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Chapter Text

“What are you still doing here Granger?”

Draco looked at the bushy haired witch still sat at her desk and sighed. No one could say they were friends. After the war they were far from it. But he wasn’t a monster and it was Christmas.

Granger had her head bent over a long piece of parchment, scribbling away. When it became clear she hadn’t even noticed him, he went over and ripped the parchment out of her hands.

At her furious glare, he shrugged. “It’s Christmas, Granger, go home.”

She leant back in her chair and gave him a long look. It made a difference from the dismissive glances and sneers he usually got. People preferred not to notice Death Eaters, or their children.

Granger’s staring was now beginning to make him uncomfortable so he snapped, “Do you plan to stare at me all evening?”

His smug satisfaction in seeing her blush quickly disappeared when she said, “Two years we’ve worked in this office Malfoy and that’s the first time you’ve spoken to me.”

“Its Christmas” he repeated, then realising how lame that sounded added, “You might not be my favourite person but even I would feel bad leaving you here this late.”

Granger looked back down at her parchment “Well I’m perfectly happy here so you can go now.” She said stiffly. She glared at the parchment in his hand until he placed it back on top of the others.

Draco rolled his eyes and went to walk out. Stupid witch wasn’t worth it. But before he got to the door he turned round and looked at her again,
“I thought you would be rushing off to for a loud and unappealing family gathering at the Weasel’s?” he said eyebrow raised.

“Unfortunately, Ron’s family can be even more loud and unappealing than you imagine. And that is why I would much rather stay here” Granger muttered, stabbing her quill ferociously into her parchment.
Draco couldn’t pretend that this didn’t surprise him. He, and the entire office really, had been waiting for her to walk in one day wearing an engagement ring. The Prophet would probably do a spread on the war heroes young love. To find out that she didn’t even like her supposed childhood sweetheart was certainly interesting.

Not that he could blame her of course.

Still, he couldn’t leave her like this so he walked back over to her chair and roughly pulled her out of it ignoring her cries of protest.

“Granger, you need to go home to the Weasel or anywhere else. Just don’t stay here.” He looked into her eyes and noticed, not for the first time, what a rich deep brown they were.

“Its not that I don’t like Ron” she stammered, “I just don’t have a lot in common with his family…” she trailed off and there was an uncomfortable silence in which Draco tried very hard not to look into her eyes again.
Finally, she broke the silence, “Maybe I should go home.”

Draco nodded, relieved “Yes you should.”

She touched his arm “Thank you” she murmured and Draco tried to ignore the sudden knot he felt in his stomach.

A tinkling noise made him look up and sure enough, mistletoe had begun to circle down towards them. It was like the young receptionist who had insisted on putting it everywhere so it could suddenly appear every time you left your desk had planned it.

“Mistletoe” Granger whispered then when he smirked she blushed furiously, “not that I meant anything by it of course, just that it looks nice and - ”

He cut her off by gently pulling her towards him and brushing his lips against hers. It was over as quickly as it started but for that brief moment, she hadn’t pulled away. Just kissed him back.

“It’ll be our secret” he whispered and she nodded wide eyed.

Eventually, she would go to the loud, overbearing Weasley’s gathering and he would see her come into the office in the New Year sporting the ring that everyone had expected her to get.

But she would look at him and smile sweetly and that, he thought, was enough. Would always be enough.

Chapter Text

It was the tea that finally tipped Sirius over the edge. The endless peppermint tea that Remus would drink, for stress, for concentration, any excuse that Remus could find to make tea, he would take.
The smell clung to his breath, to his clothes, that sweet fresh smell. It would intoxicate Sirius; he could get drunk on the smell of Remus.

But that would never be allowed, never be what Remus wanted. And so Sirius consoled himself with an endless parade of girls, who would bash their eyelashes and let him take them for walks round the lake or to Madam Puddifoots. They would drape themselves all over him and smear their lips with sickly sticky lip-gloss, tasting like strawberry or cherry.

And Sirius would think of that cool earthy smell that he met every time he entered the dorm room. He’d hold these girls tighter and drown himself in the thought of that smell.
Part of him desperately wanted to tell Remus this, to tell anyone about this feeling inside him, that was burning him up. But he couldn’t face the look of horror on Remus’ face to see him backing away from him. And so, at Christmas, it was a fifth year Ravenclaw girl who went to Hogsmeade with him, who held hands with him, who kissed him.

Not Remus.

They were walking out of Honeydukes when the smell hit Sirius again. It was tinged with the traditional smells of Christmas, gingerbread and cinnamon; all the smells Sirius associated with the Potters. With home.
He let his hand fall from his date’s, in this moment he couldn’t even remember her name.

“Excuse me” he muttered, then ran off into the snow.

By the time he reached the dorm room, he was breathing hard, his cheeks flushed, covered in snow.

“Remus!” he gasped, “I need to tell you something!”

“You always do” came a cool voice.

Remus was sat, not on his bed, where Sirius was looking but on the windowsill, looking out into the snow. He slammed the book he was holding shut.
“Go on then” he said irritably, “Which girl was it this time?”

This reaction was not what Sirius expected and all the adrenaline seemed to deflate out of him.
“No…I, it’s nothing like that.” He raised a hand weakly and gestured to Remus, “I want to talk about you.”

Remus snorted and folded his arms, “In all the years you’ve known me you have never wanted to talk about me.” He snapped, “Just you, you and this girl, you and that girl. Always you.”
Sirius knew he was supposed to be saying something but his mouth was just gaping open in shock.

“I didn’t know…” he tried but Remus cut him off.
“No, you never do.”

They stood in stony silence. Sirius’ heart was pounding, Remus had never shown any indication that he was mad at Sirius, ever. James, endlessly devoted to Lily always ignored Sirius’ talk about girls, but Peter hung on every word and Remus had always at least looked interested, like he wanted to hear what Sirius had been up in various broom closets, or behind the greenhouses, or by the lake…..

“It’s the tea” he blurted out.

Remus arched an eyebrow, “What tea?”

“Your tea, your peppermint tea, its all I could think about in Honeydukes, all I’ve been able to smell for weeks on end. It just makes me want to be around you Moony, all the time. I don’t care about those other girls, they don’t fit right. Not like you.” Sirius was beginning to get breathless. “And I just wished I hadn’t gone to Hogsmeade today without you, and that I’d stayed here with you or if you’d come with me and we’d been together, just us. Because I think I’ve been searching for someone that felt like home all this time in the wrong place. I think its been staring me in the face and I’ve been too scared to admit it.”

There was silence. Remus’ had gone from angry to his eyes becoming wider and wider but now he looked thoughtful.

“Do you really mean that?” he asked quietly.

Sirius nodded, “These girls don’t make me lose my train of thought like you do, I don’t care about them like I do about you.”

Remus nodded and looked at the ground. Sirius was almost bouncing in anticipation.

“Remus, say something.”

Remus walked across the room in measured footsteps, placed his hands on either side of Sirius’ face and crashed their lips together.

The kiss tasted like peppermint. It was fresh, it was new and Sirius felt like he would never get enough of it. He opened his mouth slightly wanting to respond and his heart leapt when Remus deepened the kiss, swiping his tongue across Sirius’ lips. This felt right, it felt like a million different things at once but most of all, it felt like the first kiss that made sense.

Remus broke away and stood back, a blush creeping up his neck. He looked at Sirius with a shy smile and ran a hand through his hair nervously, almost tugging on it.

“Should I go to the kitchen? Make us a cup of tea maybe?”

Sirius laughed then reached out to grab his hand, watching Remus’ eyes widen.

“Tea sounds perfect.”

Chapter Text

Theo was unsurprised to hear that Hogwarts did not have the budget for Christmas decorations the year after the war. The castle was still badly damaged, various parts still covered in rubble, he’d come back for eight year expecting a gloomier worn out version of his old school and was not disappointed.

He’d expected things to be different.

What was he hadn’t been expecting was to find Luna Lovegood sat cross legged in the middle of a corridor surrounded by glitter.

“You can’t sit there” he blurted out and she turned up to look at him

“No” she agreed, smiling, “but I haven’t mastered floating yet. I keep hitting the ceiling.”

She was now holding folded paper and was making tiny cuts into it with her wand humming as she worked. She seemed to have forgotten Theo already.

He moved over for a closer look, “What are you doing?”

“Making snowflakes” she said, “To hang up in the castle.”

Theo knew at this point he should walk away but curiosity got the better of him and he poked one she’d already finished with his foot.

“Why don’t they move?”

She tilted her head to one side “I think they look better stationary. Makes them more like real snow. Frozen.”

She patted the ground next to her, “You can sit and put the glitter on. Unless you know how to float.”

Theo regarded the blonde witch who now had her tongue stuck out in concentration. This was the longest conversation Theo had had with Luna, probably the only conversation he’d had with her.

This was definitely a good time to run, before he got a headache.

But she handed him the pots of glitter and that’s how he found himself sat down cross legged with Luna Lovegood of all people, making Christmas decorations for Hogwarts.

It was surprisingly enjoyable.

“You have blue glitter in your hair” she said after a while. Theo went to brush it off but she held out a hand to stop him. For a moment, he thought she was going to brush it off for him but then she grabbed the pot and tipped it over her own head, showering them both in glitter.

“Now we match” she said smiling brightly.

Theo found himself smiling back.

Chapter Text

“What do we have here then?”

Hermione whimpered slightly. She tried to move but her arms were bound to the bed so she was helpless to whatever he wanted to do. Her back arched slightly in anticipation and she pulled on the bonds again. A fiction, of course, as a simple spell would undo them but in these little games they played she liked knowing she was under his control, that he’d tied her up and made her wait for him. If only she could see him, she thought in frustration.

As if reading her mind, Tom let out a low laugh. “The blindfold was your idea love. And you look so beautiful in it.” He moved closer and she gasped when she felt his tongue on her neck.

“And it means I can do anything.”

He slowly kissed up her neck and along her jawline, occasionally nipping at her skin making her tremble.

