer, Greg Goyle, was sending her to some village in Ireland to examine an ancient locket that a man had discovered among his grandfather's things upon his death. The man claimed the locket belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw herself! Therefore, Hermione was being dispatched on Christmas to see if the man's claims were authentic.

She loved her work. This assignment was the type of mission that she would normally have been very keen to do…but it was Christmas! Why send her away at Christmas? She knew that Goyle was a greedy type, and he wanted the large finder's fee they would obtain for acquiring this object for the Ministry of Magic if it proved to be truly from one of the Founders of Hogwarts, but still…it was Christmas!

Looking over at Ivy, her eight-year-old daughter, (who was reading quietly in the corner of the room) her heart swelled with pride and joy. Though she was conceived from a short-lived relationship with a man whom Hermione didn't love or marry, and who was now dead, the little girl never lack for anything.

For one thing, all of the Weasleys loved and doted on her as if she were a part of their family. Her 'Uncle Harry' took her almost anywhere she ever wanted to go, let her experience almost everything she ever wanted to experience, and try everything there was to try.

Then there was Draco Malfoy.

When Ivy was born, Hermione allowed Adrian to name her godfather in what she thought was a benevolent act of fairness. She never thought in a million years that Adrian would name Draco Malfoy in that role! Adrian died four years ago, and since then, Draco began slowly to show Ivy more and more attention. At first, it irked Hermione, because he mainly gave her presents – expensive presents – and played with her as if he were a child himself.

Then he began to teach her things about purebloods and magical history, and although Hermione didn't mind her daughter learning about her background, she was afraid that Draco might indoctrinate her daughter with anti-Muggle-born rhetoric. Therefore, Hermione decided to lessen their time together.

Also, Hermione was beginning to feel rather uncomfortable around Malfoy (if truth were told) and that irked her a bit, too. It wasn't as if she was annoyed by his bigotry or snobbishness. Those were things she had gotten used to over the course of knowing Draco most of her life. It was other, new feelings that were making Hermione feel uncomfortable as of late.

For instance – when Draco would innocently touch Hermione, on the hand or the small of the back, she would find her breath catching or a tingling feeling in the pit of her stomach. She noticed that he seemed to watch her with a fierce intensity that was never there before, and every time his gaze fell upon her, she felt hot and the hairs would stand up on the back of her neck.

One time he stood behind her and whispered something in her ear and she felt like melting in to a puddle on the floor.

And there was no reason for it! She didn't even like the man! Yet she felt oddly attracted to him – and she hated herself for being attracted to him. Furthermore, she knew he wasn't attracted to her and if he ever got wind of the fact that she found him attractive (MERLIN HELP HER!) he would never, EVER, let her live it down!

So it was probably a good thing she was putting some distance between them this Christmas. Yes. A very good thing indeed!

And while it was true that Draco had spent every Christmas Eve with Ivy since her father died (which was what her father had done when he was alive), the fact that Ivy couldn't see Draco this Christmas Eve had nothing to do with that fact that Hermione didn't want Draco to see her daughter any longer. She wrote to him and told him that she was going to be out of town the day before Christmas Eve, therefore he couldn't see her daughter FOR Christmas Eve, or even on Christmas day. End of story. Simple. Easy.

Well, at least, one would think. However, nothing was ever simple with Draco Malfoy. She had a vague feeling that she hadn't heard the last of him on this matter.

Then right on cue there was a knock to the door. Hermione turned to Ivy. "Sweetheart, why don't you go ahead and dress for your recital? We have to leave soon, and when we get back, we have to go straight to Ireland by Portkey, so we'll be in such a rush. I'll go answer the door."

Standing tall, she rushed to the foyer and pulled back the front door, already knowing in her mind that it was HE.

"Greetings, Granger," he acknowledged.

She knew he was angry by the way he appeared at her door, her letter clutched in his hand and the look on his face, which was something between angry and evil. No, Draco Malfoy wasn't about to give up easily. Without a smile or a greeting in return, she opened the door.

Part III -

When the letter arrived at Draco's breakfast table this morning, he was not pleased. After ranting and raving to his parents for a solid hour, he finally arrived at a conclusion. He WOULD see his goddaughter for Christmas, and he knew just HOW he was going to do it!

