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The floo in Malfoy Manor roared to life, but the sound of the footsteps emerging from it did not stop Narcissa Malfoy from the task at hand. She was in the middle of decorating the exquisite home for the annual Malfoy Christmas party, an event that she had put her blood, sweat, and tears (many, many private tears,) into claiming again once the war was over.
With a son who had been placed on a mandatory final year at Hogwarts and then house arrest for two years, a husband sentenced to life in Azkaban, and a reputation in shambles, if the Malfoy and Black combined vaults were not practically bottomless, Narcissa would have bankrupted herself on restoring her reputation. She had donated to every charity possible, had used her own hands and magic to help restore Hogwarts to its former glory, and it was ironically, with the assistance of one Ginevra Weasley, mysteriously sneaking her way both into Draco’s heart and Narcissa’s agenda for resurgence, that Narcissa was finally accepted into society once more. The red-headed war heroine was anything but silent when it came to advocating for the Malfoy family.
Now that Narcissa thought about it, Ginny was still around the Manor somewhere, possibly in the kitchen with the house elves who were making cookies. The redhead had the same devious sweet tooth that Draco did, and it warmed Narcissa’s heart when she used to find them giggling in the kitchen late at night, eating sweets and drinking hot tea when Draco was on house arrest.
“Mother, you cannot avoid me by walking faster,” Draco’s voice floated into Narcissa’s ears, bringing her back to the present day and away from memories from six years ago.
“Draco, my love,” she paused while walking to kiss him on both cheeks, barely reaching, even with her heels on. “I swear, every time you pay me a visit, you’ve gotten taller,” she teased him with a smile.
“Considering I see you every week, I would be the size of a mountain troll by now,” Draco scoffed playfully.
“And yet, still so handsome, no wonder Ginevra said yes to marrying you,” she patted his cheek playfully, linking her arm in his as she continued down the hall to the main ballroom, pulling him to follow her.
“While I personally never thought that I would be the heir to link together the Weasley and Malfoy families, for some reason, Ginevra wants something to do with me,” Draco gave a happy sigh, thinking of his beautiful fiancée who was somewhere in the halls. How she had allowed Narcissa into guilting her to set up for the Yule festivities was something he never understood, since all of his friends knew precisely how… unhinged his mother became during this time of the year.
“And how is the reconnecting going between Ginevra and her family?” Narcissa questioned.
“Well, Charlie and Bill came around quite easily in the beginning,” Draco still shuddered at the thought of the two eldest brothers randomly showing up to the Manor, a cheeky Tonks behind them, ready to watch the all-out chaos she was hoping would ensue.
“Yes, the cursebreaker and the dragon tamer,” Narcissa smirked as she observed the tree being set up by the house elves. Post-war, Narcissa had set them all free, with the option to stay and earn a liveable wage, and many of them had stuck around, having had a problem with Lucius and not Narcissa.
“Yes, those two, and then I know she’s back on pleasant terms with the joke shop ones,” Draco bit the inside of his cheek, thinking about it. “Fred and George,” his mother reminded him as she cast a charm to make the ornaments shine. “Always better at names than I ever hope to be, Mother.”
“That’s because the only person whose name you remember is Ronald, and that, my darling, is due to the mutual disdain,” Narcissa gave him a knowing smile. Draco scowled at the mention of the youngest Weasley brother, who was still giving Ginny a hard time but also making sure to hold their mother’s ear. “Weaselbee is more like a rat that simply won’t stop irritating the plants in the garden. I still cannot believe he is married to Astoria Greengrass, of all people.”
Once upon a time, Astoria and Draco were set to be betrothed, but after the shame of the war and Mr. Greengrass’ very vocal behaviour about having always stayed neutral during said war, Narcissa was too happy to set aflame the marriage contract the moment the dust had settled, and Draco had been put on house arrest. “Well, we can’t all have beauty and brains,” Narcissa commented with a sniff.
“At least we kept Daphne, and I like her better anyway,” Draco joked as he continued to escort his mother through the setup of the party. Theodore and Daphne had always been smitten with one another, barely waiting until they had completed their seventh-year redo before gathering their friends (and Narcissa, who was practically everybody’s honorary mother) and having a small wedding ceremony right there in the Malfoy Gardens. Of course, it wasn’t until a party during their fifth year when they got trapped under the mistletoe together that they finally admitted their feelings and began properly dating.