“The question is….what to do with you?”

A sudden freezing sensation hit her nipples and she jolted.

“Tom I –“ she started but a warm finger was pressed to her lips. “Shh…just focus on how it feels,” the icy sensation spread across her chest to her other nipple and she gasped.
“Feel how the contrast between hot and cold affects you,” Tom continued as a hot pulsing sensation flared up between her legs. Hermione squirmed and tried to close them, to get a little bit of friction but a firm hand pushed them apart. Ice cold prongs continued to shoot through her nipples and Hermione pulled on the restraints again.

“Tom” she pleaded. Even without her sight, she could still imagine the smirk he was wearing.

“Maybe,” Tom whispered seemingly unaffected by her, “I should use real ice for this next bit.”

Her eyes widened beneath the blindfold as she felt a solid cube of ice touch the top of her thigh. She moaned slightly as it made its way up her leg, drawing wet circles everywhere but where she wanted it. She was now trembling almost continually.

“Do you know the best part about using ice in conjunction with a spell?” Tom’s voice was still perfectly even as Hermione thrashed against him, “it means I can leave that spell providing all that lovely heat in place when I do this.”

He shoved the ice cube inside her and she let out a loud moan as it clashed with the burning heat inside her. The cold was so strong, so overpowering, it reached every part of her.

“Tom, please” she gasped, desperately trying to move away from him and the cold touch and at the same time wanting him to be closer.

“I think I need you to be quiet for this next bit.” He sighed slightly and pressed an ice cube to her cheek, ignoring her slight jump, “I’m going to fuck you now Hermione and you have until this ice cube melts in your mouth to cum.”

His eyes seemed to bore into her as he placed the ice cube into her mouth, “You look so beautiful” he whispered as he ran his hands down her legs and spread them. She waited as Tom lined himself up then pushed into her.
Tom let out a groan and immediately pulled back out before slamming back into her. He watched Hermione, smirking slightly as she arched her back.

With the intense heat spell inside her, it was too much and she tossed her head back and tried to make a noise as best she could

“You’re not supposed to be saying anything.” The words were punctuated with gasps of breath but Tom never lost his composure, even as he used her legs for leverage, filling her up as much as he could.

Hermione tossed her head back again and Tom tutted. The burning inside her melted away and she almost sagged in relief. Now she could focus on the feeling of Tom inside her.

“Do you want to know something?” He said as his thrusts got faster and less even, “I’ve cast a never melt spell on that ice cube in your mouth.”

His thumb reached down to press into her clit and the icy feeling on her nipples suddenly returned and that with the building heat inside her cause Hermione to fall apart.

Tom ripped the blindfold off her face and she stared into his eyes, brown into black, watching as his breathing became more erratic and a slight flush began to appear on his cheeks….

“Fuck Hermione I’m going to - ” Tom cut himself off with a groan as he came inside her. Hermione watched as he sagged against her exhausted, allowing himself a few moments of relaxation, these were the only moments where Tom would show any true emotion and she loved him for it.

Slowly, he pulled out and lay next to her, peppering her with kisses and he undid her bonds. Hermione sighed in relief and, before he could protest, lightly placed her hand on his side.
They held each other for a minute and with Tom stroking her hair and running careful fingers down her back, Hermione could feel herself drifting off to sleep.

“Did you enjoy that love?” Tom’s breath was warm against the back of her neck.

“Mmmm,” she replied sleepily, “But you’ll pay for it next time.”
Tom’s grip on her hip became tighter, “I highly doubt that Hermione” he replied sharply.

Hermione looked at the bucket of ice and smirked, “Oh, you’ll see.”

Chapter Text

The Christmas decorations at Hogwarts never ceased to amaze students no matter what year they were in but it was particularly exciting for the first years as traditionally, one first year would be chosen to place the star on top of the tallest tree in the Great Hall at a special dinner.

“James! James, stand up!” Remus hissed on the evening that the chosen first year was handed the star, “You’re supposed to be watching!”

“Don’t see why,” James grumbled as he got up reluctantly, “Dumbledore will have just picked some goody two shoes to do it. Probably a Ravenclaw.”

It wasn’t a Ravenclaw. It was Lily Evans.

James rolled his eyes as he watched the small red head make her way to the Staff Table, her red plaits swinging out behind her.

She was just so perfect, couldn’t put a foot wrong in class. As soon as he realised she seemed to know Snivellus, he hadn’t said more than two words to her. Not worth his time.

He watched as she accepted the star from McGonagall and made her way towards the tree. He noticed her hands were trembling slightly as she muttered the spell to raise the star to the top of the tree. He joined in with the applause from the rest of the room, half heartedly putting his hands together.

And then she turned round to face the room, beaming.

It was though a firework had erupted in James’ head. He looked at the girl in front of him, Lily Evans, shining, her smile lighting up the room and everything seemed to fall into place.
He could feel his heart beginning to pound as she brushed past him to return to her seat and he kept his eyes focused on the star. How had he not noticed how bright it was, how bright she was?

“Of course it was Evans. Stupid tradition.” Sirius nudged James and winked but the other boy didn’t respond. He stood, transfixed, staring at the glowing star on the tree.

“What’s the matter with him? Why is he still stood up?”

“He looks ill. James, sit down.”

“James! You moron, sit down!”

The Maurauders would say later on that James was too young to be in love, but he’d known from the night with the Christmas tree.

Chapter Text

“Are you ready?”

Harry looked up to see Ginny stood by the door, holding a bouquet of white roses. A lump formed in his throat so he just nodded.

She passed him his cloak, “It’ll be fine,” she said squeezing his hand.

He nodded again.

Every year, on the first day of snow that winter, Harry would go visit his parent’s graves. He wasn’t sure what it was about snow that made it feel right, it would make more sense to go on Halloween perhaps or Christmas Eve, but ever since that visit with Hermione, when the snow started sticking he had the urge to go.

This would be the first time he took Ginny.

The snow was always pure in Godric’s Hollow. He liked that. He liked to think it stayed that way for his parents, perfect and unblemished like them. He’d once had the wild idea of removing all the footsteps in the graveyard so the snow would stay untouched but then thought better of it. Better to keep those tokens of love, of people trudging through the snow to reach their loved ones.

“I’ll wait here until you’re ready.” Ginny murmured when they reached the iron gate leading into the graveyard.

Harry always struggled to speak at this point so he just looked into her eyes, hoping she’d understand.

She kissed his forehead then stood back, letting him walk on alone.

The snow had begun to stick on his parents graves but he let it stay there.

“Merry Christmas Mum, Dad.” He whispered, crouching down. He felt conscious that Ginny was watching him and looked back at her. As if understanding he was uncomfortable, she immediately looked up at the sky, watching the snowflakes.

A sudden warmth went through him and he turned back to his parents.

“Things are going really well for us now. Really well. I’ve started training new Aurors in Defence, Ginny won the league with the Holyhead Harpies this year. Things finally seem the way they should be.” He looked down for a minute and bit his lip. His urgent desire to be under the snow with his parents when he first visited them always made a reappearance at this point and in previous years, he’d expressed this wish out loud, tracing his name out in the snow.

But it felt different now, he had plans, a real future; it had taken time after a war but he was finally ready to admit that he did have a family, that that initial feeling of loss and emptiness after the war was slowly beginning to disappear.

And that was because of Ginny.

“I live with Ginny now, not in Grimmauld Place, in our own cottage near Bill and Fleur’s.” He laughed slightly, “Ron and Hermione got married in the summer and lived near us for 3 months before Hermione went insane with the lack of activity and had to move back to the city. But me and Ginny like the quiet and the walks in the sea….” He trailed off then thought for a moment.

“I think I’m going to ask Ginny to marry me.” His voice was trembling and not for the first time, he looked at his parents names, almost pleading with them to react or say something.

“I think I might do it on New Years Day.” He continued, “then it’ll feel like a new beginning, like the reason I visit you when it snows.” He could feel his eyes starting to water now, he hadn’t told anyone else about proposing to Ginny, not even Molly or Arthur. “I think you’d have really liked her, she’s amazing at Quidditch and is fierce and strong and just everything I wish I was.” He could feel his words beginning to come out in a rush now, “Whenever she goes anywhere, I just want to sit and watch how she lights up a room, I like to imagine that she’s similar to you in that way Mum….”

His eyes were beginning to sting now and he coughed slightly, “Anyway, I just wanted you to know first.”

Suddenly a gust of wind, blew the snow across his feet and Harry laughed which came out more of a sob.

He took off a glove and touched the headstones. “Thank you” he whispered.

He wiped his eyes and jumped to his feet. Ginny, who had been determinedly not looking until now, took this as her cue began to make her way over. Harry watched her footprints in the snow, side by side, next to this.

“Mum, Dad,” he said, loud enough for Ginny to hear, “there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

Chapter Text

Harry had finally got Teddy to sleep when there was a loud knock at the door. Harry groaned and looked at the clock. What maniac called on a man looking after a sleeping baby at 8 o clock at night?
The knock came again.

“I’m coming!” Harry called out, fumbling with his keys. “If its carollers or anyone trying to sell something, I’m afraid I haven’t got the time or the –“

He stopped, dumbfounded.

Draco Malfoy was stood on his doorstep holding a bottle of mulled wine.

“Malfoy?”

Malfoy nodded, “Potter,” he said, “Nice to see you again.”

Harry stared, “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to see Teddy. Andromeda said he was with you tonight.” Draco raised an eyebrow as a piercing wail came from inside the house, “Is that him?”
Harry sagged against a wall as the cries got louder, “Yeah,” he sighed, “You may as well come in.”

By the time he’d picked a screaming Teddy out of his cot and brought him downstairs, Draco had taken his cloak off but was still stood in the hallway, unsure. Whilst Andromeda had welcomed Draco into Teddy’s life, he had never crossed paths with Harry or the rest of Teddy’s family. He was the outsider.
Harry almost felt sorry for him. Almost. He was still Malfoy after all.

