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Hermione stepped out of the building's lift, smoothing the folds of her pencil skirt. She glanced at her reflection in the panoramic window of the upstairs hall, decorated for the festive season, to check that her hair wasn't too messy.
It wasn't.
Satisfied, she headed for her desk in a corner of the hall, where she put down her handbag and took out her laptop. She was early that morning, and planned to take advantage of the building's calmness to get a head start on her assignments. As she was leaving on holiday the next day, she wanted to make sure that everything was in order before she left.
With December drawing to a close, London was still asleep, or at least the sun hadn't risen yet. The lights of the city shone under the snowflakes that had been falling for several days. The magic of Christmas was beginning to take hold, warming her heart. Hermione felt charmed by the beauty of this winter weather.
She sat down behind her desk and started printing out her boss's timetable straight away. She would give it to him as soon as he arrived, after making a note of all the details of the day's appointments. It was her morning ritual. This way, she was sure that the day could start in the best possible conditions.
After that, Hermione got down to work and began writing up the minutes of the previous week's meetings, as requested by her employer.
Two hours passed without her even noticing. Although she had noted that the sun had risen in the meantime, the arrival of her boss drew her out of her thoughts. The lift opened in front of her and Draco Malfoy stepped out, dressed in his usual black three-piece suit, phone pressed to his ear and cigarette between his lips.
"No, you don't understand, Flint," he growled, clearly annoyed. "My company won't link up with yours if you don't drop your investments in Jedusor shares! I certainly don't want my name associated with him and I'll be adamant about it."
As he passed her, Hermione handed him his timetable. Draco's face relaxed for a moment and he smiled at her as he picked it up. The next second, the door to his office closed behind him.
.
Hermione got out of her little car and closed it behind her. She ran as fast as she could to the entrance of her building, despite her heels, and slipped inside once she had entered the door code.
The snow hadn't stopped all day. It was past nine o'clock and Hermione had just finished her work for the day. Her boss had told her to go home and, despite her attempts to stay longer in order to keep ahead, he had been insistent: she had to stop working.
And so did she, taking advantage of the time she had to go to the greengrocer's and buy a few vegetables. Although the fridge in her flat was rarely empty, she liked to go shopping herself and choose the ingredients to cook her dinner. It was a treat she indulged in once or twice a week, when she had the time. She had grown up with her cousins, at her maternal grandmother’s home—now passed away—who had nurtured them by cooking all kinds of French recipes. She had wonderful memories of this.
She pressed the button for the top floor and the lift started up. Hermione had been living with her boyfriend for a year now in a more than decent building in Central London. She had not hesitated for long when he had asked her to come and live with him. She still remembered the twelve square metres of her small studio flat, where rats and stray cats were her only barely decent neighbours. To say that was an understatement.
Since then, Hermione was always happy to go home. To their home. The lift was massive, the stairs covered with perfectly clean black carpets, the railings were solid, the ceilings high and the flats very spacious.
Her companion's was undoubtedly the largest in the building. Located on the top floor and benefiting from a rooftop, it was the most luxurious place Hermione had ever lived in.
As soon as the lift bell rang to indicate that it had arrived at its destination, Hermione quickly took out her keys and opened the flat door. She was frozen to the bone —she had forgotten to bring a coat or an umbrella when she left that morning—and all she wanted to do was curl up under the covers after a hot bath. Having left in a hurry because her alarm clock had broken, her mind had been elsewhere. On top of that, she'd been very distracted by her holiday plans, after her boyfriend had mentioned it to her over breakfast—which she'd eaten on the run.
Once in the hall, she put her shopping and handbag down, took off her snow-soaked suit jacket, slipped off her shoes and made her way to the kitchen, turning on the lights on her way. It had been dark for about two hours and the flat was only lit up by a few Christmas decorations.
Deciding that she would cook later, once she had warmed up and rested, she simply put her groceries in the fridge and headed for the bathroom.
A free-standing bathtub faced a panoramic window overlooking London. Hermione had never been particularly fond of bathing, but since she had started seeing her boyfriend and being invited to his place, she couldn't do without it.