Going to his wing in the Manor, he began to get ready for his scheme. While he was getting ready, he began to have dispiriting thoughts. Without Ivy this Christmas Eve, he would be all alone. His parents always travelled to the South of France for Christmas. He would be left alone to ramble around in this large, old catacomb called home, and that thought was a haunting one.

He was getting too old to be alone. He hated it. He wanted something more out of life, something warm and inviting. Something of his own. A wife, a family…like, well, Granger and Ivy.

In the beginning, he only went to see Ivy out of a sense of obligation to Adrian. Then he started seeing her to irritate her mother. Then he started seeing her because the little girl filled a deep, dark void in his life. His life was orderly, but empty and boring.

And it was hard to admit, but he also liked to see Granger when he visited Ivy. Glancing out the window at the cold, destitute, grey winter day he knew that if he didn't do something to change his life he was going to go stark raving mad! He also knew if he had to spend Christmas Eve without either of them he would perish from sadness.

Turning toward his room, he finishing with his preparations and then decided to give Granger and little Ivy a visit before they left for Ireland. Also, if he recalled, Ivy had her school recital tonight. Tonight would be a perfect time to call.

Part IV –

That morning at the breakfast table, shortly after Ivy went to school, Hermione sat back and thought of the Owl she had just sent to Malfoy. He wouldn't be happy, but that couldn't be helped.

It was getting trickier to see Malfoy each time he came to see Ivy. Hermione tried to remain indifferent to the man, but it was difficult. He was tall, and she had to admit that he had very broad shoulders and a nice form. His grey eyes were most unusual, and they were usually full of mischief and delight. They often sparred back and forth, but it was always in good fun and she had come to enjoy their interactions.

When he played with Ivy, read to her, or even merely just talked to her, Hermione would often find herself studying the man. She had to admit, if only to herself, that she liked what she saw. Often she had to try NOT to stare at him. Her pulse often raced when he entered the room. His mere physical presence caused her to feel uneasy and uncomfortable, which made her want to curse the man!

She was attracted to Draco Malfoy! How did that happen?

Now this evening he was suddenly standing on her front stoop, knocking at her door, with the letter she had written to him clutched tightly in his hands. For a brief moment, she thought she might not let him in, but she was no one's coward, and she wasn't afraid of Draco Malfoy (or her feelings for the man!) of that she was certain!

Opening the door slowly, she peered around the solid oak panels and after a clipped acknowledgment from Draco of, "Greetings, Granger," the man walked into her home but then he did something even stranger. Without warning, Draco took her hand in his. She found his fingers warm and strong against hers. A shiver of desire went through her, causing her breath to hitch and her pulse to pause, and then jump. Her nerves nearly shattered when he retained her hand in his, and brought it up to his mouth to kiss her fingertips lightly.

"And may I wish you a happy, early Christmas. May I also say what a pleasure?" he concluded. Her fingers slid from his easily, though her eyes remained on his the entire time.

"For whom?" she countered, moving aside so he could enter her home. She placed the hand that was just in his to the back of her neck – a frisson of warmth gathered there from his mere presence. For that reason, and that reason alone, she almost pushed him back out the door.

Part V -

Draco didn't mean to reach out and touch her hand. It just happened.

He didn't mean to pull it to his mouth. It just happened.

He didn't mean to become lost in her eyes, dream about grabbing fists full of her hair, or having her legs around his hips, thrusting himself into her tight warm… "Excuse me? What did you say?" he asked, warmth infusing his cheeks.

"Why are you here?" she asked again.

He cleared his throat. "I've come to escort you and my dear little goddaughter to her Christmas recital tonight. Likewise, I've come to bring her a present, a book, and to see why I cannot spend Christmas Eve with her, as is tradition."

Hermione's shoulders sagged as she backed away from him. "Malfoy, the letter I sent you this morning explained it all. Goyle is sending me to Ireland tomorrow night to examine an ancient locket, which might have belonged to one of the Founders of Hogwarts. I have no choice but to go, and where I go, my daughter goes, especially on Christmas. And how did you know about her recital tonight?"