“Here,” he handed Teddy over and took the bottle of wine out of Draco’s hands, “I’ll go pour us a glass.”

“I wasn’t sure if you drank mulled wine.” Draco called out from the hallway over the sounds of crying as Harry tried to remember where he kept the nice glasses.

“It’s not my favourite but I’ll make an exception for mulled wine.” Harry replied, finally finding the glasses he wanted.

He poured out a small glass for them both then made his way back into the living room. Draco was still stood in the hallway but was now clutching a sleeping Teddy, who now had startling pale blonde hair.
Harry stopped. “How did you do that?”

Draco shrugged politely, “He likes to be stroked on the forehead, sends him straight off.” He looked down at the sleeping toddler and smiled, “Do you mind if I go put him down?”

“Umm no, of course not.” Harry said, slightly lost for words “It’s the first door on your right.”

He watched Draco head up the stairs and took a deep drink from his wine. It had a permanent warming spell on it to keep it to temperature and the scent of cinnamon and spices now filled the house.

He flopped down on the sofa. How was Malfoy of all people in his house? Putting his godson to sleep and drinking wine with him? What were they going to talk about?

Harry groaned internally, he was going to have to start calling him Draco, to be polite.

“He’s down.” Draco had reappeared suddenly. Wordlessly Harry handed him his drink.

“Thank you” Draco perched himself on the end of the sofa, his back as rigid as a board. Still a Pureblood aristocrat then, Harry thought, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

“I haven’t really seen you since the war.” Draco said, taking a sip of his drink, carefully avoiding Harry’s gaze.

“No well, I try to keep to myself and Auror training keeps me away from the Ministry most days” Harry replied then realising he was probably supposed to ask as well said, “What about you?”

“I work in the Runes and Heritage department, currently deciphering Runes in Scotland.” Draco said and Harry smiled to see his eyes light up slightly when he spoke, it wasn’t a side of Malfoy, of Draco that he’d seen before.
“You should talk to Hermione about that, she’d probably be able to help.” Harry said without thinking then immediately cringed when Draco sat up even straighter.

“Yes. And how is Miss Granger?” The formal tone seemed to pronounce how uncomfortable Draco was.

Harry took another sip of his drink, “Yeah she’s good. She’s just got a promotion in Magical Law Enforcement. Her and Ron have gone ice skating with the others.”

“With the others?”

“With Andromeda, the Weasley’s, you know” Harry trailed off when Draco turned to look at him.

“Why aren’t you with them?”

Harry shrugged, “Not really my scene, I don’t really like being round lots of people. Prefer the quiet.” He didn’t mention Ginny. He hated that people always assumed he didn’t want to go out just because they broke up. They made a go of it after the war but Harry just needed solitude and Ginny needed to be round people, especially her family. Harry’s idea of staying in by the fire place just wasn’t for her and it was a relief to them both when she moved out.

“I don’t blame you.” Draco said causing Harry to look up, “I much prefer staying in.” He laughed bitterly, “I expect you never had anyone hiss at you in the street though. That tends to make you want to stay inside.”

Harry’s eyes widened, “Do people still do that?” At Draco’s nod he put his wine glass down and grabbed Draco’s hand without thinking.

“Just ignore them. You have nothing to hide from.” Harry stared at Draco his eyes blazing. Draco nodded then looked down at their hands. A flush creeped up Harry’s neck and he immediately sprang back.
They both took a long drink.

Harry cleared his throat, “Where are you spending Christmas?”

Draco leant back “I’m not honestly sure yet.”

“Oh.” They fell into silence.

“Draco?” Harry eventually broke the silence, “Why did you bring a bottle of wine if you just wanted to see Teddy?”

Draco smiled and took a sip, “It’s mulled wine Potter and I’m sure you’ll figure it out eventually.”

Chapter Text

The Blacks held a Christmas ball every year to show themselves off the aristocrats of the Wizarding World. And every year, Druella Black would drag her three daughters out and force them to perform.

The Malfoys would also be in attendance every year; Abraxas Malfoy would describe it as tedious but to turn down an invitation from the Blacks simply wasn’t done.

So one year, when he’d finally had enough of the sneers from the older pureblood families and enough of the poor vintage wine, Abraxas decided Lucius should go instead.

“You’re fresh out of Hogwarts son,” he said that evening, smoothing down Lucius’ jacket, “Its about time people knew who you were.” It was said in a tone that allowed no room for arguments so Lucius didn’t make one. He stayed quiet.

Tedious was, however, an understatement. Half the guests wouldn’t give him the time of day and the other half saw him as a potential suitor. Lucius spent most of the evening trying to escape the advances of women clutching their pearls and exclaiming that Lucius simply had to meet their darling daughter. He’d just sagged against a wall, thinking about calling it a night and going home for a Firewhiskey when he heard it.

The most beautiful voice he’d ever heard.
Firewhiskey forgotten, he whipped his head around frantically searching and there in front of the fireplace, one of the Black sisters was singing.

“O Holy night, the stars are brightly shining”

It was the youngest, Lucius realised with a jolt, Narcissa.

He’d seen her before of course, they’d been in the same Hogwarts house. But she’d looked so fragile, so delicate, he hadn’t dared go near her for fear she would break.
How wrong he’d been.

She was singing a Muggle carol in a pureblood home without so much of a flinch. There was a muttering around those near her, but how could anyone comment? How could anyone question a voice so pure?

“A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices”

The notes of the song washed over Lucius and he watched, entranced. The song ended and Narcissa gave a neat little curtsey to those watching, beaming as she did. It looked as though she was glowing, drawing all the light from the room into her and Lucius found his feet moving involuntarily, he had to speak with her, to know her.

But she was suddenly gone, yanked away by her mother.

“What do you think you are doing?” Lucius could imagine Druella screeching just from that whisper, “How dare you sing a Muggle carol? How dare you shame your family like this? This is our most important opportunity of the year!”

Each question was punctuated with a hiss from the Black matriarch and Lucius watched, enraged, expecting to have to go and save this beautiful flower of a girl from her own flesh and blood.

But instead of crumpling Narcissa nodded and turned around. She caught Lucius’ and winked before melting into the crowd.

“Fall on your knees, oh hear the Angel’s voices”

Lucius clenched his fists and he felt a fire deep to his core, “I’ll love you” he vowed, staring at the blonde beauty in front of you “I’ll love you deeply and make you feel so loved that no one will dare come near you again. You’ll be safe.”

Chapter Text

Elusive. Powerful. Untouchable.

That’s how Tom Riddle preferred others to view him, how he preferred to view himself. He was Head Boy, the last descendent of Salazar Slytherin – he was above everyone in this school and everyone knew it.
Christmas, for example, was a banality for lesser mortals to indulge in. He had no time for carols and goodwill and presents under the tree.

So he was surprised when he found himself, the night before Christmas, walking to the Room of Requirement to meet Hermione Granger. He’d decided the witch was intriguing enough to warrant a meeting – the time travelling Muggleborn who had asked to be sorted in Slytherin, who could match him in every class.

They’d been circling each other like wolves since she’d arrived and an opportunity to meet her undisturbed was too good to miss.

As Tom approached the Room of Requirement, he stopped for a moment. He allowed a cruel smile to grace his features.

He could smell Dark magic.

It was a beautiful intoxicating scent, like inhaling raw power. He’d been biding his time, practicing his art in secret, to know someone else at Hogwarts was capable of this was certainly intriguing.
He pushed open the door.

His nerves set alight as a wave of magic hit him. The room was dimly lit, with only candles stood in the middle of the room. White rose petals were scattered, splashed in something red. Tom squinted in the darkness, there was a pool of blood in the middle of the room.

“I’m surprised you don’t already have your wand out.” A voice came from the shadows.

Tom scoffed, he had mastered wandless magic years ago and the voice knew it. “Wands are limitations on truly powerful wizards.”

He stepped forward, his eyes trained on the blood that was now seeping into the floorboards. “As delightful as this scene is, perhaps you could tell me why I’m here.”

Hermione smiled. “Your Christmas gift is ready.”

A burst of light and the room was illuminated revealing that the walls and ceiling were also spattered in blood. In the corner of the room, Hermione stood, her wand hanging from her fingertips. Behind her, a body slumped on the ground, blood dripping from a large gash in the neck.

Tom’s eyebrows raised in surprise and he examined the Mudblood that had apparently caused such devastation. She caught his gaze “You wanted him gone,” she said nudging the body slightly with her shoe, “He’d started asking too many questions in the common room, became too interested in your research in the Restricted Section so you wanted him gone and it was convenient for me to do the job for you.”

“But why all the blood?”

Hermione looked around the room casually, as if contemplating a change in a wallpaper as opposed to a violent murder. “I needed to know how it felt, Avada Kedavra is so quick and easy, I needed to see what it’s like to feel life leave a body.” She smirked, “Not as clean as using a Basilisk I admit.”

A faint twitch was Tom’s only reaction to the knowledge that this witch knew about the Basilisk, knew about Myrtle and therefore probably knew about the Horcrux as well. He felt a stirring in his stomach and for the first time he looked at this girl and respect for this clearly powerful witch overtook his disgust of a Mudblood.

“Why are you here Hermione?”

She tightened her grip on her wand and Tom felt his stomach jolt again. This woman who had just killed a fellow student was still scared of him.

“I was sent back to stop you” she said slowly and he nodded. It made perfect sense that his future self would become unstoppable.

“I was betrayed, sacrificed as a pawn, forced to leave everything I knew.” Bitterness hung from every word. “If I stop you, it won’t make any difference to my life as I won’t even exist in the future.” She paused to take a breath. “So I decided to join you.”

Tom smiled. “And you didn’t think to ask me first?” He took a step towards Hermione, taking delight on how the grip of her wand tightened even further. It was almost touching how hard she was trying to hide her fear.
But then Hermione’s eyes began to blaze. “I don’t need your permission. I made a Horcrux.”

This time it was her smiling at Tom’s apparent discomfort.

