Twas the night before Christmas and all the Ministry laid still. The office doors were locked shut, blinds drawn, and candlelights lowered to signal unavailability for any further issues until the start of the new year. Hermione finished scribbling the last lines of her report and retired her quill to its place on the desk. She slid the report inside its beige folder and flicked her wand to file it away in the enormous file cabinet that lined the length of her office.
Finally, she thought to herself as she rolled her shoulders and gathered her things to leave. There were still a million things she needed to do once she got home. Mentally she made a list. First, have dinner as she was starving, skipping lunch again as she had been too busy finishing up work. Afterwards make that spiced wine mixture, then wrap presents while listening to her favorite Christmas songs, and finally tucking into bed to get a good night’s sleep for the celebrations tomorrow.
Her boot heels clicked along the tiles as she headed to the Atrium on her way back home. Grabbing a handful of Floo Powder, she poised to throw it in and state her destination before the galleon in her pocket burned against her leg. It was a similar device to the DA coins she had made back in her Hogwarts days except this was one of two, exactly the same size and shape meant to provide a portkey link between her and her partner in case of emergency.
Instead Hermione shouted “Diagon Alley” and appeared along the familiar cobblestone street. It would be an unnecessary headache if she had to file an extra report for an unsanctioned apparition from Ministry grounds. Then she removed the coin from her pocket, spun it in her hand three times, and disappeared to meet its pair.
The coin and its keeper reappeared in front of a creaky looking house overlooking the cliffs high above the sea. The white paint was stained and peeling, turning a dark moldy gray along the edges. The topiary in the front yard was wildly overgrown, looking much like a venomous tentactula guarding the premises. In the distance the waves crashed rhythmically. Hermione began to search for her partner, wand drawn in case he was already under attack.
“Malfoy?” she called.
“Over here, Granger.”
Draco Malfoy stood before the iron gates, black robes whipping behind him as he carefully watched the house. As Hermione looked him over, she thought not for the first time that it was so unfair for him to be so good looking. He looked like a brooding hero from some Romantic novel that she lied about reading. All cheekbones and pale hair, he nearly glowed in the moonlight.
“What on earth are you doing here?” she huffed.
“Muggles say the house is cursed.”
“That doesn’t make it true.”
“Care for a walk to find out?”
“Malfoy, it’s the night before Christmas! I have to be at the Weasley’s tomorrow at 6am before the kids wake up. No, I do not want to wander around a haunted house with you.”
“It only happens in December, you know. It’s fine, we’ll just miss it this year. If you’re not curious.”
Damn him, he knew she would be. It caused her literal pain to leave questions unanswered or mysteries unsolved. It was the main reason she still loved her job as an auror even all these years later. There was never a dull moment searching for dark wizards, capturing dangerous beasts, or safely disposing of cursed artifacts. The magical world contained multitudes.
“I mean I am here. You might as well tell me.”
He smiled at her like the cat that ate the canary.
“Every year for the past 100 years around Christmas Time, people that have visited the house have gone wrong.”
“Meaning what exactly?”
“They say the house ruins lives. Some people disappeared never to be seen again. Some came back home and left their wives for another woman. One man went mad and ran away to join the circus.”
“Why wouldn’t they just avoid it?”
“You know how Muggles are. Every year some brave teenager or depressed old man wanders in to prove themselves. It’s better if we figure out what’s wrong and stop anything else from happening.”
“It’s a good story, Malfoy,” Hermione admitted, “But I can’t tonight. Ginny has threatened me that if I miss another holiday the kids will be forced to call Fleur their favorite aunt since she manages to show up.”
“Go enjoy your holiday, Granger. You deserve the time off,” he nodded. Then he raised an arm to open the black iron gate and let himself inside.
“You can’t go in alone! It’s not safe.”
“Oh please, we’ve seen worse than a spooky old house. Chasing the Nundu through the streets of London comes to mind.”
“There were a dozen aurors with us for that one and we still nearly died!”
He raised his wand to cast an Alohomora on the front door then a Lumos to light their way. Before stepping inside, they leaned in to look around. There was no furniture inside or any sign of recent activity, looking as abandoned on the inside as the outside. Hermione cast half a dozen diagnostic spells to check for the standard traps. There appeared to be no sign of blood wards, curses, or other common defensive spells to keep away unwanted visitors.
They passed through the threshold and immediately the front door slammed behind them. A grandfather clock chimed from the top of the stairs. Despite her careful spellwork, Hermione quickly decided there must still be some kind of trap waiting.
“You still think it’s safe?” she asked her partner.
“No worse than the kelpies,” he feigned.
“They tried to drown you.”
“Only because they felt threatened.”
“You think storming through the front door makes us welcome?”
