Metamorphome

Chapter Four: Humbug, Bah, and Ugh

"I can't believe I'm doing this." Draco Malfoy was standing atop a ladder with a particularly vindictive scowl on his face. "You cannot possibly have convinced me to do this, Granger."

Hermione had done a great deal of cleaning, finally making the house somewhat presentable--it had taken her a little over a week. Another week had been devoted to talking to friends and family via owl, insisting that they send Christmas decorations for her preparations of beautifying Number Twelve. Lupin had shown up with a large tree on the last day of the second week, apparently checking in on the teenagers and making sure they hadn't destroyed each other, or the prisoner. Pleased with what he found (and pleased that Hermione had done more in the course of two weeks than any person had been able to do since Mrs. Black had died), he stayed a little longer than he had anticipated, enjoying luncheon with Hermione and Draco. Draco remained sullen and quiet for most of the meal, while Hermione chatted with Lupin in a manner that disgusted Draco.

Remus left a box of baubles and the tree behind. Hermione insisted upon putting it up immediately and decorating it. Draco had watched her as she levitated it into the stand and began putting on the baubles. She then realized that she had forgotten the strand of popcorn and cranberries she had strung to put around the tree, so she was forced to take down every ornament and then string the tree. However, she found that this wasn't going to work out with tinsel, as the popcorn and cranberries were overpowered by the bright gold stuff. So, she had to step back and look at the tree and decide whether she wanted the strand of cranpops (as Draco called them, to her distaste at his lack of devotion) or the tinsel. Finally she decided upon cranpops--her first choice. All the while, she hummed Christmas carols to herself. Malfoy then understood why she was smart--because there was no possible way she could take up singing as a profession. He mentioned this to her snidely, which caused her to start singing the carols obnoxiously loud, reminding Draco of the Weasley twins. When he told her this, she shut up promptly.

At the very end, she stepped back and viewed her work proudly. Draco had to admit (not out loud, of course) that she had done a very nice job. She bent down and picked the glittering star out of the box and thrust it into his hands. "What's this?" he asked her stupidly, looking down at the ornament.

"You're going to put it on top of the tree," she replied cheerily.

Draco dropped it back in the box, turning to leave. "Oh no you don't," Hermione said, scrambling around the couch to cut him off from the exit. "You're not going anywhere unless you put that star on top of the tree."

"Or what?" Draco snarled angrily.

"Or I'll hex you," she returned smugly, raising her wand to his eyes.

With a growl, Draco vaulted himself over the couch and grabbed the star. He reached up to place it at the top of the tree. Dammit. Just out of reach. Hermione summoned a ladder wordlessly from against the wall. "That won't be necessary," he snapped, but she smiled widely.

"Come on, Draco, get in the Christmas spirit and do it conventionally," Hermione said impishly.

Draco crossed his arms across his chest. "Absolutely not," he refused. "And don't call me Draco."

She held her wand up, gripping the ladder so it wouldn't fall. "Do it, Draco."

With an additional snarl, he grabbed the ladder and opened it.

And now, as he stood at the top of the ladder and Hermione had brought a camera from her room, he refused to even go near the tree. "Come on," Hermione urged him. "Just so I can prove that I saw Malfoy do something Christmas-y."

Draco's scowl became fiercer, while Hermione's voice became whinier. "Pleeeease?" she pleaded.

Finally, as quickly as he could, he leaned forward and tried to put the star on the tip of the top branch. However, the hole was small, and with a grimace, he started to shove it on violently. With a flash, the camera went off. He glared at her from the top of the ladder, then came down, finally sure the star would stay on.

Both crossed their arms and looked up at the top of the tree. His tussle with its tip had bent the tree and so the star was crooked, but Hermione looked pleased. "Now for the other decorations."

"There's more?" Draco screeched in a freakishly girly voice.

Hermione threw him a funny look. "Of course, silly. And now that you've started, you can't just get out of decorating."

Reluctantly, Draco followed Hermione to the kitchen.

* * *

"So let me get this straight: We're going to make cookies and not eat them?" Draco drawled.

"Yes, they're to be decorations."

"Why not just use a Freshening Charm?" he asked, his tone irked.

"Because then they won't get hard and we won't be able to hang them up."

"And Muggles do this every Christmas?"

"Yes," Hermione affirmed.

Draco's eyes widened in incredulity. "That's the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard."

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "Christmas is a holiday. Holidays are supposed to be fun. You can ridicule my fun, but then you're not having any yourself."

