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Draco sat back in his chair, watching with rapt attention as Finnegan tried cramming the biggest Christmas tree he had ever seen through the entrance of the DMLE’s main office. Robards stood behind Seamus offering unhelpful suggestions for how to get it in without too many of its needles falling off. Draco momentarily wondered if they both had forgotten about magic. That was until he remembered Robards mentioning his decision to do it “the Muggle way” earlier that morning.
“Finnigan, did you purposely pick one that you knew would never fit?” Draco drawled.
The wizard’s face was near purple with the effort he was exerting. Only Finnegan was stupid enough to volunteer for Operation: Locate and Retrieve Christmas Tree as their boss—the head of all London’s magical law enforcement—had dubbed it. Draco and Hermione had a theory that Robards had cracked under all the pressure put on the DMLE post-war and they were now living with the unhinged repercussions.
Not wanting to lend any further thought to the chaos unfolding before him, Draco swiveled back around to face his desk. Today was a big day. A momentous day. Months ago, someone with a lot of forethought (Draco) suggested the various departments of the Ministry come together in the Spirit of Christmas to have a party before everyone took time off for the hols. Someone else (nope, still Draco) then suggested that those interested could sign up to participate in Secret Santa. After all, who didn’t love receiving surprise gifts?
By some miracle (was it though or had Draco rigged the whole thing?) Draco pulled Hermione’s name. He immediately had known what he was getting her and had been damn near giddy about it in the days leading up to the party. And now that day was here and Draco needed everything to be perfect. The wrapped gift box sat safely in a locked drawer of his desk and would stay there until it was time for everyone to put their presents under the tree.
“Alright now, Finnigan. Heave! Heeeeeave!” Robards bellowed at the top of his lungs.
Draco’s eyes dragged up from the report he would likely not be finishing and rolled his eyes at Blaise. His friend sat watching the show with rapt attention. He hadn’t bothered to pretend to work all day long.
“Not sure it’s going to fit, bossman. I think it’s too tall,” Blaise surmised.
If Finnigan’s frustrated huffing was anything to go by, Draco was sure Blaise was correct.
“Zabini, you are absolutely correct. Finnigan, set the tree down and we’ll let Zabini in on the action. He can cut the top of the tree off—no magic, mind you—and then we can have two trees. This beauty and a sad little one like they have in that Charlie Brown Christmas movie.”
Blaise clapped his hands together and stood. Draco watched with amusement as the wizard scanned the room, presumably looking for something to cut the tree with.
Every year, without fail, there was something frenetic in the air the entire week before the Christmas holiday. The general wizarding population and his co-workers alike were on their worst behaviour lately. Draco could barely keep up.
“Aha!” Blaise exclaimed, suddenly brandishing a machete that Draco swore was locked up in Evidence with other dark artifacts that had been taken from an absolute nutter they had arrested a few days ago.
The thwacking sound of blade on wood rang through his skull. How was he supposed to plan every last detail of how he would present his present to Hermione with all of this madness unfolding around him?
Draco pointed his wand and muttered a quiet Silencio toward Blaise and got back to thinking. Planning. Obsessing. He’d found an adorable teapot and cast an undetectable extension charm on the inside. It was currently filled with all sorts of goodies that he’d learned she loved over the years since he apologised and they had become friends.
Inside the front cover was a handwritten letter. It was high time, Draco decided, that Hermione find out how he felt about her. He had stood by and watched her date wizard after wizard, none of whom were anywhere close to being good enough for her. And her current fling? Roy from the Magical HAZMAT division who was surly, and whose idea of a good time was getting piss drunk at a Quidditch match with his brother and forgetting Hermione was there?
A fucking twat.
Draco jumped when a hand came to rest on his shoulder and squeezed before whispering in his ear, “What in the hell is in the air today? Have you seen Seamus and Robards running around the place spreading what they deem to be ‘holiday cheer?’”
Speak of the witch…
He turned in his chair to answer her but she was already gone, walking over to Blaise to see what he was working on. Draco was surprised to see he had found a small stand and had already jammed the mini tree inside of it. The thing slanted to the side and looked like it had lost half of its needles during Blaise’s hack job.
“This is,” Hermione waved her hands around in the air in front of the little tree, “reminiscent of Charlie Brown’s tree. Have you seen it? I used to love that movie when I was younger.”
Blaise peered over her shoulder and winked at Draco.
