Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Bombshell

"So Draco is coming."

"What!?" Hermione almost dropped her wineglass.

"Don't give me that look," Ginny said. "I didn't invite him." She cut her eyes very obviously to Harry, who was pulling a roast chicken out of the oven.

"Harry!" Hermione plunked her glass down and glared at his back.

"He'd already heard about it from Theo!" Harry said, "which means you forgot to tell Theo to keep it quiet." He pointed at Ginny, who started to sputter. "What was I supposed to say, 'we're all going away on a Christmas ski weekend to a big, fuck-off house with more than enough room for you and yes, 'all of us' does include your two best friends, but you're not invited. Sorry, mate!'"

"Oh, Neville is bringing Blaise?" Hermione cut in, her thunderous look replaced by an avid stare at Ginny. "That's progressing quickly, isn't it!?"

"I know!" Ginny squealed, "I'm so excited for them. She winked at Hermione before rounding on Harry. "And Potter, the reason I didn't get a chance to tell Theo to keep it quiet is that it's been just a bit busy at the paper lately, what with the election and the Statute of Secrecy fuck-up. I barely had time to ask him to come as he was running out to cover a breaking story."

"Fine, but then don't blame me for Draco finding out." Harry dropped a bowl of boiled potatoes on the table a bit harder than necessary.

"OK, leaving aside the question of who's to blame, the fact remains that he's coming." Ginny grimaced at Hermione. "Please say you'll still come too."

Hermione's shoulders slumped. She picked her wine back up and took a deep drink. "Do you think he'll bring someone? Maybe that healer with the legs?"

"Nope. That completely fizzled weeks ago," Ginny said quickly. "My guess is that he was less than impressed with that skirt length for a ministry event too."

"It wasn't the skirt." Harry chimed in, placing the chicken on the table a little more gently. "Something about her thinking Prufrock was a gravel company...?" He shrugged at Ginny, who shrugged back.

Hermione snorted a laugh and they both looked at her confusedly.

"Nothing, just a joke he and I— Anyway, it's just... my staying away plan has been working rather well," Hermione said. "I've managed to avoid taking any cases he's on for nearly six weeks now, which means I've barely seen him in the office. And I haven't seen him socially for at least a month. I've gone almost whole days without thinking about him. I'm just worried this could set me back."

There was a beat of silence and then Harry motioned to the food, "Dig in, everyone."

Hermione took a bite of chicken. "Delicious, Harry."

"Yeah, really great, babe." Ginny said, before turning back to Hermione. "Look, I get what you're saying, but it's a big house and a big mountain. You'll barely see him. We'll be out skiing all day and meals will be informal, loud affairs."

"Especially with you and Blaise in the same room," Harry said under his breath.

Hermione stifled a giggle and Ginny gave them both the finger. "ANYway. You'll have your own room, so you can go to bed early if you don't want to stay up drinking."

Hermione blew out a breath. "I guess I could just…try to avoid him."

There was a long silence.

"Or you could just…tell him how you bloody feel," Ginny finally said. Harry groaned.

"Ginny! Come on! You remember what happened in Barcelona! It was very clear."

"It was not clear at all! In fact, I still maintain it was a cock-up and if the two of you weren't so bloody indirect, you'd have worked it out by now." Ginny half got up out of her chair. "In fact, I have a mind to floo him this minute and ask him myself."

"Ginevra Molly Weasley, so help me if you move an inch, we will not be friends anymore." Hermione pointed her knife at Ginny. "Promise you won't say anything."

Ginny slumped back in her chair, looking like an unruly teenager. "Course I won't." She straightened. "But I do think you should just come clean. Not like Spain; no half-arsed signs and signals. I mean sit him down and tell him how you feel. I think you'd be surprised."

Hermione shook her head. She didn't think she'd be surprised at all. She could picture it now. See him cycle through shock, then contrition and compassion, seasoned with a dash of...pity? No thank you. She'd rather keep their friendship, and her pride, intact—even if it meant pulling back.

So she could attempt to have a real life.

Meet someone.

Be happy.

She heaved a sigh and looked at Ginny and Harry. "I'll have my own room?"

"Yes!" Ginny shouted.

"OK, then. I'll go."

The Encounter

Hermione twisted the sticky stem of her cocktail glass in her fingers, wondering how long she needed to stay at this thing to be polite. It had been thirty-four minutes, she'd finished one drink and chatted with three people. And it wasn't like she'd been that close with Helga, whose departure for the Bruges office was the reason for the gathering.

Where the fuck was Daphne? She said she'd be here by six...Hermione scanned the pub, taking in its red velvet walls accented by rainbow fairy lights and kitschy muggle christmas gear. Funny how all things muggle had become so popular after the war… The strains of a truly terrible muggle christmas carol were even warbling through the room. Hermione snorted into her glass; not all imports from her culture were good ones.

"What's so funny?" A familiar deep voice came from behind her and Hermione froze. She closed her eyes very slowly and took a discreet breath before she turned around.

"Hellloooo," she said, feeling a tight smile overtake her features. "I didn't know you'd be here."

"Funny. I knew you would." Draco's eyes crinkled and Hermione felt her knees do that weak thing she'd been familiar with for the last five years.

He was in a muggle suit tonight. The beautiful silvery grey one that set off his eyes. Crisp white shirt, of course. No tie though, and his top buttons were—sigh—undone. His bright hair was closely and perfectly cropped, shorter than when she'd last seen him.

"You've had a haircut," she murmured, an unholy urge to reach up and touch the sheen of it almost overtaking her.

"Darling, you noticed." White teeth glinted in the dim.

She laughed. She couldn't help it.

"So we're celebrating… Harriet tonight?" He leaned in conspiratorially and Hermione was suddenly bloody swamped by his scent. That elusive warm, wintry thing she could never quite identify. She'd once rifled half-pissed through his medicine cabinet at a party to try and figure out what it was, but no dice. She found herself sniffing the air lightly now before she snapped herself out of it.

"Helga. From White Collar. She's moving to Bruges."

"Of course. Bruges. Lovely city. Why haven't I seen you in four weeks?"

Hermione coughed. "Has it been that long?"

"Four weeks and three days."