She rolled the dough, hurrying so the heat wouldn't turn them to a gooey mass. Draco was watching her with horrified fascination as she made the inedible cookies. She looked up at him, wrinkling her nose. "What's your problem?"

"Muggles are demented," he noted with a wide-eyed shake of the head.

Hermione rolled her eyes then picked up a stray piece of dough and tossed it carelessly at his head. It landed in his hair, despite his attempt to dodge the missile. He franticly searched for the dough, glaring at her. She giggled behind her hand at his desperate attempts to remove it. Finally he stopped and took out his wand and removing it quickly. "Now you figure out you've got a wand," she sniggered.

"Oh yeah, Granger?"

Two pieces of dough flew up her nose.

She screamed and began to try picking the dough out of her nose. He smirked at her, sauntering out of the kitchen.

* * *

Hermione's mix for candles was a much sought-after gift from relatives. Every year she had been at home with her parents, she experimented with fruits and herbs to get just the right mixture of smells and the highest concentration of scent so that the candles would fill an entire room, not just an approximate area. Perhaps her magical abilities had helped with this. Magical or not, Hermione's candles became her own Christmas tradition. At the stove, she mixed a pot of wax. Draco sat at the table, his expression defiant. "Why again are you making candles? Why don't you buy some?"

"Because," Hermione reiterated, "it's a tradition."

"Tradition is stupid..." Draco muttered quietly and Hermione shot him a look of pure venom.

"You can pick the scent," Hermione told him. Draco turned to look at the picks. Hermione's parents had sent pineapple, dried apple, orange, banana, mint, lemon balm, pine leaf, vanilla, cinnamon, and an array of other smelly plant parts. Draco browsed through the scented objects and finally settled upon cinnamon and pear, then handed it to Hermione.

The witch wrinkled her nose at the pick. "That's an odd selection."

Draco shrugged. "You told me to choose."

With a frown, Hermione broke the cinnamon stick apart and then placed it upon a chopping board. With a flick of the wand a smooth rock ground it to miniscule pieces. She dumped half of the ground cinnamon into the wax, pouring the other half into a plastic bag. She then repeated the process with the pear, only pouring the juice into the wax. She allowed the wax to simmer over the fire, occasionally stirring it. "So how does Draco Malfoy celebrate Christmas?" she asked Draco, folding her arms.

"I don't," Draco told her shortly.

"How did Draco Malfoy celebrate Christmas?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Why do you care, Granger?"

"Well, I want to know. We are spending it together. And I want to see if there's any way I can make it a bit fun for you."

Draco glared at the ground. "You can't."

"Why not?" Hermione asked indignantly. "I'm just as good as anybody."

"My mother and father?" Draco demanded.

Hermione blushed guiltily. "Sorry, that's not what I meant..."

"We used to drink Spanish hot chocolate," Draco interrupted suddenly. "Or that's what we called it. Dark chocolate melted into boiled milk and mixed with cinnamon. It was the first thing we'd do. Mother would wake me up then drag me to their bedroom, and I would sit in between them in the bed. Weensy would bring us our mugs, and we'd just--" Draco looked up at Hermione and frowned. "I shouldn't have told you that."

"No, I'm glad you did," she said. "No offense, but sometimes it's hard to remember that you're human. That you had parents and holidays and--" Hermione colored and stopped midsentence.

"What gave you that impression?" Draco asked tightly.

"Well, you sort of seem like...like you think those things are below you. I mean, you didn't want to tell me about it, so I almost think that you never enjoyed it. I mean, what else am I to think?"

"Did it occur to you that it's just hard to talk about my parents to a stranger?"

"I understand it being hard to talk about your parents, but I'm not going to judge you, Malfoy," Hermione told him quietly. "I'm not like your old friends. I don't expect anything from you. I'll just take what you give me."

Draco's throat constricted. "Your well meaning aside, it's difficult to tell you about these things. You'll never understand the relationship I had with my parents because you know my parents as snobby Purebloods. And they were. But they were my parents, too, and despite any outward prejudices they might have had, they loved me and took care of me until my care was out of their hands. And you have to understand that I don't believe you can understand that."

Hermione's guilt felt tenfold, because she realized that she had judged him a lot, despite her protest against such a statement. Poor misunderstood Malfoy, she scoffed, but another side of her snapped at the nasty one to shut up. He's human, and even more, despite a lifetime of prejudice, he's managed to turn out all right.

"Malfoy, how can you have changed from a prickish little pain to a mature young man?" Hermione asked, shaking her head.

"Don't assume I've changed," Malfoy warned her. "But war will do anything to you."

