Countdown to Christmas
“What does someone get for someone else for Christmas?” Theo asks, barging into Draco’s room at an extremely inappropriate moment.
“Theo!” Granger shrieks and Draco pulls a sheet over both of them.
“You always scream my name when you are in Draco’s bed?” Theo teases, leaning against the very open door frame.
“What the fuck,” Draco barks, turning to glare at his friend. Dead friend maybe.
“Oh relax, I didn’t see anything. Besides, I don’t swing that way, Gorgeous,” he winks at Granger.
Draco covers her body with his own.
“Get out, Theo.”
“Well I’ve already interrupted. The least you can do is provide an answer.”
“What?” Draco snaps.
“Christmas. What does one get for someone else?”
“I don’t know!”
“I know you don’t. I came to ask Granger.” Theo walks further into the room and actually sits down at Draco’s desk.
“If you knew she was in here, didn’t you think for a second she might not be available for a chat?” Draco seethes.
“Me? Think? I don’t think so mate.”
“Who do you need a Christmas present for?” Granger asks from beneath the sheet, putting a calming hand on Draco’s chest.
He looks down at her, incredulous.
“Can’t this wait?”
“Harry.”
“Potter?” Both Draco and Granger ask.
“He’s just invited me to join you lot for dinner.”
Draco regrets ever attending dinner with Scarhead. He makes sure the sheet is fully covering Hermione and shifts onto the bed, laying beside her, attempting to throw a silent stinging charm at Theo’s face.
Theo is lucky wandless magic is so difficult.
“Are you two friends?” Granger asks.
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. We’ve hardly said five words to each other in seven years.”
“But you want to get him a present?”
Theo nods.
“And you would like to be his friend?” she asks, sounding as confused as Draco certainly is.
“Well I’d like to shag him, but I thought I’d start with something like friendship, yes.”
Draco groans, suddenly exhausted. Granger pulls his arm over her stomach and traces circles on the back of his hand.
“I’m not sure Harry is gay, Theo,” she tries to let him down easily.
Draco tightens his hold around her waist as she tries to sit up. She seems to have forgotten that this conversation is taking place while she is naked.
“Gay, perhaps not. But Bi? Definitely.”
“And he’s seeing Ginny,” she adds, curious as to why Theo thinks Harry is bisexual.
“For now,” he smirks.
Draco rolls his eyes. Of course, Theo would set his eyes on the most unattainable man on the planet.
“Right,” Granger doesn’t argue. Probably deciding it is better to let Theo live in his delusion.
“So are you going to help me or not?”
“Just pick something from Nott Manor and put a bow on it. Call it antique,” Draco wants him to leave.
Really, really wants him to leave.
“What about a book you like,” Granger suggests.
“I should have known the two of you would be no help. Is a book a typical Christmas gift?”
“It can be. Lots of people give clothes. Jewelry. Candles,” she drones off, realizing she only ever gets books.
“And just one present?”
“Typically, yes. Seeing as you and Harry are barely acquaintances, one is perfect.”
Theo nods, obviously running through a thousand options in his mind.
“What does he like, Granger?”
“I’m not sure I should tell you. Don’t you want to get him something specific to you?”
He groans now, irritated that neither will offer him a good suggestion.
“And what about dinner? Is it a formal affair?”
Draco laughs, imagining all of the Weasleys in dress robes similar to those Ronald Weasley wore to the Yule Ball.
“Not at all. Have you got a jumper?” Granger asks.
He seems to think about it for a minute. Draco knows for a fact he has got a dozen cashmere jumpers in his trunk.
“No. I don’t think so. Would you take me shopping for one? In the muggle world?”
Draco decides not to call him out on the lie. Theo has always had a fascination with muggles.
“Me?” she asks.
“Obviously. You are the only muggleborn I know, really. Although I hope to change that,” Theo charms her.
“You could go this weekend,” Draco suggests, remembering he needs to work on Granger’s gift. There are now less than two weeks until Christmas and they’ll spend the week before the holiday preemptively celebrating given there are no classes.
“We’d have to apparate,” Granger scrunches up her nose.
When Theo’s face falls though, she quickly reassures him.
“I just mean that I’ll have to figure out the closest apparition point to the shops. I’d love to take you shopping, Theo.”
“Excellent! Thank you, Miss. Granger.” Theo stands up and crosses to the door.
“Is that it?” Draco asks, thrilled to be done with his friend’s interruption.
“Or I could stay and offer some tips. I may be gay, but I’m sure I could still outperform you, Draco.”
That’s it. Draco wings a pillow at Theo’s head, hitting him smack dab in his face.
