The 20th Christmas

The 20th Christmas

The night was fresh. There was a scent of warm cocoa and peppermint in the air. Silver white snowflakes fluttered upon rows of poinsettias. The houses were laced with ivy and spectroscopic Christmas lights. Every now and then, a driver passed through the streets of this neighborhood, appreciating the joy that the decorations brought along with the color and gaiety. Then, this driver drove by one particular house that stood out among all the color. The house was dull and dark. There was no trace of Christmas spirit. The driver would have wondered who occupied this house and why it was so dreadfully empty. The owner of this house was Hermione Granger and there was a reason for the lack of color.

It was Hermione Granger's 20th Christmas Eve, and somehow it was her loneliest of all. There were no presents to be sent or received, no people to visit, and no places to see. She had lost most of the things that meant something to her after the third war of the Wizard world, including her parents; friends; classmates; and ultimately, happiness. The only ones spared had been Harry and Ginny. Hermione was not surprised that they ended up together...they were deeply in love after all. Harry and Ginny built their life together in such a way that Hermione was excluded, perhaps unintentionally, leaving Hermione to feel slightly out of place in their life. Either way, Hermione was left to sing carols to the ceiling, sipping ice cold champagne in the dark.

Hermione got home late from work that day, which wasn't a surprise. Some habits never die out. Hermione was still the workaholic that she once was at Hogwarts. The only different about her was that her smiles had once been genuine and real. Hermione wasn't sure what was real anymore.

She retrieved her letters from the mailbox before entering the dark, dull house. Once inside, she slowly laid out all the letters on the kitchen table. It was only then that she noticed the clear, curved script, written in a purposeful hand in black ink among the piles of bills. She gasped when she read the return address. On the upper left-hand corner of the envelope, it read: Draco Malfoy. She quickly tore open the letter to read the content.

Each phrase seemed to send her into a deeper state of delirium; it was all so unbearable. She had spent all those years thinking that Draco had been killed by Voldemort during the war because he was too weak to kill a muggle, only to discover he was alive and well. She glanced at the date labeled at the top right corner of the letter. It had been sent out two days ago.

She paced around the room, thinking of how to respond to the situation. The letter requested her to meet him in London, right by the Marble Arch, the next day. Hermione knew that this opportunity might never come again. Draco Malfoy was someone from her past, and even though she had loathed him at Hogwarts, she needed to see a familiar face now more than ever.

That night she slept with a smile on her face for the first time in three years, strangely eager to meet the man who once made her life hell.

It was still snowing when Hermione reached Marble Square Christmas morning. She couldn't help but feel nervous. It wasn't that she was afraid that Malfoy would Avada Kedavra her; Hermione couldn't exactly understand why she was so tense, and as fifteen minutes passed, she started to have second thoughts about waiting for him. It was probably just some sort of joke she thought. She was just about to walk to the car, when a slow, whispery voice came from behind her.

"Thought I wouldn't show up?"

Hermione spun around to face him. He looked the same as during their Hogwarts days- the piercing silver eyes, the light blond hair that almost fell down to his eyes. But there was something different about him: he looked tired. Long creases fell under his eyes, giving the impression of several sleepless nights. The snobby attitude that had been so evident in his visage long ago had disappeared and was now replaced with a look of humbleness. Hermione had always had an eye for pinpointing these subtle differences in people.

"Malfoy," she said, nodding. "I received your letter in the mail yesterday." She turned away to face the street. "How have you been?"

"I've managed. How about you?"

She didn't know how to answer that. "Why did you write to me?"

He sighed. "I'm not sure myself. That's why I came here. So you could give me an answer." He smiled slightly. "Aren't you the one who knows the answer to everything?"

She turned around suddenly, and it caught Draco by surprise. "So you're just going to stand here and hope I will say something?" She laughed, a little harshly. "Aren't you the one who speaks his mind even if your mind is filled with horrible thoughts?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I didn't come here to argue. You know, I think I should just go home. Goodbye Hermione." He was about to walk away, but Hermione grabbed his arm.

"What did you call me?" she asked breathlessly.

"I called you Hermione," he said patiently. "I called you Hermione, because you deserve better. I called you Hermione because half the nights, I toss and turn in bed thinking about exactly what you are doing and why you are doing it."

She exhaled, blinking her eyes furiously to make sure this wasn't a dream.

He continued. "And everyday, I have to live with the pain of knowing that I was once a cruel person. And I wish there was some way to get rid of all of that. To erase our past and move on."

"But...what does any of that have to do with me? You hate me Draco and there is no way I can believe that."

He looked at her directly in the eye. "Just give me the chance to say what I feel, please." He paused, looking nervous and hesitant. "During the war, my parents and my friends died before my very eyes. Voldemort didn't need them anymore. He tried to kill me, but I escaped and remained incognito. That was the day I realized what a stupid mistake I had made. I hurt people around me without knowing the full truth. I was taught to hate muggleborns because my parents were brainwashed by a cruel man who eventually ended up killing them. It was a vicious circle of hatred, and I didn't want to be a part of it anymore. After the war, my mind always drifted towards you. You were all I could think about for those three years. I don't know why it worked out that way, but it did." His face was contorted with anger and frustration, almost as if he was facing all the horrible experiences over again. His fingers were trembling with memories rushing into his mind, memories painful to the feeble mind. "I tried to suppress it, but at one point, I couldn't bear it. I needed to see you. So a few days ago, I sent you that letter..." He looked at her longingly. "You don't know how much I've missed seeing those beautiful eyes."

Hermione looked down. "I want to believe what you said, but I don't know how I can trust you..."

Draco sighed in desperation. "Listen, I want you to see something." He zipped open his messenger bag and pulled out several sheets of parchment. He handed these sheets to her. "Read it."

She trembled as she read each word, each phrase telling her exactly what he felt about her...how beautiful she was, how much he loved her. Drops of water started dripping down her cheek, and her eyeliner left a dark smudge just underneath her eyes. "Draco, this is beautiful. I don't know what to say..."

He placed his finger gently over her lips. "You don't need to say anything. Your expression should speak for itself."

Small pieces of ice and snow gently landed upon their shoulder in unison, and it was one of those moments in time when nothing else matters. Draco and Hermione were in complete harmony: they smiled, breathed, and blinked together, allowing their souls to merge. Hermione gently wrapped her fingers around his soft cheeks and pulled him closer. He slid his hands around her waist so that the tips of their noses were in contact.

"Merry Christmas Hermione," Draco said before kissing her softly and taking her away into another world.