"Did you actually believe all that Pureblood crap?" Hermione asked him in amazement.

"Yes, I did. A part of me still does. Wouldn't you find it 'fascinating,' Granger, to be able to trace your bloodlines back thousands of years? I'm a rare creature with perfect blood. I may be no better than you otherwise, Granger, but even you must admit that you'd like to be able to call yourself Pureblood."

"Not if it makes me a priggish idiot," Hermione retorted. "But yes, it would be nice to lay claim to some history," she acquiesced softly. "That does not mean I am jealous of you, Malfoy," she added stubbornly, and Draco laughed heartily, putting his hands up.

"Message received. And you are aware that your wax is emitting smoke, aren't you?"

Hermione turned with a shriek and found, to her relief, that a piece of fabric had been burnt on the inner edge of the pot--rather than something far worse. Her wax was ready, though, and she poured the substance in a rolled and taped piece of cardboard, placed on wax paper, with a wick through the center. The wax slid out of the pan smoothly, and the smell filled the room. Hermione breathed in. "What a good combination, Draco. Nice pick."

"Told you," Draco told her smugly.

* * *

With Drying and Hardening spells, Hermione and Draco managed to create quite a few assorted candles of every scent and finished them within three hours--a record for the number of candles, Hermione said. The two then placed the candles around the tree in the sitting room in various places. They lit them, and then stood back to admire their work. All in all, they had done quite a nice job, and Hermione said so. Draco actually agreed with her, cocking his head to the side.

"Shall we show Morrigan?" he asked Hermione and she gaped at him. "Christmas is only in a week. Might as well give her time to mentally ready herself for something as good as this."

Hermione shrugged. "If you want to get her and stuff, fine."

Draco left, drawing his wand. At the bottom of the stairs, Morrigan gawked at him. "It's not suppertime yet!" she exclaimed.

"How do you know?" Draco asked her.

"I'm not hungry yet," she replied with a shrug.

"It's seven," Draco told her. "And Granger wanted to show you something." Morrigan stared. "She's finished decorating and she wants you to see what it looks like."

"Decorating?" Morrigan echoed.

"Yes, decorating," Draco told her impatiently. "D'you want to go or not?"

Morrigan shrugged apathetically, standing and walking from her corner. With a backward glance, she climbed the stairs. At the top, she stared around. "Where?" she asked.

"Come on," Draco muttered, leading her to the sitting room. She entered the room and gaped.

Hermione beamed at Morrigan. "Do you like it?" Hermione asked the girl who turned and looked at her.

"Like it?" she asked. "I don't get it."

Hermione laughed. "It's for Christmas!"

Morrigan turned red at having been laughed at.

"She's never celebrated Christmas, Hermione," Draco said quickly. "She doesn't know what it's about."

Hermione's eyes turned as round as saucers. "Never celebrated Christmas?" she inquired incredulously. "No wonder--"

"No wonder what?" Morrigan asked.

"Nothing," Hermione said. "Do you want to hear about Christmas?"

Morrigan looked uncomfortable. "Not to be...rude...but I have to refrain and ask if I can take a shower instead."

Hermione looked offended for a moment then exclaimed, "Oh!" She seemed to notice the raggedy state of Morrigan's robes and her grimed face for the first time. Morrigan nodded slowly.

"Of course," Hermione said. "Then I'll tell you about Christmas." Hermione ran upstairs and picked a pair of her own robes from her trunk, a couple towels, shampoo, and a bar of soap.

When she came back, she handed all this to Morrigan. "Oh, you'll also need...." Hermione ran upstairs again and returned with a bundle of unmentionables and handed this to Morrigan. "The robes might be a bit too big, but I think you'll be comfortable. The shower's this way..." She led her to the bathroom then showed her how the shower worked. Without thanking her, Morrigan stared at Hermione until Hermione backed out the bathroom and locked the door. With a sigh, she leaned against the wall and waited for Morrigan to come out. Draco stood beside Hermione, watching the door.

"She's something else, isn't she?" he asked Hermione.

"I'm going to help her," the girl told him determinedly. "She needs it."

"As long as you know what you're getting into," Draco said gloomily.

"I can do it," Hermione replied resolutely. "I have great faith in her."

"Why?" Draco asked her cynically.

"Because she's human," Hermione said. "And because anyone can learn."

"Anyone," Draco repeated.

"Yes," Hermione told him.

"Whatever, Granger."