"Oh look, there's Daph!" Hermione waved at a tall blonde woman threading through the crowd, glass of champagne in hand. Draco breathed in and out rather dramatically.

"No matter," he murmured, leaning down again to speak directly into her ear. Hermione felt the whisper of his breath across her skin clear to the tips of her toes. "We'll have a lot of time to catch up next weekend. I'll let you beat me at muggle board games and there's always those long rides up the lifts."

Hermione looked sharply at him. "There will be no letting. And I'm not sure we'll be on the same lifts. I'm a solid blue skier. I expect you'll be all about the blacks and the bumpy things."

"I can adapt. Hello Daph, lovely to see you." Draco leaned forward to kiss Daphne on the cheek.

"Draco. Hermione. Sorry I'm late. Real cunt of a memo came in just as I was about to leave." Daphne's soft cheek brushed Hermione's.

"Don't worry about it." Hermione smiled at her friend. "But I was looking for a way to make my escape before the two of you got here."

Draco's eyes lit. "Let's go, then. Harriet will never notice. There's that great little bistro just round the corner on Knockturn."

"You two go. I'm absolutely knackered." Daphne yawned. "And if you're leaving, I'm going to find the three people I need to say hello to, finish this glass very quickly and then go home. Theo's made soup, apparently." She looked over her shoulder. "Shit, there's DuValle. He's definitely one who needs to know I was here. Sorry to rush off. See you in Davos?" She gave them a little wave before hurrying away.

Hermione didn't look at Draco but she could feel him looking at her.

"You game, Granger?" He said softly. "You remember that restaurant."

Hermione could hear the half-smile in his voice and yes, she bloody remembered the romantic, candlelit restaurant. Going there alone with him now would be very bad for her plan. And her equilibrium. And her chances of long-term, future happiness. She squared her shoulders and looked up at a point just past his left ear.

"Ah, sorry. Got a bit of work to finish. Really must dash." She reached up very quickly and almost brushed his cheek with her lips before practically sprinting away.

She heard his slightly confused voice call her name as she left, but pretended she didn't.

Chapter Text

The Chalet

"It's a bit smaller than I thought." Ginny's strained voice drifted down from the staircase she was currently descending.

Hermione stopped in the act of putting away groceries in the alpine-themed cabinetry. "What do you mean?"

Harry, who was coming through the door festooned with duffel bags and luggage, stamped his feet to rid them of snow. "Looks bloody huge to me!" He looked up at the two storied great room and its floor-to-ceiling windows.

Ginny's face was a little pale as she hit the bottom of the stairs and wandered toward the kitchen. "It's the bedrooms," she said, biting the inside of her cheek. "There are only four."

Hermione slammed a jar of marmalade down so hard that Ginny winced. "Did you fucking plan this?"

"NO! Of course not. It must have been a mix up. The lady at the management company only spoke French and my translation charms have never been great. I'm sorry."

Hermione took deep breaths and turned back around, focusing on the little circle of white flowers on the cabinet door in front of her. "Are there two beds, at least?" she said softly.

"No. There's only one." Ginny was uncharacteristically subdued. Harry coughed in the background.

Hermione's shoulders inched up to her ears. Fuck.

Just then a cultured voice swore from the vicinity of the fireplace. Hermione looked over to see the green flash of the floo and Theo Nott stumbling gracefully out of it, brushing at his lapels. Daphne was close behind.

"Bloody hell that's a rough ride. Public floo. Yuck." Theo gave a delicate shudder. "Right call to take the muggle car instead, Potter." Harry nodded and rushed forward to help Theo with the bags he was pulling out of the flames behind him.

"My poor thing." Daphne patted Theo on the back and stepped around him. "Hi, everyone! Well, this place is stunning!"

"Isn't it?" said Ginny weakly, going over to say hello. Hermione also greeted her friends, although she felt she was in a sort of fugue state. Luckily she didn't have to say much because the floo roared again and Blaise Zabini's unmistakeable tones rang out.

"Hello, this is gorgeous!" he cried. "Babe, look!" He yanked the hand he was holding and Neville Longbottom careered through the flames, then pitched into a nearby armchair.

"It's lovely," Neville gasped. "Bags come through all right, Harry?"

"Yeah, I've got them in the foyer. How was your Portkey?"

"Little sick-inducing, but otherwise fine."

"Is there room for one more in this madhouse?" An amused drawl sounded from the doorway and Hermione spun around, her stomach doing a little swoop.

He was in jeans, some sort of cable-knit jumper and a pea coat that was so beautifully cut it made her want to weep.

Warm grey eyes went straight to hers and he smiled, so Hermione dove back into the kitchen and started faffing with carrier bags. Conversation about everyone's journeys sounded through the echoing space and someone opened a bottle of wine. A glass was shoved into Hermione's hand and she toasted with the rest of them, although her heart and brain were still racing.

During a lull in the chatter, Blaise's voice sounded. "So where are we sleeping? I'd like to dump my bags off."

Hermione's stomach did that swoop again, but less pleasantly this time.

"Well," Ginny said. "There are, ah, four bedrooms. All upstairs and in each corner of the house. Rather brilliant placement actually. Everyone has an ensuite and a view."

"Four?" Hermione's ears zeroed in on Draco's soft comment like a sonar. Her eyes went to his before she could help it and she could feel the blood creeping up her neck. He cocked his head at her.

"Yeah, there was a mix-up," Ginny said. "It was between this and another chalet. I thought this one had a loft with another sleeping area, but it was the other one. So you two," Her eyes darted between Draco and Hermione, "will have to share?"

There was dead silence in the chalet.

"Or I could sleep on the couch," Hermione blurted, chancing another look at Draco. His brows lifted and she glanced over at the sitting room. The sofas were all very short. More a grouping of loveseats, really.

"Granger, I doubt even the Weaselette would fit on one of those," Draco said, walking over and leaning against the counter next to her. "It will be fine," he said in a softer voice. "I'll sleep on the floor. Or you can build a wall of pillows between us.

Hermione snorted a small laugh. "OK, I guess."