“I was a Gryffindor in the future, you know. A lion through and through. But I always thought I could do wonders with the right connections.”
She stepped towards Tom and ran a hand through his hair, smiling when he didn’t flinch.
“You made mistakes in the future. Mistakes that cost you. Without me, you won’t succeed.”

Her words hit a pang of truth that Tom didn’t like to admit. The idea that people in the future wanted to stop him was very appealing, the idea that they succeeded….less so.

He looked at this confident Dark witch from the future. “What’s in it for you?”

“Control.” She whispered. “You could have died and the world still wouldn’t have been the way I wanted it.”

The blood was nearly at Tom’s feet now. He watched it creep towards him, thought of the useless Slytherin boy that was now no longer his problem. He thought about how it would be to have a partner, a confidant. Hermione grabbed his hair again and he thought how it would be to have her as a partner.

He licked his lips.

She wasn’t like him, there was no one like him. But she understood him, understood his desires.

He placed a hand on her neck and brushed his lips against her ear.
“You, my dear, are the perfect gift.”

Chapter Text

Hermione swore under her breath as she tripped over another box. The place was full of them, unused props and costumes spilling out all over, every single one of them a trip hazard in the heels she was wearing.

She was going to fucking kill Draco.

He was waiting for her, his pale blond hair dimly illuminated by the one bare lamp that was providing light. She groped for his hand in the darkness.

“This is a ridiculous idea,” she hissed, hoping he could sense her anger without seeing the glare she was giving him.

“It was your idea,”

“Yes but I didn’t think we were actually going to do it!” Hermione began to raise her voice and felt a finger press itself to her lips in response.

“You were the one who had this hare brained idea of sex during the interval of our son’s Nativity play. I’m the one who’s making it happen without either of us getting arrested.” Draco kept his tone even, he was slightly annoyed if not unsurprised by his wife’s sudden cold feet.

This was not the first time he’d made her dream of ‘more interesting sex’ into a reality and she’d decided to back out. The stable at Scorpius’ horseriding themed birthday party had left scars…both mental and straw related.

And the ice skating rink last year wasn’t worth thinking about.

His voice lowered. “Is it not exciting you? Knowing that your all your friends are out there waiting for the second half of a Nativity play, not knowing that we’re in here?

When her breath hitched, he knew that he had her. He reached up to run his hands through her hair and felt her nose bump against his own as she tried to find him in the dark.

“Well now that we are here, why don’t we make the most of it?”

Hermione could hear Draco’s attempt at smugness in every word but after five years of marriage she was now immune to his charm.

Almost immune, she thought as she reached over to unbutton his shirt. When she raked a nail over his chest he shivered and wrapped his hands around her waist. She tilted her head up and his lips met hers, she could feel his teeth biting into her lower lip and she reached round to pull his shirt down….

There was a blinding light as the wall they were leaning against gave way onto the stage and a hush fell over the audience who peered at a shirtless Draco and a thankfully still clothed Hermione.

“I thought we agreed a room.” Hermione hissed, staring out into the crowd who were trying and failing not to stare back.

“How did I know that door didn’t lead to a classroom?” Draco looked down at his bare chest and back into the crowd.

He gripped Hermione’s hand.

“Smile.” He forced through gritted teeth. “And wave.”

They slowly waved and began to inch off stage. Between them, their celebrity status in the wizarding world was enough to shock people into silence and what began as a shuffle turned into a dash for privacy.

As soon as they were out of sight and the sound of chatter had resumed in the audience, Hermione, now a beetroot red, shot Draco a guilty look before straightening her skirt and practically running out of the room.

Probably off to concoct a wild explanation to give to Ginny and Padma, Draco thought, then shuddered when he realized Potter had just witnessed that little humiliation.

At least that would put an end to Hermione’s dream of adventure for a while. Draco buttoned up his shirt then groaned as another realization hit him.

Scorpius was going to kill them both.

Chapter Text

He found Luna sat by the remains of the Whomping Willow.

She looked up at him when he arrived but said nothing so he sat down and stared across the lake with her. The Giant Squid had sunk deep below the waves but a flash of fin could be seen as the merpeople darted in and out the waves.

Neville coughed to try and get Luna’s attention but she kept staring outwards, oblivious to his presence.

“How are you feeling?” He internally cursed himself at this lame opener; they’d just held a memorial for the dead, of course she wasn’t alright.

“Swings and roundabouts,” she murmured and then “How did you get away?”

Neville grimaced. He’d been a celebrity ever since the war ended in May. Every plaque, every memorial, every headstone needed a photo of him beaming next to it. Today’s farce of a Christmas memorial (which was really an excuse to show the press how badly Hogwarts needed funding for a rebuild) had been no different.

It was nauseating.

“Borrowed Harry’s cloak,” he said grinning sheepishly.

Luna nodded and they fell back into silence.

Neville could feel his mouth getting dry, “Look Luna,” he started but she cut him off,

“Today’s the anniversary of my mother’s death.” She said it with such lightness that for a moment Neville couldn’t tell whether she was about to laugh or burst into tears.

Neville deflated slightly as his need to comfort overweighed anything else he was about to say, “It must be difficult at Christmas.”

She smiled sadly and turned away to watch a particularly showy mermaid who was backflipping out the water, “sometimes it’s very sad,” she said into the distance, “but sometimes it makes it easier, to imagine all the angels. My mum would like it up there.”

She spread her arms out and Neville had to duck to get out of the way, “She would like being free, I always wondered what it would be like to live in the clouds.”

Neville fumbled around for something to say. His own parents were not likened to angels but trapped in St Mungos, the opposite of free.

He felt a hot tear fall as he watched Luna tip her head back to soak up the Scottish winter sunshine with a small smile on her face; she was the one who looked angelic, her pale blonde hair cascading free down her shoulders.
She looked back down at him with an almost pitying look and leant out to brush away his tear, “They would want you to be happy.” She whispered and Neville nodded. Every time he was around Luna he felt as though his heart would explode in a mixture of happiness and sorrow and shared grief and just pure love, wonderful and heartbreaking all at once.

He wouldn’t change it for anything.

She watched him as he sat trying to regain his composure. When would he learn that there was no need for composure, not with her?

She leant in and placed the softest of kisses to his forehead.

Neville flinched slightly his hands digging in the grass. He wanted to wrap his arms around her but she was like a small animal, easily spooked.

“Luna….I want- ”

“I love you too,” she said simply and reached out to grab his grass stained hand, “Will you go to the Forbidden Forest with me sometime? There’s a new fungus I’d like to take a look at.”

She squeezed his hand and began to rub small soothing circles against his fingers when she could feel him shaking, “It would also make sense for you to come to ours for Christmas Day, after we’ve visited your parents.”

A thousand words were threatening to spill out of Neville’s lips but he looked at Luna who had gone back to staring at the lake and nodded.

The emotion that had threatened to overwhelm had subsided for a quiet love and contentment to sit and hold hands with Luna, and maybe, for the first time, Neville thought, Christmas might start to get easier.

Chapter Text

Remus found Sirius at the top of the Astronomy Tower.

James had already told Remus not to bother, that Sirius had bit his head off when he’d tried earlier. Remus had just smiled and thanked him for the advice. Now he sat down next to Sirius, uninvited, levitating two cups of hot chocolate.

Sirius gave a low laugh, “Chocolate doesn’t have the same effect on me, I’m afraid.”

Remus tutted, “Well we’re out of Firewhiskey so its chocolate or nothing.”

Sirius took the cup wordlessly and took a sip.

Remus looked away and into the night. Fog had rolled in and removed most of the stars, only the moon remained. Their last Christmas at Hogwarts – Sirius had become more agitated since it had started getting colder, bravado attempting to hide fear.

And this would be Sirius’ first Christmas without his family at all, even last year he had at least seen Regulus even if they weren’t getting on.

“Elves at home always make good hot chocolate,” Sirius then said gruffly, “not that that’s a reason to go home obviously.”

Sirius, Remus thought, was like a frightened bird, flighty if you jumped in too quick. You had to let him come to you.

“My grandma used to make amazing hot chocolate, showed me how Muggles heat it over a pan.” He nudged Sirius, “we can try it over the holidays if you like.”

Sirius looked over at him and Remus felt a jolt when he saw his top lip was covered in cream.

He went to wipe it off but Sirius caught his hand. “Leave it” he whispered.

He leaned over and Remus could taste the thick velvety chocolate on Sirius’ lips. He slipped his tongue against Sirius’ and felt himself being pulled closer. But when Sirius began to unbutton his shirt, Remus pulled back.
“We need to go back,” he said leaning out to wipe the cream from Sirius’ lip.

Sirius scowled petulantly, “I wish we could stay here. It’s easier just the two of us.”

Remus smiled and ran a hand through Sirius’ hair. “Come on, hot chocolate goes cold quickly up here,” he stood up and brushed himself off, “and I know James and Peter are in detention so we’ll have the dorm to ourselves.”
Sirius grabbed his arm and let himself be pulled up “You always make things better Moony.”

“That’s what boyfriends are for.” Remus smirked as they walked down to the common room thinking that he may hold the key to cheering up Sirius but what James didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

Chapter Text

Christmas was always a challenging time of year for Newt. Awkward family dinners, the chaos in the streets of London and being forced to take time away from his animals made for a difficult time of year.

This year had an added complication. Tina.

Newt had spent hours laboring over the present to get her. What do you get for a friend who deserves the world, a friend who is like no one you’ve ever met, a friend you would happily run into a burning building for.

Maybe she wasn’t a friend exactly.

Jacob had just rolled his eyes at his friend and said, “get her something from the heart.”

So Newt had. He had poured his heart into making a unique box for Tina to keep her prized possessions in. He knew she had some earrings from her mother that she saved for special occasions but other than that, she was an enigma.

He’d charmed the box to only open to her voice and as he placed it on the table, next to the Christmas Tree in front of the fire, he hoped she would like it.

He stood awkwardly waiting for her to arrive, trying not to stare at his watch, reaching over now and again to reposition the box.
A squeaking sound made him look down, his Niffler had poked his head out of Newt’s pocket.