She turned on the hot water and removed her clothes one by one, before tying her hair up in a loose bun and slipping into the bath. She gave a low moan of satisfaction as she felt her muscles relax and warm in the water. The only thing missing was a glass of wine, her partner and some jazz, and the evening would be perfect.
However, there was no stereo, her boyfriend was still working and she had stopped drinking a few weeks ago, to encourage her partner to do the same. A joint challenge that she had obviously initiated. Although it had been particularly difficult at first, it soon proved to be a challenge for both lovers. The desire to beat the other was so strong that they were motivated to keep going.
Thinking about it made her smile. She wished he were there too, so she could snuggle up to him in the bath, so he could hold her, so she could bury her face in his neck and breathe in the scent of his cologne and mint. She wanted to feel safe with him, to be cared for and protected like no-one else had ever been. She never felt better than with him.
She sighed and contented herself with watching the lights of the city until the water in her bath cooled. He was finishing later than she was, so she would have no choice but to wait patiently as he requested. She complied, because she knew he couldn't do otherwise, even though he dreamt of being able to spend his days by her side.
Besides, with the festive season fast approaching, he was in constant demand, making him even more nervous than usual. At times like this, Hermione wanted only one thing: for them to run far away, just the two of them.
She wrapped herself in a double terry towel and headed for her partner's dressing room. She had no desire to wear any of her own pyjamas and much preferred to put on his clothes, which smelled of him and would be much more comfortable.
So she got a pair of pants—much too big—and a black t-shirt, which she put on before going to their bedroom. His scent surrounded her and she sighed with satisfaction, craving to curl up in a ball. She dreamt of snuggling up in his arms, of him surrounding her and protecting her from who knew what.
His t-shirt reached below her knees, partly protecting her from the cold, but it clearly wasn't enough. She climbed onto the large bed in the bedroom and wedged herself under the covers on her boyfriend's side.
Before she realised it, the tiredness of her early rise and busy day hit her, and she fell asleep snuggled up against her pillow.
.
As she slept soundly, something tickled Hermione on the cheek. She twitched her nose and ran a hand over her face, half asleep. The feeling did not go away, and grew more and more perceptible as she woke up.
Eventually, she realised that the famous tickling was actually a caress on her cheek, intended to wake her up. She slowly opened her eyes and batted her eyelashes several times before meeting the tender gaze of her boyfriend: Draco Malfoy.
Draco Malfoy, the man she undeniably loved and who she had been dating for three years now. Four years her senior, he had hired her as a secretary five years earlier. He had built up his own financial empire in London, having used his more than adequate wealth to make a name for himself in real estate. After his recruitment, Hermione had struggled for months not to fall under his spell, just as he had done not to succumb to his desire to seduce her.
They had failed miserably. They had fallen madly in love very quickly, which had complicated things. Draco didn't want to give the impression that he was using his authority over her, while Hermione didn't want to mix her work and her personal life.
Months had gone by and Hermione eventually fell for him. He was driving her crazy, even though he had never touched her before. And when he eventually did, Hermione realised that no other man could make her feel so much at once.
Draco was sitting on the edge of their bed, smiling lovingly as he stroked her cheek.
"Good evening," he whispered, running his index finger over the curve of her nose.
"Good evening," she murmured in reply, struggling out of sleep. "What time is it?"
"Nearly eleven, I just got home."
"Twenty-three?!" she gasped, sitting up abruptly. "I didn't make dinner! I wanted to make some–"
"Hey, it's all right," he smiled as he gently pushed her back onto the bed. "You're tired, I can see it in your eyes. I made dinner so you could go back to sleep quickly. I just wanted you to eat before you went to sleep," he explained as she rubbed her eyes.
"I wanted to make your favourite dish to please you–"
"Another time," he laughed as he kissed her forehead. "We're flying out early tomorrow, so you'd better have something in your stomach, Hermione."
