Work Text:
“A star or an angel?”
It’s quiet in the Great Hall, students have left for Christmas break and only a few stragglers that aren’t spending the festive season with their families are left behind. There are candles floating about the place, wreaths are hanging off the walls and the gentle sprinkling of snow lingers in the air, in a word it’s magical, but Draco hates it. He glares at the snow as it settles into neat little piles on the wooden tables before it disappears before his very eyes.
He’s been in there a while so he looks up from the snow piles and his plate of food that he’s not really eaten off of more just stirred with his fork: to find he is the only one left in the Great Hall.
He wants to laugh at the absurdity of even bothering to look to see if anyone else remains in there, it doesn’t matter if the hall is bursting with people; Draco Malfoy has no friends, no acquaintances, no one left behind. He can’t remember the last time he spoke to someone that wasn’t a professor or the headmistress.
Repeating his eighth year was part of his probation deal but none of his fellow Slytherin comrades have followed in his footsteps, leaving him ostracised by the other eight-year students who had returned and sneered and glared at by those who are younger across all houses.
He sighs and gets to his feet, pushing his barely eaten dinner to the middle of the table, he moves slowly across the hall until he’s standing in front of the biggest Christmas tree in the room. It’s decorated in a beautiful display of gold’s and reds, the tinsel moves tangling around his arms before heading back to its previous branches. That used to always make him laugh but as he see’s the tinsel moving up his arms and back he doesn’t even feel a hint of a smirk grace his lips.
He used to love Christmas: it was his favourite season. He could almost taste the excitement build up as he watched with eager eyes as the elves valiantly decorated the halls of Hogwarts. He’d bubble with glee as he bordered the Hogwarts Express just counting down the minutes until he’d be reunited with his Mother. Then he’d eagerly take her arm almost pulling her through the floo just wanting so badly to finally see the magnificence of a completely decorated Malfoy Manor once again. The place would always be transformed: Christmas tree’s in all the rooms, portraits charmed to sing Christmas carols at the drop of a hat and his favourite part of all the-.
“What did you have?” A female voice to his left asks and he jumps a little as the voice echoes around the empty hall. He turns his head and glares at the intruder part in annoyance, part in disbelief that someone’s finally talking to him.
It’s Granger of all the people it just had to be her. He’s barely passed a single glance at her the entire year: she’s his guilt personified. His very own walking and talking remorse, whenever he looks at her he feels as though he’s back there just watching from above as she withers on a cold marble floor. His own cold marble floor.
He looks at her slightly taken aback before glaring and crossing his arms, “what are you talking about?” he snaps.
She shrugs a simple up and down movement of her shoulders, “what did you have on the top of your tree growing up a star or an angel?”
He feels his cheeks heat and he turns away, “I hardly think that’s any of your business Granger,” he snips.
She doesn’t say anything else for a while before she adds in a quiet admission, “we always had a star.”
He flees just as she finishes her sentence, a few single tears falling from his cheeks.
Sleep won’t come when his head hits the pillow, it hasn’t for months, years even, the last time he can remember properly sleeping was in his fifth year and that’s a whole other world away now.
When he finally nods off his nightmare is extra brutal tonight: it’s Granger on his parlour floor screaming herself horse begging for it to end, their eyes catch and just as they do Nagini slithers over eating her alive.
He wakes in a cold sweat his sheets are twisted around his body and his throat soar most likely from the amount of screaming he’s done. He feels a wave of relief once again that he doesn’t share his room with anyone else and no one can hear him.
He moves around the room chucking on some black trousers and a thick knit jumper before grabbing his black pea coat and Slytherin scarf. He bundles himself up and sneaks out of the dungeons heading to the Black Lake without a second glance. He’s come out here a lot since returning to back to Hogwarts, he likes to sit on the wet or frozen grass and stare out at the endless amount of water stretched in front of him. He’s thought about drowning himself in it once or twice it’s not as if anyone would miss him.
He hears the subtle footfalls of someone behind him and is about to curse himself thinking its Filch. He turns and see’s Granger, she looks as startled as he is. She’s wrapped herself up in a fluffy blanket a wooly hat over her wild hair. They both just stare at one another for a beat.
He stands, “I’ll leave.”
She shakes her head, “no it’s fine I will.”
Then he laughs, “there’s plenty of lake to go around,” he starts moving, “I’ll just sit a bit over there.”
“Why won’t you look at me?” she asks and it makes him pause mid-step.
He tenses there’s a slight ringing in his ears, he turns back, “I never looked at you before.”
She shakes her head, “no, it’s not that it. I know you don’t speak to anyone but you avoid me even more so, you cringe when I come near you it’s like you’re frightened of me.” She steps forward and he steps back.
He feels as though his throat is tightening up there’s a lack of oxygen making it’s way down his throat. He stills. He can sense what’s about to happen, he’s had this before.
Hurried footsteps rush over to him and he sees the faintest outline of bunnies and he wants to laugh but he’s still struggling to breath. He clenches his hands at his sides just trying to feel the sharpness of his nails digging into his palms. He feels sweat drip down his forehead and then there’s a gentle hand on his back.
“Breathe Malfoy,” she whispers gently beside his ear, “just breathe.”
He feels as though he maybe sick and before he can stop himself he heaves his very little dinner onto his black shoes. He stumbles a little and tries to push her but she just grabs hold of one of his arms and drags him to the floor. She whips out her wand and vanishes the sick before he can think too much about it. He just sits next to her for a while as he tries to even out his ragged breathing.
Eventually, it could be minutes or hours he can finally breathe again and he’s both shocked and not that she’s still sitting next to him: blanket draped over her shoulders and bunny slippers peaking out from her flannelette pyjama bottoms. Her legs are crossed and she’s just staring out at the lake, wrapping herself further and further into the blanket, trying to keep out the bitter Scottish weather.
“Sorry,” he whispers a little hoarsely.
She nods not saying anything.
He sighs, “I didn’t mean for you to see that.”
She stops her perusing of the lake to look at him, “I get them too.”
He feels himself blush with embarrassment and he’s suddenly very appreciative that it’s pitch black out, of course she gets them, she has every reason to.
“Oh,” is all he can muster.
They both sit like that for a while he casts a few warming charms, as neither say anything. He’s surprised by the fact he’s enjoying having her there, just sitting next to him. He hasn’t realised how lonely he is until just then.
He coughs a little, “I’m surprised you’re still here I thought you’d go to the Weasley's for Christmas,” he admits.
She shakes her head, “too much noise.”
He nods although he’s not sure she can see it, he gets it, he understands the want to avoid crowds and noisy places. Sometimes he feels the hall is a little too loud and the classrooms are just a bit over crowded. He usually has too rush off quickly before he starts to hyperventilate, having an attack in the similar fashion like he had tonight.
He gets up first, snow is starting to fall to the ground and he can barely feel his fingers anymore. He walks slowly and then stops peering over his shoulder at her.
“Granger,” he says then pauses, “All I feel is shame when I look at you. I’m so sorry for it all, everything. I am sorry for what little it’s worth.” He admits rushing off before she can respond and heading back to the dungeons.
He slips under his bed covers and stares at the ceiling, he won’t be sleeping tonight.
It’s strange, he doesn’t like the Hogwarts corridors all that much when they’re so busy and bustling with life, he often feels a little overwhelmed and usually hopes beyond all hope he can rush by unnoticed. But, they almost feel too quiet now, he feels as though the walls are slowly closing in on him as he walks through the corridors.
He gently touches the concrete and stone and feels the jagged ridges under his fingertips as he struggles to head to breakfast the following morning. His head is fuzzy from the lake of sleep and the conversation with Granger. He takes each step at a time, slowly making his way towards the other side of the castle.
He thinks he might skip it all together not feeling at all mentally prepared for the stilted smiles the professors offer him and the hushed whispers the rest of the students echo around him. Then he sees her; she’s staring at something in a hallway not too far from the library, she hasn’t noticed him yet so he observes her from where he’s standing. Her hair is longer, its been tamed a lot more from their rather short lived youth, it doesn’t buzz with chaotic energy anymore no, instead it’s layered into ringlets of curls cascading down her back. She’s short a lot shorter than he’s ever realised or thought anyway, it’s probably because her personality is so large he’s never associated the word small with Hermione Granger. Even when he hated her back when they were just children he knew he could never make her feel small: not truly anyway there’s just something about her that’s so big.
She turns and sees him, she waves and he nods. He debates with himself before he ploughs onwards and then he can finally see what she’s staring at. Hidden away in one of Hogwarts many little alcoves: is a Christmas tree.
“Malfoy,” she says as he finally stands next to her.
“Granger,” he replies and then they both just continue to stare at the tree ahead. There’s a train on this one that trials up and down the various branches hooting every now and again.
She’s smiling. He notices she has a small dimple when she smiles, he can’t remember ever seeing that before.
“Did you get any sleep?” She asks after a while, he can see from his side vision that her eyes won’t stop staring at what’s at the top of it.
He shakes his head and blows out a small puff of air, “no I know when I’m fighting a loosing battle.”
She hmmm’s with a nod.
She steps further into the alcove until she’s as close as possible to the frosted and condensation filled window, she draws a snow man on the glass with a simple note: It’s worth a lot.
She steps down and heads towards the Great Hall, “you coming?” she asks.
He nods and follows her, they walk in silence and as Draco looks at various different windows he passes he almost smiles, it’s snowing: the type of snowing that will leave the grounds covered in a white soft blanket for days. He’d loved snow growing up, always thinking it looked like his hair colour.
When they reach the Great Hall Granger turns to him, “sit with me?”
He blanches, “why?”
She shrugs, “I could do with the company and I think so could you besides nobody’s here so you don’t have to worry about being seen with me or your reputation.”
He shakes his head, “I’m not worried about that,” he pauses, “I don’t have a reputation to loose, you do though.”
She stops and pivots turning to look at him, “I don’t think reputations are worth much these days,” she looks up at him, “being a war heroine isn’t something I ever wanted anyway.”
He nods and they carry on walking until they reach the centre table, upon their return to Hogwarts tables had been changed. Students were encouraged to sit with other houses in hopes they would never have a situation that they had previously: hoping they wouldn’t have another war. It hadn’t really done much and revelry between houses was still a little fierce especially between Slytherins and Gryffindors. No one had ever really liked Slytherins aside from Slytherins and this was going back to even when Draco was being sorted, so it was going to take a lot more than an announcement at the start of that term that the houses could sit wherever they wanted at meal times. It was going to take a lot more than that to stop the bigotry and bias that still lingered in the castle walls.
Draco ponders the breakfast food and settles for some porridge, he then grabs the pumpkin juice pot and pours himself a glass. Granger nudges him and he looks over at her to see her eyebrows raised towards her forehead, he looks at her confused before looking straight ahead. What little faculty and students that are left are all starring at the pair, some are whispering, some glaring, some with their wands drawn.
