Congratulations anon! Your prompt was my favorite out of the ones I received so it gets posted on here! I hope you enjoy and merry Christmas!

Prompt: Ooh! Will you do a prompt where Draco and Hermione have been dating for a while and Draco finally mustered up the courage to ask Hermioneto go home with him during Christmas and she explores his house while they're there

Christmas with the Malfoy's

Hermione's half-lidded eyes fell upon the sleeping figure beside her. Dawn was breaking and the morning birds had begun their peaceful melody. Hues of orange and pink illuminated the sky, sending streaks of sunlight through the emerald green curtains of Draco's window. A light frost of snow covered the sweeping grounds.

The witch smiled to herself as her lover slept on, oblivious to the world. She always woke early, and enjoyed the few hours she had to herself to watch him sleep, catch up on her reading, and make the two of them breakfast.

Draco and Hermione were made Head Boy and Girl at the beginning of their seventh year, and had secretly been dating since half-way through their six year. Since the start of the year, they had taken to stowing themselves away in her dormitory as much as possible.

A grumble in Hermione's stomach told her she would skip her morning reading, and start making breakfast. Wrapping a sheet around her bare body, she crept quietly out of the room, stealing one last look at the blonde tucked away in their bed.

The smell of coffee and bacon crept into Draco's nostrils, rousing him from dreamland. The sheets were still warm with slumber, though her side was bare. He squinted his eyes at the blinding sunlight as he sat up and yawned. His skin prickled outside of the comfort of his sheets and he pulled his jumper over his head, slowly stretching as he did so.

Clumsily, he stumbled into the living area to find his witch humming to herself, nursing a cup of coffee and poking at the bacon sizzling on the pan. She didn't hear him walk up to her.

His arms wound around her waist, his face burrowing into the crook of her neck. She jumped, sloshing coffee onto the pearl white linoleum tiles.

"Draco! I'm cooking bacon!" she scolded halfheartedly.

"And it smells amazing." his words muffled by her coffee locks.

She turned to face him, planted a firm kiss upon his lips and smiled. "Coffee?"

December came quickly. Tinsel and Christmas trees lined the halls of Hogwarts. Students caught snogging under mistletoe. Blankets of snow hadn't left the ground in over a week.

On December 5th, Draco stared at Hermione steadily during their dinner. The fireplace crackled, filling the silence between them. Her olive skin dazzled in the glow of the orange flames, her eyes dancing with life.

She chewed slowly, only to look up and caught him staring at her.

With a puzzled expression she asked, "What?"

He reached across the small table and took her hand in his, their fingers lacing together as they'd done so many times before. Rough on smooth. Reassuring on comfort.

"I have something to ask you." he drawled, his thumb moving in slow rhythmic circles on the back of her hand.

"Go on then."

"Would you do the honor of accompanying me to the Manor for the holidays?" he proposed, feeling beside himself.

She sat back in her seat, drawing in a sharp breath. She let go of his hand. "Draco-"

"My father's in Azkaban. And my mother...I've told her about us. She's actually excited to meet you. Properly."

"Will...she be there?" Hermione asked with uncertainty.

Malfoy shook his head. "Azkaban." a smirk tracing his lips.

Hermione took another deep breath. "And you'll stay by my side?"

"For every minute." he assured her.

Hermione paced their room. Blame it on her desire to be thorough or the nerves that had invaded her body since Draco asked her to go home with him for Christmas, but Hermione found herself checking her belongings for the umpteenth time.

The sky was gray, the clouds heavy with un-fallen snow. The trees creaked in the subtle wind. A lone owl hooted softly in the distance. Everything else was silent.

Draco pushed open the door to find his witch sitting criss-cross on their bed with a troubled expression etched on her features.

He sat himself behind her, spreading his legs and pulling her to him. A shiver shot down her spin, reverberating against his skin and he pulled the duvet over them.

"You alright?" he asked as he peppered kisses across the base of her neck.

"I'm always alright." she murmured.

"Hermione." his tone firm.

She sighed. "Alright, fine. I'm a tad bit nervous. Happy?"

His lips curved into frown against her skin. "Not until you are."