Walking around her, as a predator would a prey, he relayed, "Nott's son goes to the same prep school, don't you know? He told me." When he stood once more in front of her his eyes slid from her eyes down to her body then back up. "You look…nice."

No she didn't. She looked beautiful. She was dressed in a red dressed that made him feel a bit giddy and lightheaded. It filled him with such intensity that he could hardly keep from taking a step closer to her. For one moment he almost reached out, placed a hand on her arm, and pulled her to him.

Instead, he turned around and offered her a neatly wrapped present. "A Night before Christmas," he teased with a smile. "I believe I was allowed to bring Ivy a book or a toy. I thought she might enjoy this. I thought reading it on Christmas Eve could become a new tradition."

She smiled back. He loved it when she smiled. It warmed him all over. Her smile almost scaled him with heat. She took the book from him and said, "It was a tradition when I was young. Now it will be for Ivy. Thank you, Malfoy. It will be so much easier to take with us than a castle." She took the book and placed it on an open suitcase that was sitting on the sofa.

Taking a fortifying breath, he asked, "So you really mean to leave me, I mean, leave the country tomorrow on Christmas Eve?"

"I'm sorry, but I must," she answered sincerely. Then there was a moment of silence between them. It was weighed down by things unsaid, things felt, and things desired.

He finally walked closer and she held her ground. He peered down into her beautiful brown eyes and said, "Then shall I at least spend this evening with you and Ivy? I can escort you to the recital, as I said, and come back to the house afterwards, where I'll read her my Christmas present."

"Very well, as long as you don't have any castles hidden in your pockets, Malfoy," she warned seriously, her finger suddenly in his face.

He grabbed that finger, pulled her hand down to the side of their bodies and said, "No castles, I promise."

Part VI–

Hermione had no idea how she got herself into her current predicament, but here she sat, in her daughter's prep school, watching all the little children sing Christmas carols, and Draco Malfoy was sitting beside her.

AND HE WAS HOLDING HER HAND.

Clarification: he wasn't just holding her hand. He was doing delicious things to her hand.

Further Elucidation: Everything started normal enough. Hermione agreed that Draco could come to Ivy's school recital. Call that decision temporary insanity, or complete desire on Hermione's part. THEN he stayed for dinner where he was pleasant and played with Ivy and continued to stare at Hermione, making her all hot and bothered, drat the man.

After dinner, he had the nerve to come up behind her as she was washing up the dishes, placing one hand on one side of her, the other hand on the other side, and then nudging aside her hair with his chin and nose. Then he whispered in her ear, "Jolly good food, Granger. My house elf could take lessons from you."

Instead of turning around to tell him off, she remained with her back pressed against his front. Mostly because it felt so damn good. Partly because she knew she was blushing. A small part because she knew if she turned around she might kiss the stupid fool.

Further Inspection: After they Floo'd to the school, they found a seat in the back row, (because they were late) and they began to watch all the children perform. Draco, who sat to the right of her, placed his left arm across the back of her seat. Innocent? Not bloody likely. The blasted man began to rub small circles on her shoulder with his thumb. What was he about?

Then he moved his hand from her shoulder, under her hair, to the nape of her neck. The same small thumb (a wonderful digit in Hermione's opinion) began a small movement back and forth across her neck in time to the next little song being sung. In the meanwhile, the git beside her acted blasé and didn't say a bloody word.

Conclusion: Hermione's insides were coiled tightly as springs. She wanted Draco Malfoy, and apparently he wanted her too, or he was up to something. However, she wasn't sure she trusted him. All of this might just be a ploy on his part to get what he wanted. He might be doing this to make her stay in London for Christmas. She turned her head slightly to look at him.

He looked back at her.

She started to tell him to leave her alone. Lifting her right hand to grab his left hand from the back of her neck and opening her mouth to speak, he stopped her by leaning toward her swiftly and placing his mouth on her slightly opened mouth to kiss her with the quickest, yet gentlest of kisses. He then grabbed her right hand with his right hand, placed it on his thigh, and said, "Sh, no time for talking, Granger. Ivy's class is up next."

