Draco Malfoy

"...the night is darker now, and the wind blows stronger

Fails my heart I know not how, I can go no longer."

Good King Wenceslas : John M. Neale (1818-1866)

Draco Malfoy, The Christmas Waif

Hermione smiled with satisfaction as she plugged in the lights on the tree. The little white lights sparkled like stars on the tall evergreen.

She had arrived two days ago in the town of Galway in Ireland. Her parents would be joining her the next day. They had gotten this wonderful cottage in the countryside from a fellow dentist for the holidays. She had a warm peat fire glowing; the smell of apple cider filled the air. Everything was perfect. She decided to bundle up warmly as an icy wind blew off the Atlantic to go into town to get some pastries.

The shopkeeper was charming, recommending a variety of mouth-watering pastries from marzipan-filled almond horns, to chocolate covered - custard slices. She took a dozen-mixed goodies. Happy with her purchases she stepped out into the darkening afternoon, she noticed the Christmas lights illuminating the town.

She hoped that Harry was having a wonderful time at The Burrow with the Weasleys. He hadn't been himself since Sirius had died last summer. She hoped the New Year wouldn't bring as much trauma. The fall term had gone fairly well; she was once again at the top of her class beating even Malfoy at Potions. He had been nastier than his usual self, blaming them all for his father's imprisonment in Azkaban.

Harry had been very quiet for most of the fall. After spending a short time with the Dursleys he had been rescued by the Order. His uncle had grabbed him so hard at one time that he broke his wrist. The Order had whisked him away to Hogwarts to fix him up. The only time Harry had shown any spirit had been whenever he was near Snape. His hatred of Snape had been evident in every word that had come out of his mouth. She suspected he blamed himself for Sirius's death but blaming Snape kept the burden off his shoulders. She wished that he would talk about it; it hurt so much seeing him suffer.

There had been more attacks on Muggles throughout the summer and fall in London and surrounding districts. She was glad her parents would be here in Ireland where so far no incidents had been reported.

She was lost in thought when shouting brought her attention to an alley where a shopkeeper had a tight grip on a boy's arm. "You scurvy rascal, let's see how a night in jail with the other thieves will suit you!"

"Please, NO, I was just hungry; I don't have any money!"

Hermione froze. She knew that voice, only usually it drawled, cold and arrogant, not like it was now pleading and panic-stricken.

What was Malfoy doing here? Did that mean that perhaps Death Eaters were in the area? Her heart jumped. She hastily shrank into the shadows away from the alley, ready to run out of sight until she heard a sharp slap and a cry of pain. She stopped and reluctantly turned back. It was obvious that Malfoy had been slapped hard as he lost his footing and lay on the ground. He wore a thin black cloak that had a hood that had fallen back. The shopkeeper pulled his beefy leg back and looked as though he was about to kick him in the ribs. He was at least triple Malfoy's size. Although she had no fondness for the usually sneering Slytherin, she couldn't just stand there and watch.

She yelled in anger, "Stop that right now!" She stepped out of the shadows and shouted again at the shopkeeper. He looked startled by her presence but then snarled, "Mind your business, miss! I'm dealing with a thief."

"Then turn him in and let the police handle him; you have no right to beat him!" She stood her ground.

"It's Christmas, they'd just let him off and I won't get my money back."

"Fine; how much does he owe?"

A greedy glint shone in the shopkeeper's eyes as he named an exorbitant amount.

"Liar! I only took half a sandwich and you grabbed it back!" Malfoy hoarsely spat out, wiping blood off his face. Hermione threw some money at the shopkeeper then bent down and hauled Malfoy to his feet. He groaned involuntarily, gasping for air.

"Get him out of my sight. If you ever come around here again, I won't be responsible for my actions." The shopkeeper stormed off.

"Let go of me Mudblood!" he spat at her as he stumbled against the wall, wincing. She was about to angrily retort when she caught a glimpse of him in the street light.