“This was a bad idea,” Draco whispers, his lips pulled into a sneer.
“Malfoy,” she sighs, “something I’ve learnt over the years no thanks to you by the way,” she elbows him, “is that there will always be white noise you’ve just got to drown it out,” she waves her hands gesturing to a few of the students who haven’t stopped starring at them even as they’ve starred back, “it doesn’t really matter what they think just what you think and know.”
He nods, his forehead wrinkling a little in the process, he eats some of his porridge and does his best to ignore the extra stares this morning, “who told you that?”
She smiles a little wistfully, “My Mum did.”
They spend the rest of the day together in the library studying and catching up with homework. They don’t speak much and for the life of him Draco can’t work out why she would want to sit with him let alone spend time with him. He’s the social pariah even half his housemates hate him and he doesn’t blame them for it. They continue to get strange looks and whispers from students for the rest of the day but by the end of it he doesn’t mind all that much (he was getting rather a lot anyway) and it was nice having someone next to him for once.
He sleeps a little easier that night. But, when he wakes he feels sick to his stomach: it’s Christmas Eve, his Mother’s favourite part of the entire festive season.
He gingerly moves his limbs from his bed, putting them on the solid emerald green carpet; he feels his heart rate increase and he has to put his head between his legs to steady his breathing. He can picture it now as he continues to hang his head between his legs: her smiling face as she wakes him up still in her dressing gown she tells him to keep quiet as she gets inside his bed and snuggles next to him. Elves would appear next with two large trays of pancakes filled with fruit and lashings of chocolate sauce poured all over them, he’d always gobble them up greedily and she’d laugh when he smiled a big chocolate mouth covered grin. She’d clean him up and tell him to keep silent as she locked his bedroom door and then cast a silencing spell on the room, she’d always procure that strange music machine from her pocket and make him dance on her feet. There was only ever one song that played and he can still hear it in his head but he can’t remember the lyrics.
“Merry Christmas darling,” she’d whisper into his ear once the routine was complete and she’d always look a little misty eyed over the exchange like she was remembering something, then she’d slip out of his room.
He knew Father couldn’t know about their Christmas Eve mornings, they where theirs alone. By ten o’clock it would all be over and they’d both get ready for the rest of the day. The Christmas Eve mornings had never changed even as he grow from a child to a teen she’d still sneak in and dance with him, he used to moan about it but he still loved that they did it every year no less. He can’t remember the last time they’d done that together it hadn’t happened during his sixth year although she had tried to, he could hear her gently turning the door that Christmas Eve and he’d ignored it putting a pillow over his head and staring out of the window. Then there had been seventh year and she hadn’t even tried. It must have been fifth year the last time they’d done any of that, he feels guilt seeping back into his bones as he thinks of her dejected face when they’d finally seen each other on that particular Christmas Eve. She’d looked so hurt but had put on a brave face entertaining their wonderful ‘house guests’ with a sickly sweet smile.
There’s a sharp knock at his door and he stumbles to his feet still disorientated from remembering it all when he opens it Granger is standing there looking a little concerned, “are you alright Malfoy? It’s past noon and,” she shrugs, “you didn’t come down for breakfast and lunch will be over soon.”
He glares at her, “I’m fine,” he runs a hand over his tired face and disheveled hair, “we aren’t friends you don’t need to come looking for me, so fuck off,” he tells her harshly, she looks a little hurt but he slams the door in her face anyway.
He doesn’t move much after that, even showering sounds dreadful so he doesn’t he just retraces his steps until he’s back in his bed staring up at the ceiling.
He eventually sits up and looks around his messy room he can’t even bring himself to clean it, he had once been so particular about his room everything would have it’s place, now it’s the least of his worries. When it’s finally time to have another fitful slumber he looks at his pillow: no pajamas have magically appeared, he knew that logically but, he can’t help the little furl of disappointment it brings when it doesn’t happen anyway.
He huffs and puffs and tosses and turns and by the end of the night he feels both over tired and remorseful. He’d been mean to Granger once again and he’s not really sure how to make it up to her.
The idea is strange and she might not even like it but as he creeps down into the kitchens on Christmas morning he hopes that maybe it will make up for yesterday. Even if it’s just a little bit.
He slowly opens the door and dozens upon dozens of elves peer up from their workstations when he does; “is Tisly here?” he asks trying to give off a cool and collective façade.
“Tisly is here,” an elf squeaks in front of a rather large boiling pot, “we is right on time mistress McGonagall,” she tells him not looking up from the pot she’s stirring, another elf who’s name Draco doesn’t know elbows her. She glares at him before looking over to where Draco is standing by the door.
“Master Draco,” she smiles she runs over to him pot long forgotten now, before he can react she’s grabbing his legs into a hug and he can both feel and hear her tears as they seep into his trouser leg. He has to restrain from rolling his eyes but he lowers onto his knees and hugs her back. She’d been his Mother’s elf from birth and she’d not wanted to be freed when the Ministry had stormed up to the Manor and insisted they freed every elf from the estate. Most of the elves had gone to Hogwarts and she was one of them. That was the day Draco had been sent to Hogwarts he’d had barely enough time to pack any of his things.
“Tisly misses you so much,” she tells him as he picks her up, she snuggles into his shoulder and cries some more, the other elves are still staring so he glares to get them to stop looking.
Draco sighs, “I need a favour Tisley.”
She nods her large ears flapping, “anything for the son of my Mistress Black.”