She nodded gently before stretching out her arms towards him, a sad pout on her lips, begging for a hug. She felt like she was acting like a child, but tiredness was getting the better of her. She was disappointed not to have been able to do what she had been planning for several days. She hadn't thought she'd fall asleep so quickly or that Draco would be back so late.
He hugged her and she snuggled up to him, enjoying the feeling of having him close to her at last. She'd had to wait all day to see him, spending every hour just a few metres away from him. It was torture. Her daily torture.
In fact, since employees are strictly forbidden to date their colleagues, she and Draco hid their relationship from the world. Although Draco had initially wanted to change the contracts of his employees to prevent this, Hermione had refused, explaining that she did not want to suffer favouritism and continue to be treated like everyone else, whether she was his secretary, his girlfriend, or simply the company receptionist. He reluctantly agreed.
"I missed you today," she admitted, her face nestled against his chest.
"I missed you too," he replied, stroking her hair. "Sorry I was so late, Parkinson called me five minutes after you left and asked me to look into one of her files. I couldn't say no."
Pansy Parkinson had been his agent for over five years. The best in the country, without a doubt.
"You're here now, that's all that matters."
He kissed the top of her head before she lifted her head to do the same to his lips. He smiled against hers and put his hand on her cheek to deepen the kiss slightly. His hand covered almost half of her face and Hermione wanted to snuggle up to him even more. But he stopped her.
"Eat. My mum will kill me if she sees you turn pale tomorrow," he joked.
"Is that the only reason you want to feed me?" she asked with a falsely outraged pout. "Out of fear of your mother!
"Exactly!" he chuckled.
Hermione smiled helplessly. Draco was taking her to spend the holidays with his parents in Switzerland for the very first time and she had to admit she was very excited about the trip. Of course, she had already met Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy, but this time things would be different. Spending Christmas with her boyfriend's family would make things much more serious, more real.
"Hermione, please don't stress again, I can see it in your eyes."
She blushed and bit her lower lip.
"Sorry," she mumbled, resting her head against his chest. "It's just–"
"Everything is messed up, I know," he cut her off, stroking her cheek. "My mum's even more impatient than I am, you know? She's been ringing me non-stop today, asking me all about your favourite things to eat, drink and even what kind of colour you'd like for your sheets."
Hermione couldn't help but giggle. Sheets... That was the kind of thing her mother didn't care about. She still had trouble realising how different the world was in which Draco's family lived. Although he blended in perfectly with the rabble, as she liked to call them to annoy him, that was clearly not the case with his parents.
"I like everything, I don't drink alcohol and my favourite colour is purple," she replied with a little laugh.
"I know," Draco smirked. "I've already told her."
"The perfect man," she joked.
"Of course!"
She couldn't help but roll her eyes, but didn't have time to retort anything as he captured her lips in a kiss.
"Eat, Hermione, I can see your eyelids struggling not to close."
No one had ever taken such good care of her. No one had ever been so tender, so attentive. It was so good, so pleasant.
She'd grown up in a very different family to Draco in that aspect. Instead, she had grown up with her grandmother, her parents having very little to do with her. Although they had made sure she had what she needed, they had never really been the loving type. She was grateful for what they had done for her, especially the fact that they had worked hard to pay for her to go to a top school, but she had missed the sentimental part. Her mother was the type to constantly criticise her behaviour, her clothes and her choices, while her father was content with... nothing. He didn't do much to tell the truth.
The thought gripped her heart. In spite of everything, she was happy to be spending the holidays somewhere else this year. Draco had promised to give her the best Christmas of her life. He'd been the only one to take care of her since they'd met. He had always been protective of her.
It took? them a while to get used to each other. At first, she had found it hard to let herself go with him, to trust him completely, but in the end, she had managed. She would have entrusted her life to him without a doubt.
"I love you," she whispered suddenly as he set her empty plate to the side.
He smiled tenderly at her.
"I love you too, Hermione," he replied before kissing her. "I'm so glad you agreed to come."
"In what world would I have refused such a thing?" she smiled, resting her forehead against his.
He laughed softly and kissed her again.
