Deserving

The air in the castle had turned crisp, the stone walls holding the chill of December as the holiday break neared. The Great Hall had been decorated with towering Christmas trees, enchanted snowflakes drifting lazily from the ceiling. Students murmured excitedly about their plans—going home, visiting family, taking much-needed breaks from coursework.

Draco sat beside Hermione in the library, their usual table bathed in the soft glow of candlelight. He was pretending to read, but his gaze kept flickering toward her, watching as she meticulously annotated the margins of her book.

“So,” he said, as casually as he could manage, “what are your grand plans for the holiday?”

Hermione barely glanced up. “I’m staying here.”

Draco blinked. “Here? At the castle?”

She hummed in confirmation, still focused on her book.

“Why?” His tone held more incredulity than he intended. “What about Potter and Weasley? Won’t you be off doing whatever it is the Golden Trio does for Christmas?”

Hermione’s quill hesitated for the briefest second before she placed it down, turning to face him properly. “Harry is going to the Burrow, and Ron invited me, but—I don’t really feel like being around that much family energy right now.” She exhaled, folding her hands on the table. “And besides… I don’t exactly have a home to go back to.”

Draco frowned. “What are you on about? Your parents—” He stopped when he saw the way her shoulders tensed. Something in her expression had closed off, her usual certainty replaced with something far more fragile.

“I Obliviated them,” she said quietly. “Before the war. It wasn’t just a simple memory charm—I altered everything, made them believe they had always been different people. And… well, they were already affected by magic before I ever had the chance.”

Draco’s brows knit together. “What do you mean?”

Hermione hesitated, then sighed. “I didn’t find out until later, but after I was born, the Ministry did a standard check on them because they had a Muggleborn child. And… apparently, they weren’t comfortable with the idea of them being so skeptical and logical, especially when it came down to the unexplained. So they altered things—memories, perceptions—just enough to make them more… agreeable to the idea of magic. They didn’t even know they’d been tampered with. They thought all their thoughts were theirs.”

Draco stared at her, uncharacteristically silent.

“When I had to make the choice,” she continued, voice steadier now, “it wasn’t as simple as erasing a few years. It was either leave them as they were—already unknowingly influenced—or wipe it all away completely.” She swallowed. “So I did. I gave them a clean slate. And I havent been able to undo it.”

Draco’s stomach twisted. He had known she had done something drastic with her parents, but he had never really considered the weight of it.

He shifted in his seat, clearing his throat. “That’s—” He stopped himself. He was going to say that’s awful, but something told him she didn’t need pity.

Instead, he said, “That’s… a lot to carry.”

Hermione smiled faintly. “Yeah.”

A beat of silence passed between them.

Then, after a moment, Draco leaned back, his tone forced into something lighter. “Well. I suppose I’ll have to stay too, then.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “What?”

He smirked. “Someone has to make sure you don’t drown yourself in books over the holiday.”

Hermione scoffed. “You’re not actually staying.”

“Try me,” he said smoothly. “Besides, I’d rather avoid another insufferable Malfoy Christmas, anyway.”

She searched his face as if trying to determine whether he was serious. When she found no trace of deception, her lips curved into something small, something real.

“Well,” she said softly, “I suppose I wouldn’t mind the company.”

Draco looked away before she could catch the warmth creeping up his neck.

Merlin help him.