“You’ve gotten me off course!” Draco exclaimed as they entered the kitchen. The blond was immediately amused by the sight in front of him. There stood his fiancée, wearing a gaudy apron she had received as a gift from Hermione that read ‘your opinion wasn’t in the recipe,’ flour smudges on her face, for she still insisted on making part of the cookies the muggle way. The counter was covered in various bags of coloured frosting, all perfectly organized to be used on the cookies currently cooling atop the stove.
“And now, I am completely distracted,” Draco smirked as Ginny immediately made a beeline for him, covering his jumper in flour as she pressed herself against him, greeting her fiancé with a kiss. “Well, hello to you too. I was wondering if you were ever going to show up to help your mother,” Ginny snickered. “Speaking of which, have you questioned her yet?” She arched her brow, smiling as Draco kissed her again.
“No, I was distracted with decorating trees and shiny objects,” Draco admitted with a small laugh, untangling himself from Ginny but kissing her knuckle and admiring the engagement ring he had picked out for her.
“Well, go on and ask whatever it is that you came to pester me with,” Narcissa goaded, observing the elves and their cookie-making, her eyes trailing over the menu for the evening.
“Mother, every year, Blaise does something to the mistletoe, and every year, some unsuspecting duo gets stuck under said mistletoe, having to snog for the whole party to see before they are released!” Draco pulls the card from his back pocket, having nicked it from atop Blaise’s desk in the young man’s home office. “So, can you please explain to me how you chose to, once again, invite Blaise to the biggest party on your annual agenda?”
“Draco, darling, as much of a prankster as Mr. Zabini can be, he is still family, and we have invited him every year,” Narcissa shook her head at her son. “The two of you and Theo played before Hogwarts and were practically attached by the hip at school. I know he’s your best friend.”
“I never denied that he was my best friend. I just wanted to make sure you were aware of how much of a meddlesome prat he is,” Draco grumbled the last bit, yelping as Narcissa shot a wandless stinging hex at his bum. Ginny snickered from where she was making cookies, one of the house elves apparating in.
“Mistress Malfoy, visitors Miss Parkinson-Potter and Mister Potter,” the house elf opened the kitchen doors magically, allowing Harry and Pansy to walk through.
The two of them pairing off had been almost as surprising as Draco and Ginny ending up together, but with Harry being a teacher at Hogwarts and Pansy with her boutique at Hogsmeade, the two of them were just as perfect as a match as the blond and the redhead. Pansy and Ginny had become fast friends the second Pansy had let her protectiveness over Draco settle. While it had taken a little longer for Harry and Draco to get along, it now felt like the two of them were closer than Harry and Ron ever were.
“Narcissa, can you please explain to me why you forgot to remove Blaise from the Christmas Party guest list?” Pansy kissed the woman on each cheek, her three-year-old son, James Sirius, on her hip.
“Well, if it isn’t my favourite little future Slytherin,” Narcissa cooed, immediately reaching to take the young boy from his mother. Harry groaned, only causing Draco and Pansy to snicker. “James is not going to be a Slytherin,” Harry insisted. “He’s named after two Gryffindors!” He exclaimed, trying to reason with the situation.
“If we didn’t have a magical tapestry to show our family line, I would swear the two of you were twins separated at birth,” Narcissa shook her head at Pansy and Draco, kissing a giggling James on his temple. “Your best friend was just asking me the same thing, and I will repeat myself this time only – Blaise is family; I would never exclude him.”
“We’re not saying exclude him, per se,” Pansy tried to reason. “Maybe just, tell him the wrong time so he shows up when the party is almost winding down, enough time to enjoy himself without magically meddling with the mistletoe.”
Narcissa let out a small laugh as she picked up a cookie, ensuring it was cool enough before handing it to James. “If I recall correctly, which I do because I’m not that old, isn’t Blaise the reason all of you are together?”