Part VII –

Draco couldn't help but smile. Really he couldn't. He was quite proud of himself. He just kissed Granger. Of course, it wasn't the type of kiss one would write home about, but it was still a kiss, nonetheless. AND he was holding her hand.

He didn't mean for any of this to happen when he went over to her house all angry and upset this afternoon. All he wanted to tell the little swot a thing or two, give Ivy her book for Christmas, and then find out their location (which he still had to do) so he could execute, 'Through the Chimney' for Christmas Eve.

But seriously, all of this was better. Something inside of him just flipped, or snapped, when she first opened the door this afternoon. She had on a beautiful red dress, and her hair was curly and long, and he reached out and took her hand, (just like he held it now) and somehow he knew…he was never going to let her go.

He looked over at her. Did she know it to0? She had to know; otherwise, she would have hexed his arse into next week by now.

Her hand was clasped under his larger hand, with both hands resting on his thigh. He flattened her hand with his and then with his index finger he drew on the top of her hand. Up and down each finger he went, slowly, seductively, up and down, then in the crevices between each fingers. Linking the fingers back in his, he turned both hands around, brought them to his face, and then forced them open.

With her palm facing him, he turned his face to look at her. She was looking right at him. The children were singing a song called, 'Grown-Up Christmas Wish'. How appropriate, for she was his 'Christmas wish'. Swallowing hard, he continued to look at her under hooded eyes until he brought their joined hands all the way to his mouth. Then he closed his eyes when he placed a single kiss to the center of her palm.

She withdrew her hand from his quickly, and he felt the departure as surely as if someone amputated a part of him. Then he realized everyone around them was applauding, as was she. He didn't applaud.

Hermione stood and he followed. They walked toward the front, where little Ivy came running down the aisle toward them. She had a big smile on her face. She didn't run to her mother's arms first. She ran right to him.

Wrapping her arms around his trouser legs, the little imp looked up at him and said, "I'll miss you this Christmas Eve, Uncle Draco. I'm sorry Mummy and I have to go out of the country. Oh, and thank you for coming to my recital. Did you hear my song?"

He stroked her hair, smiled and said, "Yes, darling girl, I heard your song. I even heard your voice above all the others. You sounded wonderful." Then he bent down and hugged her. Standing with her in his arms, he continued to hold her high above the ground. He didn't want to ever let her go.

Hermione rubbed her little girl's back, and then placed her other hand on Draco's back. "Thank Draco for the book, too, sweetheart," Hermione urged.

"Oh, yes, thank you for bringing me the book," Ivy said, leaning back in Draco's arms.

Draco placed the little one back on the floor and gave her head a final pat. "Happy Christmas, Ivy."

Then he stared at her mother. If Hermione thought this was the end of things, she was sorely mistaken. Realizing Hermione's hand was still on his back, he moved slowly so that it slipped from his back, and then he captured it with his hand. Raising it to his lips once more he said, "Happy Christmas to you too, Hermione."

Part VIII –

Hermione finally got Ivy to sleep, although it wasn't easy. She read Draco's book to her THREE times, but still the little girl wouldn't sleep! She was worried that Father Christmas wouldn't find them at this Inn so far away from home. Hermione had to convince her daughter that Father Christmas always found every good little boy and girl, no matter where they were, and finally Ivy fell asleep.

As for Hermione, she would probably never sleep tonight. They arrived this morning, Christmas Eve morning, and she went right to the man who had the locket. She knew immediately that his claims were correct. She also knew that he had more than a mere locket. He had a treasure trove of antiquities. Hermione would certainly be here well past Boxing Day, and perhaps even past Twelfth Day. How would she explain that to Ivy?

Sitting in a chair by the fireplace, she wondered slightly how she would explain it to Draco, too. He was used to seeing Ivy almost every week. If she stayed here for two weeks or more, what would he think? Would he come here? Would he miss Ivy? Ivy would certainly miss him.

Would he miss Hermione?

Hermione closed her eyes. She hated to admit it, but she would certainly miss him, too. She opened her eyes again and stared at the dim, dying embers of the fire. Damn. She was in love with Draco Malfoy.