His reddened cheek from the slap administered by the shopkeeper's beefy hand also had a long red gash on it. It wasn't bleeding so the shopkeeper couldn't have done it. Malfoy was unbelievably even paler than usual. His silver eyes looked wide and stark. He wasn't dressed for being outdoors.

"What happened to you?" she asked him hesitantly.

"None of your business!" he fired back at her.

She sighed "Fine" and started to leave.

She heard a soft thud and another cry of pain. She looked back and saw as his legs apparently gave out and he sank down against the wall of the building. His head was in his hands and he shivered violently.

"She was confused as to what she should do; just leave him there and hope he'd pick himself up and go to wherever he was staying, or help him - but how? He obviously didn't want her help. She was after all in his eyes just a Mudblood; less than human. If the situations had been reversed, he would have laughed and walked away. Anger grew in her and she left him.

When she arrived back in the cottage, snow had started to fall and the wind made it hard to see. The phone rang as she ran towards the kitchen trying to brush the snow off her clothes. Her mother was on the other end. Their flight along with all other flights had been cancelled due to an unusually severe winter storm. They assured her that they would try again, tomorrow on Christmas Eve. Disappointed and worried she hung up. She put the pastries away and then threw some more peat into the fire.

As she sat by the warmth of the flames, Malfoy came back into her thoughts. She hated him - he was the enemy - but he was in trouble. Shouldn't she, in the spirit of Christmas, have reached out to him and tried a little harder? She put her warm clothes back on and decided to make sure he was gone from the alley. The image of him with his head in his hands looking so distraught wouldn't leave her alone. She had to make sure he wasn't still there. She hurried through the blustery wind and noticed with relief that he was gone. She was about to turn back when flashing lights up ahead caught her attention. It was an ambulance. She rushed forward and noted with horror than an unconscious Malfoy was being loaded on a stretcher. She went up to a paramedic. "Wait, please, is he going to be all right?"

"Yes miss; we'll take care of him. Are you a relative or a friend of Mr. Granger's?"

Her eyes widened in disbelief. He had given them her name.

Apparently he didn't want anyone knowing where he was. Had he run away? She looked back in the attendant's eyes; he was obviously expecting an answer. "Yes, I'm his cousin but I haven't seen him in a while we're not close."

The attendant nodded. "He was found passed out but when we revived him he ran out into the street. We caught him but he became quite hysterical. He passed out again a few minutes ago."

Hermione frowned. Malfoy hysterical? That was new. "Can I go with him?"

He nodded. "I'm sure he could use a friendly face."

Malfoy stayed unconscious the whole way to the hospital, and then they whisked him away to be examined. Later they let Hermione in.

"How is he?" she asked.

"He just came out of surgery. He will recover fully. He has a concussion, gashes and hypothermia. He'll need some TLC for a few days; he'll be too sore to be on his own. Do you know who did this to him?"

She shook her head. "We're not close. Why did he need surgery?"

"Someone beat him severely, we're still trying to establish with what. He had about 30 bleeding gashes from the back of his neck down to his ankles. We needed to stitch him up; there were some ripped muscles. The gashes are too thick to have been made with a whip, but it was definitely something like one. It is a clear case of child abuse."

Hermione frowned. Who could have assaulted Malfoy like this? She shook her head.

"You can take him home when he wakes," the doctor stated.

"Oh no, I mean we're not close, he wouldn't want to."

"I see; then he'll have to spend Christmas here and then be turned over to child welfare." The doctor left.

She looked around the cold bare walls and entered his room. She focused on Malfoy. He lay still and pale as death. The red slash on his cheek stood out, having been finely stitched by the doctors. He had an IV in his hand.

He whimpered softly in his sleep and it was that soft helpless sound that made Hermione decide to ask him to come to the cottage. He was injured and weak and wouldn't be a threat to her. The doctors told her he would likely sleep all night and that she should come back in the morning. She went home.

In the morning she received another call from her stranded parents. They still could not get a flight out. She got dressed and headed for the hospital again.

As she neared his room a nurse came out. Hermione asked, "how's my cousin?"