"Excellent, well that's settled, then." Blaise clapped his hands. "I'm going up to get my things out of my case before they wrinkle. Maybe get a quickie in…" He winked at Neville, who went bright red. "Back down here in thirty for cocktails?" He wiggled his brows at everyone and they all agreed, then began slogging up the steps.

"Remember, no wandwork!" Ginny called. "This is a muggle property and although the letting agency is wizarding, they ask that we not do any obvious magic. If they have to do a memory modification, we lose our deposit!"

A chorus of 'yeahs' and 'OKs' drifted down the steps.

Hermione looked over at Draco, who had stayed against the counter next to her, arms crossed. "Wall of pillows, eh?" she said, smiling weakly.

"To protect my virtue from your ravenous advances, Granger." He gave her a signature Malfoy smirk, and she laughed—but then his expression became more sincere. "I'm serious, though. I'd be happy to sleep on the floor. The management company will never detect a little cushioning charm."

"No, no. That's ridiculous!" Hermione put out her hand. "It's fine."

He nudged her shoulder. "Not like I'll get any sleep anyway, what with your snoring."

"Excuse me, I do not snore!" Hermione pointed a finger in his face.

"Says you. But I slept on the bunk above you at that hostel in Paris, remember?" He grinned down at her and caught her finger, trapping it in his warm hand.

Hermione swallowed. The smile slowly faded from his face and his eyes grew intent on hers. A small crease appeared between his brows and he breathed in as if about to speak.

"Oi! Draco! Granger!" Blaise's dulcet tones drifted down. "Get up here and draw a straw or you're getting the smallest room by default."

Hermione started and snatched her hand away. "Better go!" she said a bit too brightly before turning and heading for the stairs.

The Mountain

Hermione clicked into her skis and got into the single riders line at the lift. It was so early that she barely had to wait before she was gliding up the mountain through the gorgeous Swiss landscape—all blinding white punctuated by clusters of dark green fir and craggy peaks. Seeing it brought back bittersweet memories of her parents and the ski trips they'd used to take every year before the war and their move to Australia. They'd all been so close then, and now she wouldn't even be seeing them for Christmas—Christmas, which was the bloody day after tomorrow.

God, another year almost done.

Another year in which she had stayed running in place, while her friends moved forward. Harry and Ginny getting married this Summer, Theo and Daphne likely making an announcement any day—even Neville and Blaise coming together with the kind of perfect fit that felt like it would be something lasting.

And her with her silly crush.

Obsession, more like. For five years. Draco had come to work at the DMLE, what, three years after the war? And there had been the year of wariness that turned slowly to friendship, and after that, well... And now they were sharing a bed. In a gorgeous bedroom with a fireplace and a sheepskin bloody rug on a romantic ski chalet weekend. Hermione shook her head, promising herself that she'd make a real effort to try and find something of her own immediately following this trip. She'd be damned if she'd be the 17th wheel at the Weasleys' Christmas celebration again this time next year.

She sighed, her breath making a cloud in the frigid air. At least last night had been fine—nerve-wracking, but fine. She'd kept a tight rein on her alcohol consumption and after dinner and Charades had gone straight to bed, claiming exhaustion after the journey. Of course, she hadn't really been tired at all, and had lain awake ostensibly reading, but mostly fretting, until she'd heard a tread outside the door an hour or so later. But, her fake sleeping act had seemed to work, because after a short trip to the ensuite Draco had slid into his side of the (thankfully massive king) bed without a word. Hermione had stayed rigidly still until his breathing had evened out, and after that she'd somehow drifted off herself, but not before casting a charm that would ensure she woke very early.

She'd made it out the door this morning before anyone else in the house, and likely the entire village, had stirred.

The creak of the overhead cable startled Hermione out of her thoughts; the lift car had approached the drop-off point. She disembarked, wobbling only a little bit as she skimmed over the traverse to the top of the downhill section. Pointing her skis over the lip of the run, she took a breath in and pushed off—determined to outrace her gloomy thoughts as best she could.

Hermione next found herself at the main lift queue just before lunch. After a few runs with Harry and Ginny, she was relieved to be on her own again. Let the daredevils have their cornices and moguls, she was happy with her gentler slopes. Navigating carefully to the singles (ha.) lane, she almost slipped on an icy bit when a familiar voice said, "Boo!" in her ear.

Whipping around, she found herself in close proximity to a pair of grey eyes—twinkling from under sleek, pushed-up goggles. Draco was fresh, windblown and stupidly handsome as he faced her over the queue rope.

Was it possible for a stomach to drop in panic and flip in delight at the same time?

"OH!" she said brilliantly. He was all in black of course, his ski clothes somehow chic and flattering. She frowned and looked him up and down. "How do you do that?"

He tilted his head.

She waved her pole. "Come over all smart and sleek when the rest of us look like someone's taken an air pump and blown us up to twice our normal size?"

"I think you look lovely. You know how I feel about you in red."

Hermione reached up and touched her red knit hat, her mouth opening and closing.

"Pardon," a voice came from behind her. "Are you joining the singles queue?"

She turned to see a handsome, dark-haired man—obviously French from his accent—smiling at her.

She smiled back and started to respond.

"No, she's not." Draco ducked under the rope. Hermione gave him a startled look and then waved the Frenchman by. He smiled as he passed and she made herself smile back again. This was what she was supposed to be doing, right? Flirting with people? Attempting connections?

"If you're ready?"

Hermione looked up to see Draco staring at her, gesturing to the lane for multi-parties. She started and slid forward and they snaked through the queue silently.

"Just the two of you?" the lift operator asked as they approached the front.

"Yes." Draco said. Hermione frowned at him, but he was looking off toward the single rider queue.

They got in the seat and rode quietly for a bit. "How was your morning?" Hermione asked after a while. "Get some good runs in?"

"Yes, I was up early. Though obviously not as early as you."

"You know me," Hermione tittered. "Wanted to be first on the mountain!"

"You must have been." He was still not quite looking at her.

"And how did you sleep?" Hermione asked after a bit. "Well, I hope? No snoring to keep you awake..."

"Fine. You?" He flipped his goggles down.

"Fine, fine!" Hermione looked up at the sky and shivered. "God it's gotten bloody cold, hasn't it?" The sun of the early morning had gone, replaced by steel gray clouds and a steady fall of soft, white snow. She rubbed her hands. "I should get better gloves. I think the lining is ripped in these, but I always forget until I'm on the mountain and my hands are frozen."

