Snow had fallen on Hogwarts, creating a white blanket of wonder. Ice crystals hung from the castle turrets, glistening like glittered ice-cream cones. Birds chirped on occasion, as if creating their own form of Christmas music. For Hermione Granger, it was bliss. Freedom—from everything. Silence.
Hermione had awoken that Christmas day to find the castle blanketed, slumbering in peace. Arising from her bed, she threw off her red and gold covers-Gryffindor colors, of course-and immediately bundled up. Opportunities of peace and comfort rarely came in these days of war. Grabbing a quick bite from the Great Hall, she wandered outside. Ahhh, she thought, finally, a moment for me.
Suddenly, a snowball plummeted through the air. With a graceful arc, the snow reacted to gravity and thundered down, landing itself in Hermione’s hair.
“Ow!” Hermione exclaimed in shock. Her hands automatically went to her hair, brushing the snow out of it. “Who did that?” Turning around slowly, her heart plummeted. So much for peace. A young man leaned on a tree insolently, smirking as he brushed the snow off his hands.
“What do you want, Malfoy? If you can’t see, I`m busy.”
“Now, now, Granger. Where are your manners? Oh, yes, I forgot, you don’t have manners. Well, I suppose I could hardly expect muggles to raise their offspring in the proper ways of decorum,” were the words that came from the beautiful aristocrat’s mouth. The mouth arced gracefully, forming a perfected smirk-from years of use and practice, no doubt.
Hermione watched his pink mouth, fascinated. Such a perfect mouth, ruined by ugly words. “Well, I hate to inform you, Draco,” she spat, “But you were the one to start this tête-à -tête. So unless you have a reason for this conversation, I suggest you sod off.”
The boy smiled, a real smile. Hermione frowned in confusion. She had never seen the boy smile before, really smile. Yes, smirks, and yes, snarls, but a real smile, no. The boy saw the direction her eyes were looking at, and his gray eyes twinkled, turning an ice-silver, matching the icicles on the castle turrets perfectly. “Well, Granger, to be honest, I have a little… information, I suppose, that may help out Pothead. But if you really feel that my presence is too painful for you to bear, I suppose I could just leave and let the Death Eaters have their fun with him…” Turning around gracefully, Draco shrugged his shoulders. Hermione watched the boy’s silver hair move towards the castle doors.
“Wait!” Hermione shouted, running towards him. Grabbing his arm, she turned him around and looked directly into his eyes. “What is it that you have to tell me?”
Draco’s eyes looked intently at Hermione- so much that she almost felt the heat between them. Grabbing her arm, he began speaking rapidly. “The Dark Lord has figured out Potter’s been going after the Horcruxes. He’s set up an ambush for the next horcrux Potter will be going for--tonight. Most of the Death Eaters will be there-you have to tell him, Hermione. Or else…The Boy Who Lived won’t be alive for much longer. Which would be dreadfully ironic.”
Hermione’s lips formed a perfect “O”. Now, it was the boy’s turn to look at her lips in fascination. So pink…so beautiful…so much like the girl in front of him. Suddenly, his brain snapped back into attention, focused on the girl’s reply.
“Why are you telling me this?” was the reply from the girl’s mouth.
Draco forced himself not to roll his eyes. Of course the Gryffindor Princess wasn’t about to take the advice of the boy who helped kill Dumbledore.
“Hermione,” the boy paused, surprised at how easily her name came out of his mouth, “I’ve killed before. There’s no glory in it, no purpose. Murderers- that’s all the Death Eaters are. This Christmas,” he paused again, considering his words, “I was left here to lure you into a trap. One third of the trio, left all alone at Hogwarts because her parents are dead and her friends are off fighting! But I`m sick of this war. There’s no point. I read muggle literature--big surprise, I`m sure, but I do, and I’ve read about this man named Hitler. He was just like Lord Voldemort. He wanted to eliminate all people except one type- a type he wasn’t. And he ended up miserable, so much that he committed suicide. All his followers had been tricked. Just like I’ve been tricked. And I hate being fooled.”
“So do I. Thank you,” she hesitated, unsure of whether to say the word she wanted to. “Draco.”
“You’re welcome,” the boy replied. Taking her head softly between his hands, he bent his head and kissed her forehead. “Happy Christmas, Granger.”
With a twirl of his robes, he was gone, leaving a stunned Hermione Granger staring after him.
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Author Note: Yay! I just love happy//cliffy endings. What did you think? Review pretty please...the more you review, the faster I`ll update!
Happy Christmas, Granger by badonkadonk
Chapter Notes: One winter's day, Hermione is confronted by Draco.