“Draco suggested putting it up. He loves that movie too. What a coincidence!”
His friend was dead to him. Draco hadn’t the faintest idea who Charlie Brown was. Must be some kind of psychopath to have a Christmas tree that looked like that.
Hermione turned around to beam at him. “Draco, I had no idea. I’ll have to find the next time it’s on the telly and we can watch it together.”
Okay, so maybe Blaise would be allowed to live after all.
He rocked back in his chair and grinned at the witch. The words, “ It’s a date ,” were at the very tip of his tongue.
It was at that very moment that Finnigan rejoined the room, clapping loudly. “Okay, people. Everyone needs to put their presents for Secret Santa wrapped and under the tree in the next five minutes. We will be lighting the tree in the next hour. Ready yourselves.”
***
Hermione picked at her nails listlessly as Pansy double and triple-checked that everyone’s roles for party prep had been fulfilled. She silently cursed the person who thought it was a good idea to put this particular witch in charge, whoever they may be. What should have been a simple Christmas party with basic decorations and potluck had turned into so much more.
While Pansy grilled Millicent about whether or not all of the garland had been hung and what colours they were, Hermione leaned over to whisper to Harry. “How did you manage to get sucked into this?”
He grimaced, “Pansy told me she wanted one male on the Party Planning Committee whose opinions she could constantly shoot down.”
“Ahh. And you were the only one stupid enough to say yes?” She snickered.
He nodded.
“If you two would kindly shut the fuck up. I’m trying to run a meeting here,” Pansy snapped.
“Yes, Pansy,” Hermione and Harry chirped simultaneously.
“Luna, did you get the lights for the tree? Seamus said we would be lighting them soon.”
Luna sat with her hands clasped together on the table in front of her, the only serene-looking one in the room. “Why yes, of course, Pansy. I have a colony of fairies living amongst my flutterby bushes and they agreed to help today.”
Pansy sputtered and Hermione massaged her temples muttering, “Here we go.”
“And do you think that’s going to be a mistake, Luna?” Pansy growled.
Luna cocked her head to the side and scrunched her eyebrows together. “I don’t believe so, no.”
“Great.”
The clipped word was said through Pansy’s clenched teeth and Hermione longed to be anywhere else. Because Pansy had already grilled her about the cookies she had baked and decorated, she felt that her mind was free to wander. Its first stop, as usual, was on Draco. He was acting so cagey around her lately and Hermione wondered why that could be. She wondered if he knew about her breakup with Roy. For some reason, she hadn’t gotten around to telling him yet. There hadn’t been an appropriate time. Tonight, perhaps.
***
Draco watched Hermione file out of the meeting room she had just occupied with the Party Planning Committee. Her eyes immediately darted up to settle on his. He couldn’t help but grin at her haggard expression after whatever nonsense had unfolded during their “meeting.” Merlin, he was completely besotted with the witch. There was no denying that.
He watched as she opened her mouth. Would she call him over? Even if she didn’t, his feet would have taken him to her of their own accord. Neither option came to fruition as Robards swept into the room, dressed in a Santa Suit.
“He’s gone bloody mental,” Draco heard Weasley mutter under his breath. He prayed Robards hadn’t heard. All that would get them was a grade-A meltdown that no one in that room was equipped to deal with.
“Ladies and gents, I think it’s time for the lighting of the tree! Parkinson, was it your crew that was in charge of that?” He inquired.
Pansy, who had been chatting with Longbottom across the room, paled. Draco watched as her eyes flicked to Luna who was standing directly in front of the tree with her hands clasped and resting under her chin. Based on the blissed-out look on her face, he deduced Luna had been the one to choose the lighting. Oh, this day was bound to get even more interesting.
“Ahem, yes, sir. The Party Planning Committee was in charge of all of the decorations,” Pansy responded.
Robards nodded and in a jovial tone, exclaimed, “On three then! One…two…three.”
Luna leaned toward the tree and seemed to whisper something. Once Robards said the number three, dozens of little fairies began to emit a bright glow. There were several audible gasps around the room and Robards started whooping and hollering.
“No! You must keep quiet or…” Luna entreated but it was too late. The fairies started winking out one by one and could be seen flying in several different directions away from the tree.
Draco chanced a glance over to Hermione to see her mouth was open yet again—this time looking utterly gobsmacked. His attention was drawn back to the tree after Luna started hurriedly singing to the fairies in an attempt to “lure them back to the tree.” Theo, who had started courting the odd witch some weeks ago, joined in. The pitches of their voices clashed horribly and Draco was one second away from walking out the door and never returning.