Pansy rolled her eyes while picking apart her cookie at the same time Draco scoffed. While Narcissa was correct, they didn’t want to truthfully admit it was Blaise’s meddling that caused all of their friends to be in the happy couples they were now. First, Daphne and Theo in their fifth year, then Draco and Ginny in their seventh-year redo, Harry and Pansy at Narcissa’s second annual Yule festivities, and then just at last year’s event, to absolutely everybody’s surprise (except for Ginny, she was never surprised at anything,) the first triad of their group of Neville Longbottom, Hannah Abbott, and Luna Lovegood.
“I’m still trying to figure out the logistics of Longbottom, Abbott, and Lovegood,” Draco’s eyes narrowed in thought, laughing as Ginny playfully whacked him with a kitchen towel. “Well, I have it on good authority that this year will be different,” Pansy leaned her elbows on the counter as Harry sat at one of the bar stools.
“What will be different?” Draco questioned, wrapping his arms around Ginny, resting his chin atop her head. “This year, we are going to make sure that the only person affected by Blaise and his magical meddling mistletoe is Zabini himself,” Pansy informed them. “I have taken my brilliant mind and put her to work,” the raven-haired girl tapped her nails on the marble. “And I may have heard through the Hogsmeade gossip that there is a particular reason why Blaise is always meddling in the lives of others and not his own.”
“Oh, now this I am interested in,” Ginny’s eyes sparkling with interest, the cookies moving to the bottom of the agenda now that Pansy was bringing forth gossip. She wrapped her arms around Draco’s, leaning against him with contentment.
“So, you know how every year, Narcissa invites everybody who is anybody,” Pansy smirked. “Well, I didn’t realise it at first, but one person in particular shows up every year but always leaves rather early, thus preventing any true chance for a connection.” Pansy looks at each person, making sure she has their attention before continuing. “The person that I’m referring to is none other than Hermione Granger.”
“Well, that can’t possibly be true,” Harry inserted. “Hermione stayed plenty of time with me the first year I accompanied her.” Draco looked at the raven-haired male. “Except, then you ended up under the mistletoe with Parkinson here, and Granger was nowhere to be found.”
“Well, I didn’t want to end up under the mistletoe with Hermione,” Harry furrowed his brow. “She’s like my sister.”
“Nobody is saying you wanted that, darling,” Pansy assured him, patting his wrist. “But, if you take every year that Hermione has attended, which is every year, based on the photographs. She stays long enough to be polite and then tends to slip out unnoticed.”
Ginny narrowed her eyes, thinking about what Pansy was saying. “Are you positive? Also, what does Hermione leaving have to do with Blaise?” She tilted her head slightly, red curls falling along her shoulder as they began to escape from her messy bun.
“Hermione and Blaise are the only two out of our friend group who are not, nor have not dated anybody seriously since we left Hogwarts,” Pansy informed them. “Blaise broke up with Tracey Davis the summer after the seventh-year redo. Hermione rightfully broke up with Weaselbee not that long after.” Pansy began ticking the relationships off her fingers as if they were her own dating history.
“Blaise over the years has been spotted with Marietta Edgecombe, Romilda Vane, and Alicia Spinnet,” a tap of each nail on the counter for each female. “Granger had her single stint for a while after Weasel. Then, it was rumoured she had re-linked herself to Viktor Krum. Next, there were photos of her in the Prophet with Roger Davies, and then finally a very short-lived relationship with Justin Finch-Fletchley.” Three more taps on the counter.
“The two of them are the perfect match: both are intelligent with a deep love for literature, they’re both well versed in magical and muggle politics, and they enjoy travelling,” Pansy gave a little shrug. “And, the obvious choice to complete our friend circle of couples.”
“And how do we even know they fancy each other?” Draco questioned, even though he was already ready to put this scheme into action. Between himself and Theo, it was time they had another intellectual at the table who could debate at the same level as them, and Granger was the perfect hothead to get involved in their Friday night dinner debates.
“Did any of us know our feelings for our significant others until we got stuck under that blasted mistletoe?” Pansy replied, arching her brow in challenge. Draco let out a sigh of agreement. “I like it. Blaise needs a taste of his own medicine, and Hermione looks dreadful since Astoria announced her pregnancy to The Daily Prophet,” Harry spoke up. “I think she’s realizing we’re all transitioning to a different phase of life she hasn’t found yet.”
Pansy leaned over the counter, kissing Harry. “I knew I married you for a reason other than your money,” she teased. “So now, we just need to find a way to not only get Hermione to come to the Christmas party but to stay long enough to get her trapped under the mistletoe with Blaise.” Ginny nodded, already seeing the plan forming in her head.
“You leave that to me,” Pansy assured them, grinning at her son, who giggled in Narcissa’s arms. “Uncle Sirius owes me a favour.”
—-
Narcissa, after taking part in the gossip session in her kitchen, had immediately given the option to each person standing in her kitchen that they could roll up their sleeves and help with the final touches of decorating for the Christmas party, or they could remove themselves from her home and return only once they were in their holiday best. Pansy, never one for work but always one for play, took James Sirius home with her to put him down for his afternoon nap and then provided details to his babysitter of the evening. Harry had practically guffawed at the concept of Kreacher caring for his son, but the house elf was all too pleased when he had been made aware that Harry was courting Pansy Parkinson, a name under the Sacred 28, and he had been even more enthralled when Pansy and Harry had gotten married. Sirius had once told him that Kreacher had been a great house elf to both him and Regulus while they were growing up. Only once Sirius rebelled from the ways of the House of Black did Kreacher disdain his behaviour and presence.
Harry stayed for a while, following Narcissa around and politely casting charms for her, while Draco had stayed to help Ginny in the kitchen, only to drag her into the pantry for a snog session once he was sure his mother would not return. The group left a few hours before the party to go to their respective homes, tidy up, and make sure they were presentable for the evening’s event.
At this point, the party was in full swing, Pansy eyeing the room carefully as she noted the location of Blaise’s sneakily placed mistletoe. Earlier in the day, she had promptly returned to Grimmauld Place and informed Sirius she was cashing in her favour, the older man laughing when Pansy gave him her reasoning. Yet still, when Pansy agreed to let Harry name their firstborn after his father and godfather, Pansy held onto that, simply insisting to Sirius she would request a favour years later. She was ready to collect it. Her eyes followed the older man and one half of tonight’s love plot.
“Sirius, honestly, tonight has been more than pleasant, but I need to leave,” Hermione tried to insist as Sirius, once again, guided her to the dance floor. “Absolute nonsense, kitten,” Sirius gave her an innocent grin. “There is not another event that I attend all year where I can bust out my dance moves, and as much as Remus loves me, he’s even more a stubborn old wolf now that we’ll soon be leaving our forties and enter our fifties,” Sirius wriggled his brows in amusement, winking at Remus, who was conversing happily on the side with Kingsley Shacklebolt.
“That’s not for another three years. That’s three more Christmas parties just at Lady Malfoy’s alone!” Hermione laughed as Sirius twirled her around, turning her gaze to Ginny and Draco, who were just a few feet away on the dance floor, their eyes upon each other as if nobody else was in the room.
“I have to admit,” Sirius murmured as he pulled Hermione back toward him, resting her hand on his shoulder. “My cousin grew up to be somebody I wouldn’t bully,” he snickered, watching Ginny kiss Draco. “I think they’re rather sweet, truthfully,” Hermione used her free hand to brush away a few stray curls that were starting to come out of her hairstyle of the evening.
“Don’t you want that?” Sirius questioned curiously.
“Want what? Malfoy? Don’t make me puke,” Hermione let out a playful laugh, Sirius’ loud bark of amusement gaining a few eyes of attention.
“I meant a partner, a significant other,” Sirius gave her a look, knowing Hermione knew exactly what he had meant.
“Well, I suppose so, but I just don’t think the right option has come along yet,” Hermione answered him honestly.
“Granger, mind if I borrow you?” Pansy’s voice came floating into Hermione’s ears, and the brunette turned her head to see Pansy standing there with a smirk. “I need you to settle a small debate between myself and my husband.”
“No dance partner? However, shall I go on?” Sirius quipped, even though he was already letting go of Hermione to usher her off with Pansy.
“Maybe, if you go over and you pull your husband in close and beg with a ‘pretty, pretty please’ in his ear, he’ll give you exactly what you want,” Pansy informed the Black heir.
“Oh, if I do that, I’ll be getting exactly what I want,” Sirius smirked. Hermione’s cheeks turned pink at his insinuation, shaking her head as he winked at them before bee-lining it toward Remus.
The brunette turned her attention to the other woman. “So, what was the debate you wanted me to settle?” Hermione questioned, falling into step with Pansy to head toward Harry. The raven-haired girl looped her arm through Hermione’s.
“Our debate was regarding what you do with your wand when you come to social functions. Harry debated that you keep your wand holstered to your thigh, and I debated that you are powerful enough not to need your wand at all,” Pansy explained to her as they made their way across the room.
Hermione let out a small laugh, Pansy watching her with interest, keeping her oblivious to the fact that Draco was leading Blaise in the same direction. “So, Granger? Which is it?” Pansy questioned. “Leg holster,” Hermione admitted, slightly angling her leg out from the slit in her dress so Pansy could see the leg holster. “Although, wandless magic at a certain level is an option.”
Pansy smirked. “Good to know.” Pansy moved with lightning speed, precision working in her favour as she plucked Hermione’s wand from its holster, lightly pushing her the last few steps, watching the magical hold take effect as Hermione and Blaise stumbled under the mistletoe.
“Pansy!” Hermione scolded her, righting herself and adjusting the bottom of her dress. “I thought we were past bullying behaviour,” she sniffed.
“Bullying behaviour is still reserved for Draco, but scheming behaviour was never taken off the table,” Pansy tucked Hermione’s wand into Harry’s inner jacket pocket, giving her two friends a little wave before she and her husband walked off toward the rest of their friends.
“She’s going to kill you,” Harry muttered as they made their way toward Draco and Ginny.
“Or thank me,” Pansy snickered.
Hermione turned her attention to the male trapped under the mistletoe with her. “Well, Blaise Zabini,” she said, looking at him with a less-than-amused expression.
“Well… Hermione Granger,” he looked down at her, a more than amused expression upon his face.
She blinked expectantly at him. “I know from previous years that this,” she said, referring to the mistletoe, which could barely be seen on the high ballroom ceiling but held firm in its magic, "little concoction is your doing. So, dismantle it so I can go fetch my wand and give our friends a scolding.”
Blaise gave Hermione a charming smile. “No can do, Granger. There is no possible way to undo the mistletoe magic except for the most obvious way.” He clasped his hands politely behind his back, mostly to prevent himself from fidgeting. He wasn’t sure how his meddling friends had decided to make him and Hermione victims to his creation this evening, but being just a mere few feet from the woman before him was not lost on the young male at all.
He had observed Hermione a time or two in school, even more so in their seventh-year redo, when a completely different Hermione had returned to Hogwarts, she and Ginny glued at the hip. He remembered the fierce look in her eye as she had testified on behalf of both Draco and Theodore after the war was over, sitting with her posture so perfectly defiant he wondered if secretly she had been a pureblood all this time.
Truthfully, blood status had never mattered to Blaise. Of course, he put on a show when necessary, but with the only example of love in his life being his mother and her never-ending line of dead husbands, all he ever witnessed was a woman in mourning (or not mourning, depending on how she felt about said husband.) Blaise never took his relationships seriously and preferred casual to anything else. Tracey Davis was the longest relationship he had ever experienced – three years –- but really, how long was that compared to forever? The feelings he was seeking were all-consuming, the type that would light a flame in him that could never be put out. He began to see that feeling between all of his friends. Daphne and Theo had practically loved each other since they were old enough to walk, Harry and Pansy were parents, Draco and Ginny were engaged (and Draco insisted on staying that way until Ginny could properly make amends with all of her family, for while the blonde did not favour every family member, he truly loved the fiery redhead and knew a wedding without the whole Weasley clan would never be a happy one).
That left Blaise, but ironically, on the other side of that coin was Hermione. It seemed that her love life followed the same pattern as his. The thought of pursuing The Golden Girl had come across his mind once or twice, but there had always been a female to distract him from those thoughts. Now, Hermione was standing, literally, in front of him, and he was beginning to realise that she was far more attractive than he had ever bothered to notice.
“So you’re telling me that the only way for us to part ways is to have a snog?” Hermione raised a brow at the male. “Otherwise, we are doomed to be stuck here forever?” She narrowed her eyes playfully at him.
Hermione Granger had been thrust into a world she knew nothing about at the mere age of eleven, but the great unknown had never stopped her before. She had battled trolls, faced off against a three-headed dog, wicked teachers, evil wizards, and even regular teenager challenges, like arguing with your friends or being picked on by your classmates. Still, nothing ever deterred Hermione from the magical world. But, as she grew older and her friends grew closer, their lives evolving, she had found herself shying away from it all. She had ridden a dragon, for Merlin’s sake! Yet, Hermione could not seem to settle herself down with a partner, forever chasing the same feeling she had finding out that she was a witch all those years ago. Sure, there had been Ron, short-lived and explosive, the return of Viktor Krum, and the various other peers she found interesting enough to date. That buzz that filled her veins never returned, and she often felt silly, chasing a high she had experienced so long ago, but looking before her at the man Blaise Zabini had become piqued Hermione’s curiosity in a way it hadn’t been piqued since her first trip to the Restricted Section in the Hogwarts library.
They ran in the same social circles, and she knew the man was intelligent and well-spoken. His devious behaviour certainly rivalled hers at times. Her eyes locked onto his as she saw something flicker in his pupils, and his hands came to cross in front of his chest.
“Well, they call you the smartest witch of our age for a reason.”
She noticed the flicker again, a smile settling on her face as she picked up on his teasing tone. It almost surprised her that he was this confident and smooth with her. Almost.
“Well then, surely, we know what must be done,” Hermione tilted her head lightly to the side, the same flicker in her pupils now. “I’d very much like to get out of this dress, get home, feed my cat and such.”
Blaise observed her nonchalant behaviour with amusement, the mischief in her eyes drawing him in like a moth to a beautiful flame. “It simply must be done… I do have to ask: you aren’t going to punch me in the face like you did in the third year with Malfoy, are you?”
Hermione watched him with observant eyes, and Blaise grinned as he watched her eyes crinkle, a laugh falling from her mouth at his question. “I don’t know – are you as much of a git as he was when we were thirteen?” A small smirk tugged at her lips.
“I’d like to think I’m not a git at all, but you do have a reputation for beating up Slytherins,” Blaise teased back. “Quite a good thing you’re an Alumni then,” Hermione replied without missing a beat. “I’m still a Slytherin for life; I’ll bleed green and silver for the rest of my days.”
“What dreadful colours,” Hermione mocked, her eyes lingering on his suit and handkerchief before locking eyes with him again. “If you dislike them so much, I invite you to take them off,” Blaise pulled Hermione closer by her waist. “But first, we should talk about this appalling gold you’re wearing.” He wasn’t serious, not in the slightest.
“If you dislike it so much, I invite you to take it off,” Hermione repeated his words, her smirk rivalling his.
Blaise leaned down, pressing his lips upon Hermione’s, but he did not leave it as a simple kiss, his fingers gliding up her neck to cup her cheek, the buzzing of the spell fading coursing through him. Hermione tangled her fingers in Blaise’s suit jacket, only pulling away once she felt the spell begging to dwindle. It only took their eyes locking for a different buzzing feeling to take over, and each realised that this was the rush they had been missing. Now that they had found it, neither was going to let it go.
“Never tell me the odds,” Pansy smirked at the scene before them, looking at her friends and husband. “Remind me not to show you any more muggle movies,” Harry chuckled, shaking his head as he put his arm around her waist, watching his best friend smile from across the ballroom.
“Who would’ve thought that something good would come out of Blaise Zabini’s multiple mistletoe meddling mishaps,” Draco put his arm around Ginny’s shoulders, smiling as she reached her hand to lace their fingers. “Who would’ve thought?” Theo questioned in mock insult. “Daph and I are plenty ‘something good’, I’ll have you know,” the brunette commented cheekily, kissing the side of his wife’s head. “Also, never say that phrase again. If Zabini learns you’ve given his antics a nickname, he’ll never cease them.”
“I’m not sure about that, now that Blaise and Hermione have found each other, I don’t think we’ll have to worry about this again,” Harry insisted.
The following year, the mistletoe was charmed again, but this time, both Blaise and Hermione were to blame.