They weren’t kids anymore, but why did everything he say make her want to bicker like a teenager again? When they had first been partnered together, Hermione thought they wouldn’t make it longer than a week. In the interest of unity among the wizarding world, the former Death Eater had managed to get a trial period with the auror’s office. He had tested exceptionally well in cursebreaking and arithmancy, much higher than any of the other recruits, which forced the administration to grant him a place to avoid claims of prejudice. Hermione had focused on the mixed auror/healer track, giving her a backup career in case she ever needed it. Most of her classmates at the auror academy had convinced her she would never be able to keep up with dueling technique or the rigorous physical nature of the job. They pitied her smaller frame and held back during combat trials.
The only one who didn’t was Draco Malfoy. When the others refused to pair with either of them, they were often left as the last two unchosen recruits and forced together. Malfoy refused to go easy on her, hurling curses one after the other, not giving her a moment’s rest until the instructor blew the whistle. She hated him for it at first, cursing his name each night she went home with sore arms and bruises. Then after 6 weeks she met him strike for strike. They volleyed back and forth even enough to call a draw. Hermione jumped and felt like she had won. When she looked over her shoulder she caught a pleased smile on Malfoy’s face.
From then on they had been nearly inseparable. They both had little patience for incompetence and could never settle for good enough instead of perfection. After 10 years as partners they had learned each other’s quirks and Draco knew Hermione would never let him enter a dangerous situation by himself as much as she could never leave a mystery unsolved. Even though she complained about him frequently, she knew they understood each other and would always have each other’s backs.
They continued slowly through each room of the house working their way from the top floor down, carefully scanning for any traps or cursed objects. Aside from a few odd pieces of furniture left behind and a pile of empty beer cans in one of the bedrooms upstairs there didn’t appear to be anything significant in the old abandoned house. After three quarters of an hour, they began to head back to the entryway.
“Well as much fun as this was, I think we can chalk it up to idle nonsense.” Hermione decided.
“Last room is through there,” Draco pointed, “Then you’re free to spread holiday cheer.”
They made their way into the living room and Hermione flicked on the light switch out of habit, without thinking. Within a blink of the eye, there was an exquisite Christmas tableau laid out before them. There were roaring flames in the fireplace, and evergreen garlands, tall red candles, and stockings along the mantle. A 10 foot tall Christmas tree brightly decorated with twinkling lights and shiny ornaments glittered alluringly in the corner with assorted colorful presents arranged underneath. The couch was made of a plush green velvet and an appetizing assortment of Christmas treats were placed on the coffee table. It looked every part a Thomas Kinkade holiday painting brought to life.
“Don’t eat anything,” Draco told her.
“Of course not, this is obviously all some trick.” Her stomach growled in protest at the thought.
“What the-” Draco brushed a piece of mistletoe out of his face. Golden pollen sprinkled down over them so faint they barely had time to see it before it disappeared into the ether. Hermione glanced up at him and considered the old holiday ritual to lean in for a kiss. With anyone else she wouldn’t have hesitated with a friendly peck on the cheek, but the unusual situation caused her to pause. Draco likewise looked back at her with his clear blue eyes, brows furrowed as he lingered a bit too long on her face.
“Welcome friends!” A booming voice greeted them. A blackened creature, in the shape of a miniature goat perched itself along the mantle. Its feet were crossed at the ankle and it reclined back against the wall. A long tongue shot out to snap up a marshmallow much like a frog eating a fly. The creature hummed in satisfaction at the treat.
“Who are you?” Hermione asked.
“I have many names. Trickster, thief, god,” he bragged, “I am the one who grants a Yuletide boon to a lucky few.”
“You don’t look like Saint Nicholas,” Draco quipped.
“Hah, that hack! He had no imagination, only giving money and food. I can look deep into the soul and grant one’s deepest desire.”
Hermione and Draco looked towards each other shaking their heads and mouthing words to try and understand what the creature meant.
“All the stories about people that were here wound up in tragedy,” Hermione stated.
“Only to the unimaginative! A man despises his life, he loves another. I inspire a man to tell the truth. He leaves his cruel wife and happily runs away with his true love.”
“Like Veritaserum?”
“Truth for truth’s sake. Justice for the just stakes. Love for love’s sake!”
“I think we’re trapped until we figure out what our heart desires?” Hermione guessed.
“10 points to Gryfindor!” the creature cackled.
“Right now I desire to leave and never come back,” Draco replied and stormed toward the front door. The doorknob would not budge an inch and the frame appeared to be made of reinforced steel as it remained intact through a brutal assault of kicks and body slams.
“Mustn’t tell lies,” the creature explained, “The magic knows. The heart casts its spell.”
With his final words, the creature disappeared. Hermione sank into the sofa and grabbed a mince pie. She sighed a breath of relief at the taste of citrus and spice on her tongue.
