"We are not putting this in the mission report," says Draco Malfoy.
Hermione sighs but the chattering of her teeth interrupts the effort. "You know we have to." He reaches out to rub his hands up and down her arms once she's gotten her coat off.
"Yes, Granger, I know we have to but I wanted to be clear that I do not want Potter reading about me freezing my bits off in a lake because you 'thought you saw something'." Draco casts another warming charm on the two of them and she feels the effect only mildly. They both can't stop shivering though their clothes have been dry ever since they came out of the lake.
"I want it to be known that you did not have to follow me into the water --"
"Of course I had to bloody follow you into the water, we had no idea what was in there --"
"--in fact you should have stayed on the shore in case someone came by --"
"--and do I need to remind you of the story Potter tells every five seconds about Weasley diving in to save him--"
"--even though we're Polyjuiced it would look very strange for a couple to be diving into a freezing lake on Christmas Eve --"
"--and you didn't come up right away which is worrying to say the least because whether or not you can swim is not in your file --"
"You've read my file?" Hermione says, softly. Draco blinks at her, the white-blonde of his hair almost totally taking over the brown of his disguise. One eye is still dark, one back to his normal blue-grey. The features she knows so well now are coming back to him, and she feels the familiar comfort of looking at his real face. Their combined winter clothes are scattered on the floor around them.
"Are you saying you didn't read mine?"
"Of course I read yours. I just didn't really --"
"Think that I'd be good at this job? Care enough to prepare?" It's only six months of working together that makes Hermione sure he's teasing her.
"Well, I know you're allergic to kiwis and you now know I can swim." They stare at each other for a second in the hallway of the safehouse. She watches his other eye turn back and his nose return to its slightly crooked state -- which she's pretty sure looks like that because of her. Draco's eyes flit over her own face and she feels it return to normal. He smiles softly at her before reaching to brush a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Blonde doesn't really suit you. This is much better," he says, running the curl through his fingers for a moment.
She turns away from him to catch the breath that has suddenly gotten away from her and makes her way to the bedroom. The flat they'd been allocated as home base is small, just one bed room with twin beds and a bathroom, since their cover is to be a couple. They've been here for a week so far, and she had hoped to be back by Christmas, but the smugglers they are supposed to be tailing haven't left any traces of even existing. Hermione had thought they'd found their stash in the lake, and she was so desperate for evidence she can admit that diving in was a bit hasty.
"Why am I still shivering?" she calls back to him. "The warming charms are fading faster than usual."
"Take a hot shower or something. I'll put on the kettle." Hermione doesn't even bother to suggest he go first before she heeds his advice. She allows herself to relax under the hot spray and wonders if she should owl Harry to pull them out. It's been a week and they aren't any closer to anything that resembles a Dark object smuggling ring. The Welsh town they're in is sleepy, and she is beginning to think that the lead here was a dud to begin with. Harry hadn't been sure when he'd sent them on assignment, and they had thought it would be quick work. She and Draco have become quite the partnership. They're good in the field, and they've become friends. She doesn't even mind spending Christmas with him, even if they're working. But the idea of the bustling Burrow and the sound of her friends's laughter makes her heart hurt a little bit.
Draco is sitting on one of the beds when she comes out of the bathroom in her flannel pajamas, a steaming mug waiting for her on the nightstand.
"Better?" he asks.
"Honestly? Marginally. I think I just need to get under there," she gestures at her bed. The hot shower had helped, but she feels the cold of the water deep in her bones. He frowns at her before going into the bathroom for his shower. A shiver runs through her and a thought follows it. A wild thought. A dangerous thought.
"Oh," Hermione breathes. She picks up her mug and takes a sip, considering. Then she waves her wand and the beds snap together. "What's the worst that could happen?" she says to herself. She thinks about the months they've spent getting to know each other, the first time she cried in front of him on her birthday, the night she found him drunk in their office after his father died, the Quidditch games he plays with Harry and all of their friends. She thinks about how he's read every book she's recommended, how they can have a conversation without talking, how he dove into the lake after her without hesitation. She thinks about how soft his eyes are when they land on her, how she looks for him in every room, how she's wished for the same thing on every shooting star for months now.