Draco looked over at her, put his goggles back up and sighed. "Give me them."

"What?" Hermione blinked.

"Your hands. I can do a wandless warming charm. Perfected it when I was working that case in Moscow last winter."

"Oh." Shite.

He swiftly removed his gloves and tucked them under his thigh. "These will have to come off too," he said, tugging at hers.

Hermione didn't extend her hands.

"Don't be shy." He pulled them practically into his lap and wrapped them in his own. His fingers were deliciously warm and Hermione made a little noise at the sensation. His eyes flicked to hers and held for a moment, then he looked down and she saw him breathe in and out before he spoke. "It's not instantaneous," he finally said. "It works best if I sort of—" and he started rubbing his thumbs over her palms and up her fingers, warmth trailing wherever he touched.

It felt so fucking good.

"And your wrists are cold," he said softly, encircling first one, then the other with his first finger and thumb. Hermione bit her lip. Hard. "You really must invest in better gloves." He looked up, a bit severe. "The muggles have some ingenious technology in this area. We'll pick some up in the village." He finished by ghosting his thumbs over her inner wrists and Hermione couldn't stop her audible breath. His eyes went back to hers, their usual grey dark, and Hermione suddenly felt a longing so intense that it was like a physical pull toward him.

She realised she actually was leaning toward him right as they went over the bump that signaled the disembarkation point ahead.

"Shit," she muttered, yanking her hands back and trying to tug her gloves on. They were still wet, but the charm acted as an effective barrier. She felt Draco watching her, but she didn't look up, instead busying herself with poles and ski position. .

"Shall we?" His voice definitely sounded strained as they glided out of the chair. God, she was an idiot. Her reaction must have totally put him off. This was why she needed bloody distance.

"Don't feel obligated to come down the blue side with me!" She tried for carefree and cheerful.

"I want to come with you."

"Really, Draco. I don't mind…" Her words trailed off as he pushed off past her.

"Come on, Granger!" he called over his shoulder.

Hermione took a second to admire the graceful line he cut down the mountain before she followed, trying to push away the embarrassment that trailed her down the hill. So she'd overreacted to a little platonic hand-holding—maybe she could play it off as an episode of altitude sickness.

Luckily she was saved from having to do much damage control by the fact that almost the entire group from the house was clustered at the bottom of the run, yelling hellos as she and Draco approached. The ensuing debate over where to eat, lunch itself and then a shuffle of groups afterward meant that Hermione successfully avoided any more painfully awkward interactions.

She only hoped it would stay that way.

Après Ski

"Neville!" Hermione called out as she stumped into the crowded bar at the foot of the resort. Coming into the hot, bright space from the dim chill of the mountain was almost disorienting and she was glad to see someone familiar.

Neville turned on his seat. "Hermione! Hello! Come sit!" he said, with an expansive hand movement. Hermione noticed as she approached that his face was quite flushed.

"No, don't get up! I'll stand," she said, but he was already unfolding his long legs and getting off the stool.

"Absolutely not. Whoa!" He reached out and steadied himself, giving her a brilliant smile as he did so. "Bloody ski boots. What are you drinking?"

"What are you drinking?" Hermione asked with an answering smile. Neville, despite his size, was a notorious lightweight.

"Oh they have these brilliant hot chocolates. Let me get you one." He flagged the bartender.

"Sounds lovely." Hermione perched on her seat as Neville ordered, then watched the bartender mix several somethings into a glass mug, which he topped with dark, steaming chocolate and whipped cream, then placed in front of her with a flourish. She thanked him and sipped gingerly, while Neville eyed her expectantly.

"Bloody hell this is strong!" she sputtered. The bartender winked at her and pivoted away.

"I thought so too at first, but it gets smoother as you go," Neville shouted over the noise of the bar.

Hermione laughed and took a bigger sip. When in Rome… "How was your day? Where's Blaise?" she asked.

"Grand, grand—and he wanted one more go over the back of the mountain." Neville glanced at his watch. "Should be here shortly, though. Daredevil, that one." He smiled indulgently.

"How's that going?" Hermione took another drink of her chocolate. It really was delicious and very warming. "You two seem really happy."

"We are." A dreamy look passed over Neville's features.

"I'm happy for you. You deserve it." Hermione reached out to put her hand over his.

"Thanks, love." Neville squinted at her. "So. What are we going to do about you?"

"Me! What?"

"We have to find you someone!"

"Do we?"

"Yes! You're one of the best people I know and I want to see you as happy as I am." Neville leaned forward and looked deeply into her eyes. Boy he was really getting on toward pissed. Hermione regarded him as she slurped at her own drink. "I had thought…and Blaise said, but then—" He broke off as the bartender interrupted them to ask if they wanted another round.

Hermione was surprised to look down and see her chocolate almost gone, and quickly agreed to one more. She then seized on the distraction to change the subject, and although Neville bit, gamely discussing that night's dinner plans (fondue), he also kept pointing out good-looking men around the bar.

"Who, may I ask, is 'very handsome'?" Blaise's faux-peeved voice suddenly came from behind them, accompanied by a wave of crisp, outdoorsy scent.

"Over there. I want him for Hermione," Neville said excitedly.

Hermione peered over. "Oh that's the guy from the lift queue! He's French."

"Ooh la la. Well get over there, Granger. He's fit as fuck. Also I want your stool," Blaise said, nudging her.

"No. Get your own. Or sit on Neville's lap." Hermione stuck her tongue out at Blaise, trying not to think about how her reluctance to go talk to the Frenchman seemed inversely proportional to the avidity with which she kept scanning the bar entrance for white-blond hair.

Fortunately, just then Ginny and Harry showed up with Daphne and Theo and ordered another round, which along with the discussion of the day's sport, provided a temporary distraction.

"Where the hell is Draco?" Hermione blurted after a bit, slurping the last of her second (third?) chocolate and finally giving in to the question that had been nagging at her mind.

Ginny, who was sitting next to her, looked at her owlishly. "You're pissed," she said.