“Not now you,” Newt shoved him back into his pocket. He heard the door turn.

“Newt is that you?”

Newt scrambled forward, “Tina, I….er….merry Christmas.” He stood and watched as Tina smiled and hung up her coat.

“This is nice,” she said looking round.

“Thank you, I got you something.” Newt went to pick the box up then paused and made a weak gesture at it.

Tina’s eyes lit up and she smiled, “That’s very thoughtful of you Newt.”

She went over to the table and picked up the box up. Newt frantically tried to peer over her shoulder to try and see her reaction. “It only opens to your voice,” he said.

Tina nodded and whispered to the box to open it. “Its beautiful Newt” she let out a breath, “I don’t know what to say.”

She set the box down and rolled up her sleeve, “Its perfect for my bracelet.”

Tina placed the bracelet into the box but there was a flash of black and the box flew off the table.

“Teddy!” Newt rushed over, pushing Tina out of the way and snatched a very smug looking Niffler away from the fire.

“You know you mustn’t touch things that aren’t yours,” Newt said soothingly, extracting Tina’s bracelet from the Niffler’s teeth.

“Errr Newt…the box.”

Newt looked over and watched as the box he had spent hours carefully constructing was consumed by the fire. He knelt down and went to grab it but Tina took his arm.
“Its okay Newt,” she said not unkindly reaching out to stroke Teddy who had now curled up by the fire, “these things happen.”

“But I wanted it to be perfect,” he said staring into the fire, “for you.”

“And it was,” she said, “it was beautiful and thoughtful and we’ll both laugh about this one day.”

Newt looked into Tina’s eyes expecting to see the disappointment that he was used to seeing in everyone else that he cared about. He only saw kindness.

“Like salamanders,” Newt muttered and Tina smiled and took his hand.

As they crouched on the floor holding hands and looking into the fire, Newt reflected that maybe Christmas time was easier than he thought.

Chapter Text

If there was a competition for the perfect Christmas proposal for someone who hated Christmas, then Harry was pretty sure he would win it.

He had removed all traces of the mulled wine that he and Hermione had been drinking that afternoon when she came round to wish him good luck, and had instead invested in champagne that came with a price that made his eyes water. He had borrowed an old movie player from Arthur and had ‘Notting Hill’ ready to go.

And most importantly, the ring was sat on the kitchen counter in a simple black box.

Deep down Harry would have loved a Christmassy proposal but his issue was that Draco Malfoy, was quite frankly, a Grinch.

Not that a pureblood wizard would know what that was but Muggle references aside, it was clear Draco hated Christmas. As far as Harry could tell it wasn’t for any sentimental reason, not similar to the reason why he hated Halloween, for example. No, Draco disliked Christmas because he didn’t know how to act, didn’t know how to let loose and get in the festive spirit.

Didn’t know how to have fun.

So Harry contented himself with a small Christmas tree with a colour code that matched their living room and had removed all traces of the festive season from the evening.
He didn’t trust Draco not to start on a rant that would blow his proposal off course if he smelt even a whiff of Christmas in the air.

What he had not accounted for was Draco barreling into the flat mid-monologue.

“Can you believe the nerve of Finch-Fletchley? The pompous arsehole, what does he know about my opinion on Christmas anyway?”
Draco stalked into the room, his normally perfect hair ruffled, his normally immaculate robes wrinkled.

Harry took a sip of his champagne, “I take it you had a bad day at work?”

“I mean….to insult me is one thing, Death Eater lover I can deal with,” Draco gave a rude snort, carrying on as if Harry wasn’t even in the room, “but to use a Muggle word, a word I don’t even understand.”
He ran his hand through his hair in frustration, “Do you know I had to look up what a Grinch was? It’s a hideous green creature!”

He huffed then looked round when Harry didn’t respond.

“Don’t just stand there sipping your stupid champagne.” Draco snapped and marched over to the bottle. A quick spell and the champagne and glasses had been replaced by two steaming mugs of mulled wine.
“Don’t you know champagne isn’t festive?” Draco asked, rolling his eyes when Harry gaped at him in shock, “I know you’ve been hiding mulled wine in the cupboard for when Ron and Hermione are over.”

“Now what else can I do to prove that I’m not a Grinch?” Draco had now taken to prowling about the room. He came across the movie player and Harry cringed from the kitchen counter.

“I thought you might like to watch a Muggle rom-com.”

Draco smirked in triumph, “Well you thought wrong.” A quick spell and the movie Elf started blasting from their TV.

“How do you even know the movie Elf?” Harry asked, almost amused by the sight of his boyfriend trying so hard to be Christmassy.

“Never mind that.” Draco appeared to be swallowing his disgust as the bright colour and noise of the film overwhelmed the room.
He walked back to the kitchen counter and took a long swig of the mulled wine. It was then he eyed the black box.

He tutted, “Seriously Harry, black at Christmas?” He went to open it but Harry lunged for it and snatched it away.

“It’s not for you.” Harry said hastily, putting it in his jacket pocket. He could feel himself beginning to go red as Draco raised an eyebrow. This was not how the evening was supposed to go.

“I thought we said no presents.”

“Well you know me, can’t resist a bit of Christmas cheer.” Harry laughed too loudly and almost gulped when Draco set down his wine and began to move towards him.

He had a whole speech planned about the love and trust they shared, such a speech would simply not work if Draco grabbed the ring in a moment of anger at Finch-Fletchley of all people.
Harry moved back and hit the kitchen counter, “Draco, please.”

He felt Draco grab his waist and he tried to move his jacket out of the way or to at least make Draco slow down so he had chance to explain but then he felt the belt of his jeans loosening and Draco smirked at him.

“I suppose, in the name of Christmas cheer, I better give you a present.”

Harry was speechless as Draco undid the top of his jeans and pulled them and his boxers down. When Draco knelt down, Harry’s hands automatically went to grip his pale blond hair.

“Draco, this is lovely and everything but I really wanted to-”

Harry let out a strangled moan as he felt Draco’s mouth around him.

“No, now’s not the time,-” he tried again but Draco’s movements were almost aggressive, forcing Harry into the back of his throat.

Harry’s hands scrabbled into Draco’s hair trying to make him see sense but he then he felt Draco’s tongue flick against the head of his cock and he surrendered to the feeling.

Harry had been in a state of nervous excitement all day and it didn’t take long to channel that adrenaline to the feeling of Draco’s tongue running up and down his length, he could feel himself beginning to pulse against the heat of Draco’s mouth and as Draco reached up to run a nail along his hip bone, Harry felt himself come with a shudder.

Perhaps Christmas Day would be a better to propose to his now festive boyfriend, Harry thought to himself with a smile as he leant against the kitchen counter for support, who knows what the current Christmas mood would invoke between now and then?

Chapter Text

Draco hung the last bauble on the tree and stepped back. He’d left the decorating a little late this year, Narcissa Malfoy would have brought her army of flower arrangers to decorate the Manor according to her chosen theme on the first day of December.

Draco remembered the year she did Winter Wonderland – he could feel the snow crunching under his feet and was able to make a snowman to stand guard at the main entrance.
His own tree was slightly crooked with no colour scheme in sight.

When Hermione came through the door, dropping her keys in the bowl, Draco was frantically trying to reorganize the tree.

He flushed and nearly dropped the bauble he was holding when he saw her.

“I didn’t expect you back so soon,” he said looking round sheepishly. He fingered the string of the bauble he was holding. It was a deep green star, he’d made it the year before he’d gone to Hogwarts.

“I know its not very big or grand, my mother used to have several trees but I just didn’t think-”

Hermione took the bauble from his hand. “We don’t need a fancy tree” she said wrapping her arms around Draco.

She took his hand and together they put the bauble on the tree.

“For us, this is perfect.

Chapter Text

Cho grasped her tea close to her chest in the hope of keeping warm. She hated this time of year with wind nipping and the window panes of her cottage freezing over.

After the war she’d wanted a quiet life away from all the attention all the Hogwarts graduates had got after the Battle. She’d moved to rural Scotland, on the coast with a lighthouse as her only neighbour and continued to owl her work in to the Ministry, so she never even had to visit London.

Cho was stoking the fire and settling down with a cup of tea when Harry Potter tumbled out into the fireplace.

Cho blinked and set her tea down. She and Harry technically both worked in the same department but she didn’t really speak to him. Hadn’t spoken for years really.

After their little non-relationship back when she was fifteen, she had harboured a heartbreak for him for years but hadn’t been able to get past him.
Losing Cedric and then Harry had made her cold towards boys in general. She’d had to save herself, hence why she’d sought out the quiet of the Highlands.

Which bought her back to why Harry Potter had just appeared out of her fireplace.

He smiled weakly, “Merry Christmas.” She said nothing as he stood up and brushed the ash of his suit.

“Sorry to intrude but I knew you’d be the only one not at the Christmas party.”

Cho stiffened her shoulders. Every year she received an invite and every year she turned it down despite overly-friendly demands from her colleagues that she could stay with them in London.

“Why aren’t you there either?”

Harry fiddled with the buttons on his cuffs. “I was but it was just too much. I don’t really like the attention or the assumption that I’m this amazing person.”

Cho hummed in agreement, “Tea?”

“Please and no milk.”

Cho went over to the kitchen and used her wand to produce a steaming spout of tea. Whilst she poured into the mugs, she watched Harry out of the corner of her eyes, watched as he looked round her cottage his eyes wide. At heart, he was still the awkward teenage boy that he’d been at fifteen.

She smiled slightly to himself and brought him his tea.

He accepted it with a murmur of thanks then perched on a sofa, clearly unsure of himself.
Cho looked round for something to say, “Are you still with Ginny?”

Harry looked down, “Yes,” he said finally, “but sometimes like tonight I just need her to understand I hate social gatherings.”

“So you come to your ex?”

Harry laughed and set his cup down, “Were we ever really exes?”

That brought a small laugh to Cho’s lips, “No,” she replied.