Robards must have sensed the mutinous trajectory of the room, for he bellowed, “Just because Lovegood’s gone and ruined the lighting doesn’t mean we can’t still have a good time. Everyone, start gathering around for Secret Santa. Come, come.”
Luna’s face fell, Pansy looked apoplectic, and Robards made a beeline for Draco. What had he possibly done to deserve this? This day was looking less and less perfect by the second.
When his boss had moved close enough Draco asked, “Anything I can help you with, sir?”
Draco didn’t want anything to do with making this man’s day better at this point, but the years of Pure-Blooded etiquette that had been drilled into him during his youth couldn’t be overridden.
“No, no. Thank you for asking, dear boy. I think Secret Santa will be just the ticket for turning this party around.”
The corner of Draco’s mouth ticked up and he looked across the room to where Theo and Hermione were consoling Luna. “I hope so, too.”
Robards kept nattering on, “I spent a lot of galleons. A LOT of galleons. Wow.”
For Merlin’s sake. “Didn’t we have a spending limit?”
“I have Harry. He’s the name I drew.” Robards blurted out excitedly, not even taking care to lower his voice.
“Sir, you’re not supposed to tell me who you have.” Draco ignored the urge to pinch his fingers into the creases of his eyes.
“Sorry, sorry. You’re right. I couldn’t help myself. The galleons were burning a hole in my pocket.” The man sounded so proud of himself that it made Draco nauseous.
Draco kept silent after that. What did Robards expect him to say? Congratulations ? Y ou’re more generous than Saint Nick himself ! Draco would rather swallow the entire pile of pine needles that remained ground into the carpeting surrounding the tree.
He was saved from the growing awkward silence by Ernie Macmillan of all people. The pillock had charmed his ears to look elfish (Draco couldn’t wait for Hermione to see and give him a good dressing down) and his clothes were transfigured into a garish red and green outfit.
“Bossman, it’s time. We’re all waiting on you two!”
Robards lit up as bright as the Christmas tree should have. “Come, Draco. Come! We mustn’t make them wait!”
Robards and Macmillan pranced over to where everyone was seated in a circle around the tree and Draco trudged after them. He snagged a seat between Blaise and Weasley and did his best to settle his racing heart. Every nerve ending in his body stood at attention. The messes Robards and Macmillan continued to make had ramped his anxiety up throughout the morning and had quite honestly brought him near his breaking point. That, coupled with the fact that there was a wrapped gift under the tree for Hermione that contained a written love confession? He should have downed a calming draught before sitting down.
“I’ve taken it upon myself to be Santa’s helper today,” Macmillan declared and nearly everyone in the circle snickered. He wasn’t phased in the slightest. “Let’s get started.”
“Accio present for Ron!” A thin rectangular box wrapped in neat brown paper zoomed into his hand. He handed it to Weasley who promptly ripped it open.
Draco noticed right away that it was a box of Puking Pastilles and started laughing.
“Oi! Which one of you tossers gifted me something from my own brother’s shop? And Puking Pastilles nonetheless. Utter bollocks this is!”
Ginevra snickers from across the circle and wiggled her fingers at him. “That’s for the stunt you tried pulling with James last week. He had a diaper rash for a week after you let him eat all those mandarin oranges.”
Weasley grumbled and vanished the box in his hands with his wand. Next, Macmillan handed Draco a squishy package wrapped in crumpled newspaper. He didn’t have high hopes. To his utter horror, he found the gift to be a pair of boxers with tiny pictures of Theo’s face covering the front and back. Each one displayed Theo presenting a different emotion.
Draco glared at his oldest friend. “What the fuck are these, mate? Or should I ask, why ? Why would you ever think this was an okay gift to give? You know what? Lovegood, do you want these? I’ll gift them to you right now, free of charge.”
The witch nodded enthusiastically and Draco levitated them over to her without touching them further. He could hear Hermione cackling from two seats down but declined to look at her just yet.
“Buzzkill,” Theo drawled and stretched out his long legs like he hadn’t a care in the world. Draco needed to find new friends. It was high time.
“Hermione!” Macmillan yowled next and bowed as he handed it to her. “Your gift, milady.”