"Fuck off! I only had two!" Hermione protested.

"Three!" Ginny said, pointing at her. "And they were strong. I only had two and I'm practically on my arse."

"No matter," Harry said hurriedly, starting to pick up jackets and gloves. "It's time to get going anyway. The walk will do us all good."

Hermione grudgingly shrugged into her anorak, but kept a narrowed eye on Ginny, who made a face at her.

"Here, where is he though?" Hermione asked as they trundled outside.

"It's fine, Granger," Theo said smoothly, holding the door open for her. "He said he had an errand in the village.

"You're dwelling cause you're pissed." Ginny sing-song'ed. "And because you luuuurv—"

"OK! That's enough of that!" Harry said, grabbing Ginny in the crook of his arm and towing her away, throwing a worried look over his shoulder at Hermione.

"I'm fine, you're pissed." Hermione said, making a rude gesture at Ginny's back. Of course, then she immediately undermined her statement by slipping on the icy pavement.

Instantly a hand was under her elbow and an arm around her waist. "Steady on, Granger." Draco's voice was soft in her ear.

She peered up to find him looking at her with a mixture of amusement and concern. Where the bloody hell had he come from?

"Where the bloody hell did you come from?" She squinted at him.

"Did you have a nice time this afternoon and evening?" he asked, moving around to her side and tucking her arm under his. Hermione made a little movement and he looked down at her with a raised brow. "No, you'd better stay here, Granger. It's icy, you're squiffy and we've a ways to go."

Hermione opened her mouth to object and then frowned. "Fine." She wrinkled her nose at him. "But I'm not squiffy and it's only because you're warm."

He laughed and nodded. "Enjoying some après-ski warmers at the bar, I gather?"

"One or two. Where were you?" She was suddenly extremely peeved that he hadn't been there.

"Here, of course—" he waved his hand to encompass their charming surroundings, like a postcard of an alpine village Christmas scene—"buying you gloves."

Hermione stopped them and looked up at him. "Oh, thank you," she said, touched.

He kept her gaze for several beats, then inclined his head and made them walk again. "Did the charm hold up this afternoon, though?"

"Yes, it was very good." The memory of him administering it flooded Hermione's drink-soaked mind, bringing with it many dangerous sensations.

"Excellent. And now you're quite cozy from all those drinks! The weaselette said you had three?" His smile glinted down at her.

'Tattle-tale," Hermione grumbled, looking daggers at Ginny's back.

"No, no don't frown. I'm not trying to scold. Oops, watch that kerb." He pulled her tighter against him as Hermione did a fast double step. Damn Neville. Damn chocolates.

"I'll have you know I'm absolutely fine."

"Of course you are. We'll just get some dinner in you, and maybe a strong cup of tea."

"Ooh, dinner is fondue!" Hermione perked up at the thought, beaming at Draco as they approached the lane to the villa.

"Mmm." He murmured so softly Hermione could barely hear, but it sounded like something about sitting on her left.

"What?"

"Nothing. Here we are. Home sweet home."

The Scent

"I cannot believe you didn't get that one!" Ginny sat up and glared at Theo. "That is a perfectly-drawn dragon."

"You're joking. You must be joking. This looks like a horse drawn by a drunk three year old." Theo dangled a square of paper in front of Ginny's face. "No one would say it's a dragon. My sketching of Newt Scamander was a dead-on masterpiece though, and the fact that you didn't get that shows a worrying streak of face blindness."

"Oh fuck you, Nott!" Ginny vee'd her fingers millimeters from Theo's face and Hermione pitched sideways into Harry, laughing so hard she thought she might piss herself. She felt him pat her back as he himself whooped uncontrollably.

Daphne's idea to mix everyone up so that there were no couples on teams for after-dinner board games had turned out unexpectedly brilliant—especially since the two most competitive people in the group, Theo and Ginny, had been paired. It also didn't hurt that the whole endeavor had been liberally soaked in alcohol, first Kirsch with the fondue and then Port afterward. Hermione had moved beyond tipsy to completely pissed some time ago. She now gasped for breath and wiped tears from her eyes.

"All right you two, break it up!" Blaise slurred. "S'Draco and my turn."

Neville cracked an almighty yawn. "Babe. There's no way you can catch up. No way any of you can catch up. Daph and I are too far ahead. Everyone admit defeat and let's go to bed, for god's sake."

"I second that emotion," said Harry, getting up and holding a less than steady hand out to Ginny, who stood after a huffy snort at Theo.

"Hope everyone brought hangover draughts," Daphne said with a bright smile. Theo groaned. "Especially you." She prodded him. "You're the one who's been banging on about getting a half day in before we have to leave tomorrow!"

Hermione's eyes followed Draco as he got up and moved to the huge sitting room window. "I don't know." He peered through the dark glass. "It looks mad out there. The drifts are huge."

Hermione went to look too. The snow had stopped and started all day, but had become a real storm sometime before dinner and been going steadily since. "Blimey," she said softly. The scene outdoors was almost surreal; great white shapes lit by blue-white moonlight and giant flakes falling steadily over it all.

Draco cut his eyes to her. "You going up?"

"God, yes." Hermione yawned. She moved away from the window and toward the stairs. Draco didn't follow, so she turned. "Are you coming?"

He was still looking out at the snowy tableau. "Yeah," he said softly. "I'll be right along."

Hermione shivered as she exited the loo—it was bloody freezing in the room. A radiator against the wall clicked and whined, but it was clearly no match for the bitter cold that had settled over the chalet.

She eyed the fireplace in the corner, then looking over her shoulder, went to her bag and furtively drew out her wand. She was pointing it at the grate and muttering an incantation when Draco pushed through the door.

"Oh you little rulebreaker," he said, lounging in the doorway and crossing his arms.

"Shh, shut that!" Hermione glared at him. "You'll let the heat out!"

"What heat?" He chuckled and moved inside. "You know, it's refreshing seeing this delinquent side of you," he continued, rummaging around in his bag, then ducking into the ensuite. He poked his head out a few seconds later. "I'm completely in support."

Hermione paused in the act of climbing under the covers. "I see no problem with breaking rules when they're stupid," she said stoutly. "Or if no one will know."