Tisley had never called his Mother Mistress Malfoy no matter how long she’d been a Malfoy for, it had caused a great deal of arguments between his parents at times but the little elf was mighty fierce and his Mother was always arguing in her corner. Tisley wasn’t scared of his Father either, most people were and they were usually triple her height and then some, she’d always been a character around the Manor and on more than one occasion been on the receiving end of his Father.
“Can you make me your Christmas star pie?” He asks.
She nods and then stands back her ears happily flapping, “It was my Mistress’s favourite, of course I can.” She tootle’s off before he can even ask if she needs any help.
With the giant star pie in hand and a little bit of sweat gathering at his brow he makes his way to the Great Hall, he see’s McGonagall eyeing him strangely when he enters. Granger isn’t there when he gets there so he sits and eyes all the Christmas dinner foods as they magically arrive. When she isn’t there after an almost an hour has gone past he thinks she might not be coming but, he has a fair idea where she maybe instead. He gathers up his still steaming pie (charmed that way) and heads out towards the Black Lake. He almost runs there and upon arrival he’s not disappointed to see her rather curly head of hair facing the lake, he feels his heart race as he heads towards her but he won’t turn away: not now and especially as he has his pie in hand.
The air is frigidly cold and he has to bundle under his coat to try and retain any semblance of warmth. She has giant ear muffs on today and when he approaches he realises she’s crying, he can see her shoulders silently shaking up and down as if she’s trying to stop herself.
When he finally arrives to where she’s sitting, he can see her stiffen as she eyes up his shoes from where she’s sitting, she looks up at him a tear stained face that’s bright pink from the cold and from the crying and he sits down next to her. He doesn’t say anything he just pushes the pie in front of her, she eyes it oddly and then looks at him.
He sighs, “Sorry about yesterday,” he scratches the back of his head, “Christmas eve is a hard day.”
She nods and then points to her face, “Christmas Day is harder for me.” She wipes her eyes and points to the steaming pie in front, “what’s with the pie?”
He beams, a full fledge smile that takes over his face it’s been years since he’s had one, “Tisley made it especially for me this morning,” he coughs a little and doesn’t look her in the eye as he hastily adds, “it was my Mother’s favourite.”
She smiles at him and before he can react she pulls him in for a hug, he stiffens a little at first but then he loops an arm around her shoulder, drawing her into him and patting her lightly.
“Thanks Draco,” she whispers.
“You haven’t even tried it yet,” he jokes.
She laughs and he’s never made Granger laugh before, he feels warmth flood his chest, “let’s go back and both have a slice, what’s in it anyway?”
Draco shakes his head, “I’m not sure actually it’s Tisley’s secret recipe.”
“Was she your Mother’s elf?” She asks as they both untangle themselves from each other and move to stand.
“Yeah,” he admits, “She was with her since birth.”
She nods and picks up the pie, “I’m sorry for your loss.”
He stiffens a little but then slowly allows himself to stop being so tense, it’s a while before he replies they’re already half way back to the castle, “yeah me too,” he tells her.
They spend the rest of Christmas day in the Gryffindor common room, there are a few students who glare when they see him but most of them pay him no mind. They both eat half the pie, Granger saying it’s one of the best things she’s ever tasted and Draco nodding along, it was more his Mother’s thing than his. They laugh and share a few stories of previous Christmases to one another: one year he broke his knee flying a broom, that same year she’d bitten a toffee penny so hard her tooth had fallen out. He tells her about the overly decorated manor and she tells him about him about the overly decorated Surrey townhouse she grew up in. She’d been part of the choir, he’d narrowly escaped that one.
When he leaves he turns to her, “can I ask you something?”
She nods, “of course.”
He mulls over his words for a few minutes, “when you approached me the other day, why, why did you do that?”
She asses him for a minute or two and then looks down at her feet, “I’ve never seen someone look as lost as you do this year,” then she looks back up at him, “but I barely look in the mirror these days, if I did I know I’d look the same.”
He nods somewhat satisfied with her honest answer, “well Merry Christmas Granger,” he pauses, “today was nice.”
“Merry Christmas Draco,” she smiles, “it was nice, friends?”
He nods, “friends.”
That’s how their tentative friendship begins: with the offering of a simple star pie. It’s strange they seem to know each other and yet they don’t. Neither tells them their deepest darkest secrets but as the months wear on and winter turns to spring and spring to summer he knows things about, things he barely knows about himself. She crinkles her nose when she’s concentrating, if she’s about to go on a rant she sticks her index finger up before her eyes morph into a glare and when she’s feeling sleepy she’ll lean on her left hand before her eyes drift off, it happens a lot in the library especially as exam season draws near.
He knows Weasley and Potter don’t like their friendship but he also, knows that she doesn’t seem to care all that much. She was the only one who returned this year, even the female Weasley had stayed home so she had told him in no uncertain terms that it wasn’t their business, she could be friends with whoever she liked and she would and so she did.
By the time the school year-ends he comes to the conclusion she’s his only real friend, he doesn’t mind much because it makes her extra special to him. So when she suggests they move in together he doesn’t have to think very long before accepting. Tisley demands to join him when he leaves, ever since the star pie incident she’s barely left his side insisting to him she’s following what her mistress would of wanted. They come to an impasse: she’ll send over food if he visits, McGonagall is who’s most surprised by the entire elf outcome.