Draco’s eyes snapped to her and his palms instantly started sweating. Would she read the letter now? Gods he hoped not. Maybe she wouldn’t see it until later…He watched as she weighed the object in her hand. It was as if she was trying to guess what the present might be before opening it. She scanned the faces of everyone sitting in the circle and when her gaze landed on his, she stopped. Her face bloomed into a grin and he knew she had figured it out. There was no telling what sort of panicked expression graced his face. His entire face had been numb since the wrapped box had been placed in her hands.
His eyes sunk to her hands and he watched as she carefully slid her thumb under the tape and opened the top of the box. A small gasp left her lips once her gift was uncovered and he smiled smugly.
“Draco! This is wonderful I–” She was interrupted before she could say anything further and Draco winked at her while Macmillan readied the next gift. Hermione hugged the box to her chest and mouthed the words, “Thank you.”
For the first time, Draco was glad they had been interrupted. He would now have a chance to talk with her about it in private, later. No one needed to join them in that discussion.
“Potter, heads up!” Macmillan shouted and flung an envelope at the Boy Wonder like a frisbee. Draco thought back to what Robards had said about the gift costing a lot of galleons. What could it possibly be if it was that small?
Potter opened the envelope carelessly and Draco heard Robards’s breath hitch as whatever was inside was jerked out. He held it in front of his face and read for a minute, mouth dropping open in disbelief.
“What is it, Harry?” Ginny inquired.
Robards answered smugly. “It was me. I was your Secret Santa.”
Potter blinked up at their boss looking a bit owlish. He cleared his throat and responded to his wife, “It’s…an all-expenses paid trip to Majorca and a week of paid time off to go with it.”
Everyone in the room gasped and chatter immediately broke out amongst them. The paid time off in itself was priceless.
Pansy, loud enough for the room to hear, demanded, “Our limit was four galleons–tops. Why did you go so far above and beyond? Was it because you pulled the Golden Boy’s name?”
Robards tittered. “No, of course not, of course not.” Draco knew that was a lie. Robards was so far up Potter’s arse and had been since the moment he’d signed on as an Auror. But this gift? This seemed like far too much even by Robards’s standards.
Draco could see the faint blush that dusted Potter’s cheeks. He had clearly been made uncomfortable by this entire situation.
“Alright, alright you lot. Bossman, excellent taste as always. Let’s move it along, people.” Macmillan dug under the tree until he found a small square box. Draco watched as Luna sat up straight, a beaming smile overtaking her face. The present was handed to Robards of all people and he tore into the gift. It was obvious from the second that Robards lifted the lid of the box that a meltdown was imminent.
“What on earth is this?” He blustered and held up a necklace of…Well, Draco honestly wasn’t sure what those things were that decorated the circle of twine.
“Well sir,” Luna started in her dreamy voice, “It’s a necklace made of dirigible plumbs. You see, there is a colony of wrackspurts floating above your head. Wreaking all sorts of havoc, from what I can tell.”
Robards’s face was purple now and he looked ready to blow. “Dirigible plumbs? Wrackspurts? Lovegood this gift is terrible !”
Luna’s smile slid off her face once more. “Sir I…I was trying to help you…” Her voice quivered and Draco wanted to hex Robards, truly. Looking around the circle, he wasn’t the only one.
Robards sat there, quietly stewing for a moment before jumping up to his feet. “New plan everyone! We are going to turn this Secret Santa into White Elephant. Who here has heard of it?”
Hermione was the only one to raise her hand and there was a look of pure trepidation on her face. Despite not knowing what “White Elephant” was, Draco felt in his bones that this party was about to take a turn for the worse.
“Perfect. Miss Granger, you like explaining how things work. Please inform everyone else what it means.”
Potter and Weasley snickered and Hermione threw them a nasty look. Draco wondered, not for the first time, how the two of them survived their Hogwarts years, bollocks intact.
Hermione looked around the circle and cringed when her eyes met Draco’s. “White Elephant is a variant of a gift exchange when one person chooses a gift and the next person can either choose a gift or steal that person’s gift. If your gift gets chosen you can steal someone else’s gift or choose an entirely new gift. It can get pretty cutthroat.” She mumbled the last part.
Harry asked, “I thought that was called Nasty Christmas?”
Hermione looked at him and rolled her eyes. “It has a few different names. White Elephant is the most common I believe.”
Theo, who had been stewing ever since Robards pitched a fit over Luna’s homemade gift said, “Why would we even do this when we each bought specific gifts for specific people?”