"Not well; he ripped out the IV and tried to leave. We just had to put him in restraints. Perhaps you can calm him as he is quite upset. He seemed quite irrational, kept calling us muddles or something. Does that mean anything to you?"

Hermione bit her lip and cleared her throat. "Um no. It must be the concussion, he doesn't know what he's saying."

The nurse nodded in agreement. She went into his room and froze at the door. Malfoy was on his side, his wrists in restraints, one pulled back to the other side of the bed. Judging by his shaking shoulders and the soft hitched breaths she heard every so often, he was crying quietly. She stepped back, not wanting to intrude on such a private moment. When she suddenly heard retching sounds she raced in and quickly pressed the nurse's bell right near his hand. Not being a Muggle he wouldn't know what it was for. She grabbed a stainless steel basin and put it own by his face. He grabbed it with the hand that was closest.

A kindly older nurse bustled in. "Oh dear, you're having a bad reaction to the anaesthetic. Here you poor sweet lamb, let's get these restraints off you."

Hermione stood back; "poor sweet lamb" would not have been the words she would have used to describe Malfoy.

He retched for a good five minutes but to no avail. The nurse "Tsk Tsk'd" then observed, "Dry heaves, nothing in his poor stomach, he's obviously not eaten for days." She grabbed a wet cloth and proceeded to wipe the sweat and tears off his face. He lay passively, feeling too ill to protest. "It's all right darlin' you're entitled to a good cry. It's good for the soul but you're a young one yet; you shouldn't shed so many tears."

Two spots of red appeared on Malfoy's cheeks and he stared stonily at the floor. "I'm going to give you a shot in your backside to calm your stomach so we won't have you retching again. Young lady, come over here and distract this laddie for a bit so it won't hurt quite so much."

Malfoy managed to grasp out a weak "no" but the nurse shushed him. Hermione swallowed hard. This was a rather uncomfortable situation. Malfoy, she knew, wouldn't want her anywhere near him, especially in such a humiliating position. "Go on now dearie, I have other patients I need to tend to."

Hermione quickly went over to Malfoy and sat by his bedside. He closed his eyes - perhaps in the hopes of pretending this wasn't happening to him. The nurse worked efficiently, awarding Malfoy privacy by lifting the sheets, but the needle must have hurt because the blond boy suddenly gasped and his hands gripped the bed sheets.

"There there now, all done. I know that was painful, whoever beat you like this should be strung from the nearest tree. We'll just wait till it kicks in and you feel a little bit better and then your cousin will take you home for Christmas."

With those words Malfoy's eyes flew open in horror as his shocked gaze bore into Hermione's gaze.

She cleared her throat awkwardly. "If you want to you can recover in the cottage I'm staying at, or of course you can stay here," she offered quietly.

The nurse handed Hermione a jar of cream.

"This is an antiseptic cream with a painkiller mixed in, make sure he applies it to his wounds and especially his backside twice a day. "

She nodded numbly then glanced at Malfoy who looked away, mortified, the two spots of colour on his stark white face growing even pinker. She wanted to ask who had done this to him but it was just too awkward. The nurse left the room.

Hermione cleared her throat. "I know I'm the last person you want to see and quite honestly I'm not exactly fond of you either so if there is someone else I can call for you I will. Your mother perhaps?"

He shook his head, stubbornly refusing to look at her.

"Ok then. Are you comfortable staying here over Christmas?"

He didn't answer her, instead for a moment squeezing his eyes shut. The simple movement stirred up pity in her. For a moment he wasn't the much-despised Malfoy; he became instead someone in dire need of help.

"Er, like I said before though, you can come and stay in the cottage with me. You'll have a separate room so you'll have privacy."

The thought of staying in the hospital being poked and prodded and hurt by Muggles far outshone any discomfort he might feel about staying in a cottage with Granger. He hated that one of his enemies had seen him in the most embarrassing situation of his life but he was desperate. There was no other way out.

He nodded, raising his silver eyes up to meet her brown ones.