Part IX –

Draco was ready to execute operation 'Through the Chimney'. He was also ready to admit that he wasn't doing it to spend Christmas Eve with Ivy, although he did love the little girl as if she were his own.

No, he was doing it to spend the night with the woman he loved. He loved Hermione Granger. He probably wasn't good enough for her. He was probably going to hell just thinking about being with someone as good as her, but there you have it, he loved her and he couldn't change that fact. He would damn his black soul to hell and back just to spend one night with her, and Christmas Eve was as good a night as any other was.

Of course, if he could make that one night turn into many nights, and then many days, that would be even better. Then he could wake up to her smiles, laugh at her stern ways, tease her when she turned snotty, and challenge her when she had a bright idea. They could have beautiful children like Ivy. They could spend the rest of their days together.

Of course, he had to get through the chimney first. Donning a bright, red robe and hat, (just like a certain chap in a certain children's book) he took a deep breath and stepped through the Floo.

Part X –

A man just came through the chimney! Through the Floo! And if Hermione weren't crazy, she would swear it was Father Christmas himself. She was dozing, thinking of Draco, the next thing she knew someone with a red robe and hat, white hair, and a giant bag filled with who knows what, was coming through the chimney.

She stood from her chair, searched quickly for her wand, couldn't find it, so she picked up the closest thing she could find - the fireplace poker. Brandishing the poker, she raised it over her head to strike when the man in red turned around and spoke.

"Goodness, don't hit me, Granger!" Draco dropped the bag and raised his hands. "It's just me, for Merlin's sakes!"

Part XI –

He didn't dare dream his Christmas wish would come true, but it did. He was here, with Granger, and she was standing before him in nothing but a long, flannel nightgown. She dropped the fireplace poke, thank goodness, and then she merely stared at him in shock.

Then to his abject horror (and delight) she took his hand and walked him over to the large bed in the room. The gesture made his mouth water and his nerves tingle. Her back was to him as she pulled down the covers. It gave him a pleasant view of her rounded backside.

"Ah, Granger, are you going to bed?" He felt like such a dolt for asking, but he had to know her intentions. "I mean, don't you have questions? Aren't you going to ream a peel over my head for busting into your room like I did?"

She turned to him, then reached down for the hem of her gown and pulled it straight over her head. "Don't be daft, Draco. You're the one who came through my chimney. What did you think would happen? If you want milk and biscuits, they're over by the fireplace. If you want me, I'll be in the bed."

His jaw dropped to the floor.

He would never forget that Christmas Eve. It was the best one of his life. She was so warm against his hands, her body soft against his. She tasted so sweet, and she felt like happiness in his arms.

From the moment he touched her he knew that she would belong to him for the rest of his life. Everything would be his: from her creamy-white skin to the freckle on the back of her knee. The hair he inhaled when he was on top of her was his. The smooth expanse of skin from her shoulder to her neck was his from this moment onwards. The soft swell of the underside of her breast was his. The way she sighed when he entered her and the way she said his name when she came was his.

Her child would be his child, her life would be his, her troubles and strives and happiness and sorrows – all his.

Part XII

Afterward, when Hermione was nestled in his in arms, her hand on his chest, she leaned forward to kiss the underside of his jaw.

He cupped her face and kissed her forehead. It was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done to her. Hermione almost faded away from the thought of it. She shuddered from the thought of it and he asked, "Are you cold?"

No. She wasn't cold. She had him to keep her warm. "No. Are you?"

"Yes. I've been cold all of his life, but no longer. With you and Ivy, I'll no longer be cold," he replied.

She had to revise her former thought. THAT was the sweetest thing anyone had ever said or done. Looking up at him, her bottom lip in her teeth, she finally asked, "Draco, what does all of his mean?"

He wrapped a tress of her long hair in his hand, rubbed his other hand up and down her arm, and said, "It means we'll have a happy ending, I hope."

She smiled, closed her eyes, nodded in agreement, and said, "It means Happy Christmas to all, and to all a goodnight."

He laughed. "You're so sappy, Granger."

"Shut up," she snapped.

The End

Written for Granger Enchanted's Secret Santa's Gift Exchange using another's person's prompt. Thanks!