Work Text:
’Twas the night before Christmas
When all through the house
Not a creature was stirring
Not even a … very bad cat!
Hermione throws a piece of popcorn at her boyfriend. “That’s not how it goes.”
He glares at Crookshanks, who is sitting under the tree with a pile of tattered and broken ornaments around him. Draco clears his throat in an exaggerated manner, making Hermione giggle from the other side of the couch. She’s up against the armrest on one side with him on the other, holding a thick book.
“The stockings were hung – you really want me to read this whole thing … out loud?”
“Yes,” Hermione says, chucking another piece of popcorn at his forehead. “It’s a Granger family tradition.”
“Fine,” he sighs. “The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that – you know, I don’t think I’m the best person to read this.”
He closes the book with a snap and stands up from the couch abruptly. He has a funny look on his face, and it makes Hermione nervous.
“Draco …?”
He leans down and kisses her forehead.
“I’ll be right back,” he says.
He walks to their fireplace and throws down a handful of Floo powder. He steps through, bellowing out “The Leaky Cauldron” before he disappears into a cloud of green smoke.
Hermione is left bewildered on the couch, wondering what Draco is up to. She’s distracted when Crookshanks jumps high up into the air and knocks yet another ornament off the tree and onto the floor.
“No!” she yelps. “Crooks!”
But before she can get off the couch, the fireplace glows green and almost as quickly as Draco left, he is back – with two other people. Hermione’s heart sings the moment she realizes it’s her parents. They said they would be spending the holiday in Australia, so she is shocked that they made the trip.
“Surprise!” her mum shouts.
Her dad beams at her, and Draco is smiling like a kid on Christmas morning. Hermione scrambles out of her mess of blankets to greet them.
“H-how did you –?” she starts to ask.
The wonderful moment is ruined when the Christmas tree comes crashing down into the middle of the room, with a screeching cat taking the ride of his life. Hermione and her parents freeze, standing across the room from each other with identical expressions of shock, but Draco steps forward and wiggles his pointer figure at the mess.
“Bad cat!”
…
While her parents get themselves situated in the guest room, Hermione and Draco clean up the tree in the living room. They look up a spell that will prevent Crookshanks from getting anywhere near the tree, and he seems a little grateful for it after his terrifying ordeal.
“Poor Crooks,” Hermione says, stroking his back.
“We should have just done that from the beginning,” Draco sighs. “Next year …”
“Yeah, next year,” she says absent-mindedly.
When her parents come back in the room, Draco proposes they open a bottle of champagne. Though her parents look tired from their travels, they nod in enthusiastic agreement. Hermione goes to help Draco get some champagne flutes from the kitchen.
“Draco, do we really need to open a bottle of champagne so late?” she grumbles.
“It’ll be nice,” he says, popping the cork. “And it’ll put you right to sleep.”
She sighs, and follows him back to the living room. Her parents are standing and they each take a glass.
“To family,” Draco says. “And to – whoops.”
He drops something on the floor, and leans over to pick it up. Not finding it, he sets his glass down on the floor and gets on his knees to search for it.
“Uh, can’t you use your wand?” she teases.
Then he picks up something, and looks at her with a wide smile. He’s on one knee now, like he’s about to get up, but he doesn’t. He presents the object to her and it glistens in the light: it is a stunning diamond ring.
Hermione gasps.
“Like I said, I want to toast to family. I’ve enjoyed becoming part of yours, but I want to make it permanent. I love you so much. Will you marry me, Hermione?”
She doesn’t even hesitate. “Yes!”
He gets to his feet and tries to put the ring on her finger, but she pulls him into a kiss instead. Her parents coo at them, and she remembers they are there.
“Dad, will you read the Christmas poem?” she asks.
Her father looks a little surprised, but is happy to oblige her. Hermione lays on Draco’s chest, admiring her ring, while her father recites the poem with the fervor she remembers growing up with.
“Thank you,” she whispers to Draco. “I love you, but you were right – my father reads it better than you.”
He looks surprised that she called him out, but that’s kind of their thing. She is looking forward to a lifetime of surprises.
Then she closes her eyes, nearly falling asleep to her father’s voice.
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT!