Kairos: Mageia

On December 25th, 1996, Hermione Granger woke up to a packet of Sugar Quills next to her bed, wrapped in a bow.

Specifically, a green and silver bow. 

Hermione was glad none of her roommates had stayed for the break because she knew there would be a barrage of questions about it that she wasn’t sure she could fully answer. 

Still, the small token made her smile. It took a great deal of magic to materialize it in her room, and not for the first time did Hermione really pause to consider how intelligent her boyfriend was. 

There was an owl pecking at her window. No doubt her parents. They were used to Hermione spending Holidays, at least in part, at The Burrow, but Hermione was in a row with Ron right now and couldn’t be bothered. She’d been planning on going home the whole time, but a better option had come up. She had a feeling her mother might faint if she knew Hermione was staying at school for a boy...she’d told her mum and dad she had a serious research paper to write. Being the scholar she was, they’d believed it without question.

If she were being honest, they may have thought she was pulling a fast one on them if she had claimed the boy thing…

She wrote them back, a quick little message, promising a longer letter that night. She pulled on her favorite red jumper and went down for breakfast. 

As she entered the Great Hall, she tried not to let her gaze linger too long on the Slytherin table, but she couldn’t very well help it. And there he was, eating breakfast and joking with Terrance Higgins (there were few Slytherins left behind), and he looked up. His silver eyes met hers and she couldn’t help but inhale sharply, her heart pounding and her cheeks warming.

She called herself a Gryffindor, but she wasn’t even brave enough to sit next to him.

She’d imagined she would today. That this would be a good ease-in for the school to be on their relationship. She knew it wouldn’t be taken with warm congratulations, that was for sure.

As it was, Hermione herself was still mulling over how exactly she found herself in a situation in which she was dating Draco Malfoy, but also sort of head-over-heels for him. Maybe it was magic, she thought with a snort. It seemed like the most logical thing. 

They weren’t...secretive about it, but they weren’t out in the open either. For example, Theodore Nott had guessed early on and Draco had just replied, ‘Oh, yeah, we’re dating,’ when he confronted the pair in Potions. It had been out of earshot of anyone else, so no one else overheard, and Theo had just blinked at them. Draco had held his gaze and Hermione had shrugged when Theo had looked between them.

“Oh. Well, okay.” 

Hermione had been expecting more objections. 

And, when Padma had mentioned offhand that Hermione seemed less vicious toward Malfoy lately, Hermione had replied with, “Well, I suppose I am.” Padma hadn’t asked if they were together, and Hermione would have easily affirmed that, but she gave as much as Padma had been digging for. 

Hermione knew if this was to turn into anything serious, the whole of Hogwarts would have to know..erm, eventually.

But maybe not today.

There was also the question of if Draco thought this was serious at all. Hermione knew how she felt about him, and she knew that at the very least he was attracted to her, but beyond that...well, teenagers weren’t great at communicating about anything. It had taken a great deal for the pair to work up the courage to admit they hated each other because they had crushes on each other, so she figured it would be a long wait before either said what they were truly feeling.

Hermione was certain of her own feelings. She’d foolishly imagined at the beginning of the year she’d liked Ron, but how she felt for Draco was incomparable. It was two entirely different levels. Ron was a drop of rain and Draco was the entire, raging storm. If nothing else came of her this...it gave her a gauge of her own emotions. 

She was distracted all of her meal, kicking herself for not being able to be more forward. She wanted this, didn’t she?

The answer was a resounding yes...so, logically, if she wanted this, why was she unable to move across the hall to sit next to him? She wasn’t asking herself to sit in his lap or play tonsil tennis over their biscuits, just to sit next to him and smile. 

Dammit. She couldn’t even do that.

A shadow crossed her plate.

“Hermione, we, uh...have that project, eh?” 

It was Draco, his cheeks flushed bright pink. Hermione jolted up, charting firstly how nervous he was. His Adam’s apple bobbed, he gnawed his lip (very kissable lip), and his fingers were fidgeting endlessly with his family signet ring. The next, and more important thing she realized was...he called her Hermione. In front of her peers. 

If anyone else noticed, they just assumed it was a slip of the tongue, because no one much paid attention. 

“Yes, we do,” Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, grateful for his forwardness. 

“You hardly have eaten,” Colin said, noticing her plate. 

“It’s a very important project,” Hermione said, trying not to giggle like a foolish girl as she followed Draco outside. 

Once they were out of sight, Hermione felt a bit of courage seep back into her bones. Enough to push Draco gently against the walls and lean in for a kiss. It was supposed to be chaste, but Draco soon made it more heated, his tongue teasing along her lips, inhaling hard into the motion. 

“What’s the plan?” Hermione asked, drawing herself away for a moment. 

“Kiss you all day,” Draco mumbled back, “Screw whatever plans I had. Room of Requirements?” 

Hermione laughed gently, hitting his shoulder, “Let me at least hear what your idea was before we decide. We have all day.” 

Draco paused, scowling, looking at Hermione’s lips, “Snowball fights,” He mumbled. 

“What?” She was sure she misheard. 

“Snowball fights. Just...I mean...it’s probably a silly idea-,” 

“No, I haven’t done that in ages. I’m just surprised.” 

“It’s not too far from our usual M.O.,” Draco teased, “So hardly anyone will be surprised. I’ll also have you know that I’m an excellent fighter.” 

“Oh, you think?” Hermoine knotted her scarf around her neck tighter, “You’re so on.” 

Twenty minutes later, if anyone were to take a hard look out at the courtyard, they would think they’d gone mad. Because there were Draco and Hermione, battling it out with magical flying snowballs. This, in itself (as Draco said) didn’t seem too out of tune for them. What was very much out of the norm was the fact that they were both laughing so hard they were almost crying, throwing teasing and friendly battle cries to each other, and neither was actively trying to hurt the other.

Luckily, most students were very much doing their own Holiday jolliness, and most of that took place inside where it was warm. 

Hermione felt the warming charm start to fade from her gloves after about half an hour of fighting. It was vigorous; Draco wasn’t letting up at all. It was hard to tell who was winning, but Hermione was sure it was her.

“Time out!” She called, “I need to re-do a spell.” 

Draco took a moment to plop onto the ground, staring up at the sky, “Who taught you to throw like that?” 

“My mom. Softball when I was young,” Hermione said, “I didn’t know I still had it in me.” She admitted.

She stepped out of the war zone to de-ice her mittens before using the charm. As she was magically melting away the snow, she heard footsteps. She turned her head to see a Slytherin, and for the most part, ignored it.

Until she started to listen in. She didn’t even hear the first part, not until she heard Draco’s reply. She was so used to keying into his voice that this was hardly surprising. 

“That’s awfully nice of you, Astoria, but I’m...well, I’m not interested.” 

“Don’t play coy, Draco. I know you’ve been flirting with me,” Astoria giggled. Hermione had no idea who it was, to be frank. The girl seemed young. Stupid. But also beautiful. 

“What?” Draco scrutinized her, “I’ve been nice. That’s not...Tori,” He groaned. 

“Hey, I’m taking the first move,” The girl said, as though this was the issue, “Just...meet me by the mistletoe tonight, alright, Draco?” She said, batting her eyelashes. Then, she leaned up and kissed Draco’s cheek, skipping back towards the castle. 

“For the love of Merlin-,” Draco cursed, “I’m dating Hermione!” He called after her, but his voice was lost to the wind. 

Even though he hadn’t hedged the fact they were dating, and it had taken him way too long to figure out what was going on, a feeling like a block of ice settled in Hermione’s stomach. 

“Can we go in? My fingers are starting to numb,” She asked, trying to put in as much emotion as she could, but felt her tone fell flat. Draco looked at her worried and nodded twice. 

They did end up in the Room of Requirements, Hermione drying out by a roaring fire. She was wearing one of Draco’s sweaters, but it hardly made her feel better.

While Astoria was probably a bit too young for Draco still, her forwardness had lodged some worries within her. She was beautiful, cunning, a Pureblood, and a Slytherin...all the things Hermione was not. 

While often she was sure of herself, she was never sure of Draco at all, except for her own feelings. Once again, the panic that perhaps she was just an interesting experiment bubbled up inside of her, so much so that she was holding back tears. 

Draco, in the middle of describing in detail a really cool move from his favorite Quidditch team, paused.

“I’m boring you to tears. Great Merlin, I’m no better than Weasley.” 

“It’s not that...it’s...Astoria.” She said quietly. 

“She’s infatuated. I should have seen it and nipped it in the bud right away. Gosh, I’m so sorry about that-,” He began to say, shoulders slumped. 

“What am I?” Hermione cut him off, tilting her head, “To you? What am I? A bet? A dare? Something to busy yourself with for a short while?” 

Draco was looking at her like her head was no longer attached, “What? Where did you hear any of that?” He was furiously looking. 

“No one. It just…” She played with a thread on his sweater, sighing, “Makes sense.” 

“It does not,” Draco’s voice was terse, “Hermione, I’m...I’m risking it all to be with you. And openly. It’s not something I’d do for shits and giggles.” 

“Then why?” Hermione asked softly, “Why risk it all? Why on me?” 

Draco leaned forward, wiping a tear away, “Gryffindors are so dense sometimes,” He said, laughingly lightly, “Great Salazar, you’re really going to make me say it. I should, I guess I’m just...whew…” 

“Say what?” Hermione looked up, sniffling.

“That I...I’m pretty sure...almost...no, entirely…” Draco began to babble a bit, something very usual for him, “That I love you.” 

Hermione just stared at him, until he kissed her forehead. 

“No, I know that I...I do really love you.” He whispered. 

“You...do…?” Hermione asked slowly.

“That’s why,” Draco said, nodding, cheeks pink once again, “I don’t want an Astoria. I want a Granger. In all her know-it-allness,” He said, tugging on a strand of hair, “Who doesn’t know the most obvious thing in the world.” 

“I love you too,” Hermione whispered back, a grin breaking out across her face, “You should know that too.” 

“Well,” Draco said, winking, “I’m only number two in the class. How could I have known?” Then, the words seemed to settle in, “Would you look at that?” 

Hermoine pulled Draco down, throwing up some mistletoe with a quick wave of her wand.

“Merry Christmas, Draco.”