The Ministry is still monitoring the Manor and the thought of returning isn’t at the top of his list of things to do anyway, (not that he can) especially as his Mother isn’t there and her presence the thing that had once warmed the place on so many cold nights is long gone. But, there are things there that he wants, things that will mean nothing to most but a lot to him. He’s not talking about the valuable possessions that roam the dark hallways; he’s talking about the little sentimental things.
“It’s December 1st 1999,” Granger announces rather suddenly from the living room of their shared flat, “we need to decorate,” she stands from the chair, “we need to pick a tree,” she smiles at him, “up you get.”
He groans but does as she asks, especially after she tugs his hand a few times, “alright, alright.”
She beams before heading over to the coat rack and chucking his pea coat at him, there flat is in Diagon Alley: easy access for her to enter the Ministry and for Draco as he works at the local apothecary. He’s not sure why Mr.Martin had agreed to take him on but he had eagerly accepted the moment the man had offered him the job.
She tells him in no uncertain terms they are heading to the tree stockiest in Surrey, it’s where she always used to go with her parents and she wants to carry on the tradition. He knows that her parents are in Australia and have no idea who she is, there’s been one too many times this year she’s received an owl with bad news and he’s gently had to rub her back as she cried into his shoulder. She’d oblivated them too well it seems and it’s looking less and less likely they’ll ever remember her.
So he agrees to go to Surrey with her because he can’t deny anything she asks especially during Christmas. After, one too many train rides and a long walk they arrive at the place.
“Granger,” he starts, “how are we going to get a bloody tree home?” He asks.
She stares at him with her owlish eyes and a small smile plays on her lips, she pushes up on her toes and kisses his cheek, “you’ve never called the flat home before.”
He feels his own cheeks heat, “well you know,” he sputters, “You know what I mean.”
She laughs, “it’s the first place that’s felt like home since the war for me too,” she admits and her own cheeks turn a little rosy.
They spend what feels like hours walking up and down isles of Christmas trees, she’s very particular about what she want’s: it can’t be too skinny or too tall, she wants a fat tree but not too fat. He zones out after one too many up and down’s perusing the stock. There’s a faint Christmas song in the background and he stops, startled: it’s his Mother’s song.
Granger keeps waving in his face but he takes off down the isles, leaving her a little confused, she quickly follows suit and then their both running heading towards the check out area. By one of the tills is a small box like thing and the music is playing it’s not the same thing that his Mother had used to play it on but, the music is exactly the same.
She catches up with him out of breathe, “what’s wrong Draco?” she asks.
He points to the stereo, “that’s, that’s the song my Mother would play every Christmas Eve morning.”
She looks a little shocked and moves closer trying to work out which one it is,
“Merry Christmas darling
We're apart that's true
But I can dream and in my dreams
I'm Christmas-ing with you
Holidays are joyful
There's always something new.”
She listens carefully before turning to him, there are tears in his eyes and she grabs his hand on impulse, “it’s called Merry Christmas darling,” she looks between the stereo and Draco, “it’s by a muggle band called the Carpenters they were around in the seventies.”
He nods not speaking just listening to the lyrics as they flow out from the machine. His Mother had known every word and she’d always cried a little while singing it. He squeezes her hand and intertwines their fingers a small smile playing on his face.
“That makes sense why she wouldn’t want Father to listen to it then,” he tells her, “Christmas mornings were just for us.”
She nods, “how did you listen to it?”
He gestures with his spare hand drawing a large circle and then a box.
She nods, “a muggle record player,” Hermione notes, “but where did she get it from?”
Draco’s forehead creases, “I have no idea.”
They find the tree rather quickly after that and when no muggles are in sight they shrink the tree down until its pocket size and Hermione stuffs it in her beaded bad. That’s just the start of it; she drags him from store to store to collect decorations for the rest of the flat. His arms are adorned with bags by the time she’s finished.
When they arrive back they spend ages sorting through the tree’s branches and slowly decorating the flat. It’s a kaleidoscope of colours: greens, reds, yellows and silvers. Tinsel along bannisters, nutcrackers on shelving, a fat Santa by the shoes, you name it, it’s there.
Granger beams at him, “so star or an angel?”
He laughs remembering one of their first encounters from a year ago, “we had an angel actually,” he grows a little sad, “but I don’t have it, it’s still at the Manor.”
She nods, “any update on visiting?”
He laughs again, “another year at least they told me last month, I was only ever able to grab what was in sight when they’d turned up,” he scratches the back of his neck, “there’s not much I want from truly but, there but a few sentimental things.” He smiles at her again, “but I know you have a star so let’s put it up.”
She nods and rushes to her bedroom coming out with a rather large and ostentatious gold star. She smiles and wildly gestures the tree topper in his face, “my Dad brought it the year I was born, it stayed on the tree every year after that. It was one of the things I’d taken the last time I saw them.”
He nods, “let’s put it up then,” she smiles, he thinks she looks most beautiful when she smiles the corner of her eyes bunch up and she glows.
“We have to do this the muggle way too Draco,” she announces and she gestures for him to get down on his knees her rolls his eyes but requisites anyway. She laughs and then puts a leg on either side of his head, he slowly stands when she tells him she’s ready and they wobble a bit before they finally edge forward to place the star on top of the tree.
“Complete,” she announces once their back on solid ground, she grabs his hand, “thanks Draco,” she tells him with a sheepish grin.
He smiles back, “of course,” he goes to pull away but she keeps hold of his hand.
She grows serious, “I hope you don’t feel guilty anymore.” She tells him.
He’s slightly taken aback by her change in mood so he just shrugs, “I’ll always feel guilty about back then.”