"Sleep, Hermione. I'm keeping an eye on you."
"What time do you want me to wake you up?" she asked him as she settled back comfortably under the covers.
"I've already set an alarm for five. Longbottom's picking us up at six."
She nodded. Neville Longbottom had been Draco's chauffeur for a few years now, even before Hermione joined the company.
"Good night, Draco," she murmured as she snuggled up to him.
"Good night, Hermione."
.
"Seriously, Draco?" Hermione raised a jaded eyebrow. "You didn't mention that."
He offered her an innocent smile as he held out his hand, standing in front of the boarding stairs of his private jet.
"Surprise?" He tried.
She just glared, pushing past him to get on the plane.
"You'd better make an extremely large donation to the associations fighting global warming!" she said reproachfully.
"I promise," he said behind her back. "I had no choice, I–"
She made her way to the captain's cabin to greet him without listening to his excuses, which she knew in advance were idiotic. Knowing him, he had simply wanted to avoid the crowds at the airport, so uncomfortable was he in the middle of them.
"Hello, Theo," she said to the captain with a smile. "I'm sorry he got you up so early—if I'd known, I'd have stopped him!"
"Don't worry about it," he said, offering her a wink. "I was supposed to go to Switzerland too for the holidays, so this works out for me."
"Does your family live there too?" she inquired.
"No, but my husband's does. I'm joining them."
Hermione lingered with him for a solid quarter of an hour before he was forced to cut the discussion short and take off. She went to the main part of the jet where she found Draco in the middle of a phone call.
He looked apologetic, but she smiled at him, pointing at her bag to let him know that she also had work to do.
She settled down opposite her boyfriend and took out her computer to start answering her emails. Two hours later, they landed in Geneva, only seconds after Draco had finally hung up.
"Sorry, that was Flint again," he sighed, picking up her bag to carry it for her. "He won't let me off the hook with this collaboration thing."
"That's what I gather, yes," she chuckled, tucking her arm under his.
The moment Neville—who had spent the journey with Theo in the cabin—opened the door, flashbulbs went off in their direction and voices rose around them.
"Mr Malfoy! Mr Malfoy! Is it true that you're going into partnership with Flint Industries?"
"Here we go," Draco growled as he pulled out a cap and pushed it down over his head. "Come on, Longbottom."
The latter nodded professionally and walked past them to the waiting car.
"Mr Malfoy won't be answering any questions," Neville said as they reached the bottom of the steps.
"Mr Malfoy! Is that your new girlfriend?" a reporter to their right exclaimed.
"Shit," he grunted. "Go on, Hermione, I'll take care of this."
"No, let me, I–"
"And what about Miss Greengrass?" the same reporter exclaimed as she tried to approach them, despite the policemen present.
Hermione tensed beside Draco. He was about to answer, but she didn't hear him, rushing into the car. She met Neville's compassionate gaze in the rear-view mirror but did not react.
Astoria Greengrass was Draco's ex-girlfriend. A model with a reputation for endless conquests who, Hermione knew, had caused Draco a great deal of pain. She hated her.
When Draco finally sat down next to her, Hermione was still bitter.
"I'm sorry," he whispered as the car started.
"It's not your fault," she replied, laying her head on his shoulder.
"I promise to make things right, Hermione, I don't want to lose you."
"You're not going to lose me, Draco," she said as they clasped hands. "With the resume I have, I'll easily find a new position in–"
"That's absolutely out of the question!" he cut her off sharply. "We'll find a solution, I promise you! I refuse to see you resign because of some stupid journalists who can't watch their mouths!"
Despite the fact that she found it hard to believe, Hermione smiled and closed her eyes, snuggling closer to him. His fighting spirit warmed her heart, no matter how disturbed she was by the situation.
She remained silent for the rest of the journey to the Swiss countryside, still leaning against him. She was far too distraught by recent events to try and smile and talk about something more cheerful. Draco, for his part, spent the journey sending messages to his teams to sort out the situation, threatening to press charges if any articles appeared about them.
