Deserving

The common room was warm, the crackling fire casting soft light over the space. The smell of breakfast still lingered in the air, a quiet hum of Christmas cheer filling the room. Draco and Hermione had settled into a comfortable silence after their meal, sipping their tea and enjoying the peaceful atmosphere of a Hogwarts Christmas—something neither of them had fully experienced in a long time.

Draco stretched back in his chair, looking more relaxed than he had in weeks, while Hermione absentmindedly twirled the end of her bracelet, the one Narcissa had gifted her earlier. The bracelet sparkled gently under the firelight, and she caught herself admiring it again. It was beautiful, and the sentiment behind it—genuine and unspoken—had warmed her in ways she hadn’t expected.

Before either could say much more, the door to the common room swung open with dramatic flair. Narcissa Malfoy stood there, her robes flowing around her like silver mist, a knowing smile on her lips as she stepped inside. She glanced around, her gaze first landing on Draco and then shifting to Hermione.

"Ah, there you both are!" Narcissa’s voice was as graceful as ever. She stepped toward them, her heels clicking softly on the stone floor. "Merry Christmas, Draco, darling," she said, pulling him into a tight hug, which he returned with a slightly exasperated sigh, but there was warmth in his eyes.

"Merry Christmas, Mother," Draco muttered, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

Turning toward Hermione, Narcissa’s expression softened. "Miss Granger, Merry Christmas to you as well." She paused, an almost apologetic look crossing her features. "I... I hope you can forgive me for the way things were in the past."

Hermione blinked in surprise but smiled warmly. "There’s no need, really. The past is... it’s behind us now."

Narcissa gave a nod, as though satisfied with Hermione’s response, before smiling again. "Good. Now, enough of that. It’s Christmas!" She clapped her hands once, and a multitude of packages suddenly appeared on the table, stacked high with ribbons and bows.

Draco and Hermione both blinked at the sheer number of gifts. The piles seemed to almost overwhelm the small space, yet Narcissa looked entirely unfazed.

"For you, Draco," she began, handing him a large, meticulously wrapped box. As he tore off the paper, the contents revealed a stunning set of polished cufflinks, intricate and silver with black onyx inlays.

"These are perfect, Mother. Thanks," Draco said, clearly pleased with the gift.

Narcissa beamed, clearly happy that he liked it. "And for you, Hermione," she added, pushing a small, velvet box across the table.

Hermione hesitated for a moment before carefully unwrapping it. Inside was a beautiful silver bracelet with a small book-shaped charm, something that seemed so perfectly suited to her. She smiled softly, her fingers tracing the smooth surface of the charm. "It’s lovely, thank you," she said sincerely.

Narcissa’s smile grew, pleased with her choice. "I’m glad you like it."

Then, with a flourish, Narcissa began to hand over a few more gifts, each one seemingly more extravagant than the last. There was a set of silk scarves for Draco, a rare first-edition book on magical creatures for Hermione, and even a carefully chosen assortment of chocolates that Narcissa swore were from a very special boutique in Diagon Alley. The pile of gifts between them grew higher, each one adding to the luxurious atmosphere Narcissa seemed to surround herself with.

Draco, who had become slightly amused by the sheer amount of presents piling up before him, glanced over at Hermione, his lips curling into a smile. "I think we’re both set for the next decade."

Narcissa chuckled, a light, tinkling sound. "It’s Christmas, darling. One should always spoil their loved ones."

She paused, her gaze shifting between the two of them, and for a moment, there was an understanding that passed between them—something unspoken but shared in the quiet beauty of the holiday.

"Now," Narcissa continued, her voice lowering slightly, "there is one more gift, Draco. One I believe you asked me to bring."

Draco’s expression softened, and he gave a small nod, his eyes meeting his mother’s. "Yes, please."

Narcissa stepped closer, reaching into the folds of her robes and pulling out a small, velvet box, much more understated than the others. It seemed delicate, almost weightless. She handed it to Draco with a look that said this was something important, something she knew he’d been waiting for.

Draco took the box, and without a word, he opened it slowly. Inside, nestled on a bed of soft black velvet, was a stunning antique gold locket, its design intricate and ornate, with small emeralds set into its delicate curves. His fingers trembled ever so slightly as he picked it up, his gaze never leaving the piece.

Hermione’s breath caught in her throat as she saw the locket, recognizing it immediately. She wasn’t sure why, but something about it seemed... significant.

“This... this is for you,” Draco said, his voice softer than usual. It wasn’t just the way he said it, but the quietness behind the words that made it feel different from anything else he’d said to her before.

Hermione blinked, stunned. “For me?”

Draco’s expression was unreadable as he held out the locket to her, his eyes meeting hers in that moment. "I asked my mother to bring it for me," he explained quietly, "so I could give it to you. It’s from the vault."

The weight of his words seemed to hang in the air for a long moment. Hermione’s fingers hovered over the locket, but she could hardly bring herself to take it. The gesture—quiet, yet so thoughtful—was something she hadn’t expected, something that made her heart flutter in her chest.

With a shaky breath, Hermione accepted the locket, her fingers trembling as she gently ran her hand over its smooth surface. “Draco, I... I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he replied, his voice low. “Just... take it.”

She nodded, her eyes softening as she gazed at him, her heart swelling in a way she hadn’t prepared for. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "This means a lot."

Draco’s gaze flicked to hers, and for the briefest of moments, something passed between them—something neither of them fully understood but both felt.

Narcissa watched them with a quiet smile, her eyes filled with something unreadable, but there was warmth in her gaze. "Merry Christmas, both of you," she said softly, her voice filled with a rare tenderness.

"Merry Christmas," Hermione replied, holding the locket close to her heart.

"Merry Christmas, Mother," Draco added, his voice low but genuine.

The pile of gifts before them seemed to grow smaller, insignificant even, compared to the quiet exchange that had just unfolded. In that moment, it wasn’t the presents that mattered—it was the connections being formed, slowly but surely, between them. And with that, the warmth of the fire seemed to embrace them even more fully than before.