Once the ice had been broken, they talked for several hours. Harry was still the sarcastic blunt man he’d been at Hogwarts but he could still make Cho laugh, could still make her heart skip when he ran a hand through his hair.
She tried to keep those sorts of thoughts locked up but over the evening, they kept leaking through.

Eventually, it was time for Harry to go and as he got up to leave, Cho immediately went into the kitchen and began to clatter about with pots and saucers, making as much noise as possible. She hoped Harry would just leave.
When it became clear he was waiting for her, she came back into the living room.

Harry was wearing a sad look on his face, “Cho why do you never come down to London? People miss you.”

She shrugged, “I prefer the solitude.” Then she whispered, “I need to keep myself safe.”

Harry nodded then looked into the fire.

“I’ll tell you what,” he said after a moment, “I’ll go to the Christmas party next year as long as you come too.”

He reached over and put her hand in hers. His hand was warm and Cho slowly felt the warmth starting to spread through her.

She smiled, perhaps the first genuine smile in a while.

“Deal.”

Chapter Text

The Yule Ball was drawing to a close and with it so was the magic.

The ice sculptures had begun to drip slowly onto the floor, the elves were beginning to clear up the streamers and confetti that littered the Great Hall and the romance of the evening was dissipating as both girls and boys alike descended back into their dorm rooms in tears as they reality of the evening had not lived up to fantasy.

Hermione had chosen not to go back to the Gryffindor form where she would likely find Lavender and Parvati ready to smother her. She had taken refuge in the library, behind the section on Goblin Warfare there was a nook with two stuffed armchairs where very few students came, especially on Christmas Eve.

Still in her dress and heels, she curled up into a ball and let the tears finally fall.

“I’m surprised at you Granger. Crying over a boy.”

Hermione looked up and her face screwed up in displeasure.

She sniffed, “Go away Nott.”

Nott huffed to himself, “That was a weak insult, you can do better than that.”

This brought a small smile to Hermione’s face. She would be the first to admit that she assumed Nott was like the other Slytherins, arrogant and prejudiced. In truth, she wasn’t sure if she’d ever spoken to him.
Nott watched her for a moment then went to sit in the armchair opposite her.

“Where are your friends? It’s not like Gryffindors to abandon each other when one has been upset by a grumpy looking Quidditch star.”

“No!” Hermione said then flushed when she realized how eager she sounded to correct him. “Viktor didn’t do anything.”

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

Hermione shrunk back into herself a little when she realized she now had to give an answer, “I sent them both away. Not that its any of your business Nott,” she added with a huff but it lacked any punch; she was too glad of someone to talk to.

Nott leant back in his chair, seeming totally at ease “Ah that sounds like the Hermione I know. And it’s Theo.”

Hermione looked up at this, “You don’t know me Nott” was all she said.

Theo deliberately ignored the way she chose not to use his first name. “But I do,” he said, conscious that he was beginning to come across as too arrogant. “Brightest witch in our year, possibly the school. Has two boys for friends, one who will only ever be a sidekick and one who’s tragic backstory rules his life.”

He tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair, “If it wasn’t Viktor then I’m guessing it was the red head who upset you?”

Hermione looked down at this and Theo could see her eyes filling with tears again. He blanched, upsetting her had never been his plan.

“He doesn’t deserve you, fuck none of the Gryffindors do but they’ve got and they should fucking well appreciate how smart you are.”

Theo found himself leaning forward more and more as he became more animated, “Most boys only appreciate what they had after they’ve lost it to someone else. The Weasel is an idiot.”

Hermione still hadn’t uncurled herself, and Theo felt his heart sink when she realized he wasn’t even looking at him.

He stiffened and stood up. “I’ll leave you in peace,” he murmured, cursing himself for choosing tonight of all nights. He had, in truth, seen her leave the Ball in tears, knew her well enough from the four years of school together to know where she’d be heading.

“Theo. Why do you care?”

He turned back and his features softened, no longer trying to get her attention, “Because I’ve been in your classes for four years and not once have I ever seen anyone appreciate you for who you are.”

He exhaled, looking at her with raw honesty in his eyes; attempting to be cocky and smart hadn’t worked but admitting the real reason he was in the library with her, on Christmas Eve, just might.

He watched, trying not to look too eager as Hermione got up, wiped her eyes and straightened her dress.

“Thank you Theo.” She sounded too stiff and overly formal and Theo’s heart sunk for the second time, deeper this time because he’d just basically admitted to watching her for four years and he’d clearly freaked her out.
He was debating how to pretend he was joking when she came over, took his hand and pressed her lips to his lightly, so lightly he would have barely noticed if she hadn’t suddenly squeezed his hand as she leant up.

“Thank you.” She said again. Theo looked at their hands, still intertwined then back down at Hermione.

He let go and stepped back, watching her reaction. She seemed slightly in shock but her hand lifted slightly as though she had wanted to hold on to his.

Theo smiled, “I’ll see you in class Hermione.”

She nodded, a flicker of fire returning to her eyes if only for a second. “Yes, Theo, yes you will.”

Chapter Text

“Sirius stop it!”

Sirius grinned and removed the hand that had slowly been working its way up Remus’ thigh. He stretched out across the sofa, reminding Remus of a lazy cat.

“But I’m bored. Aren’t you bored?”

Remus tutted. “This was your idea Sirius.” He leant forward to rearrange the snacks he had laid out on the coffee table. “Besides the others will be here soon to watch the film. And that will be them,” he said as the doorbell rang.

Sirius huffed as Remus went to let their friends in. “Idea of watching films at Christmas is stupid anyway,” he muttered.

Admittedly the first film they watched peaked Sirius’ interest. The idea of Muggles doing magic intrigued him. But as they moved onto the second film, an insipid romance that Lily suggested, Sirius began to get bored.

So his hand returned to Remus’ thigh.

Remus glared at him, hoping to convey his unwillingness to engage in displays of affection in front of their friends in a single death stare. Sirius winked then whispered something to James who was curled up on a beanbag in front of them.

Remus watched as James nodded impatiently, not looking away from the film and Sirius took the blanket that had been draped around the bean bag. He draped over himself and Remus and then proceeded to turn back to the film as though nothing had happened.

Remus turned his eyes back to the TV but his eyes were on Sirius.

The hand started creeping further up his leg. Remus could feel himself starting to blush and looked pointedly at Sirius who was still staring at the TV, a small smirk playing on his lips.

Sirius’ hand found the top of Remus’ jeans and undid the top button. Remus took a sharp intake of breath as Sirius slowly shifted his jeans and boxers out the way, leaving his cock exposed.

They sat there for a moment, both of them still staring at the screen. Remus could feel the blood rushing to his ears as he waited for Sirius to make a move. This was so stupid….so reckless….

He grabbed Sirius hand and slowly placed it on himself.

None of their friends seemed to notice as the blanket jumped slightly. Sirius shifted his hand so he could grip Remus properly and started slow long pulls. Remus felt his hands ball into fists and he tried not to sigh or moan, or shout at Sirius to stop fucking teasing him and speed up for God’s sake.

It didn’t take long before his cock was fully hard and Remus could feel waves of heat rolling off him. Sirius still hadn’t even looked at him, it was like he was just absent mindedly playing with Remus’ cock, occasionally raking a nail down him deliberately to make Remus shudder.

The idea of Sirius not even acknowledging Remus, not even bothering to try to make Remus cum made him want to arch his back and grind himself into Sirius’ hand.

Instead he sat there as he slowly thrusted into Sirius’ hand, as teasing turned into agonizing torture.

As Sirius ran a thumb over a particularly sensitive spot, Remus had to bite into the blanket not to make a noise as he felt his cock jump.

He felt Sirius’ breath hot on his neck, “You want to come like this?”

Remus nodded weakly and Sirius’ hand suddenly sped up, actually putting effort in now to try and make Remus fall over the edge.

Remus gritted his teeth as he came but he barely had time to slump against the sofa as Sirius suddenly threw the blanket off himself, forcing Remus to scramble to cover himself.

Sirius stood and stretched, “Well this film took a fantastic turn,” he said beaming. “Any one for a drink?”

Chapter Text

If Harry had had to select one thing that he didn’t want to happen today, then losing his door key would’ve been at the top of his list.

He could deal with the night time raids all through December, forcing him to sleep through the day and miss most of his opportunities to go Christmas shopping. Once he had managed to get into London he could deal with battling one of the worst snow storms in living memory without the use of magic since his children had all asked for Muggle toys this year.

What he could not deal with was, having staggered home laden down with bags, not being able to find his doorkey.

He sighed, collected his shopping and knocked on the door. His key was probably at the bottom of one of these bags.

There was no answer.

Harry frowned. It wasn’t like the kids to not answer the door. James was now old enough to watch his two younger siblings so Harry had felt comfortable taking the afternoon off work and nipping out for a couple of hours whilst Ginny was still at work.

But silence was never good.

He knocked again.

This time a large thump returned followed by a loud giggle, definitely Lily.

Harry felt dread begin to creep over him. He could still remember the levitating incident of last Christmas.

He knocked again, more urgent. “Lily? What’s going on?”

A small kerfuffle then he heard Al shout a hurried “Nothing!”

Harry felt for his wand then cursed himself for realizing he’d left it in the house, incorrectly assuming he wouldn’t need it for a trip into Muggle London.

“Open this door now!” he shouted. When there was no response, Harry put down the bags and stepped back, bracing himself to shoulder the door open.

He charged, felt a jolt of pain as his arm hit solid wood then found himself suddenly falling as the door opened. Harry held his hands out to break his fall but hit something warm and hard and was vaulted through the air until he landed, stomach first on the warm hard thing.

Winded, Harry let out a stream of swear words and it was only when he heard Lily’s nervous giggle that he opened his eyes.

A pair of large brown antlers loomed over him.

He looked round at the room that vaguely resembled his kitchen, had a battle to the death recently taken place in it. The chairs were overturned, the pots had all fallen to the ground, all the cupboards were wide open and his three children were stood with their clothes in tatters all with very flushed cheeks and very satisfied faces.