Students filed past their compartment as they struggled to find a seat. Hermione and Draco had managed to find a compartment at the back of the train. They sat side by side, her slim legs draped across his.

She caught a glimpse of red-hair and looked up to find Ron staring angrily at them before stalking off.

"Weasley still not over you?" Draco asked, slightly amused.

Hermione whacked him lightly on the shoulder. "Don't find humor in his pain, Draco. But no, he's not. Though he has no right to be angry. He spent sixth year snogging Lavender...he had plenty of chances to tell me how he felt"

"Granger, relax. You promised you'd relax during the train ride." he insisted, planting feathery kisses to her knuckles.

The rest of the train ride passed with no interruptions, save Ginny visiting and asking Hermione if she was absolutely sure she didn't want to come to The Burrow.

After filling their stomachs with sweets, Hermione had rested her head on the young wizard's shoulder and fell asleep.

Hermione stirred after an hour or so and craned her neck to plant a kiss on her wizard's jawline.

"How long was I asleep for?" she asked, rubbing her eyes.

"Only an hour."

"Hmmm." she hummed.

Her eyes caught his exposed forearm and her breathing hitched. He followed her gaze and his expression turned grim.

"It's faded a bit." she noted, stroking the mark with her forefinger.

"So has yours." Malfoy commented, nodding to her forearm.

Hermione rolled up her sleeve and stared at the mark thoughtfully. "Yes, it has."

To her surprise, Draco gripped her shoulder and turned her body towards his so they were facing one another. His soft gray eyes bore into hers.

"They don't mean anything, Granger. They're just a...fading reminder o darker times. That's over now. They don't define us." he sounded so sincere, so comforting as she gazed at him.

"I know." she cooed as he embraced her, gripping her tight.

The train slowed to a stop and Hermione glanced nervously out the window. Narcissa stood waiting on the platform, looking graceful and poised.

"Ready?" the male voice called beside her.

"Ready." Hermione confirmed with a nod of her head.

The Manor looked different now. Maybe it was the snow that covered its surroundings, or the knowledge that those dark, torturous times were long gone. A fresh start. It was this thought alone that soothed her nerves.

Much to Hermione's relief, they had apparated to the manor, which meant she didn't have to endure conversation. But now she was here for the next twelve days and her mind became preoccupied with the realization she'd have to converse with Narcissa at some point.

The matriarch led them into Draco's childhood home, and politely asked Draco to help Hermione unpack her things.

"Lunch will be in an hour." her voice chimed through the entrance hall.

Hermione cupped her sweaty palm in his steady one, as they ascended the large staircase.

"Where will I be sleeping Draco?" Hermione asked, unsure of where to look first.

The floors were made of dark marble, while pure white pillars supported the high ceilings. Pictures of ancestors lined the walls, making the hairs on Hermione's neck stand on end. Velvet green drapes hid the large windows.

"In my room, of course." he said with a furrow of his nearly invisible eyebrows, as if the answer was obvious.

"We're allowed?" she asked with wide eyes.

Draco laughed. "Granger we're both of age. We can do what we like."

The first four days passed uneventful. But on the fifth day, Draco had forgotten he promised Blaise they would play a game of Quidditch.

"So I'm going to be alone with your mother?" Hermione whispered, crossing her arms over chest.

Draco rolled his eyes as he packed his robes. "Hermione, you're going to be fine. My mother is a busy woman, you might not even see her. You know where our library is, you should be set for the day."

He shot her a smirk as she continued to scowl at him.

"Well some warning would have been nice!" she hissed, checking to make sure the matriarch wasn't around.

The blonde slung his bag over his shoulder and a planted a quick kiss on her temple.

"You'll be fine. I'll be back before dinner." he whispered in her ear.

She felt a blush rise in her cheeks as his breath tickled against her skin as she pushed him out his bedroom door. He shot her a quick smile and descended the stairs.

Hermione stood in his bedroom, still attired in her pajamas. She had practically the whole day to herself and an entire library to explore. Maybe she would get lucky and completely avoid Mrs. Malfoy.

It wasn't that she disliked the elder Malfoy. It's just that encounters between them had been brief and awkward. Narcissa hadn't said much, yet had been hospitable the entire time. Hermione felt welcomed but not accepted.