Hermione removed her cloak and shoes, settling in as if she were at home. Underneath she wore a simple black sweater dress with long bell sleeves. She stretched out her feet across the bench, spreading her toes to soothe the slight ache from wearing heels all day. Aside from being trapped in a house by a magical creature, the night was about as perfect as she could have dreamed. The fire cast the perfect amount of warmth to be soothing but not stifling. The decor was much better than the barren flat she called home. She had meant to decorate at the beginning of the month. Then work had been too busy and it didn’t make sense to spend so much time and money on decorations she was rarely home to enjoy. Though eventually she would start to stress about making it to the Weasley’s for Christmas, at the moment she had a hard time imagining a more perfect holiday evening.
After several minutes pounding on the door, Draco abandoned the task and joined her on the sofa. “Seriously?” he asked.
“I decided my heart’s desire was to stuff my face,” Hermione explained.
“Might as well,” Draco grabbed a sugar cookie.
“I can’t even think I’m so hungry. After my 10th cookie, I’ll try to figure out what deep dark secret needs to be revealed.”
Draco loosened his tie and removed his jacket. Settling into the warmth of the cozy living room, he unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled his sleeves to the elbow. He rested his forearms against his thighs and stared off into the fireplace.
“It’s not your secret,” Draco replied. “It’s mine.”
“What is it?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Honestly, is it worse than being trapped in this house forever?”
“Yes,” he ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at the ends in frustration.
“Draco, tell me.”
“Mother wants to start a betrothal tomorrow. There’s a Christmas Gala with the old families. Apparently there are a number of interested eligible young women, I’ll even have a final say,” he sighed.
“Would that be so bad?”
He shot her an angry look and she recoiled. Over the years he had confided in her the pressures of his family name and the expectations. She knew the burden it carried and the way it twisted his ability to make decisions on his own terms. Yet the thought of well meaning questions about why she was still single weighed heavy on her mind. This time of year always put her in a strange mood. Something about Christmas made her feel somehow melancholy, nostalgic, and saccharine sweet all at once.
“I meant you can learn to love each other. Maybe it will work out well.”
“No,” he replied without hesitation.
“So tell her you won’t do it.”
“Please, you’ve met her. She said she would allow me freedom until I turned 30, which was this year. I’m out of time.”
“It would be nice to be done with dating. Never have to disappoint a new person that I work too much. Once you’re married they’re stuck with you,” she said glibly.
“I told you that git from accounting had no idea what he was talking about. He should be so lucky to get ‘stuck with you’.”
Hermione blushed. At the time it had bruised her ego enough to skip work for a few days. Carl from accounting and she had dated for a couple months before he broke it off by owl complaining he didn’t want to get “stuck with a workaholic”, which although it stung was technically fair. She had canceled on him for 3 back to back weekends to chase a banshee throughout Scotland and Ireland with Draco instead. Most men wouldn’t be all right with their girlfriend running off with another man, even if it was for work.
When Draco had found out how he broke it off with her, he had sent a dozen howlers to scare the man nearly half to death. After that no other men approached her at work, most of them convinced her and Draco were already together. It made sense from the outside. Neither of them dated much and they were together most days, more often than not.
Hermione had considered it once or twice over the years, but it never seemed like a good time. They were friends, best friends really, and partners. It seemed like pushing her luck to ask for anything more than that with her dating history. There had been that one time in Barcelona after two pitchers of sangria that they almost kissed. Hermione wondered if the romance had been all in her head anyway with the whimsical architecture and sweet scent of the orange trees. They had stared at each other under the moody streetlights for too long, barely talking, when she had shuffled her feet and caught a rogue cobblestone that nearly sent her flying. She began to laugh and they wandered the rest of the way back to their hotel, never to speak about it again.
“Maybe she’s right,” Draco muttered. “She said it’s been long enough wasting my life at the Ministry, all alone.”
“You’re not alone. You’ll always have me,” Hermione replied automatically.
She placed a hand on his forearm, meant as a gesture of friendship. He stared at her hand for so long she thought she had offended him. Neither of them were very affectionate. At work it never seemed appropriate. She started to remove her hand before he grabbed to hold her still, slowly tracing her fingers up and down.
“You’ll always have me too. You know I would do anything for you,” he replied silkily.
Hermione shivered despite the warmth of the room and felt a bit like a rabbit caught in a trap. She could take her hand back, move towards the other end of the bench or even get up and leave the room. He would let her and never say a word about it. Blame it on her favorite holiday or the magic of the mistletoe.
“What would you do?” she asked timidly. The magic of the room pushed in around her, like sinking into a warm bath. The edges all around seemed slightly hazy, much like being drunk at 2am on the streets of Barcelona. Draco seemed affected too, his pupils were blown wide nearly black in color.
“I would buy you anything you needed, no matter how rare or absurd the cost.”
“What else?”