Robards completely disregarded Theo’s borderline disrespectful tone. “Because it’s different. Because it’s special .”
“It sounds mean.” Pansy supplied and Draco looked to her with lifted brows. It was a little ironic that she of all people was the person to bring that up. Her friendship with Longbottom must be rubbing off on her.
“Shut–shut it.” Robards sputtered. “Okay, just, let’s give it a shot.”
***
Draco watched in a blur as gifts were stolen and new ones were opened. Millicent immediately stole the gift Draco had bought for Hermione and Hermione took the trip and time off from Potter. Potter ended up with a Muggle fountain pen that had been intended for Dawlish. Honestly, Draco didn’t give two shites about how the situation had crumbled so quickly. The only thing he was concerned with was the fact that his letter to Hermione and all of the other things he’d bought her were currently not in her possession.
***
Several rounds had gone by and Ernie had just stolen Hermione’s box of goodies from Millicent. When it was Hermione’s turn, she agonized for a minute about what to do. Did she take her gift back or did she snatch up the trip and the time off? The quick glimpse she’d taken of the inside of the box had shown her how thoughtful Draco had been in his selection process. But the trip! The time off! Hermione hadn’t had a vacation like that since the summer after her Eighth Year. She made a split-second decision and stole the envelope from Ginny. Draco looked at her incredulously. “You’re not going to take back your box?”
She blushed, feeling guilty. “But…It’s time off. Away from this place…” She trailed off. She figured he, of all people, would understand. Robards had been an absolute menace lately. Getting an entire week of paid time off in a gorgeous, sunny place sounded like a dream come true.
“It’s fine, Granger.” He smiled at her and it was obvious to her that he was faking it. She searched his gaze for a moment before swallowing hard and looking away.
Hermione would have to sort that out later because Robards had started being a complete arse about Luna’s gift–again. So harsh, in fact, that the witch had just left their circle crying, Theo hot on her heels. She had let Robards get away with his disparaging comments earlier, but no more. He needed to learn that if wanted to act like a spoilt toddler, he could go do it elsewhere.
She stood and faced him. “That’s enough, Robards! Stop belittling the gift she made for you. No one forced you to spend as much money as you did. And what right did you have to make her cry?”
He huffed and grumbled, “I think she needs to grow a thicker skin. Why on earth would she have left crying otherwise?”
“Maybe it was because you hated her gift so much!” Hermione yelled and pointed to where the homemade necklace now lay on the floor.
Robards quieted and looked from his gift, to Hermione, to the rest of them still sitting around the tree. If he couldn’t see that everyone in attendance was utterly miserable at this point, then maybe he needed to be checked into St. Mungo’s.
He ripped off his Santa hat and threw it on the ground before yelling, “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry! I received a big bonus for having such a productive year and I wanted to do something nice. I can see now that my idea of ‘nice’ didn’t pan out like I’d hoped. Happy birthday, Jesus. Sorry your party’s so lame.”
Hermione fleetingly wondered where he had learned about Jesus but instantly dismissed the thought and refocused on her glare.
Robards gestured to Macmillan, “Ernie, you’re with me. Everyone sit tight and we’ll be back to liven things up. Back in a jiff!”
***
The second Robards and Macmillan left, most of the tension was sucked from the room. Draco looked around at his peers just as they did the same. Everyone was looking more than a little shell-shocked.
“All I can say is that I hope they’re coming back with booze,” Finnegan grumbled. It might have been the first time Draco agreed with the man so readily.
“I don’t know about all of you, but I’m getting my foot bath massager out and using it,” Blaise declared and motioned for Hermione to help him. If Draco wasn’t so miffed with her he might have wandered over to check the contraption out. What he needed to do was figure out a plan to get Hermione’s present from Macmillan when he returned. If he had pulled anyone else’s name for Secret Santa he wouldn’t have minded.
As it stood, he had drawn Hermione’s name and he had chosen each gift with care for their intended recipient. And then there was that blasted letter. If Macmillan managed to open and read the thing before Hermione did, Draco would quit the Ministry. Right then and there. He decided his best course of action would be to sit at Macmillans’s desk with his annoyingly squeaky chair. That way, Draco wouldn’t miss him once he’d come back.
The vantage point from Ernie’s desk was also an excellent one. It was situated directly in the line of sight of where Hermione was currently conjuring steaming water into Blaise’s foot bath. Blaise already had his feet in the thing and was moaning loudly, like the complete wanker he was. Draco rolled his eyes and surveyed the rest of the room. Pansy and Neville were arguing over something trivial, Theo was consoling Luna, and Ginevra was doing her best to feed her Weasel brother a puking pastille.