"All right, I'll find your doctor and see if I can get you released. Uh, try and behave yourself, leave these tubes in for now as they're there to rehydrate you. Don't move or do anything or they'll put you back in those restraints." She looked around the room. "Where's your wand?"

This gained a reaction from him - his eyes narrowed. "I don't have it, so don't worry I can't hex you!"

"I wasn't worried; I'm faster than you are anyway. I'll be back in a moment."

The doctor was reluctant to let Malfoy go without having child welfare question him.

"I promise he'll be safe with me and I'll leave my number and address with you so they can come if they want to."

The doctor noted that likely nothing would happen until the New Year now and Hermione knew that by then Malfoy would be safely back at Hogwarts.

After signing the release form the doctor mentioned, "His clothes were destroyed but I think we can find something to fit him from the lost and found."

"I'm sure he'll be grateful for anything." She was sure Malfoy would throw a tantrum being forced to wear something discarded by a Muggle. She couldn't believe she was taking him home with her.

She returned with a pair of faded jeans, a black long-sleeved t-shirt and an old thick black wool coat.

His gray eyes regarded the clothes disdainfully. He tried to sit up but fell back on his side inhaling sharply. He lay there panting for a moment in frustration.

"They sewed up some of the deepest welts with stitches. You're going to be sore for a while. I'll put the clothes here on the bed and I'll wait outside for you, you can press the button there and one of the nurses will help you to dress."

"NO, I don't want any more Muggles touching me."

"Well then I guess you'll have to do it on your own." She walked out of the room. There was no way she was willing to see him nude. Giving him a place to recover would be the extent of help she was willing to offer him. Fifteen minutes later she started to grow anxious. He still hadn't come out; what if he had collapsed or something? When she saw the older nurse she called her over and asked her to check on him.

After a couple of minutes she came out wheeling Malfoy in a wheelchair. He had one hand over his face and was breathing heavily. "He was almost fully dressed but he should have called for help." She turned the wheelchair over to Hermione then knelt down in front of him. One hand gently stroked back the hair from his forehead. "Are ye feeling a wee bit better now?"

He nodded.

"Good lad. If you need help anytime you call the hospital and ask for me, all right?"

His hand dropped from his face and he looked up at her murmuring, "Thank you."

Hermione was amazed. Malfoy had thanked a Muggle. She smiled warmly at the nurse. "Thank you for all your kindness."

"Comes with the job, you make sure you get him straight home and into a warm bed; he needs some rest, he's still feeling a little queasy."

"I'll take care of him," she vowed.

She wheeled him out of the door and waved down a taxi. She helped him to his feet and it was obvious he was still in a fair amount of pain. He didn't speak the whole ride to the cottage; he lay with his head against the window and his eyes closed. When they arrived at the cottage she paid the driver and once again helped Malfoy out of the cab and into the warm house. His eyes swept the room, pausing for a moment as he looked at the tree, his eyes wide with wonder. Then, realising she was watching him, his expression grew hooded and he looked towards the floor. She guided him into the guestroom and he slowly lay down on his side in the bed. She took his shoes off and he wordlessly slid under the covers.

"I'm going to make us some tea. Is there anything else I can get you?'

He shook his head but just as she was about to exit she heard him speak quietly.

"Granger, do you have any painkilling potions?"

"No, but I do have some pain pills the doctor prescribed for you. Do you want one?"

He reluctantly nodded even though the pills made him feel sick. The pain consumed his body and he couldn't take it anymore.

He took the pill with the cup of tea that Hermione handed him.

"When I finish my tea I'm going to run into town and get you some pyjamas," Hermione casually remarked as she straightened the blankets.

He looked at her with a mixture of resentment and embarrassment. "I don't have any money."

She sighed. "I know. Remember I overheard you with the shopkeeper. You can owe me, ok?"

The flush came back to his cheeks as he nodded.

"Is there any special food I can get you?"

He turned a little green when he answered, "I'm not hungry."

"Not now but I'm sure you will be at some point. A little chicken soup and crackers?"

