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Hermione woke up Christmas morning to the sound of Draco cursing in their shared living space. Crookshanks grumbled in his sleep beside her, tired of Draco’s propensity for waking up early. When something heavy crashed to the floor, Hermione groaned and tossed aside the covers.
In the small Common Room, she found Draco mumbling to himself as he adjusted lights on a tree that hadn’t been there the night before, a box of ornaments on the floor next to him.
“Are you alright?” Hermione asked, leaning against her door frame. He rolled his eyes – something she learned he did often – and continued messing with a particularly troublesome light.
“I’m fine,” he said, sticking his tongue out in concentration. “It’s this bloody tree that has a problem. First thing tomorrow it’s going in the trash.”
A tray was set out on the coffee table sporting a fresh pot of tea and an empty teacup. Crooks made himself comfortable on the couch as Hermione poured herself some tea and perched on a small desk by the window, content to watch Draco Malfoy struggle with a pre-lit Christmas tree.
The first half of the year made it abundantly clear that, while he felt remorse for the things he’d done, Draco had no real idea how to make up for them. When it came to her and their shared dormitory, he did his best to use as many Muggle items as possible, from the pens that he hated on the desk to the artificial tree giving him a hard time. Hermione sipped on her tea and watched, almost enchanted, as he finally got the light to work.
“I didn’t know what colors you’d like,” Draco said, keeping his back to her as he reached for the ornaments. “You seem like the traditional type, so I went with red and green. Oh, and gold.”
Hermione hummed her approval from the desk, not bothering to hide her smile. Sometimes it was easy to forget who he’d once been.
“Sounds perfect,” she said. “Would you like some help?”
“Worried I’m going to put two reds next to each other, Granger?” He turned to face her, a mirthful smile tugging at the corner of his lips. The green finial ornament in his hand matched the jumper he wore, and he’d pushed his hair back from his eyes. Handsome, in a festive, butterfly-inducing kind of way.
Decorating a Christmas tree with Draco, it turned out, was the most fun she’d had in ages. There was light bickering over ornament placement until they had a pattern they liked, and from there conversation quickly changed to swapping stories of the Christmases from their youth. Hermione grew up decorating the tree in mid-December with her parents, while Draco merely woke up one morning to find the entire Manor had decorated itself overnight with the same garlands his grandfather had used.
Once they’d finished, they stepped back side-by-side to admire the twinkling manifestation of their combined effort to make the war mean something. After a few moments of content silence, Draco cleared his throat and turned to face her.
“I got you something, by the way,” he said, looking anywhere but at her. “Close your eyes and hold out your hands.”
Hermione blushed, biting back the urge to tell him she hadn’t thought to get him something. Instead, she did as he asked, chewing on her bottom lip in apprehension. Moments later, a small box was placed in her hand.
“I would have wrapped it,” Draco said as she opened her eyes. “But, the tape was double sided and I threw the roll out of the window.”
Inside the simple black box, Hermione found something she never thought she’d see again – her Time Turner, dropped sometime during the Battle at Hogwarts and presumed destroyed.
“I had Theo fix it up for you,” he continued, scratching the back of his neck. “It’ll only take you back an hour or so right now. He said he’d keep working on it if–”
“Thank you.” Hermione didn’t realize she’d begun crying until she tried to look up at him, Draco’s face obscured by tears. She blinked them away, heart soaring as his ice grey eyes came back into focus. “It’s– how did you find it?”
“I’d rather spare you the details,” Draco blushed, covering a nervous laugh with a cough. Then, his eyes lifted upward, his eyebrows furrowing. “Is that mistletoe?”
Above them, a bundle of mistletoe had indeed sprouted from the ceiling, little bits of snow falling from its leaves and landing in their hair. Before she could talk herself out of it, Hermione set the Time Turner and its box on the back of the couch and stepped closer. Draco blinked down at her, unmoving.
“May I?”
Hermione didn’t let herself think about what might happen if he said no. She also refused to wonder what would change if he said yes. The moment he nodded, she reached up to place her hands on his cheeks and lifted up on her tiptoes to place a soft kiss on his lips. For a moment, Draco froze – and as she went to pull away, his arms wrapped themselves around her, pulling her flush against his chest.
More surprising than the mistletoe was the fact that he kissed her back, slowly at first, and then with more urgency. And she met him movement for movement, their hands exploring places they’d only dared to dream of. When they pulled apart, his skin had flushed a wonderful shade of pink, and Hermione thought she rather liked it.
“Merry Christmas, Draco.”
The corner of his mouth tilted up in a smile as he ran a thumb along her cheek, eyes glassy with the effect of truly seeing her for the first time.
“Merry Christmas, Hermione.”