Draco considered the merits of taking a nap. Anything would be better than sitting and brooding alone.
***
Robards and Macmillan returned with a lackluster amount of fanfare. That was until everyone noticed they were each carrying a crate full of Firewhiskey. Was that fifteen bottles?
Finnegan and Millicent cheered and Robards preened as he slammed his crate down on the nearest desk. “I told you I’d come back bearing gifts! If I can’t throw a good party for my employees, then I’m a terrible boss.”
“I’m not sure we’re supposed to drink here…” Longbottom, ever the voice of reason, chimed in.
Draco watched as Pansy elbowed him in the gut and jeered, “Don’t be such a wet blanket, Nev.”
That earned Pansy a glare. Draco watched Neville stare down at the witch for several long moments before coming to a decision. “You’re right. Who am I to stop any of us from getting drunk after this hell of a day.”
Pansy cackled and started conjuring shot glasses and cups.
***
The party descended into a wild, drunken revelry fairly quickly after that. It would have been fine, Draco mused to himself, had McClaggen not shown up and declared, “McClaggy needs a drink-y!”
The degenerate was met with joyous cheers and shot after shot was passed around the crowd. Maybe Neville had been right. Maybe the Firewhiskey had been a horrible idea. Or, at the very least, fifteen bottles of it had been a horrible idea.
Draco sat at his desk, pouting. Macmillan had already evaded him several times since coming back and Draco was starting to wonder when the man had turned so slippery. How was he to get Hermione’s gift back? Draco would have cast a Petrificus Totalus ages ago if there had been fewer people around.
He stared down at the glass of brandy before him. Draco had poured it from his own stash. There was no way in hell he would partake in the swill Robards had bought. Maybe what he needed was to get drunk. It seemed to be working for everyone else. Without sparing another second to think about it, he snatched up the glass and downed it in one go.
***
“Hermione, you really should try this. My feet feel soooooooo good right now.” Blaise moaned for the hundredth time.
She regretted ever telling him about the foot bath, truly. He hadn’t shut up about it for the past fifteen minutes and all Hermione wanted to do was find Draco and ask him what was wrong. Was he really that upset over the fact she hadn’t taken his gift? She thought he would have understood. Maybe she needed to find Ernie and at least ask him to show her the entirety of what was in the box. Could there have been more than the teapot and a few goodies she’d seen inside that she wasn’t aware of? Something he wanted her to see? Her eyes scanned the room for Draco and she watched as he sat dejectedly at his desk and downed an entire glass of amber liquid in one go.
That decided it. She needed to find Ernie and get her gift back.
***
It had taken precious minutes of negotiating and whinging on Ernie’s end but the two had eventually come to an agreement. Hermione would give him the trip and the time off and he would give her back the box from Draco. The fact that the man had needed to be convinced to take a free vacation and paid time away from work was beyond her. She then settled herself behind her desk and sent off a small paper airplane memo for Draco to come find her.
It took approximately six minutes for him to come waltzing in, an odd look on his face.
“What is it?” She asked, most curious.
“I think…I think I just saw Pansy and Neville snogging up against the wall near the lift.” Draco looked at her wide-eyed. Oh, that sweet, oblivious man.
“Perfect. I’ll have to remember to collect my galleons from Theodore later. We had a bet going about the two of them.”
He looked at her incredulously. “Are you serious?”
She nodded and laughed. “I figured they’d sort themselves out before New Year’s. Theo thought it would be after.” She grinned up at Draco and gestured for him to sit down in the chair across from her desk.
He took a seat and zeroed in on why she had summoned him. “Is there something I can help you with? Why are we in your office?”
Hermione leaned to the side and lifted the white box from where she had stashed it on the floor. She placed it in front of her and looked at him.
Draco inhaled sharply. “You got it back?”
“Of course I did, you bought it especially for me.” She smirked and added in a smug tone, “And I already know you rigged the whole thing so that my name was the one you picked. I would be remiss to not fight tooth and nail to get it back after all that.”
He chuckled and his eyes flashed in a way she didn’t quite understand. “Well, open it then,” he said, voice low.
She did as he suggested. After flipping the lid of the box, she lifted out the teapot and set it in front of her. There was a folded letter that tipped over onto the bottom of the box after the teapot had been lifted out but something told her to save that for last.