Draco really laughed at this, the humour transforming his face in an extremely compelling way. "That's my Granger," he said, disappearing back into the bathroom.

Hermione tried to ignore the warmth this remark introduced, but her drink-addled brain wouldn't let her and she drifted on some very inappropriate fantasies for a few moments until he reappeared.

"God, it's bloody freezing," he said as he slid between the sheets. "That fire is barely making a dent."

"I know." Hermione couldn't prevent the chatter of teeth that interrupted her words.

She felt Draco flop toward her. "Do you want to come here?" he asked. "It's the only way to warm up."

Fuck, shite, bugger, wank. Hermione chanced a quick glance over at him from where she was laying on her back, attempting to will herself into forgetting he was there.

He was irresistible: all silver eyes and rumpled hair.

"Come on." He patted the bed briskly. "I won't bite." He inclined his head. "But I may freeze to death if you don't come."

She made a disgruntled noise, but slid over a few inches, and before she knew it, was being hauled against him, her face inches from the soft skin at the base of his throat.

It was immediately warmer. And it smelled fucking heavenly. She took a discreet deep breath in.

"That's better," he was saying, his voice almost a sigh. "You wouldn't want my death on your hands."

The urge to just place her lips against his throat was so overwhelming that Hermione reared back and looked accusingly at him. "Why do you smell so good?"

"What?"

"Is it cologne?"

"I don't wear cologne, no." A smile was starting to tug at his lips.

"What, then? I opened all your toiletries once and I couldn't find it."

She ducked her head and inhaled at the base of his throat again. She could feel him shaking with silent laughter.

"Granger, what are you doing—you smelled my toiletries? When!?"

"This summer at that birthday party Pansy threw for you."

"Ahh, when you wore the sundress. The last time I saw you truly pissed. Well, what is it?"

"What's what?"

"This elusive scent?"

She squinted up at him. "I don't know. It's sort of minty but warm. Rummy, but brisk. "

He started laughing again. "I think you're rummy." She felt his arms tighten around her.

"I'm determined to get to the bottom of it," she said, burrowing her face near the place where his jaw met his neck. "Yes," she said through a yawn, "I believe it's concentrated somewhere here. She tucked her head against him and breathed in deeply, suddenly very relaxed.

"Do feel free to explore, Granger. Any help I can give," he murmured, and she felt him rest his chin on the top of her head.

"It's just unfair," she said, yawning again.

"Unfair? To smell a certain way?" His hand skimmed over her hair.

Hermione's eyes were getting heavy and she felt her grip on reality loosening. "For one person … to smell… so good," she breathed, sliding toward sleep. She couldn't make out his reply as she fell over the crevice into unconsciousness, but her last impression (or maybe it was the beginning of a dream) was of lips against her forehead and a soft hand stroking her back.

Chapter Text

The Confession

Hermione opened one eye. A shaft of bright light was slicing across her face, drilling directly into the excruciating headache that had taken residence between her temples.

She shifted up and away from it, looking around confusedly at the unfamiliar room. Of course—ski holiday, chalet, Draco—fuck, Draco! She whipped her head to the side—ouch—but the other half of the bed was empty. She lay back down gingerly—she could still smell a vague whiff of his scent in the air, though…

His scent.

Oh, FUCK.

She bolted upright again, the sound coming out of her mouth somewhere south of a scream and north of a groan.

She had sniffed him.

She had rubbed up against him and told him things and then she'd snuffled all over him like some kind of creepy hound. And he'd laughed and tolerated her.

She flopped back down on the pillows.

How she was going to live this down? She'd have to be direct. Just get it out in the open and say she was sorry for being an awkward idiot and hope he'd laugh it off.

Or she could run out of the room, the chalet and Switzerland altogether, then try to avoid him for the rest of her life.

Where was he, though? She darted a glance at the clock on her bedside table and saw that it had not gone nine yet. She also noticed a little brown bottle with a card propped up against it that read Drink Me, in a familiar, elegant script. She picked up the card and turned it over to see more elegant script: It's hangover potion, Granger. My own blend. Drink it and stop being so suspicious.

She laughed—she couldn't help it. But the laugh made her headache throb so she uncapped the bottle and glugged it down. Quenching and herbal, the tonic went immediately to her head, sending cool tendrils of relief that eased the bands of pain there. Her stomach also settled and by the time she finished the bottle, she felt refreshed, even bright.

She was also bloody starving.

Throwing off the covers with a vague thought about rummaging in the kitchen for leftovers, she was startled when the door to the room flung open and Draco himself backed in, carrying two cups and a white paper bag.

"Excellent. You're up." He smiled brightly at her. He was in the jeans and jumper again, looking crisp and beautiful. Hermione was sure that she looked like death warmed over.

"And you drank the potion. Good girl. Feeling better? Brilliant. I've strong coffee and some of those delicious pear pastries they make here." He handed her a steaming cup, then opened the bag. His eyes flicked to hers and he grinned. "By all means get some caffeine in you before you attempt anything like speech."

Hermione drank her coffee dutifully, reveling in its rich warmth and watching as Draco stretched out across the foot of the bed and busied himself with the pastries, pulling them out and cutting them in half with a little knife. A lock of his bright hair fell over his forehead as he looked up and held a piece out to her on a napkin, his expression warm.

Hermione felt a surge of affection so strong that it robbed her of breath.

Because she quite plainly loved him—with all her heart—and probably always would. And as long as they remained friends like this she'd be a lost fucking cause.

She felt like sobbing.

Instead she took the pastry and said, "I'm sorry."

"For the snoring?" Silver flashed at her. "The snoring was definitely worse last night."

Hermione looked down. She couldn't laugh her way out of this. Not today. "For the awkward sniffing and just invading your personal space. Draco, I—"

"I believe it was me who invited you to cross no man's land." He looked up with another light smile, but whatever he saw in her face caused it to fade. "What's wrong?" he asked softly.

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but at that moment a loud pounding sounded on the door. "Oi, you two! I can smell coffee in there, so I know you're awake!" Ginny's shout came through, muffled but still loud.

"Come in, you cretin," Draco called, keeping his concerned gaze on Hermione's face.

