The Beginning
23 Days Until Christmas
Hermione sighed heavily as she shut the file on her desk. Every case that week had received the same ‘URGENT’ stamp indicating the matter could absolutely not wait until the new year. She massaged the bridge of her nose between her fingers and took what she hoped was a calming breath.
A quick knock at her office door was all that preceded her assistant’s head from popping into her line of sight. “Miss Granger?” Thomas squeaked.
“It’s Hermione, Thomas,” she smiled. “What do you need?”
“We just received a memo that we need to prioritise the bowtruckle case immediately,” Thomas replied.
“Really?” Hermione asked, surprise evident in her tone. “I hardly think a bowtruckle infestation qualifies as an emergency.”
“The memo was vague, but… here,” he stammered, handing over the small note.
Case #918 to be top priority. Christmas gala emergency. - Dorothy
“Ah,” Hermione scoffed. “Vague indeed. Thank you Thomas - I’ll go and have a quick chat with Deputy Arrington and get this sorted.”
Thomas nodded several times as he backed out of her office and shut the door with a short bow. Hermione smiled to herself at Thomas’s awkwardness and glanced at the advent calendar sitting on her desk. She opened the door for the 2nd of December to discover her favourite sweet inside. Pocketing the chocolate cauldron, she grabbed the Bowtruckle file and headed for the door.
As she passed Thomas’s desk, she tossed him the cauldron. She smiled when he missed the catch and called over her shoulder, “have today’s sweet! I don’t much like them.”
One unproductive meeting with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures Deputy Dorothy Arrington and one acquisition of a flustered Thomas later, Hermione found herself once again outside the grounds of Malfoy Manor.
The Wilshire wind whipped harshly around her and made her regret not grabbing a heavier overcoat before leaving the Ministry. She cast a quick warming charm over herself and Thomas as they approached the gates.
A slight ringing in her ears caused Hermione to stop short. Images of cold drawing room floors and blood thirsty faces flashed through her mind so quickly she nearly believed she could feel a mass of wild black curls draped over her neck. She couldn’t breathe. Hermione shook her head and bent over slightly to encourage blood flow to her brain as she took deep breaths in and out. “Miss Granger!” Thomas shouted from her side.
His voice sounded so much further away than she knew he was standing. “I’m alright,” she choked out.
“In for four, hold for four, out for four. Focus on what you can hear, feel, and smell in the moment, Miss Granger. Focus on breathing in fours.”
She repeated the words of her assigned Ministry counsellor over and over in her head until she felt her vision clear and the pressure in her chest lighten. As soon as she was certain she wouldn’t faint, she stood up to face Thomas. “Sorry about that,” she breathed.
“Are you alright Miss Granger?” He asked, face paler than she knew her own likely was.
“Yes,” she lied. “I think the apparition made me light-headed.”
“Oh no ohno ohno ,” he whined. “Can I go grab you anything? I shouldn’t have eaten your chocolate cauldron - you obviously need the sugar.”
Hermione laughed lightly, allowing his anxiety to somehow assuage her own. “I’m really fine Thomas,” she said. “Why don’t you go and grab us both a sugary coffee and meet me on the grounds in a bit?”
The relief at being permitted to exit the situation was apparent on Thomas’s face as he backed away, “yes absolutely right away Miss Granger.”
Once Thomas had successfully apparated what was likely an entire continent away, Hermione took one normal breath. “ Expecto Patronum.”
The sight of her silvery blue otter warmed her as she spoke, “Malfoy it’s Hermione Granger. I’m here about the bowtruckles. Can you please come out to the gate and lead me to the grounds?”
No sooner had her patronus floated away to find Malfoy than she could spot a white haired form walking towards her down the drive. Hermione squared her shoulders to brace herself for whichever Malfoy intercepted her message.
Once the shape was within a few metres, Hermione was met with the expressionless face of Draco Malfoy. “Hi Malfoy,” she called lightly to break whatever tension was sure to pull taut once they were face to face.
“Granger,” he drawled, stepping up to the other side of the wrought iron gate. “I didn’t realise you’d be here so soon.”
Hermione shrugged slightly. “Arrington said it was an emergency and bumped my caseload. Apparently your trees are the only trees worthy of the Ministry Christmas Gala, so they must be saved at all costs.”
“Of course,” Malfoy smirked. “My Ministry-mandated free-of-charge trees.”
“Naturally,” she acquiesced with a mock-bow of her head.
Malfoy stepped through the gate as if it were smoke and stuck out his hand. “I can pull you through the wards this way.”
Hermione looked back and forth between his hand and the gate, anxiety threatening to overwhelm her once again. “Oh… um…”
“It’s just a hand, Granger.”
“Oh it’s not… It’s not…” She sputtered as she tried to gulp in air.
Malfoy’s eyes narrowed slightly before widening in alarm as he crossed fully through the gate to spin her away from the manor. “Granger, look at me,” he ordered.