He refused to look at her; she was being so nice to him and he didn't know how to respond. He was humiliated beyond belief. So he mumbled something that sounded like a 'yes'.

"Try to get some rest." She left and later he heard the front door close.

He looked around at the cottage. It was small, and warm and completely unlike the cold marble of Malfoy Manor. He slowly got to his feet. The stitches they had used to sew him up tugged at his skin and brought tears to his eyes. He broke out in a sweat just by walking slowly and painstakingly to the door. He walked into the living room feeling nauseous again; he dropped to the sofa and curled up on his side taking some deep breaths. When the nausea passed he took in the huge beautiful tree. It smelled wonderful. The warmth from the peat fire was soothing also. The room was decorated with Father Christmases and angels. Malfoy Manor was always done up in full glitter of gold and silver but it lacked this warmth and he found himself liking this warmth. Sighing and feeling more content than he had done in a long time, he closed his eyes.

Hermione found him like that when she returned. She was surprised to see he had made it out onto the sofa. He looked peaceful, the sharp angles of his face relaxed in sleep, his blond hair mussed and falling over his forehead. She realised for the first time ever that he wasn't as ugly as she always thought he was. More likely his sneering smile, insults and nasty words made him appear ugly. Too bad he had such an unpleasant personality.

She grabbed a blanket off the back of the sofa and gently covered him with it. His eyes opened and he looked at her, confused at first.

"How are you feeling?"

He tried to sit up but pain crossed his features and he lay back down. "I'm fine."

She sat down on chair across from him.

"Why aren't you at home with your mother?"

His first impulse was to tell her it was none of her business but then somehow the words just poured out. "She misses my father, she didn't want to stay home so we went to stay with my aunt..." His voice just faltered off.

"So your father is still in jail, so he didn't do this to you."

He almost leapt off the sofa. "Of course he didn't do this to me, he loves me!"

"Your mother then?"

"Sod off Mudblood! My parents would never hurt me!"

Anger flashed through Hermione's eyes. "They're Death Eaters and are teaching you to follow in their path; of course they're hurting you, you're just too brainwashed to see it!"

His silver eyes narrowed and he bolted off the sofa, adrenaline surging through him as he headed for the door. "I can't stay here."

She stood back, shocked by his reaction, but then followed him as he headed out the door in his socks and made it halfway across the yard before dizziness washed over him and he fell to his knees in the snow.

"Don't be ridiculous Malfoy, you're in no condition to go anywhere."

He was breathing harshly but he stubbornly refused to move.

"Look, I'm sorry for insulting your parents and upsetting you like this but you're not staying out here in the cold."

She bent down to grab his arm but he pulled away and glared at her.

She sighed. "Stop acting like some childish brat."

Draco felt like he was going to throw up. As an afterthought he realised how stupid it was to run out the door like he did. He wasn't even dressed properly and he was sick. Now he was wracked with pain and his head hurt and Granger was standing over him berating him. He closed his eyes and hoped he could just pass out.

She knelt down beside him and he felt her arm go around him. "Come on, let's go back inside."

Since unconsciousness didn't seem to be forthcoming, he let her help him to his feet and lead him back inside.

"Do you want to stay on the sofa for a while or go back to bed?"

"Sofa," he whispered.

He bit his lip as he lay down again.

She retrieved her parcels and pulled out a pair of soft grey flannel pyjamas and some other clothes and threw them into the washing machine while she went and prepared a tray for him.

She felt guilty for having upset him so much but she couldn't help wondering who had done this to him. Somehow she had almost suspected Lucius had escaped from Azkaban and had done this but apparently not, judging by Malfoy's reaction. She had always assumed that the Malfoys were the kind of family that used caning as a disciplinary measure. But on the other hand Malfoy had always been a pampered spoiled brat so perhaps both his parents coddled him. That left the mystery of who had done this to him.

She brought the tray out after she took the freshly washed laundry and tossed it into the dryer.

"The injuries on your back, were they caused by dark magic?"