At least the Christmas Tree was still standing.

Harry closed his eyes, “Would anyone like to explain to me why there is a reindeer in our house?”

He was met by a deafening wall of voices. James had been messing about with the presents making them disappear and reappear. Al had been reading about wish magic and tried to grab James’ wand for practice. Lily had come in and demanded a new pet and one thing had led to another.

Finally, Al shouted, “His name’s Ethelred.”

“That’s a stupid name, we’re calling him Fido.”

“But why can’t we have a Christmassy name, like Snowflake?”

“No one is calling him anything.” Harry held a hand up for silence then slowly clambered down the reindeers back.

He looked into its eyes and it huffed at him, shaking its antlers and knocking a picture frame off the wall.

“Where did you even come from?” Harry muttered.

Al jumped down from the kitchen table and went over to stroke the reindeer who seemed unbothered by its surrounding.

“Doesn’t he look much happier now he’s got a family Dad?”

“You have no idea what he looked like before now Al,” Harry said exasperated. He shook his head as if to rid himself of all the crazy scenarios running through his head. “Did you all actually think that you could just accidentally summon a reindeer and then keep him as a pet in the garden?”

Three confused faces stared back at him.

The reindeer huffed again and made a honking sound of agreement.

Harry looked up to the ceiling for a moment, then back down at his three children.

Then he smiled, not the worn smile of a parent but the impish smile of a child. Finally, his children shrank back in fear.

“You have to be the ones to explain this to your mother.”

Chapter Text

Ron poked their tiny paper tree with a sigh. He had tried his best to make Hermione happy. Last year he had abandoned them, both Hermione and Harry had nearly died in Godric’s Hollow and he hadn’t been there. This year had to be different.

He got the broken mirror out of his back pocket to double check there was nothing from Harry. He and Harry had set up this way of communicating before they had split off into pairs on the run. He clutched it and thought about his family, scattered across the country after the Battle of Hogwarts.

He missed them, missed them so much he ached.

He looked at the paper tree which was really just strips from a notepad stuck together with sellotape and ached for the magical Christmas tree of the Burrow, flying Santa and all. He couldn’t decide if he envied Hermione for knowing her parents were safe but with no memory of her at all.

“Ron? Have you got a fire going?”

Ron quickly wiped his eyes as Hermione pushed open the tent flap.

“On it now.”

Hermione smiled and pushed the hair out of her face. Her cheeks were flushed with cold.

“Have we got any wood?”

That would normally have tricked a laugh at of Ron, even after all these years but he could only muster a faint smile.

He stood up quickly and busied himself with casting the little blue flames that Hermione, and now himself, were so good at.

Hermione busied herself at the table, setting out knives and forks. She was humming a Muggle song that Ron didn’t know. He found listening to her soothing though; on dark nights he would ask her to sing softly to him.
He must not have hidden his melancholy very well as Hermioen walked over to him and have him a bon crushing hug. He took in the scent of her, she still smelt like rosemary despite having to use whatever soap they could steal these days.

“I know you miss home.” She said and he nodded, a tear dripping off the end of his nose.

Hermione visibly drooped in front of him, “I miss my parents,” she said and Ron felt his heart pang as he saw that her eyes began to fill her tears too.

“Sometimes,” she went on, “sometimes I just wish we could all go home.” It came out as a whisper as though it was a treacherous thought.

Ron looked at Hermione. This girl had been so brave for a world that was trying to reject her and had never complained, not once, even though he himself had walked out.

Ron felt his heart suddenly swell and he wrapped her into arms. “This is our home now,” he said fiercely. “You are my home.”

Hermione nodded and allowed a smile to light up her face when she looked up at him and maybe for the first time, Ron felt that he was finally home.

Chapter Text

Hermione fastened the brooch to her jacket and gave herself a final look in the mirror.

Not confident enough, she thought. Not even with the snake brooch.

She looked down at her tidy jumper and smart skirt, what she would consider office wear, and transfigured them into a black off the shoulder dress that wrapped around her. Her sensible running shoes transformed into a pair of black heels.

Much better.

She lets her hair stay down, curls bouncing around her shoulders, best not to let them forget who she was, what she was capable of.

Apparating unnoticed out of the dingy flat she had called base for the past year had proven more difficult than expected but it was nearing Christmas and much of the resistance had risked going home to be reunited with family. Fools.

If there was talent Hermione had had throughout the war, it was to be unswayed by sentiment. Few would have gone to the lengths that she had to protect her family, Ron would certainly have never have been able to bear the trauma of his family forgetting him.

It was this talent that forced Hermione up to the front gate of the base of the Knights of Walpurgis. It was less grand than Malfoy Manor, where she had been tortured all those years ago but this a house of pureblood opulence, where former Death Eaters had transformed into political players who had transformed the wizarding world. Voldemort may be gone but there was no doubt that the purebloods had won the war.

The door swung open before Hermione had a chance to knock. She took a breath and stepped through, her heels clicking on the marble floor. Laughter and male voices were floating through a heavy wooden door and it was that door that Hermione pushed open.

She ignored the eyes that were on her, the various hisses of anger at her entrance and walked towards the man she was seeking.

“Granger. You came.” Draco Malfoy had risen out of his chair, a tumbler of whiskey in his hand.

“Yes I did.” Hermione stood her ground and waited for Malfoy to come to her. When he caught her hand and kissed her fingertips, she allowed a thrill of exhilaration to run through her.

She walked over to the table and turned her bag upside down. A collection of random items fell out, an old watch, a plate, a picture frame, a rubber duck.

“A Yule present - Portkeys to resistance safe houses.” She called out to the room, watching as eyebrows raised and men leaned forward in their chairs. She made sure her voice didn’t waver, she could give no emotion away.

“This is a trick!” A man with watery eyes and pale blonde hair, a Malfoy relation perhaps, jumped and regarded Hermione with disgust. “Somebody seize her.”

“Crucio.” Hermione’s reaction was instant and unwavering. Ron might not like it and Molly might gasp it outrage but Hermione’s ability to use Dark Magic had saved all their lives over the past year.

You couldn’t afford to be choosy when fighting a losing battle.

She nudged the man’s foot, “The sacrifice of Yule perhaps?” she mused aloud which got her a few laughs if nothing else.

“That might be all Rosier is good for,” someone called to a round of hearty laughs and Hermione allowed one of her most gracious smiles to land on the source of the voice.

This was what she had been meant to do, ever since she had cast her first spell and fixed Harry’s glasses when she was eleven. Being appreciated for her talent was, deep down, all she had ever really wanted.

“A word in private?” She could feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand on edge and Draco leant in to whisper in her ear.

Hermione nodded and allowed herself to be led from the room.

Draco waited until they were out of earshot before grabbing her wrists so she couldn’t escape.

“Once you do this there is no going back.” He said in a low voice and she nodded.

“It has to be done. The resistance will never win.” The words almost felt like a betrayal but Hermione closed her mind to that. The few people that were still rising against the Knights would not win. They were too focused on light magic, on being noble, on playing the hero.

Draco gave a low laugh and released her wrists. “Certainly not without your help.”

Hermione rubbed her wrist and regarded Draco. He seemed to understand here, the last few months they had spent passing messages she had come to enjoy his conversation. To converse with someone of your own intelligence seemed to be a rarity in the Wizarding World.

She took a step towards him, “Are you glad I came?” When he didn’t say anything she took another step and pushed him against the wall.

She breathed in the scent of his cologne and left a trail of kisses up his neck. He gasped slightly before pulling her towards him and crushing his mouth against hers.

Hermione let herself relish the feeling. It had years since someone had had the ability to excite her, to keep her interested.

She pouted when Draco pushed her away.

“Why at Yule?” Draco was still watching her warily. Hermione shrugged, if he needed the last part of the puzzle to trust her, she was happy to provide it.

“Yule is incredibly important to wizarding history, its why the Knights celebrate it.” Draco nodded but was still watching her, needing more.

“I don’t approve of everything the Knights have done, of course I don’t. But they respect wizarding history and culture, the people I have spent the last few years with could not even tell you what Yule was.”
She trailed her finger across Draco’s jawbone, watching as he shuddered.

“Me and you, we can do things better. Being in the resistance is no longer helpful to me.”

She left him standing there and walked back into the main room. She could still feel eyes on her but this time there were no whispers, no raised voices.

She allowed herself a moment to relax but tensed when someone tapped her on the shoulder.

Draco handed her a glass of champagne, “Happy Yuletide.”

Hermione considered Ron, who she had left behind. He was all bluster, picking fights with vulnerable Knights, his temper outweighing any talent for strategy. He would never have offered her champagne, even if he was in a position to afford it.

He was best left forgotten.

She smiled and took a sip “I think I’m going to like it here.”

Chapter Text

Draco fingered the stem of his wine glass and tried not to look like he was hovering at the door. He could feel his mother watching him as he politely dodged every guest who came his way. They were all non-entities, here to drip their sycophantic behavior and self esteem issues all over the carpets of Malfoy Manor, now that Lucius had returned to the Ministry.

The Christmas party was nothing more than a chance for his father to show himself as an upstanding member of society, who had been the leading voice in a new law protecting Muggle borns after the war.
Draco noticed that there were no Muggle borns in attendance tonight.

His mother had given him the benefit of the doubt and had disappeared into the kitchen to terrorise the elves. Draco checked his hair in the mirror opposite the grand staircase then cursed himself for acting like a teenager.

No one would even be looking at his hair, they probably wouldn’t even be looking at him.

Then the door opened.

Draco felt that now familiar feeling of breathlessness as Harry Potter stepped into Malfoy Manor. He was wearing the black shirt that Draco had picked out for him, insisting it would bring out the green in his eyes, along with a plain suit trouser.

His hair looked as if he had just hopped off his broom.

Draco didn’t move. “You came.”

Harry smiled, his face lighting up. He ignored the mutters from people stood at the edge of the room who had already noticed his arrival. He took Draco’s hand. “Shall we do this?”