His tone startled her slightly out of her panic, and she snapped her eyes up to his automatically. “Breathe,” he commanded, taking a deep inhale of his own as he said it.
Hermione nodded as she breathed in deeply and allowed herself to be calmed by his glare. “Sorry,” she breathed.
“It’s fine. I should have thought about that,” he said, removing his hands from her shoulders. “We can apparate directly to the grounds once you’re able.”
“I’m fine,” she lied again.
He stared at her for a moment as if waiting for verbal confirmation of the lie. She stared back and allowed herself a brief moment to observe him. He’d changed so much since Hogwarts. Gone was the annoying prat feigning injuries for attention. Gone, too, was the troubled boy forced to commit murder to save his family name.
She tried to remember the outcome of the trials - tried to remember what became of his parents and his friends. She shuffled through memories in hopes of blending together some pastiche of his trauma. Her expression must have betrayed her train of thought, as Malfoy’s face shuttered. “You’re being rude, Granger.”
“I’m sorry,” she replied, not bothering to lie once more.
He raised an eyebrow in apparent appreciation of her honesty as he stuck out his arm. “Shall we?” He asked.
She grabbed his elbow quickly, allowing a brief moment of eye contact before she felt the familiar pull of apparition whisk them away to the grounds.
As soon as her feet touched solid ground, Hermione felt her breath threaten to leave her once again at the sight of the expansive plot of Christmas trees along the edge of the grounds. Her eyes widened as she craned her neck around to get a better view of just how far the miniature forest extended. A light dusting of snow glistened on the tops of the tallest trees, and the fragrant scent of pine nearly threatened to overwhelm her. Mouth agape, she turned to find Malfoy staring at her hand still clenched tightly around his elbow. “Oh, sorry,” she stammered, dropping her hand.
His eyes flickered up to hers as he replied, “Not a problem, Granger.”
“I was distracted,” she said quickly. “This is amazing. How long have you been growing Christmas trees?”
He seemed to ponder her question for a moment, eyes shifting between her face and the treeline. “Technically, eight years. Realistically, forever,” He said finally.
“Technically?” Hermione probed.
“After the war, you may remember the Ministry raided the homes of former Death Eaters,” he scoffed with a pointed look. “Along with seizing any potentially dark or valuable assets, one particularly enthusiastic employee noticed we had quite a surplus of fir and pine trees that would look lovely in the Ministry ballroom for the Christmas do that year.”
Hermione could hear the eye roll in his voice despite his pointedly neutral expression, and she couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh.”
“Why not?” He asked. “It’s funny enough. Death sentences and time in Azkaban has nothing on Ministry-mandated tree felling.”
She winced at the flippant mention of death and tried to cover up her discomfort with another weak laugh. “So a Christmas tree farm was never a Malfoy family dream?”
He laughed lightly. “The ‘farm’ was never meant to be anything more than greenery along the edge of the grounds,” he replied, air quotes evident in his expression. “And seeing as I’m the only remaining Malfoy, it’s hardly a family business.”
“Oh fuck,” she exclaimed, slapping a hand over her mouth to cover her outburst. “I’m so sorry Malfoy, I really had no idea. I’m so sorry about your mother. I know she was important to you.”
“I know you didn’t know, Granger. I figured I would finish the puzzle you were trying to put together earlier,” he smirked.
She smiled sheepishly up at him, embarrassment evident in her blush and increasingly sweaty palms. “Merlin, this has been an awkward day already.”
He permitted a smile from one corner of his mouth. With a slight shrug he continued, “it’s the past, Granger. And we have more than most. Should we get to the reason you’re here?”
“Oh, yes!” She replied, thankful for the shift in conversation. “My assistant should have been here by now, but I think I frightened him a bit. Why don’t you tell me about the issue with this year’s trees?”
“It’s fairly straightforward really,” he said. “I noticed a few bowtruckles earlier in the season but thought nothing of it. Now it seems they’ve multiplied and we’re either unable to cut down the trees entirely or unable to do it without harming them.”
“Makes sense,” she nodded. “Can you show me?”
He dipped his head once to the side and strode toward the trees nearest to the edge of the grounds. “These are the Nordmann Firs,” he said, gesturing to a row of tall, lush green trees. “They’re usually the most popular for Ministry parties, but perhaps not this year.”
“Oh wow,” Hermione observed, reaching out towards a branch holding one small bowtruckle.
Malfoy snatched her hand from the air and held it down by her side. “Careful, Granger,” he warned. “They’re not thrilled about human observation.”
Hermione levelled him with a glare. “This is my job, Malfoy”
“And this is my property. I can’t have a lawsuit on my hands if you go and get your finger snapped off.”
She rolled her eyes. “Dramatic as ever, I see,” she teased.
“Reckless as ever, I see,” he teased back.
She smiled up at him with a huff, and he smirked back.