And then she gets into the big bed and waits for him to come out of the shower.
When the bathroom door opens, Draco stands there in his own nighttime winter attire. His eyebrows raise when he takes in her position.
"You've redecorated," he says. His cheeks are a bit pink. Hermione does him the courtesy of pretending it's from the shower.
"Are you still cold?" she asks. He nods, slowly.
"Well, get in then. We'll be warmer together." She hopes her own face isn't red, but so what if it is? Draco stops to put on a pair of socks and dim the light with a flick of his wrist before climbing in next to her and then he's there, under the covers, and she's overwhelmed for a moment. He smells like...like Draco. He smells like late nights in the Ministry, like the minty fizzle his magic leaves in the air, like the herbal tea he leaves on her desk every day. He smells familiar and warm.
"Hello," he whispers to her, grinning like a child at a sleepover. She can feel his breath on her cheeks, sees it rustle her hair where it's sprawled out on the pillow.
"Hello," she says back, shy all of a sudden. He turns onto his back, still looking at her her, and holds up an arm under the comforter.
"Not going to get warm all the way over there, are you?" he says, smirking. Hermione knows they're both pink in the face now, but she's never been a quitter, so she scoots over to him and settles into his side, head on his shoulder as his arm comes round her, legs tangling. She's been close to him hundreds of times by now -- back-to-back in the field, or dozing on their office couch as they go through paperwork late into the night. This assignment alone has had them holding hands, arm in arm down the street. So maybe that's why this doesn't feel anything other than comfortable, anything other than exactly where she wants to be.
Hermione flattens a palm on his chest and she feels his heart beating steadily, if a bit quickly. She hides her smile in his shoulder, his sleep shirt soft against her cheek.
"Alright?" he asks her, quietly as if not to disturb the moment.
"Much better," she says back. His heartbeat slows a bit and Hermione wonders if she'll sleep well alone after knowing what it feels like to hold Draco like this.
"Can you believe it's Christmas Eve?" she asks quietly. Draco hums in response and she feels it in her entire body. "What would you be doing if we weren't here?"
He thinks for a moment, his fingertips tracing small patterns on her arm.
"Last year I was with my mother. She lives in France, as you know. But this year I had encouraged her to reach out to some of her old friends to see if anyone wanted to holiday with her on the coast, so I was uninvited when it became a girls weekend." She looks up at him to see his expression -- he's smiling. "So my plan shifted to popping over to deliver her presents and then back to my flat before taking a walk around London to see some lights."
"That's what I do, too."
"Really?"
"The Weasleys always invite me over but a few years ago I decided to take the evening to myself and watch some Muggle films after my walk."
"And then Christmas Day?" Draco turns his head and Hermione feels his face in her hair, wonders what it would feel like to have his hands in it.
"I'd go to the Burrow for most of the day. There's always lots of food and fun and every year more children. It's impossible to be sad there."
"Do you miss your parents?" he asks quietly.
"Every day," she answers. "But I'm used to the feeling now. It hurts more around this time of year, but it's not like I'm alone."
"No," he says. She feels his lips in her hair for a quick moment. "No, you're not." She gives him a squeeze.
"What was your plan for tomorrow?"
"Potter invited me to the Burrow, actually." Draco manages to sound bemused and pleased at the same time. "Before he sent us on this assignment, though. Said he cleared it with Molly and everyone."
"He didn't tell me that!" Hermione cries. Draco laughs and she holds him tighter, the sound making her smile. "Would you have come?"
"I was planning to," he says. "Potter told me not to worry about gifts, but I was going to try to find some firewhiskey or something to bring, so I wasn't just showing up with a gift for you and no one else. "
"You got me a gift?" Hermione isn't surprised, not really, but his admission makes her chest feel tight.