Pushing thoughts of her boyfriend's mother aside, Hermione grabbed her robe and wrapped it around her. She let her feet carry her to the first floor before she started winding down hallways, admiring the art work of the Manor.

She had become so lost in her thoughts that she didn't see Narcissa walking towards her. It wasn't until she bumped into the matriarch that she noticed her presence.

"Oh! Mrs. Malfoy, I'm so sorry. I was just...admiring the art work." Hermione breathed.

Narcissa offered her a small smile. "It is lovely art work isn't it?"

The younger witch nodded nervously. As Narcissa stared at her, Hermione suddenly felt silly in her robe. She just wanted to be in the library.

"I was heading to the kitchen for some tea, would you care to join me?" Narcissa asked.

Hermione knew this wasn't a question. The only answer was yes. With that in mind, the brunette followed the elder witch into the kitchen.

Hermione watched Narcissa stir the two steaming mugs of tea with a bundle of nerves nested in her stomach. Neither had said a word, which was driving Hermione insane. As if reading her mind, Narcissa cleared her throat and placed a mug in front of the nervous witch.

"Hermione," her name sounded odd on Narcissa's tongue. "I'm not going to pretend that I understand why my son loves you. And that was...my mistake, perhaps, for not telling Draco to invite you over sooner. But I am learning to understand...And so far, I see you make him happy." A small smile twisted upon her ruby red lips.

"I know I don't give off this impression," Narcissa sipped her tea. "but I care very much about my son's happiness."

The younger witch knew she wanted to say more, and perhaps couldn't. It was clear that Narcissa wasn't used to being so open. She nodded as she stared into the older witch's light blue eyes, taking in her unsaid words.

"I love your son very much, Mrs. Malfoy." Hermione reassured, resisting the urge to reach out and grab the hand that belonged to Mrs. Malfoy.

Narcissa nodded before taking a deep breath and placing her mug back down. She looked around, seemingly uncomfortable in her own home.

"Well, Hermione, I have a few things to attend to today. If you need anything, just call one of our house elves." Narcissa said.

As the elder witch was leaving, she turned around and called out. "And Hermione? Call me Narcissa."

Hermione inhaled a deep breath as she entered the Malfoys' library. She felt at home here. Surrounded by books and comfy chairs and sunlight. With such a large selection, however, Hermione wasn't quite sure where to begin.

So she resorted to her oldest method by starting at the first row and winding her way through the dusty shelves.

Chestnut eyes flickered back and forth as they took in book titles. Her fingertips skimmed across worn out spines. Every so often, she'd pull a book out, inspect it and add it to the growing stack in her arms.

She had just made her second trip back to a table she had picked out; hidden by shelves and right next to a large window. The book-lover returned to her spot amongst the shelves and presumed browsing, humming to herself.

Hermione's interest peeked at a royal purple spine with no lettering. She moved to tug it out of it's place but yelped when a load groan sounded from somewhere behind the shelving unit that sat against the wall. The shelving unit retracted and proceeded to slide to the right.

A passageway made of stone wide enough to fit four people standing side by side lit by candles was revealed. Her conscience told her to just walk away and return to her table with the comfort of books awaiting. But like always, her curiosity got the best of her. Slowly, Hermione wandered down the passageway, her wand out in front of her at all times.

The curious witch walked for another fifteen minutes before stumbling upon a wooden door. Hermione studied her surroundings. Nothing but the door, stones, and a candle perched on each wall. Taking a chance, she reached for the door knob, giving it a small turn.

It wouldn't budge.

Hermione scolded herself for thinking it would be that simple. Next she tried alohamora and when that didn't work, she began tapping the stones surrounding her.

After a few minutes, her efforts proved futile. No matter how many various patterns she attempted, the door remained closed. Her eyes scanned the walls again, watching the candle light flicker.

The candles!

Smiling to herself, she reached up and tugged on the brass candle holder. The first candle ended in no result, so Hermione moved on to the second one.

She watched the wooden door swing open. This room was dark, with only her wand light casting an eerie white glow over its contents. With her heart pounding in her chest, Hermione stepped carefully into the room. As soon as she stepped in, more candles sparked to life.