A shout cut through the reverie and broke whatever moment had begun to grow between them. Malfoy immediately dropped Hermione’s hand as if he’d never reached out to grab it in the first place. “Miss Granger!” Thomas called again. “Miss Granger, I have your coffee!”
“Oh thank you Thomas,” Hermione called back, making her way towards him with one final look at Malfoy.
“So sorry it took so long - I had trouble entering the grounds and had to walk around towards the back of the manor until a house elf found me and helped me out,” Thomas rushed out as he handed over the large paper cup.
“No problem at all - thank you Thomas, you’re saving my life here,” she beamed after taking a sip of her sickeningly sweet peppermint latte.
Thomas’s blush erupted across his cheeks and neck as he stammered out a weak “you’re welcome,” bowing his head again in that awkward bow.
“Just give me a few more minutes here and we can head out,” Hermione said over her shoulder, already on her way back to the tree line.
“You shouldn’t flirt with your assistant when he’s so obviously in love with you, Granger,” Malfoy smirked once she’d re-approached. “What would Weasley think of your behaviour?”
Hermione rolled her eyes before meeting his. “You know very well Ron and I are no longer together, Malfoy.”
“A pity,” he shrugged. “I always thought you’d be married with miniature Weasleys by now.”
“Mmm,” she hummed quietly. “So did I.”
Malfoy’s brow furrowed slightly as she turned to observe the branches of the lighter green trees a few rows to the left of the Nordmann Firs. “What kind of tree is this?” Hermione asked.
Malfoy cleared his throat before responding, “that one’s a Lodgepole Pine.”
“And the bowtruckles haven’t taken a liking to this particular breed?” She asked as she bent to get a better look at the trunk and additional branches.
“No they seem determined to protect only the most expensive, non-native firs available.”
“Clever little creatures.”
“Indeed - look Granger I didn’t mean to open any wounds earlier. I was just teasing you.”
Hermione straightened as she turned to look at him. “I know Malfoy. You don’t need to apologise.”
“Yes I do. For so much more, but for now just this,” he rushed out. “I didn’t realise Weasley was still a sore spot.”
“Oh,” Hermione laughed. “It’s really not. I was just agreeing with you.”
“What?”
“There was a point in time where I also thought Ron and I would marry and have children. He’s a wonderful person,” she clarified. “But we’re better off as friends, and he’s blissfully happy with Lavender now.”
“Lavender?” Malfoy asked. “Lavender Brown?”
“That’s the one.”
“Isn’t she the horrible girl who stole Ron from you in school and made a permanent seat of his lap?”
“Technically yes, but a lot has changed since Hogwarts. For example, I no longer believe a man can be stolen if he goes willingly,” she said with a pointed look.
Malfoy laughed lightly and allowed the corner of his mouth to lift slightly again. “Well look who went and grew up,” he teased.
“Yes and not a moment too soon, honestly,” she laughed back.
Malfoy’s smile spread at the sound of her laughter, and something like surprise took over his features. Her smile widened in return.
“Miss Granger?” Thomas squeaked from directly behind Hermione, making her jump so far she nearly toppled into the nearest tree.
Malfoy’s face remained passive, but Hermione could see something murderous in his eyes as he steadied her automatically, eyes never leaving Thomas’s face. “Jesus Thomas you scared me,” she wheezed, hand on her chest.
“I’m so sorry - oh Merlin - oh I’m so sorry Miss Granger,” Thomas stammered, lowering his eyes to the ground lest he make direct eye contact with Draco Malfoy and turn to stone. “I just - I just wanted to see if there was anything I could help with?”
Malfoy scoffed so quietly it was almost a whisper. “Oh that’s okay Thomas, we’re almost finished here,” Hermione replied slowly, glancing back at Malfoy.
The moment his eyes met hers, she watched the tension fade from his furrowed brow, the slight frown on his face disappearing under her scrutiny. Hermione cleared her throat and tucked a stray curl behind her ear before continuing their earlier conversation as if there were no interruption. “So how many trees, rows, and types of trees would you estimate are impacted by the bowtruckle infestation? And how many trees are unaffected?”
His soft grey eyes crinkled at the edges as if she’d made some joke Thomas wasn’t part of as he replied, “I would estimate anywhere from 20-30% of our trees are impacted, but I can collect exact numbers to have sent over to you tomorrow. The infestation is mostly contained within the Nordmann, Balsam and Noble Fir varieties, but again I will confirm for you tomorrow.”
Hermione nodded and gave a final glance around the property. “Okay that’s fine,” she replied. “Owl me with the numbers once you have them, and I’ll work up a plan for removal. I think this should be easy enough, but I’d like to do a bit of research first.”
“Of course you would,” he smirked.
She rolled her eyes slightly and smirked back. “We’ll be in touch soon. I’ll let the Ministry know Christmas isn’t cancelled.”