Ginny's red head popped through the door. "Big news," she said. "The management company just called and we're bloody snowed in. No portkeys or muggle travel out until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest. Storm knocked everything out."

"Oh shit," Draco's brows went up. "Are we able to get word to our families? My mum will wonder when I don't show up to Christmas lunch tomorrow."

"Yeah, they'll send owls from their UK office. I already asked them to do one for me and for you. Hermione, you're covered by mine of course."

Of course. She didn't have anywhere of her own to be on Christmas.

"So," Ginny was continuing. "Christmas. Here. Neville, Daph and Potter are on food. Blaise and I are on decor and gifts. Theo is off to get more wine. And I'm putting you two on tree duty."

"Tree duty?" Hermione gave Ginny a puzzled look.

"Yeah, there's what? 100 acres of firs out the back of the house? And I found some snow shoes, a sledge and an axe in the shed. Christmas tree time. Off you go!" Ginny waved her hands.

"Ginny, I don't think we should be cutting down trees that aren't ours!" Hermione was fairly aghast.

"There are literally thousands of them out there. And we don't need a big one!" Ginny's hand went to her hip and her eyes narrowed.

"But there are rules about these things!" Hermione sputtered.

"Who did I just hear saying something about it being OK to break rules if no one will know?" Draco mused, stroking his chin.

Hermione felt herself go bright red at the memory of when she'd said that. She glared at both Draco and Ginny for several moments. "Oh alright," she finally said. "But we're bringing a wand so we can conceal what we're doing."

"Bloody right we are. I'm not towing that thing all the way back to the house without magic," Draco said.

"Fine," Ginny pointed at them. "But if you two get caught, you're paying the deposit."

Draco rolled his eyes and waved her out the door.

"Granger, you are insane." Draco gave her A Look. "There is absolutely no difference between this tree or the last tree or the 'perfect' one you saw an hour ago. They're all green and conical!"

"It's just, this one has a hole in the back." Hermione peered at him from around the tree she was currently examining.

He took a very deep breath. "Then let's go back to the last one. In that clearing down the path."

"The one with the ivy wrapped round it? You said you didn't want to faff with it!"

"Granger, I am willing to faff if it gets me off these bloody shoes and both of us back to the house and in front of a warm fire."

"OK, then. Yes. I'll be satisfied with that one." Hermione said meekly.

"It's a good thing I like you." He gave her a stern look.

They turned back down the path and walked in silence for a while. The woods were still and white, the larger trees around them like great, frosted sentinels. It was lovely to be out in the crisp air that smelled of pine and a hint of woodsmoke. Hermione was also grateful that the outing and her dithering over the tree had caused a distraction from her earlier gloomy thoughts. She'd much rather be running around the woods faux-bickering with Draco than confessing sad, unrequited feelings for him.

They approached the clearing and Draco slowed. "Which of these was it!?" he called over his shoulder.

"Third from the left," Hermione came up behind him and pointed to a stoutish one with a pleasing shape. "We'll have to cut that ivy away, though. That little axe in the pack should do the trick.

"Fuck that, I'll do it with my wand. There's no one around for miles." 

"All right." Hermione watched as Draco sent a few targeted reductos at the vines twining around the base of the tree, then floated it to the sledge. "Neatly done," she said as he fiddled with the twine he'd magicked to tie up the tree.

"Didn't think I had it in me." He stood, his back to her. She chuckled and tried to keep herself from drinking in every detail of his tall form.

Turning away from the vision, Hermione went to lean against a nearby tree. "What d'you think Ginny and Blaise will find for presents?" she asked. "With those two there's a high likelihood of things being penis-shaped."

"If they're limited to the Weihnachtsmärkte there won't be a lot of selection. Wooden toys or snow globes. Maybe some chocolate."

His voice was quiet and he still hadn't turned around. Hermione was surprised that he hadn't laughed at her obvious joke. It occurred to her suddenly that he'd been like this all afternoon, and a distant warning bell sounded in her mind. She tilted her head to try and get a look at him when he suddenly turned to her, his face very serious.

Shite.

"Look." He crossed his arms and glanced away. "Since we probably won't have much time alone once we get back there—at least not without copious amounts of alcohol muddling us—I wanted to talk to you about something."

Fuck.

"Oh?" It came out extremely weak and Hermione's heart started racing. Hard.

This was it. The moment when he would tell her that he knew, and let her down gently. It couldn't go on this way. It would be a relief actually, a mercy.

She braced herself and every molecule around her seemed to shimmer with perfect, terrible clarity.

"I can't help but notice—" his eyes flicked to hers and Hermione saw two bright red spots on his cheeks "—that you've been avoiding me. You asked to be taken off the Crawley case and at least one other. You've declined every invitation I've issued for lunch or drinks or anything in the last month. You keep…dashing off...when I try to talk to you. And there's something stilted in our interactions that I can't quite figure out." His head tilted. "We've barely laughed in a while. And I don't think I was even supposed to be invited on this trip. Potter looked like a deer in headlights when I mentioned it to him."

His eyes drew down and Hermione found herself frozen, unable to speak or move.

"Anyway," he continued after a beat, "I just wanted to say that if I've done something to offend you, been an arse, put you off in any way, then A) I'm sorry and B) please let me put it right. I miss you." He took a step forward. "And I just wonder if I can not be edged out of your life." He looked down again. "Because I—"

"I'm in love with you."

His speech broke off abruptly and he whipped his head up to look at her, his face draining of colour, his mouth falling gently open.

Hermione felt a gathering within. She straightened and pushed away from the tree. It was unacceptable to let him go on thinking this was his fault.

"I'm in love with you and I have been for a long time." Her voice was low, almost toneless. "That's why I've been staying away. It hasn't been your fault or anything you've done. I've been trying to get over it and get my life together, move on and carve out my own place. Maybe meet someone else and try to be happy." She was a bit amazed that the words were coming fairly easily.

He looked as frozen as she had a few moments ago, so she took a deep breath and kept talking. "And I know this is a lot to put on you on Christmas Eve when we're stuck together, but it feels like time. Maybe we can start working through it—eventually be real friends without all my ...baggage."