Draco just nodded.

They walked into the main reception where a string quarter was playing. Harry looked as if he was brimming with confidence as he snagged himself a glass of prosecco. Draco didn’t know if the confidence was genuine or not but it was making him hot and cold all over.

People were now starting to look at them, notice who Harry was, who he was with, and notice that they were holding hands. Draco could definitely hear at least a few angry mutters.

He looked down at his shoes but felt his chin being tilted back up.

“Hey. Its going to be alright.” Harry said softly. “Like ripping off a plaster.”

“You don’t know these people like I do.”

Harry looked round and waved at a particularly scandalized looking woman, “Nor do I wish to.” He said with gritted teeth.

“This is unacceptable.” A raised voice made them both turn round and see a portly gentleman who looked like he’d enjoyed one too many glasses of prosecco. Harry began to make a furious movement towards the man but he was cut off by a trilling laugh coming from the other side of the room.

“Harry darling, how good to see you!” As if summoned by the potential scandal, Narcissa rushed over to the two of them and gave Harry a quick kiss on the cheek.

Draco’s mouth fell open as Harry went bright red and went in for a stunned handshake with the Malfoy matriarch.

Their audience slowly fell away and the string quarter, guessing the mood of their hostess began to play again. The drama was over.

Draco let himself sag with relief. “Mum, I-“ he began but Narcissa, still beaming held up a finger to silence him.

“Draco you are going to follow me into the library where we can talk in private whilst your little friend here is going to get himself another drink and then speak to no one.”

Draco swallowed and nodded. He glanced at Harry who seemed as if he was about to say something but a furious glance from Draco silenced him.

Narcissa laughed again and then danced from the room, Draco at her heels. He didn’t look back.

She didn’t say a word once they were in the library and Draco resisted the urge to shuffle his feet.

Narcissa spent a moment regarding her beloved, if foolish, son.

“I know you are aware of the delicate position your father, our family, is currently in.” Each word was clipped and precise. “Therefore I am confused as to why you think it would be acceptable to bring, not only a man, but that particular man, as your guest.”

Draco fiddled with his cufflink, trying to channel Harry’s confidence. “Do you not want the support of the Saviour of the Wizarding World?”

“Not if it means my son holding hands with him in public,” Narcissa hissed, then seemed to compose herself. “Draco, I just want you to be happy and you know how our society talks,” she waved a hand airily. “You know you can do whatever you like in private.”

Draco stopped trying to pull his cufflink off his shirt and looked at his mother. “I don’t want to keep Harry secret,” he said slowly, “I love him.”

Narcissa did well to hide the shock in her eyes but for a moment Draco saw her cool composure broken. “Well you can love him in private.” She said, her tone giving away her desperation for Draco to comply and conform, as he always did.

Draco laughed softly. “No I can’t.”

He opened the door and music flowed into the room. “Merry Christmas mother.”

His heart was hammering as he walked back into the room and scanned it for Harry. Harry had retreated into the shadows by the Christmas tree, a full prosecco in his hand.

Draco walked up to him, grabbed him by the collar and kissed him for the room to see. Harry dropped his glass and Draco heard it smash, heard the startled cries.

He broke away. Harry was looking at him with a wild look in his eyes.

“Shall we?” Draco said slightly breathless.

Harry nodded and took his hand as they left the room.

Draco didn't look back.

Chapter Text

Draco loved his wife, most ardently. He loved her intelligence, how she would ruthlessly defeat her opponents in the courtroom of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He loved how she made him laugh, how she seemed to memorise every book she had read and how she berated him for the organization of his sock drawer.

He lived in fear of her baking.

He came home from work late, after staying with a few colleagues to celebrate breaking up for Christmas and opened the door to the smell of burning.

Having heard the door open, Hermione rushed out to meet him, wearing blackened oven gloves and a smear of flour across her face.

“I’m making mince pies.” She said in way of explanation. “For your mother.”

Draco groaned internally. Every Christmas, this bout of insecurity seemed to reappear despite Draco’s constant reassurances that his mother did not care about Hermione’s ability to make festive baked goods.

In truth, Narcissa had never cooked in her life and probably would have preferred if Hermione had bought something from an artisan bakery. Draco kept this thought to himself, however.

As he entered the kitchen, the burning smell seemed to intensify and Draco found himself confronted with a kitchen covered in flour and twelve very burnt mincepies, still stuck in the baking tray.

“Hermione, these are beyond help.” He said, casting a quick cleaning spell over the kitchen work surface.

“I just feel like such a failure.” Her voice came out as almost a whisper and Draco cupped her face in his hands.

“I tell you this every year. My mother does not care if you can’t bake. You need to stop putting pressure on yourself.”

He stared into her eyes until she visibly sagged with relief.

“I suppose you’re right.” She sighed leaning on the counter and removing her apron. “But what a waste of an evening.”

Draco smirked and pushed her against the counter.

“Oh I wouldn’t say this evening was a waste.” He said, delighting in the hitch in Hermione’s breath. “I quite fancy you as a kitchen maid.”

Before she could protest, he unbuttoned her shirt and bra and took her nipple in his mouth. Her soft moan told him it had been the right course of action. He slid a hand up her leg and slipped into her underwear. She was already beginning to get desperate for him.

“Draco please.” Failing to unbutton his trousers, her hand was palming him through his trousers and Draco let out a low groan ad bit down on her nipple releasing a cry from Hermione.

He looked up at her flushed cheeks and arched back.

“Take off your underwear and lean over.”

A quick charm vanished his own trousers and underwear as Hermione slipped off her underwear and pulled her skirt up over her hips.

He placed a warm hand on her hips and took a moment to marvel in her perfection. She had already spread her legs for him and was breathing hard.

“Draco what are you waiting for?”

He slid into her with the ease that came from years of marriage, of knowing just how to angle himself to position against the spot that made her moan out for him.

“Is this calming you down love?” he panted, filling her up with quick short thrusts. Hermione didn’t respond but he could hear her fingernails scrabbling against the kitchen work surface.

He held himself deep inside her and watched her legs begin to shake, knowing she was close. He stayed still and waited for her to start to move against him.

“No teasing tonight. I want you to cum with me.” He said, leaning down to rake his nails down her back, watching her shiver.

She still didn’t reply but when he moved all the way out before suddenly thrusting back again, she moaned again, loudly this time and he knew she was close.

She started rocking her hips back against him and her eagerness with her small moans of desperation were his undoing.

“Draco I’m going to –“ Hermione cut herself off with a keening sound and her back arched as she came. Draco collapsed against her, breathing hard.

“Feeling better?” he asked, running a hand down her side.

She hummed in agreement and turned her head to look at him, a sleepy smile on her face.

“Draco? Never let me try baking again.”

Chapter Text

Tom woke up to the feeling of kisses across his chest. He grumbled and swatted them away playfully.

“I’m still sleeping.”

He felt the kisses develop more intensity and as they reached his neck he was forced to shift his head lest he get a mouthful of bushy hair.

“Merry Christmas love.”

Tom opened his eyes and squinted as they became accustomed to the daylight already streaming into the bedroom. Hermione knelt at his side, dressed in fluffy tartan pyjamas and beaming at him.

“I expected you to be in something more revealing with a wake up like that” he said smirking reaching to grab her hips but she held a finger to his lips.

“It’s our first Christmas Tom, there’s no time for sex.”

She clambered off the bed and headed out their bedroom. Tom pulled himself up and stretched. He didn’t really do Christmas and had been trying to tell Hermione this since the first weekend of December when she’d lugged a massive Christmas tree into their London townhouse.

She’d cheerfully ignored his protests at making Christmas cake together and had prevented him from torturing any of the carol singers who had knocked on their door. And there had been plenty who had deserved a good crucio.

Now it was Christmas Day and Tom audibly groaned as Hermione returned to the bedroom with two stockings, one green and one red.

“Our Hogwarts colours” she said fondly.

“I still don’t believe you were a Gryffindor.” Tom muttered but accepted the green stocking from Hermione.

He looked at her expectedly. “What do I do now?”

She looked at him incredulously, “Open it silly.”

“You have to remember Hermione that we’re in the 1940’s now.” Tom said as he began to root around the stocking. “There is no such thing as an extravagant Christmas, especially for an orphan. And the purebloods?” He gave a low laugh as he pulled a box out. “They’re far more interested in Yule which doesn’t have the same commercial connotations- ” His voice trailed off.

“What is this?” he said softly.

“I thought you might like it.” She said looking pleased with herself but also nervous.

Tom slid the ribbon off and opened the box. He couldn’t hide his intake of breath. It was a golden cup with a badger engraved on it.

“This is…” Tom began but Hermione cut him off.

“The cup of Helga Hufflepuff.” She supplied. “Not to be used for a Horcrux!” she said hastily as she watched Tom cradle it in near adoration. “It’s already had one of those removed from it.”

Tom looked at her with hunger in his eyes and she moved backwards down the bed suddenly unsure of his reaction.

“I thought that this would be of value to you.” She said. “An incredibly powerful object to match an incredibly powerful wizard. And a reminder.” She paused before saying, “of the damage of seven Horcruxes.”

Tom stared at the cup. The urge to possess it overwhelmed him and Hermione was right, it made sense his future sense would use this as a future Horcrux.

He set the cup down carefully as a feeling of warmth he was unused to threatened to overwhelm him. That this witch would gift him with something that she had destroyed in a past life, just to remind him of how one Horcrux was enough, was almost unbelievable and yet here she was. A Gryffindor helping him rule the world whilst saving his sanity.

“This….” He closed his eyes for a moment to stop any emotion leaking out. “You don’t know what this means to me.” He swallowed. “No one has ever cared for me before.”

She ruffled his hair as her eyes began to water. “It’s Christmas Day Tom.” She said softly.

She laid down next to him and pretended not to notice as he took long deep breaths to compose himself.

“Hermione.” Tom broke the silence.

Hermione sat up and looked at him. “What is it?”

“Now can we have sex please?”