After four long hours in the car, during which Hermione slept soundly, the Malfoy estate appeared before them and she recognised the landscapes that Draco had shown her in photographs. The banks of Lake Geneva, what a wonderful region.
Her eyes widened as she took in the beauty of the place. She straightened up and leaned closer to her window to get a better view.
"This is incredible! I’ve never seen anything like this, how is it even possible!?"
Draco chuckled to her right, leaning towards the window in turn, just above her. The house—which looked more like a small manor house—was surrounded by acres of nature, which ended at the edge of a large pine forest. The whole place was covered in a thick layer of snow, making it look enchanting. Magical.
"My mum made it her mission to redo all the gardens last year, which is why it looks so perfect," he said, resting his chin on Hermione's shoulder. "The snow's covering everything a bit, but I assure you it's very beautiful."
"I am sure it is!" said Hermione as she turned to him, her eyes sparkling.
The car stopped in front of the house and Neville opened the door for them. As they set foot on the ground, the entrance opened to reveal Narcissa Malfoy, looking more beautiful than ever. She was wearing a long black dress of unparalleled elegance. Her hair was loose around her shoulders and her face was resplendent.
"Hermione! Draco!" She exclaimed as she ran towards them, her arms wide open.
Draco joined her, hugging her tightly.
"Hi, Mum."
"Did you have a good journey? Severus told me that the snow delayed a lot of planes," she said, taking Hermione in her arms as well. "You look tired, dear. Draco, aren't you taking care of her?"
Hermione met her boyfriend's amused gaze before they followed the matriarch inside. She asked them all sorts of questions as she led them into the main living room, where a tea service was waiting for them.
The house was decorated all over in Christmas colours, which delighted Hermione more than she would have thought. She already felt so at home here. The interior was much warmer than she had imagined.
"Don't burden them already with all your questions, Cissa," Lucius chuckled as he entered the sitting room, cane in hand.
He smirked slightly and winked at his daughter-in-law.
"Dad," Draco greeted him, shaking his hand. "You look well."
"Your mother made it her mission to, and I quote, get me in shape," Lucius replied, rolling his eyes.
"You needed it!" Narcissa intervened, settling into an armchair to serve tea.
Once again, the young couple stared at each other in amusement. Hermione already felt so comfortable. At home. Appreciated. Loved, even.
.
Hermione walked out of the bathroom adjoining the bedroom, tying her hair back, dressed only in one of Draco's t-shirts and a knicker. She had definitely abandoned her own pyjamas.
They had just come back from Christmas Eve dinner with his parents. Hermione had had the time of her life, with laughter, stories and exquisite food prepared by Peter Pettigrow, the manor cook.
Draco was lying in the bed they had shared for two days now, tapping his phone keys in concentration.
"I'm exhausted," Hermione snapped, dropping down beside him.
He set his phone aside and turned to her, a tender smile on his lips.
"Did you have a nice evening?" he enquired as she snuggled into his arms.
"This is the best Christmas of my life, Draco," she whispered.
He smiled even wider and leaned over to kiss her gently.
"Believe me, it's mine too. And I can't wait until tomorrow so I can give you the present I've been planning for months."
"What's that?" she tried naively, biting her lower lip.
"Impatient," he replied, rubbing his nose against hers.
"I hope you like mine," she admitted after laughing.
"I don't doubt it for a second. Your presents are always the best I get."
"Admit it, that's the only reason you keep me around!"
"Blimey, you've found out my secret!" he exclaimed, moving above her as Hermione threw her arms around his neck.
"I knew it!" she giggled, playing with his blond hair as it fell to the nape of his neck.
And he kissed her, unable to resist the temptation of her lips, which had turned pink from the constant nibbling she was doing on them.
"I love you so much," he whispered, later that evening, as they lay naked and entwined in their bed.
Hermione smiled and looked up at him.
"Thank you, Draco. Thank you for bringing me here, for giving me a family for an evening. I love you."
"Not just for tonight, Hermione. You'll always be welcome here. You–you're my family."
She smiled, tears in her eyes. Yes, he was her family.
FIN