“This is an amazing gift because it comes with bonus gifts,” Draco started. “If you open the lid, you’ll see I’ve modified the inside to fit all sorts of your favourite goodies.”
Again, she complied. Once the lid had been lifted off and set aside, she peered into the teapot to find a stack of paperbacks, packets of hot chocolate, other decadent treats, and the fuzziest pair of Christmas socks she had ever seen. She grinned up at him. “Oh, it’s lovely Draco! Thank you so much.”
She lifted the paperbacks out one by one and was delighted to see they were all bodice rippers by several Muggle authors she enjoyed. Part of her wanted to crack one open right now but he interrupted.
“There’s also a letter…” He trailed off. His voice was thick with emotion and every part of Hermione went on high alert. It was then that she noticed just how quiet it was in the room. Her office was sequestered far enough away from the bullpen that none of the rowdiness and debauchery reached them there. It was as if she and Draco were in a world entirely of their own.
With shaky fingers, she reached back into the box and pulled out the parchment. Hermione allowed her eyes to flick up to his for a single moment and what she saw in his gaze stole her breath away. She knew what she would find in that letter and she knew that she couldn’t wait another second to tell him about her breakup with Roy.
Her fingers fidgeted with the parchment and she swallowed heavily. Where was that Firewhiskey when she needed it?
“Draco I…” She paused for only a moment. One moment to compose herself and her thoughts.
His eyes shuttered. He had employed his Occlumency shields and she internally swore. Draco stood and she froze. What was he doing?
“It’s fine, Granger. I didn’t expect things to work out in my favour. They rarely ever do. I still think you should read it. You deserve to know.”
He turned to leave and the second his hand touched the doorknob, her throat finally unstuck and she half-screeched, “I broke up with Roy a week ago!”
Draco froze, his back still facing her. “Say that again.”
The plea was whispered into the silence.
Hermione stood and walked around her desk, navigating around the chair Draco had been sitting in until she was directly behind him.
“I said…I broke up with Roy a week ago.” Her words rang through the room, clear as a bell. There would be no way for him to mistake what she’d said this time.
He slowly turned and Hermione could see many different emotions running across his face. Shock. Disbelief. Hope…And last but certainly not least, love.
“I love you, Draco. I love you so much it hurts. I didn’t think…I mean others had suspected. Ginny…Pansy…But I didn’t believe them. I couldn’t. Because if I had been wrong and had thrown myself at you and you rejected me? It would have killed me. You understand that don’t you?”
Waiting for him to answer was pure agony. Hermione held her breath, counting the number of seconds in her head that he remained silent. She made it to twenty before he was taking a step forward, cupping her cheeks in his hands, and kissing her. “Oh thank gods,” she murmured against his lips before deepening the kiss.
Her hands lifted to slide into his perfectly styled hair and she sighed against his mouth as he walked her backward until her arse hit the back of a chair. His lips slotted expertly across hers and his tongue tentatively traced her lower lip before dipping into her mouth.
“Merlin, Hermione. I love you.” Draco breathed life-giving air into her and she’d never felt so alive. He tore his lips away from hers after one last lingering kiss and rested his forehead against hers.
“I should still read that letter, shouldn’t I?” She panted and leaned forward to suck lightly on his pulse point.
“Moot point now, I’d say.” Draco groaned. “Though I did…put a lot of heart into it.”
She chuckled against this throat and murmured, “Happy Christmas, Draco.”
“Happy Christmas, Hermione.”
***
Draco opened the window and untied that morning’s issue of the Daily Prophet from his owl’s leg. An article had been written about the party after Theo had slipped Luna’s homemade necklace around Robards’s neck sometime toward the end. The dirigible plumbs had done their intended job and exorcised all of the wrackspurts from his aura. Or…wherever they were lingering. He had immediately started acting like the gruff, stern Robards of old. He had swiftly shut down the party and sent everyone home.
Parvati had been the Prophet’s correspondent of the night which explained why he thought he’d seen her at one point. Draco scanned the article, looking for his or Hermione’s names, and there, towards the end, he found a few lines.
When Hermione Granger was interviewed about if she regretted giving up the near-priceless gift she ended up with during the infamous White Elephant exchange for the one her Secret Santa had originally gotten for her she replied, “No, I think I made the right choice.”
He smiled and knelt back on the bed to wake his witch.