After an hour, a very soggy Morrigan stepped out, her dirty laundry in a bundle and the toiletries in her wet towel. "Here's my laundry," Morrigan said, shoving them into Hermione's hands. "Could you get them cleaned soon?" This seemed very demanding to Hermione.

"I'm not your servant!" she protested, dropping the worn robes on the ground.

"What good are you, then?" Morrigan asked, raising her eyebrows coolly.

Hermione's arm seemed to have its own mind as it swung and hit Morrigan with the back of her hand. Morrigan's face turned to a white mask of self-righteous fury. "How dare you lay hand on me, Mudblood!" she hissed.

"That's enough!" Draco bellowed, stepping between the two girls. "You," he said to Morrigan, "will keep your tongue inside your mouth or I will cut it from your head. And you," he added, rounding on Hermione, "will not use your hands to prove her point."

"Prove her point!" Hermione shrieked. "How did I--"

"Silence!" Draco snapped imperiously. "You won't touch her again, is that understood?"

Hermione stared at Draco defiantly, and then nodded her head reluctantly. Then Draco turned, aiming his wand pointedly at Morrigan. "Silencio!" In fury, Morrigan tried to protest, but nothing came forth from her mouth, and she folded her arms across her chest crossly.

"Now, we're going to proceed to the sitting room and Hermione is going to narrate the significance of Christmas. And you will listen, Morrigan."

Hermione and Morrigan were surprised at the new person that had taken over Draco. Never had he seemed so...fatherly. It was rather scary.

Hermione sat on the couch, and Draco gestured at Morrigan to sit beside her. The girl's lip curled unpleasantly and he scowled fiercely. With an even nastier look, Morrigan plopped down on the opposite side. Draco looked down at her and said clearly, "You will use your tongue with civility or you will not use it at all. Finite Incantatem."

Morrigan's throat cleared and she was once again able to speak. She turned and looked at Hermione dismissively. "Do begin," she sniffed.

Disliking her tone, Hermione made a face but said, "Christmas is a Christian holiday, devoted to the birth of Jesus Christ. However, many of the traditions are reminiscent of pagan traditions, such as a twelve-day celebration, a tree, and many of the foods eaten on Christmas. What Christmas is usually celebrated for, however, is to give gifts to friends and loved ones. On Christmas morning, children inspect their gifts from Father Christmas, then receive them from their parents. Relatives come over for more gift-giving, and you have Christmas Dinner. Sometimes it comprises roast beef, or duck, boar, chicken...the list goes on. The point is that it's a holiday to share with your friends and family."

Hermione beamed at Morrigan, her attitude changed by her description of Christmas.

"It sounds revolting," Morrigan sneered.

Hermione looked staggered. "But why?"

"What has your family done to earn the gifts? What if the children are bad children? It makes no sense. It's just an excuse for a person to get more items they don't need."

"Morrigan, no one is bad on Christmas. And the point isn't to receive gifts, it's to give them."

"Don't call me Morrigan," Morrigan snapped, then added, "Why should you give gifts to your family?"

"Because most people love their family," Draco said quietly. Morrigan looked at him inquisitively. "Flaherty, you don't get it because you don't get what love is, because you're miserable and soulless. You will never understand because you're not smart enough."

"I am smart!" Morrigan snapped. "I understand it--"

"No you don't," Hermione said, catching on. "You'll never understand Christmas because you're not good enough, not independent enough. The Dark Lord controls you so much that you've forgotten what it's like to think and understand without his mind."

"I can understand it!" Morrigan yelled, standing abruptly and clenching her fists at her sides. She looked wild, her hair rampant and her eyes rolling from Draco to Hermione. "I can! You'll see! I'll make this the best Christmas you have ever had! Just because I want to!"

With an angry snort, she turned from the room and went back down into the basement, shutting the door with a slam. Draco and Hermione exchanged smiles. "I do believe we've tricked her into celebrating Christmas," Hermione said lightly, her tone amused.

"Quite," Draco said, his smirk pleasant enough. "I think she's taken a step forward, don't you?"

"Yes," Hermione agreed laughingly. "Cider?"

* * *

Hermione woke the following morning to the quiet cooing of Hedwig. She sat up groggily and untied the parchment from Hedwig's leg. Hermione expected a letter from Harry, but instead it was one from Ron.