She stares up at him, “I don’t want you to ever feel guilty about me,” she steps closer still holding his hand, “I’ve forgiven you in case you haven’t noticed.”
He nods smiling at her, “thank you, I don’t deserve it but I’m happy to have it none the less.”
She beams at him and before he can think too much about it he leans forward and captures her lips in a kiss, she doesn’t respond and he’s about to pull away before an arm wraps around his neck and drags him closer to her. He smiles against her lips and then pulls her completely to him instead, he twirls her around the living room and he’s reward with her laughter.
“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he admits as he sets her back on the floor.
“I’ve wanted you to do that for a while too,” she replies as she kisses him once more.
Christmas feels a lot less gloomy with Granger in his orbit; the decorations in their flat reflect their houses: there’s a lot of red and gold for her but there’s equally a lot of silver and green for him. They can’t work out the tinsel charm that makes the tinsel go up and down their arms but aside from that it their flat looks like a Christmassy home. They snuggle up together that night with hot chocolates in their hands and Draco has a fleeting thought that he wants this for the rest of his life.
The following Monday is dull and grey, work is long and as he hurries out of the shop he crashes into a small waddling bundle.
“Hey,” Draco calls as he steadies himself. When looks down at it, it’s a person and if his assumptions are correct its Teddy Lupin. The toddler smiles up at him and his hair turns from a green to a bright blonde to match his own, he almost gasps but then remembers his dead cousin had been an metamorphmagus and smiles at the little boy.
“TEDDY,” a female voice shouts, sounding rather frantic, “TEDDY,” she shouts again.
Draco looks at the toddler who bites his lip and waddles towards Draco’s trouser leg, he bundles himself into him and before over thinking it, Draco picks up the little boy, balancing him on his hip.
He follows the voice and upon rounding the corner he nearly fee’s because he thinks he’s just bumped into his Aunt Bellatrix back from the dead. But, when he does a double take he realises it must be Andromeda Tonks her hair is lighter and she’s slightly shorter, she looks frantic.
Draco steps out, “excuse me?” He asks because he has no idea how to talk to his long lost Aunt, she rounds on him and then gasps at him.
“He ran into me outside the apothecary,” he tells her and goes to hand him over, the little boy cries and bundles closer to him. Draco laughs and then realises his Aunt is just staring at him. She steps closer until they are almost at eye level, she doesn’t seem to be blinking much, just staring at him.
“Draco?” she asks.
He nods, “Andromeda?”
She nods, “thank you for finding him,” she still can’t stop staring at him, “I just had my back turned for two minutes and then he was gone,” she laughs, “little blighter just like his Mother was,” she seems a little blue upon mentioning her daughter.
She looks at them both again and fights back a smile, “would you like to come round for a cup of tea?” she smiles again, “he seems rather taken with you.”
He nods. He doesn’t have any family left and he’d always been a little interested in his Aunt who’d been burned off the tapestry.
Her cottage is small but cosy and when they arrive via floo Teddy seems to have drifted off completely in his arms. It’s already decorated much like his and Granger’s flat, there seems to even be a small tree in the kitchen and tinsel everywhere.
Andromeda softly takes the still sleeping Teddy from his arms and hurries across the hallway to his bedroom to put him down for a nap.
Draco peruses the kitchen noting that everything in it is pretty much muggle. It’s got a country aesthetic to it and he wonders where exactly he is because he hadn’t asked just followed her through the Weasley's Wizard floo (which had been rather awkward).
She comes back into the kitchen and starts making the tea, “how do you take it?”
“Milk no sugar,” he replies.
“Strong?”
“Please.”
She stops what she’s doing and looks over her shoulder at him, “like your Mother then.”
He nods, not really knowing what else to say.
They both sit a little awkwardly across the table from one another once she’s finished. He notices the differences now that she’s up close although her hair is wild it’s not untidy like Bella’s had been, her eyes are green and she just seems to be kind and caring. You never felt looked after in Bella’s presence, that’s for certain.
“Where are we?” he suddenly asks and she grins, “Bath, it was Ted’s,” she tells him, “been in the Tonks family for years.”
He nods understanding, “I like it,” he quietly admits.
“I hear you’re living with Hermione,” she says, “how’s that?”
He smiles, “we’re,” he stumbles here, “she’s amazing,” he admits aloud.
Andromeda smiles, “she’s one of a kind for sure.”
He feels awkward again not knowing what to say, “I’m sorry for your losses.”
She nods, “as am I,” she pauses, “I’m sorry for both of our loss.”
He nods, she circles the top of the mug with her finger, “did she ever mention me at all?”
He shakes his head, “not really no.”
She nods, “Nympahdora knew little about Narcissa too,” she pauses, “it was too hard speaking about her.”
They go silent again and Draco takes a few small sips from his tea.
“Draco,” he looks up, “I have a very specific question to ask.”
He nods, “alright.”
“Let me grab something first,” she stands up and exits the kitchen and comes back in with what he remembers his Mother having from his childhood.
She sits across from him again and pushes the record player to him, “did you Mother ever show you anything like this?”
He’s too shocked to speak so he just nods; she smiles and puts a black record onto the player. It starts to play the reminder of his many Christmas Eve mornings.
“Greeting cards have all been sent
The Christmas rush is through
But I still have one wish to make
A special one for you
Merry Christmas darling.”
He smiles, “it was for you.”