The hidden room was quite small, made with the same stone as the passageway. As Hermione glanced around, her mouth dropped open in shock. There were pictures of a woman who was most certainly not Narcissa, everywhere. Portraits, moving pictures in intricate frames, photo albums laid open.

Hermione knelt down and moved a leather bound photo album onto her lap. The woman was eccentric looking; dark chocolate wavy locks framed her thin face. The strange woman's eyes were a piercing bright blue-green with high cheek bones and pale skin.

There were pictures of her laughing, sleeping, sipping butterbeer in a crowded pub, opening Christmas presents and...smiling at Lucius Malfoy. An inaudible gasp escaped her dry lips and Hermione continued to flip through the album. More photographs like the first two pages stared up at her. Lucius and this woman hugging, kissing, holding hands and walking down a snowy lane. She had never seen the fearful patriarch look so happy and relaxed.

Hermione set the photo album down and scanned the contents that surrounded her. A smaller, black book caught her eye and she picked it up, opening to the first page.

September 1972

Genevieve and I just returned from Italy. She was amazed by apparition. She insisted I apparate us everywhere.

Hermione read each entry, unable to believe what she was reading. She put the journal down next to the album, and once again glanced around the room.

A stone basin caught her eye. She rose from her spot on the floor and wandered over to it. On a shelf next to the basin filled with smoky liquid stood vials filled with light blue swirling liquid. And that was when she realized; the basin was a pensieve.

The witch bit her bottom lip, hesitant on invading Lucius' privacy. But he wasn't here. He was locked in some cell, withering away. She threw caution to the wind and picked the vial with the oldest date; 1961.

Pouring the liquid in, Hermione stuck her head beneath the surface and felt her feet leave the stone floor.

Hermione found herself in a field, a clear blue sky above her. To her left, two shrieks of laughter came from a distance. Followed by two young children running at full speed, smiles on their faces. The boy, Hermione saw as they drew closer, had platinum blonde hair, while the girl had those familiar dark chocolate locks. A few feet away from her, the pair collapsed, chests heavy and a film of sweat covering their young faces in the mid-summer heat.

The little girl plucked a few blades of grass from the ground and held them in her palm.

"Do it again, Lucius."

The boy sat up and focused hard on the green strips. A few seconds passed before the blades stood straight up and began to sway back and forth. The girl shrieked in delight.

The two laid back down.

"Promise me we'll stay friends, Lucius?" she said, glancing sideways at him.

"I promise as long as you promise not to tell anyone about my secret." he replied.

She watched the little girl smile.

"I promise."

The memory started to fade and Hermione found herself back on the stone floor.

Hermione grabbed another vial and another. She watched as Lucius' history unfolded with this Genevieve. She watched Lucius sneak her into his home, showing her what he had learned the previous school year. She watched as they kissed and exchanged Christmas presents, as she taught him how to use muggle inventions.

One last vial, she told herself.

"Genevieve please don't do this! I beg you..." Lucius' voice cracked as he stood in front of an indifferent looking Genevieve.

His eyes were red with tears, his cheeks pale and his hair a silky mess of tangles.

"It's over, Lucius. Leave me alone. Just...don't bother me anymore." she hissed, turning on her heel and stalking off into a place Hermione couldn't see.

She watched as Lucius stood there, crying, watching this girl walk away from him, never looking back.

Hermione sat on the floor of the room once more. Lucius Malfoy had been in love with a muggle-born. Lucius Malfoy had his heart broken by a muggleborn.

As sad as the last memory was, Hermione smiled. The patriarch was once free of prejudice, even rebelled against his father's views from what she saw in the memories. It was unfortunate that she broke his heart, that it triggered all of the senseless prejudice he had been fed over the years. But seeing all of this, the memories, the pictures, the diary entries...it gave her hope.

Maybe Lucius wouldn't always hate her. Maybe he would see she had no intention of breaking his sons's heart. Maybe someday, he would accept her.

A/N: Okay so I hope this was alright for you anon! I've had this headcanon in my mind lately, even though I know it would probably never happen. This was the perfect chance to use it!