Hermione--

Mum reckons I should ask you about now if you want to spend Christmas at the Burrow. We can come pick you up on the 24^th, and if Malfoy needs to do something, Lupin reckons that a Sleeping Draught could keep our little friend out for a couple of days. I kind of laughed at the thought of administering Sleeping Draught to that wildcat. I bet Malfoy gets it full in the face. I'd like to see that. Ginny and Harry say hi. I caught them kissing under the mistletoe yesterday. They jumped apart like they'd been taking each other's clothing off. I wondered why they'd been sneaking around a lot lately. I bet you heard about the deaths increasing. I know you're probably feeling awful about that, but don't feel too bad. It's a rather unavoidable aspect of the war, don't you think? Anyway, that's all for now. I thought Pig might get lost in the storm that's coming, so I sent Hedwig.

Love,

Ron

Hermione smiled at the letter, but she had to say no this year to Christmas. She was looking forward to spending time with Morrigan at the "best Christmas ever." She wrote a quick reply on the back of the parchment.

Ron--

I hate to do this, but I'm going to have to decline your invitation this year. Our little friend has been promised a nice Christmas, and I'd rather like to give it to her. I think that we might perhaps be able to help her, you know? Christmas is a time for miracles, and I'm wishing that this might provide a miracle for her. I'll send your gifts in the post.

Love from,

Hermione

Satisfied, Hermione rolled this piece up, fed Hedwig an owl treat from a bag Harry had left, and then sent her out the window. She watched the bird until she could no longer see her, then closed the window and shivered. She dressed and went down to the kitchen.

Draco was awake, eating porridge (there was brown sugar on the top), and reading the Prophet. "Did that bird find its way into your room?" he asked her without looking up.

"Yes, thank you," Hermione replied. "Ron wanted to know if I was going to the Burrow for Christmas but I declined."

Draco shook his head, took a sip of his coffee and then said incredulously, "You're crazy."

Hermione shrugged, then looked down into his oatmeal bowl. "You Muggle-lover," she teased.

He scowled up at her and said, "I decided I liked it."

"Uh-huh."

Draco finished then took some cereal downstairs. Morrigan was waiting, as usual, but this time she asked, "Malfoy, would you get me a few sheets of parchment and ink?"

"I presume you'd like a quill with that, too."

"Naturally," she conceded with a roll of the eyes.

Draco left for a minute, and then was back with the requested supplies. "Is that all, Your Ladyship?"

"Yes, that's all, Basil, you may go now," she said, her tone light.

"Did you just make a joke?" Draco asked, his tone mockingly awed.

"Why, yes, I do believe I did," she replied, her eyes dancing. "Now begone, I have work to do!"

Draco left, rather curious of what it was she wished to do.

* * *

Hermione received another owl that afternoon, again sent via Hedwig. The owl seemed irritable, and Hermione received a rather sharp nip when she told the owl to wait momentarily, as she was tied up with a cleaning solution. Hermione dropped everything (figuratively) and hastily untied the scroll, sucking her finger painfully.

Hermione--

What the hell are you doing? Is spending time with those two people more important than us? Way to overreact, Ron, Hermione thought. No wonder the bird was angry. Why would you choose to stay with her when we need you here? It's ridiculous! If I find out that Malfoy has anything to do with it, I'll--something was scribbled out here--be extremely angry.

Ron

Hermione rolled her eyes at this presumptuous piece of writing, then wrote on a different piece of parchment:

Ron--

You have seriously overreacted. I just want to help our little friend, and if you can't understand that, then I would rather be spending time with someone that understands up front what my intentions and thoughts are. Have a good day!

Hermione

* * *

Hermione exited the kitchen, her face clearly annoyed. She sat down on the couch of the sitting room with a heave, causing Malfoy to look up from his borrowed copy of Hogwarts, A History. "What's your problem?" he asked her.

"Ronald's mad because I chose to stay here for Christmas."

"I knew that would happen," he said with a sigh, looking back down at the book. "You should think before offending someone like that."

"I didn't realize I would offend him," Hermione protested. "I simply told him that it was important that I stay here and help Morrigan!"

"Granger, you don't know Weasley as well as you think you do. If you write that something you're doing, as an alternative to something with him, is important, than he's going to pull the meaning that you think it's more important than whatever you're going to do with him out of it."

Hermione got a blank look on her face and said, "What?"

"If you say that spending Christmas with me and Flaherty is important, than he'll assume you think it's more important than Christmas with him."

"Maybe it is!" Hermione retorted hotly. "Morrigan's soul is rather high on the list of priorities."

"Not to him."

"I'm not him!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Ah, but he is him. And what's important to him is he. Therefore, whatever is important to he, is important to him."

Hermione glared at him. "You're mad."

"I'm correct," he replied, going back to his book, while Hermione began to pout.