She nods and he can see tears falling from her eyes, “it was our little deal just before I left,” she sniffs grabbing a tissue from her pocket, “I left on Christmas eve, it was the best time to flee.” She smiles, “we were always so close Narcissa and I growing up, I didn’t want to leave her. I snuck a record player in that Ted had given to me when we first started darting and we’d always listen to different sounds on there just making sure Bella couldn’t hear,” she rolls her eyes, “anyway we both knew I was running away, she’d helped plan it with me. I’d be turning eighteen in the January and Ted was almost twenty,” she smiles again before continuing, “leaving your Mother was the hardest thing I ever did, she meant more to me than anyone else in that entire house. But, we both knew I had to go, to be with the man I loved. Well, anyway Christmas Eve was always the busiest time, everyone would be preparing for the dinner the next day.”
He can see she’s still crying but she’s smiling as well almost as if she’s being transported back right to when it happened, “on the morning before I left we danced to this Christmas song it’s by the Carpenters and your Mother loved them,” she giggles and Draco realises the song is still playing, he’s been so engrossed in what Andromeda’s been saying he’d not realised. “We danced to this song once and we promised each other that every Christmas Eve we’d dance to that song and when we were older and had our own children we’d dance to the song with them too. We promised to never forget each other no matter how much time had passed. I promised to always love her and I did, I still do she was my little sister after all. I left the record and the player behind hoping beyond hope she would do as she had promised, I’ve wondered about it for years.”
“But, when she married your Father I was sure she’d never be able to do it.” She smiles bigger and brighter than before “I used to dance with Ted to the song and when Nymphadora came along I danced with her too,” she shrugs, “now Teddy’s here I still keep up the tradition.”
Draco nods and he can feel his cheeks are wet because he’s been crying he’s not sure when that started, “it was her favourite part about Christmas.”
“It’s one of mine too,” she gets up from her seat and runs over to Draco’s side, she grabs him and gives him a hug, he feels awkward for a minute before he starts hugging her back.
“I’d like to get to know you Draco, I didn’t realise how much I’ve missed having family.” she tells him.
He nods, “I’d like that too.”
She steps back, “why don’t you come here for Christmas dinner? Hermione is welcome too of course.”
He nods, “okay.”
Christmas is different this year Draco feels lighter as he see’s the decorations steadily make their way through the various shops and stalls all over Diagon Alley and beyond. People still don’t like him, he often receives some rather nasty sneers and even on the odd occasion hexes but he doesn’t mind as much, he has his job and Graner.
After, Granger moves into his bedroom his nightmares become even less existent and he knows it’s the same for her but, if either of them do wake up or struggle to sleep they both know that the other is there all the same.
When Christmas Eve finally rears its head again he doesn’t feel as abysmal as the previous year actually, as he lies there with Granger wrapped closely by his side he feels a sort of peace. Andromeda had gifted him a record player not too long ago and Granger had been so excited buying all sorts of records for them both to enjoy. But, this morning all he cares about is the one record his Mother would be playing if she were still with them.
He slowly ply’s Granger from his form, there’s a little bit of grumbling but she flips over eventually and he heads down to the kitchen. Tisley’s been teaching him how to make pancakes over the past few weeks and he’s feeling pretty confident in himself. He slowly makes the pancake batter and cuts up the fruit, smiling to himself as he does. He uses his wand to switch the kettle on and after ten minutes his breakfast is ready. He gathers everything and slowly makes his way back upstairs, when he enters their bedroom she’s waking up, she beams up at him when she see’s him, she pats the spare place next to her and he shuffles in, putting a steaming plate of food on her lap.
“These look delicious Draco,” she tells him as she puts a fork fill in her mouth.
He follows suit, “Tisley’s been teaching me,” he smiles and presses a quick kiss to her forehead, “we’ve got dancing as of yet.”
She nods, “we have.”
They finish their plates and he sends them downstairs with a flick of his wand, she giggles when he grabs her from the bed and throws her over his shoulder, being as loud as he likes as he runs downstairs. He turns the record on and they sway, just like he did with his Mother all those years ago.
They follow her parent’s traditions for the rest of the day: staying in their pyjamas all day and watching crappy muggle Christmas films. It’s perfect and when he heads to bed that night there’s a pair of ugly printed gingerbread pyjamas on his pillow, he laughs and puts them on he laughs harder when he realises her match.
She’s already awake when he heads downstairs the next morning. She’s making tea in the kitchen and singing to a Christmas song on the radio, he creeps into the kitchen and pulls her to his chest, he kisses the top of her head and then her neck.
“Merry Christmas Granger,” he whispers.
“Merry Christmas Draco,” she replies as she turns in his arms, she loops her arms round his neck and brings his lips down for a kiss.
When they settle in the living room she looks nervous especially when she hands over his present.
He pulls apart the packaging and almost drops it when he does: it’s the angel. The angel they would have at the top of the Christmas tree in their living room at the Manor. The one he would always help put up every year.
He looks at her, “how?”
She smiles at him, “I have my in’s at the Ministry,” then she shrugs, “I forced Harry.”
Draco laughs he can’t help it, “how did you find it?”
“Tisley,” Granger informs him, “I asked her and she knew exactly where it was.”
“I love it Hermione,” he tells her using her first name for once, “it means so much more than you can imagine.”
She shuffles closer to him on the sofa and then he hands over her present. It’s an appointment: an appointment with the best memory charm healer in the world, the one she just couldn’t afford to get.
She gasps, “Draco,” she fiddles with the documents, “this is too much I can’t possibly accept.”