He froze as he lifted the spoon to his mouth. He glanced at her briefly, deciding whether or not to answer. After swallowing a spoonful of soup he responded. "It was the gaugario spell."

"Why would someone do that to you and couldn't your mother stop them?"

He shook his head. "I told you my mother is very upset because my father isn't around; she had been drinking and wasn't herself when Aunt..."

He stopped again looking stonily as his soup.

"Your aunt did this, didn't she?" Hermione said quietly.

He nodded, two spots of colour appearing on his pale cheeks.

Hermione expelled a long breath. "One of your aunts is Bellatrix Lestrange; was she the one?"

He cringed slightly hearing the name. "She's insane."

"What did you do to make her do this to you?"

Malfoy spoke as if in a trance. "She insulted my father, I lost my temper and I told her she was daft - among other things. She hit me with a spell that pinned me face first against a wall and then she sliced me continuously with that spell until I passed out. My mother was with me when I woke up, she said I shouldn't have insulted her sister. She sided with her." He didn't tell Hermione how he had been crying his eyes out from the pain and shock of the beating and how his mother, still drunk, told him to straighten up and be more like his father, or how she had slapped him across the face and split his cheek open with her ring. He knew she hadn't meant it and would never have done that if she had been sober.

"So you ran away," she stated.

He nodded. "I had a bit of money on me so I went for the ferry and came over to Ireland and then took a train. I wanted to get as far away as I could." He blinked furiously.

"You were in shock." She reached out and squeezed his hand. He looked at her suspiciously.

"Why did you help me?" he asked hoarsely.

She smiled softly as she shrugged her shoulders. "Because it's Christmas I suppose. I wasn't going to but then I couldn't get you out of my mind. I couldn't just let you suffer; you're a fellow school mate after all, even if you are an insufferable nasty git all the time."

His mouth twitched as if trying to suppress a grin. "So I owe you one."

"Don't become a Death Eater."

His eyes snapped coldly. "I will become a Death Eater."

"So killing Muggles and people like me is fun for you? You want blood on your hands?"

He looked away again.

"I guess we'd better change the topic before you tear out into the snow again. I think your pyjamas are dry now; you'll feel better once you change into them."

He didn't reply.

She came back and held out the still-warm clothes to him.

He mumbled, "Black would have been better."

She smirked. "Beggars can't be choosers."

He opened his mouth to protest but then, realising again that was currently penniless, he closed his mouth quickly. "As much as I'm sure you'd get a thrill out of seeing me undress, I'm going to have to ask you to leave the room," he stated coldly.

She laughed. "Oh be still my beating heart over the thought of seeing Draco Malfoy in the nude." She laughed again, thoroughly amused, and left the room.

Disgruntled he painstakingly changed clothes.

"Are you decent now?" came her voice from the door.

"I'm always decent," he grumbled.

"Did you put the cream that the nurse gave you on your welts," she grinned devilishly knowing it would embarrass him, "especially on your backside."

He blushed again. It amused her to no end at how easily he got embarrassed, and she would never have thought that of him. But then again he had been raised in the Malfoy household where everything was no doubt very prim and proper.

"Yes I put it on."

"Did you get your back between your shoulders?"

He shook his head. "I couldn't reach there but it doesn't matter."

"It does matter if you want to heal; here I'll put it on you."

He hesitated. It did hurt a lot there. He unbuttoned the top bottoms of his pyjama shirt and let Hermione reach down his back. She gasped when she saw the horrible gashes. "Oh Draco, these are awful, I'm so sorry I didn't realise how much these must hurt."

He realised that she had for the first time actually called him Draco instead of Malfoy, and he found that he didn't mind. He flinched when she touched the first one.

"Sorry, I'll try not to hurt you."

He nodded curtly, gritting his teeth.

When she finished he had turned quite pale again.

To distract him she turned on the TV. His eyes grew wide. "What's that?"

"Oh right; I forgot you've never seen one. It's a television and you can watch shows on it. 'A Christmas Carol' is on and it's a really good movie."