“We’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow, Theo,” Granger says, pleading for him to leave with her tone.
“With bells on, love,” he laughs, opening and closing the door behind him quickly.
Draco looks at Granger for a beat before she bursts out laughing.
He doesn’t see the humor.
“Oh come on, Draco. He didn’t see anything.”
“He interrupted something, Granger.”
“With how often we are doing something, Draco, it leaves little chance for anyone to find us unoccupied.”
Fine. He is still going to be grumbly about it.
“Just a warning. Theo is a bit like a stray niffler. Don’t let him out of your sight when you go shopping,” he kisses her temple, recognizing that the moment is over. He can settle for a short cuddle with his witch.
“You’re terrible. One could hardly tell you were friends,” she scolds, nestling against him.
“Barely friends. And after today, he’s on thin ice,” he says, trying to keep his face straight.
“You know, you don’t have to get me a Christmas present,” she says out of the blue.
“What are you talking about Granger? Are you not going to get me something?”
She stammers, her eyes go adorably wide.
“I just, I know you don’t celebrate-,” She starts.
“What was the point of having Molly Weasley change her plans then? So we could just spend a day pretending as though it isn’t Christmas?”
“Well, are there any Yule traditions you would like to do?”
Draco loves the witch beside him.
“Perhaps one,” he smiles.
“Yeah?” she asks, her voice quiet.
“Mistletoe,” he kisses the top of her head.
“That’s a Christmas tradition,” she scolds.
He scoffs, offended.
“Maybe now, but it started as an aid in fertility ceremonies during the solstice.”
“How was it an aid?”
“You have taken Herbology, haven’t you? It’s a magical plant.”
“No wonder McClaggen was so handsy at Slughorn’s Christmas party.”
Draco is going to kill him.
“It was years ago. No need to defend my honor,” she says, as though she can see the contempt on his face.
He remembers seeing her at Slughorn’s party. He’d needed a lie to explain why he was out of bed. As if he’d ever need to crash a party.
Her pale pink gown had reminded him of the transformation she had made the year prior, at the Yule ball. It was quite a bit more form-fitting than most witches' formal wear.
At the time, he recalls, he had hidden his long stare at her behind a judgmental sneer.
He can also remember telling Blaise that she’d looked hideous in her flamingo-colored abomination. Not that he’d asked.
“You were always so beautiful,” he decides to try and make up for the years of mistreatment she had forced her to endure so that he could puff his chest.
“Not always. I shall forever be grateful that my parents fixed my teeth,” she keeps her tone light, but the sorrow is there.
She hadn’t talked about them much since they had passed.
“You looked quite a bit like your mum,” he says, remembering the photographs that he had seen at the services.
Hermione laughs, shaking her head. “Dad and I could be twins. You’ve just got to picture him with long bushy hair.”
Draco tries to imagine, but it's not something he particularly wants to have a clear picture of.
“I’d prefer to picture other things,” he nips at her neck, sucking her earlobe gently between his lips, earning a soft mewl from her lips.
“We do have unfinished business, don’t we,” she turns, pressing her breasts against him and sliding her foot up his calf.
“Yes,” he exhales.
Instead of returning to the same position Theo had found them in, Hermione presses her hands to Draco’s chest, pushing him flat against the bed, and straddling his waist.
His cock stiffens as she grinds down against him.
Needing to touch her, he grabs her waist and helps her lift herself, sheathing his cock slowly into her wet center.
It’s blissful torture. The way she squeezes around him as he moves inch by inch.
“Christ,” Granger hisses, her nails scratching thin red lines down his chest and she begins to move up and down on his hard cock. Draco is beginning to understand why so many people celebrate Christmas. That word falling from his witch's lips only spurs him on.
Draco’s hips buck and they move in tandem, his hips coming up to meet her thighs, trying to go deeper.
“Just like that,” he encourages his witch as she pushes down into his chest, angling her body to take him fully.
She takes control, bouncing up and down and Draco reaches up to cup her breast, rolling her nipple between his fingers.
She tosses her hair and Draco growls possessively.
His witch.
She slips a hand between them and focuses on her own pleasure, chasing an orgasm.
Draco bucks his hips, fucking her faster, feeling his own body race to its end.
“Fuck, Draco. Yes,” she moans.
His skin is buzzing as they both cum, alight from the full-body release.
She stays straddling his waist, bending forward to kiss him and then resting her head on his shoulder, her heavy breath warm against his throat.
There, with his cock leaking cum inside of her perfect pussy, they lay until their breathing evens and the chill reaches them.