“I would defend you ‘til the end. Help you hide a body if needed.”
He pushed back her long sleeve and continued to trace patterns along the sensitive skin up to her elbow. When her breath hitched, he grinned in a way she had never seen before. Like he was in on a secret.
“What else?” she questioned.
“I would show you off any chance I got. Ask nicely for you to wear those red stilettos, the ones from that time in Berlin. Let everyone stare and drip with envy.”
“And then?”
“Take you home…”
“And?”
“Fuck you and make sure you know you’re mine.”
“Draco,” Hemione gasped.
He raised her hand to his lips and placed a kiss on the inside of her wrist. The touch was light compared to the heavy look in his eyes. He continued to kiss along her arm, tracing the same patterns his fingertips had mapped again with his lips. Hermione felt docile, letting him move her body like a doll. His hands tangled into her hair and pulled her closer to him until their lips were inches from each other.
“Tell me to stop and I’ll stop,” he whispered.
“Don’t stop, I need this,” she whimpered.
He rushed forward, lips pressing firmly against her own. Never pausing for longer than a moment before moving to the corner of her mouth, her neck, her lips. Everywhere to trace every inch of skin. His hands wandered from her hair to her back, then under her skirt tracing the lacy edge of her knickers.
Hermione shoved him back against the couch and straddled his lap, grinding her heat against his pants. He groaned loudly, throwing his head back against the cushions.
“Sorry!” Hermione pulled back, suddenly fearful she had pushed too quickly.
“Don’t you dare. I’ve wanted this for so long,” he snarled. His hands tangled in her curls and grabbed her back to kiss her viciously.
The magic hummed in pleasure, swirling around them, nearly vibrating along with each ragged breath they forced through their lungs. Hermione dug her nails into Draco’s shoulders, while dragging her wetness along his length.
Draco pulled her sweater dress over her head in a single gesture, revealing a lacy black bra underneath.
“Fuck, even better than I imagined,” he mumbled incoherently into her chest. His lips placed hot open mouthed kisses along her breasts.
Hermione found she could barely string along a thought as he lavished attention on her chest. When she came back to her senses, she tore off his top just as quickly and grabbed every inch of bare skin she could get her hands on.
Draco’s hands began to wander lower, tracing his fingers around her undergarments again before dragging his thumb against her clit. Hermione sighed deeply, wondering how he could reduce her to a bumbling mess with a single touch. He kept pace slowly, meticulously tracing patterns along her sensitive folds while kissing her neck and lips. While he apparently seemed in no rush, Hermione began to feel frantic, heart pounding in her ears as she canted her hips against his hand more forcefully. Her normally busy head quieted and she felt light headed, about ready to burst with the steady waves of pleasure coursing through her body.
“I want to use my mouth,” Draco began to shift her hips away from him to reposition above her.
“No, next time. I need you now.”
Hermione removed her remaining undergarments quickly and unzipped his slacks, pulling out his thick length. Her mouth nearly watered at the sight and her mind raced with all the things she would like to do with him. The urgency forced her to give a couple pumps before lining herself up and unceremoniously sinking down on to his cock. He groaned again, hissing through his teeth.
She thrust her hips, bouncing on his cock, holding fiercely onto his shoulders to keep from falling. Looking up at her Draco appeared dazed, eyes glassy and mouth slightly agape. Then he grabbed her hips tightly and thrust up into her, meeting her stroke for stroke.
The heat of the room began to buzz, sizzling along her spine with each thrust. She moved feverishly feeling as if she might combust into a pool of liquid pleasure. Their moans began to mix and overlap, a series of curses and mumbled names.
“Say you’re mine,” Hermione begged.
“Always,” he replied without hesitation. “Let go, love.”
With those simple words her body tensed and shattered into a full body orgasm, rocketing from her skull down to her toes. When her rhythm faltered, Draco grasped her hips more forcefully and pounded into her until she could feel his own pleasure pulsing inside of her. The pair clung to each other and gasped for breath until they could begin to form words again. Hermione nestled into his neck, even a few inches feeling like too much space between them. Draco hummed and traced patterns along her back. Gradually her heart began to slow to its regular steady pace.
“Should we blame it on the magic?” Hermione whispered, afraid to break the spell.
“Do you want to?”
“No, what about you?”
“No, I think it’s been a long time coming. I should have kissed you that night in Barcelona,” Draco breathed. His hand curled into her hair and pulled her in for a tender kiss. Her heart soared a happy loop inside of her chest, finally with the confirmation that it hadn’t all been in her head.
“You can’t get betrothed tomorrow to some pureblood,” she pushed on his chest and threw him a pointed look.
“Obviously,” he chuckled. He pulled her back into his chest and stroked her back again.
“You think the door will open yet?” Hermione asked.
“Who cares, let’s stay a bit longer.” Draco replied.