He stared transfixed at it the TV. She got up to answer the phone; this time it was her dad. "Honey we're so sorry but it looks like we're going to spend Christmas apart. We can't get away because of this awful storm. Are you all right?"

"Yes I'm fine but I'll miss you and mum. I ran into someone I go to Hogwarts with."

"Oh good; maybe she can stay and provide you with some company."

Hermione grimaced but didn't have the heart to tell him that it wasn't a she.

Her mother came on the line and she sounded very upset that they wouldn't be spending Christmas together.

When Hermione went back into the living room, Malfoy looked up, his expression worried. "Does he die at the end?"

Hermione frowned. "Who?"

"Tiny Tim?"

"What do you care? He's just a Muggle; in fact once you become a Death Eater you can kill little Muggles like him yourself!" she stated matter of factly.

His eyes flashed ice but he didn't respond.

"You'll have to wait for the ending to see," she explained as she went back into the kitchen. She baked up a batch of shortbread cookies and brought them out as the movie was ending. Malfoy looked upset.

"What's wrong; are you upset because he didn't die, or that the movie had a happy ending?"

He shook his head.

"Money and power isn't everything," she said softly as she put the cookies down beside him.

"What is then?" he fired back at her, his sneer in place. "Being a goody two-shoes Gryffindor?"

"Family, love, peace and friendship," she responded softly.

He didn't look away this time; instead his sneer fell until he looked at her with vulnerability shining from his usually cold gray eyes.

"If you're feeling better have a cookie."

"They smell good."

She smiled at him and for the first time ever in all the years she had known him, he smiled back softly and genuinely.

"Granger..." He paused.

"Hermione...Call me Hermione while we're here."

"Hermione, it feels weird calling you by your first name; you've always been Granger or Mud.." He stopped. "I just wanted to say thanks for letting me stay here."

"You're welcome but you look really tired and I think you should go back to bed and sleep for a bit; after all tonight is Christmas Eve and since you're here maybe we can bake some cookies, sing carols, roast marshmallows or do something fun."

He ignored the voice inside him that had been created over years of lecturing by his parents that screamed 'you can't have fun with a Mudblood, they are filthy'. His pureblooded aunt had hurt him worse than any Mudblood or Muggle ever had.

"Do you know that Bellatrix killed Harry's godfather last year?"

He shook his head.

"She's a horrible woman."

"She's insane," he confirmed.

He slowly made his way back into the bedroom and lay down on the soft sheets. Hermione brought him a hot water bottle and he found himself curling around its warmth as he fell asleep. He felt her pull the blankets around him.

Later that night when he woke up again, they baked more cookies, although Draco was more of a hindrance than a help. He whined continually that house elves should be doing the labour until Hermione gave him an earful on elf rights and he grew silent in fear that she would keep up her rant. She put on music and started singing, and her joyous mood made Draco join in as he sang between mouthfuls of cookies. She slapped his hands away. "Leave some for tomorrow".

They went back into the living room by the fire and Hermione handed him a long stick with a marshmallow on the end. She showed him how to hold it so that it would turn brown but not burn. He realised late into the night that this had been the most fun he had had in a long time and he found himself envying Potter and Weasley for having her friendship.

Hermione was surprised by how much fun she was having with Draco. He could be quite cute and charming when he suppressed the nastiness. She noticed however that he had started to look rather tired and his movements were fewer and fewer.

"Do you need another painkiller?"

"No, they make me feel sick; maybe I should just go to bed, I'm getting really tired."

She jumped up agreeing, "Yes it's getting to be quite late." She helped him up as he grimaced.

"You're still in a lot of pain aren't you?"

"Nothing I can't handle."

She smiled to herself; at that moment he reminded her of Harry. She hoped Harry was ok; she knew the Weasley family would do everything in their power to make sure he had a good Christmas. She knew Ginny would do anything possible to help him.