He ignores her. "I was going to show up reasonably on time so I could offer to help with the food and avoid a room of people staring at me when I arrived."
"I bet Molly made you a sweater," Hermione adds. "Since you've been working with us for months and we're all friends, she's probably had it ready for ages."
He sighs, and she shocks herself a little by being able to decipher it. "You were nervous about going," she says, softly.
"I was," he admits. "It's one thing to be invited and quite another to actually go. So I'm not exactly gutted to be here instead."
"Me neither. But now I'm imagining you in a Weasley sweater and I find that I want to see it quite badly. She'd pick the exact shade of green to make your eyes sparkle."
"Sparkle? Granger, I don't sparkle."
"Oh, yes you do," she retorts. "They sparkle when you figure out a case, or when you find pumpkin pasties in the office kitchen, or that time you actually won a scrimmage against Harry at the work party --"
"Been paying a lot of attention to me, have you?" His voice is light, but Hermione can't help but feel that how she answers matters.
"Course I have," she says. "I'm always paying attention to you." She looks up at him and finds him already looking at her. "Why wouldn't I?"
"Why wouldn't you indeed," he mutters to himself. The hand on her arm comes up to play with strands of her hair. "Are you still cold? We don't have a fireplace but I could charm --"
"Draco."
"-- that wall over there or I could make that ghastly sweater I've been wearing into another blanket --"
"Draco, I --"
" -- bloody shame about the lake, and I really think you should rethink your strategy when it comes to bodies of water --"
Hermione puts a finger to his lips and he stops talking immediately. She feels unbelievably endeared to him in this moment, watching his bravado evaporate once he realizes she likes him in the same way she suspects he likes her.
"What about this," she says, finger still on his mouth. "We tell Harry tomorrow morning that the case is a dud. We go home and freshen up and then we go to the Burrow for Christmas."
"Together?" he asks, his breath hot on her skin.
"Together." The finger on his lips turns into her palm cupping his cheek.
"I'd rather not have to take Polyjuice again," he says, a bit dazed. "Every time I worry that we'll be stuck and --"
"The world would be deprived of your pointy chin for the rest of forever?" He rolls his eyes at her and she allows herself to trace his jawline. "I'd miss your face. So let's go home tomorrow."
Draco takes her hand in his own and kisses her open palm.
"Will we be a bit of a scandal?" he asks.
"No." She smiles, a bit shy. "No, I don't think it'll surprise anyone. Harry says it's been on my face for months. The way I look at you."
He breathes in quick at her admission, then chuckles. "He said the same thing to me not too long ago."
Hermione wonders how long it will take her to love him. Not long, she thinks. She's more than halfway there already.
"This is romantic and everything, but can you move for a second? My arm is falling asleep," she winces.
Draco turns onto his side and pulls her close, closer than they were before, and their noses brush. He holds both of her hands in one of his against his heart. She feels it race and knows hers matches the rhythm.
"How's this?" he breathes. "Still cold?" He's smiling, his grey eyes warm as they slowly move across her face.
"Happy Christmas, Draco," she exhales, feeling like she'll never be cold again, as long as he is next to her.
"Happy Christmas, Hermione," he says, the words a hairsbreadth away from her lips.
Tomorrow they will leave this flat and this town behind. She will put on the red dress she had been hoping he'd see her in someday, and he will be speechless when he arrives at her place. She'll wrap the cufflinks she got him, the ones of his Patronus, and he'll nervously carry the first edition of her favorite Muggle book he spent weeks tracking down. They'll arrive at the Burrow hand in hand and Molly will give him an emerald green sweater and everyone will whisper that it's about time.
But now, Draco and Hermione are wrapped around each other in a transfigured bed in the middle of nowhere on Christmas Eve, and the thing that has been growing between them is just beginning to bloom.
Now, Draco's eyes explore her face inch by inch, drinking the familiarity of her eyelashes and her freckles and the indent above her lips.
And now, he kisses her for the first time.