She looked down. "And I'm sorry I let it spill over last night. I'm usually better, but the drink and the bed and the closeness." She shook her head and looked up again. "It was just too much. I'll be better tonight, I prom—"

She broke off because he had finally moved, clicking out of his snowshoes and striding across the small clearing so quickly she'd barely had time to register what he was doing. Before she knew it he was there, pulling her against him, kissing her.

Hermione's body demanded one moment of shocked surprise before completely molding to his, before her gloved hands ran up and cradled the sides of his face and her tongue sought the seam of his lips. He made a soft noise and pushed her against the trunk of the tree, deepening the kiss and pressing against her. His gloved hands around her waist fumbled with something and then she felt his hand, his bare hand, slide around her jaw and into her hair. He tilted her head back and sought the skin at the point where her jaw met her neck.

"Never apologise for last night," he breathed.

"OK." Hermione gave a breathy little gasp as his lips brushed against her skin.

"It was perfect and you were perfect." He nuzzled into her neck and she could feel him smile. "And by the way, I love you too."

"You do?" Hermione held her cheek against his, eyes closed, a dreamlike feeling taking her over.

"Yes," he pulled back and looked into her eyes. He shook his head once. "Desperately. And for ages. Quite sick with it, really. I thought you knew and just didn't feel the same."

"I did feel the same, but in Barcelona—!"

"Oh, when you never showed?"

"No, when you went off with that redhead!""

"Because you never showed! And I was heartbroken. Besides, nothing happened. Nothing ever happens because none of them are you." He touched his forehead to hers. "Fucking hell. We've wasted a lot of time."

She reached up and captured his lips, kissing him slowly and sweetly, reveling in him and her dawning happiness. "But we can make it up…." she said against his mouth, pulling her own gloves off and running her hands inside the collar of his jacket and lacing her fingers into the hair at his nape. His tongue found hers and he pressed into her again as the kiss grew heated and their breaths came fast. His fingers went to the zip of her coat and he undid it, reaching inside to wrap his arms around her and pull her closer against him.

"Bloody winter clothes," he murmured into her hair. "I can barely feel you. And I want to feel you."

"Maybe we should go back," she whispered, feathering kisses along his neck. "Sneak up to our room. Light the fire…"

He pulled back so abruptly it was almost comical. His eyes were dark, the pupils blown. "Yes, please. Do you think we can apparate?" He looked around wildly.

Hermione laughed up at him. "With a Christmas tree? I don't think so."

"Fuck the bloody tree." He kissed her again, this time more urgently.

"Do you..." He was doing something wicked to her earlobe. "...really want to deal with Ginny?"

"Fuck." He pulled back. "No. Right. Let's go. Quickly." He tugged her by the hand and she came away from the tree trunk, shaking her head and smiling.

The house was dim and quiet when they walked in, and Draco practically flung the tree into the corner of the living room, conjuring a note that said "We've done our part. Don't come near our bedroom," before towing Hermione up the stairs at top speed.

"Oh my god!" She was laughing as he pulled her into their bedroom and slammed the door.

"What? Damned if I was going to let any of those wankers walk in and interrupt us," he said, pushing her against the door and going for her lips at the same time as he tugged her coat off her shoulders. They somehow divested themselves of boots and hats and scarves and gloves, cast a silencing charm and lit the fire before falling onto the soft bed.

"May I sniff you again?" Hermione asked, as she pulled his shirt and jumper up over his head, then trailed kisses over his gorgeous chest.

"You may do whatever you like to me," he said, his voice strangled. "But especially that."

Hermione smiled against him and then slid slowly to where she'd been the night before, inhaling deeply, but this time also grazing her teeth and tongue along the soft skin there. "You know, you taste even better than you smell," she breathed.

"You are driving me insane," he said tightly, his hands twining in her hair. "I may need to move this all a bit faster."

She laughed softly. "By all means. But we do have all the time in the world."

He moved up and rolled her over onto her back, covering her and leaning in to kiss her again, deep and slow, as he moved against her. "Does that mean you're mine?" he muttered against her neck, his voice low and dark.

"Yes," she hissed, running her nails up the smooth skin of his back.

"Good. Because I am very much yours."

A good while later, Hermione wasn't sure how long, she and Draco descended the steps of the chalet, hand-in-hand. It was dark outside, but lit warmly within. A huge fire crackled in the massive fireplace and smells of cooking filled the air. The tree was in the corner, strung with a garland of bright red berries and lit with what looked like charmed candles. Someone had hung a row of knit socks on the mantle.

Pleasantly tired and boneless after two extremely satisfying interludes, a long, lovely talk and a very stimulating shower, Hermione leaned against Draco's shoulder, enjoying an almost palpable feeling of joyful belonging and the soft fabric of his jumper—deep green cashmere this time.

They reached the foot of the stair and Draco looked at her with brows raised. She nodded and he cleared his throat. "An announcement if you please, chaps?"

Everyone turned and stopped what they were doing; Ginny hanging garlands over a doorway; Neville and Harry basting a turkey; Theo mixing pitchers of drinks; Blaise and Daphne setting the table. Pure silence lasted a long beat before Ginny thew up her hands and shouted, "Oh thank FUCK!" after which a cacophony of relieved exclamations filled the room; mostly consisting of variations on 'finally.'

"I guess this means my announcement telling you that Hermione and I love each other and are now together is neither a surprise nor necessary?" Draco asked, cocking his head.

A chorus of dismissive shouts greeted this and Draco broke into a huge smile, the mirror of which Hermione felt on her own face.

Ginny hopped down from the chair she was standing on and walked over to them, kissing first Hermione, then Draco. "I'd hoped this was what your note on the tree meant," she said, winking.

Harry came up behind Ginny. "It's about bloody time." He hugged Hermione then clapped Draco on the back.

"It's a bloody Christmas miracle, is what it is!" Blaise shouted as he popped the cork on a bottle of champagne. The liquid fizzed and Daphne rushed over with glasses, which Neville then passed around.

Hermione took hers and looked at Draco, the love in her heart overflowing. He seemed to catch her feeling because he leaned down and kissed her—much to the (loud) approval of the crowd.

"To our two favorite idiots," Ginny said raising her flute at them. "And Happy Fucking Christmas!"