After he had fallen asleep she pulled out her potions book and threw various herbs and ingredients together. While the potion was brewing she suddenly heard a noise coming from the guestroom. She ran in and found Draco breathing raggedly. She gently shook him and he woke up instantly.

"Are you all right?"

He shivered and slowly sat up; his hand went up to hold his head as he took some deep breaths.

"Did you dream about your aunt?"

He laughed harshly. "No - although that would have made sense. I dreamt of my father and he was like Scrooge and he died."

She couldn't understand how Draco could love a man like Lucius - but then again Draco was a lot like his father. It made her sad thinking that he would continue on in his plan to become a Death Eater even though she had seen another side to him today.

Thinking that he might die fighting for the wrong side all in a misguided brainwashed belief that he would gain power from it made her heart ache. She put her hand on his shoulder, lightly caressing him.

He stared at her hand for a few seconds then swallowed heavily and turned his gray eyes to look, confused, into hers. They sat like that for a moment until Hermione snapped out of the spell of silvery eyes.

She pulled back her hand. "I have a Christmas present for you. I was going to give it to you tomorrow morning when you awoke but since you are awake now it might help." She left him alone for a moment and returned with a bowl and a cloth.

"I brewed up a healing potion that Professor Snape taught us last year. If you put it on all of your wounds they'll heal within an hour. We can also put some on a cloth and put it on your forehead; I think it will heal your concussion."

He smirked. "I wish I'd thought of that."

She grinned wryly. "Well that's why I beat you at Potions last semester."

He scowled but took the bowl while she left the room. She came back later to apply some to areas of his back he couldn't reach and to soak a cloth in it, which she then applied to his forehead by gently sweeping back his hair.

She turned out the lights and was about to exit when she heard him softly say, "Thanks."

The following morning he awoke feeling back to normal. He put on the robe she had bought him and went into the kitchen where she was preparing to cook Christmas dinner. "Happy Christmas Hermione."

She heard the drawling voice and turned to see him leaning against the doorway, his hair was mussed and he had a lazy grin on his face.

"Happy Christmas Draco," she smiled broadly back at him.

While the Christmas meal was slowly cooking they went outside and built a snowman. Draco was a like a little kid; it was obvious that he had never built a snowman before and he was having a blast.

When they went back inside he stopped her at the doorway. Puzzled, she turned to look at him. He seemed hesitant but then suddenly kissed her on the lips. She was shocked and speechless.

He pointed up to the doorframe and she blushed, remembering that she had hung mistletoe there for her parents. He shrugged. "It seemed like the thing to do."

She laughed and shook her head at him. For some reason she felt incredibly light-headed. Light-headed but pleased.

Christmas went by and after receiving a phone call from her parents, who could finally come the following day, she turned sadly to the blond Slytherin.

"It's ok, I've been thinking that I could owl Professor Snape - he would probably let me stay with him until school starts again."

Hermione smiled sadly. "I guess that would be best. I'm glad you're feeling better."

His eyes looked sad. "I owe you one Granger."

She frowned. "More like two or three, I think."

He grinned. After receiving a return owl from Snape along with some money, Draco stood at the door of the cottage.

"I'll see you around Granger."

"I didn't think I'd ever say this but it's been fun, Malfoy."

He nodded; then, with a mischievous smirk, he looked up at the mistletoe. "Isn't it Christmas custom to kiss the person standing under it?"

"Not if they're an insufferable git."

His hand came up to his heart. "Ouch; that hurts Granger."

"I didn't know you were so sensitive Malfoy." She leaned in closely and kissed him softly. He smiled at her again then, with a wave of his hand, he left.

She didn't know if she'd ever see him like this again or if he'd revert back to his nasty self once at Hogwarts but she was grateful that she had seen another side to him and that she had shown him another side to a Mudblood. Perhaps in some small way her helping him would made a difference in the future. She looked up at the starry sky and silently made that wish.

"Mark my footsteps, my good page, tread now in them boldly,
You shall find the winter's rage free ze your blood less coldly."

Good King Wenceslas : John M. Neale (1818-1866)