He nods, “you can accept and you will,” he shrugs, “I have more money than Merlin himself and I have no use of it.”
“Still,” she adds, “this is far too much.”
He grabs her hands, “nothing is ever too much for you,” he informs her, “I’d give you the whole world if you asked for it, I might not be able to get it as I’m only one wizard but I’d try for you.”
She nods and wipes the tears that are slowly tracking down her cheeks, “I love you Draco,” she tells him as they hug, “you don’t have to say it back,” she adds quickly, “but I wanted to say it.”
He shakes his head, “I love you too,” he admits, “I’ve wanted to say it since we kissed maybe even before then,” he tells her.
She kisses him again, “thank you for this,” she gestures to the letter and documents, “thank you so much.”
“Anything for you Granger.”
Christmas at his Aunt’s house is in a word: fun. There are piles and piles of food, music playing all-day and card games exchanged between the four of them. They bring one of Tisley’s famous star pies and laugh when Teddy bashes his hand through the middle.
Andromeda gifts him a Carpenters record and highlights his Mother’s favourite songs, Teddy plays with wrapping paper more than his actual presents and Andromeda cries when she receives her gift: a photo of Andromeda and Narcissa when they were about eleven and thirteen. It was one of the only things he;’d found on Narcissa’s body after her death and Draco had taken it without much thought. He’d actually forgotten about it until about a month ago when it dropped out of an old box he was clearing through.
When the pair finally departs, Draco can’t stop grinning, he thinks it might be one of the best Christmas’s he’s ever had.
“A star or an angel?” She asks him as they set up the tree the following year, he smirks at her, “you pick.”
She laughs at him, “I’ll pick the star of course,” he laughs, “well then the star it shall be.”
Christmas day rolls around far too quickly and it’s the day Draco has both been equal parts dreading and anticipating. Hermione’s parents will be joining them at Andromeda’s; they’ve not regained much of their memory and believe that Hermione is a second cousin. Hermione doesn’t mind much, she’s just happy to be in her parent’s lives even if it’s only a little. But, that’s not what is causing Draco so much stress no, it’s the ring in his back pocket.
“Draco?” she calls.
“What sorry?” He replies.
“I asked if you were alright I lost you for a little while there.” She grins at him.
“Presents?” he asks.
She laughs, “Draco we’ve not even had breakfast yet.”
He shrugs, “new traditions?”
She eyes him warily but nods he gestures to the tree and she heads over looking around the tree for her present. While she’s looking Draco get’s to his feet and by the time she’s all about given up and turned around: he’s there on one knee with the wedding ring box opened. Inside is a ruby ring with emeralds on the outside, the band is platinum and it had taken him months to find it.
“Hermione Granger,” he starts, “will you-“
He doesn’t even get to finish the sentence before she leaps into his arms, “YES,” she screams and they both laugh as they fall to the floor and into a big heap.
Their first Christmas as husband and wife fast approaches and as he eyes her from the sofa he can tell she’s hiding something. She’s been acting strange for the past few weeks and avoided him especially in the mornings.
“Is everything alright Granger?” He asks as she continues her wrapping of presents from the floor she looks up at him, “yes why?”
He narrows his eyes at her, “you’re hiding something.”
She stiffens, “no I’m not.”
He laughs again, “yes you are you’re also a terrible liar.”
She beams a bit then, “just wait till Christmas Day.”
He crosses his arms, “but that’s two weeks away. Do Potty and Weasley know?”
She glares at him, “I wish you wouldn’t call Harry that but no they don’t.”
“Alright.”
By the time Christmas Day arrives the two weeks feel like they’ve been going on forever and he races downstairs long before she does, searching around the tree looking for his present.
“Bollocks,” he mutters when he can’t find it and lay’s across the sofa just waiting for her to join. She doesn’t take too long to join him and she laughs when she see’s him, she hands over a pretty package and when he opens it he’s confused: it’s a dark green pacifier.
“Granger?” He questions.
She laughs, “Merry Christmas,” and then she pats her stomach, he stares at the action for a while before he surges forward dragging her down onto him on the sofa.
He kisses her, “really?”
She laughs, “really, it’s been hard keeping this from you especially as I’m almost three months.”
He continues to squeeze her and when he finally releases her, he looks at her stomach noting that it’s still almost completely flat.
“We’ll find out the sex at the next appointment,” she tells him.
He nods, “I’ll be there.”
She laughs a belly sort of laugh, “I wouldn’t expect any less.”
“That I wish you Merry Christmas
Happy New Year, too
I've just one wish
On this Christmas Eve
I wish I were with you.”
“Well what do you think to your first Christmas eve so far Scorp?” Draco asks as he gently rocks his son back and forth. The Carpenters play in the background and Scorpius laughs.
Hermione joins the pair, wrapping her arms around her husbands middle; he uses his spare arm to pull her closer to him.
He looks up at their tree, the largest one they’ve ever had. It’s both tall and wide and it fits perfectly in the corner of their new living room. Decorations adorn it on every branch and they’ve finally managed to work out the tinsel charm after all this time.
He beams most when he looks at the top of the tree because there right at the top isn’t just one tree topper but two. There are in a bit of a balancing act but Scorp had grabbed both and wouldn’t rest until they were both up there.
A large garish gold star sits beside a rather old and worn angel.
It’s the perfect combination; he’s not sure why neither of them had never thought of it before.
It will be their new tradition; he’ll make sure they both sit there pride of place every year.
Because what’s a star without an angel? And what’s an angel without a star?
--fin--