Oh...oh, hi there. Well, it's been a while. Hasn't it? I'm still doing some original writing but I thought I'd pop in with a bit of holiday themed fun. This will be a short multi-chapter fic. Just a little something that I've been using as a break from my original work. Editing is tedious and these characters are so familiar. I hope you enjoy. Please read and review.

As always, these characters are not mine.

One

If Draco had been to one Ministry event, he swore he'd been to them all. The same music, the same faces, the same decorations at every holiday—it never changed.

Christmas was the worst of them all. One had to dodge magicked mistletoe and every year they always asked to borrow some of his house elves. He said yes, of course. The little creatures absolutely loved the extra baking and it scored him bonus points in improving his family's reputation.

"Why do we come to this every year," he sighed to his mother after he'd handed over their tickets to the doorman.

"Because it shows that we're in tune with the Ministry's mission to modernize and it's good exposure for you, dear."

Narcissa patted his arm with her free hand and she smiled wanly up at her son. They both knew the truth of it. Business was business and in order to keep their name in a good light, they had to play the game. Malfoy Industries had struggled to even exist after the war and it had been Draco's duty and sole desire to see that it didn't go down in flames. A bit difficult for a company such as the one his father had created, which specialized in all sorts of devious monetary exchanges, but he'd managed. With his father's imprisonment, the company was in his hands. The company now specialized in buying and selling magical artifacts and design. It was a lucrative business and entirely honest now.

"They've seated us one table up this year," his mother quipped as they stopped at a round table, their nameplates next to those of Neville Longbottom and his wife.

"What joy," Draco muttered dryly. The public opinion of him and his mother seemed content to be split. Some acknowledged his redemption and others merely supposed his hands were just as dirty as his father's had been, no matter how much he bit his tongue and allowed the Ministry to inspect his company at whim.

Narcissa ignored his lack of enthusiasm and helped herself to her seat. She draped her wrap over the back of her chair and looked up at him. "Be a dear and bring me a glass of champagne, won't you, Draco?"

Draco grunted but strode off to the bar to procure her drink without argument. He scowled at the sprigs of mistletoe which grew over random couples without warning, prompting giggling from the willing suspects. As he approached the bar, he spied a familiar head of messy black hair and rolled his eyes.

"Potter," he muttered as he stood next to the wizard and waited to gain the attention of the bartender.

Harry Potter turned to him, pushing his glasses up his nose with a finger before he gave him a nod. "Malfoy. Keeping your nose clean, yeah?"

"I should think so," Draco drawled as he held up two fingers to the bartender. "You don't see me in your office, do you?"

Harry's features morphed into a genial smile and he bumped shoulders with his old nemesis. "Aw, you act like we don't like each other. I'm hurt."

"Piss off, Potter," Draco smirked in return. "You know well enough that I still think you're a tosser."

"The feeling is mutual."

Draco glanced over Harry's shoulder at the new addition to the conversation and frowned at the freckled face of Ronald Weasley.

"You can get bent, Weasley."

Ron held a hand over his heart in mock hurt, "Oh, I'm so shocked. Malfoy still hates me. Call St. Mungo's, Harry. I'm going to need help."

"You need help alright," Draco muttered as he accepted two glasses of champagne from the bartender. "Where are your screaming banshees for wives anyhow? They let you two out for the holiday on good behavior?"

Ron smirked as he folded his arms over his chest. "At least we have wives, Malfoy. Last I checked your mummy was still parading you around trying to pawn you off on some poor witch."

"Ron," Harry shook his head, lips pressed into a thin line.

It wasn't a lie and even Draco knew it. Five years on after the war, their world was healing rapidly and people were pairing off. Each of the two dunderheads before him had been married within the last year.

"Pardon me, Weasley, but I think I'll take my bachelorhood to your self-imposed hell with that Brown bint. Potter, you got off easy I'd say. Weaselette is the only sane one of that whole family. Only one with a shred of quidditch talent, too."

Draco turned before either could respond and stalked off back to his mother who appeared to be attempting to chat with a rather nervous looking Longbottom and his wife.

Ron made a rude hand gesture to his back before he turned back to Harry. "Say what you want about him but I still think he's a git."

Harry snorted as he brought his glass of firewhiskey to his lips. "Nothing new there."

"Hey, did you get a chance to talk to her before her meeting with Kingsley this afternoon?"

Harry shook his head as they began the walk back to the table where their wives were waiting. "No, I ran into her long enough for a hug but she promised to meet us for lunch tomorrow and tell us all about Paris."

"Paris," Ron muttered with a shake of his head. "No idea why she took that bloody job anyway. Her family and friends were all here. Even that bleeding cat she loves so much."

"You know well enough why she took the job," Harry told him, a pointed brow lifted high on his forehead.

Ron's face flushed at that and he dipped his chin to his chest. "Alright, so maybe I do. I shouldn't have proposed to her so soon. We were too young then."

"And wrong for each other," Harry added. "Don't forget that. Her parents will be happy to have her back in the country full time now though. Merlin knows arranging the floo calls for them was a pain in the arse."

"Well, at least we'll get to see her a little tonight. She is coming, isn't she?"

Harry nodded, "Of course. But you know once the Daily Prophet photographer," he pointed to the corner near the stage where a wizard was polishing the lens of his camera, "gets sight of her that people won't leave her be."

"Would you," Ginny grinned once they took their seats. "She's been gone for four years now on that job and outside of us, hardly anyone has seen her."

Kingsley chose that moment to step up to the stage and give his holiday speech at the podium. All eyes were on him as he told a few jokes and regaled the audience with some of the Ministry's holiday hijinks the public didn't get to see.

But Draco wasn't listening. It was the same drivel to him as always. Instead, his eyes caught sight of movement in the ballroom's entryway. He saw her before anyone else did. His jaw dropped minutely and he blinked to make sure he wasn't hallucinating.

She stood unseen, biting her red painted lips unsurely as she surveyed the crowd. Her dress was red to match her lips and contoured to her body until it reached her waist where it flared out and ended just above her knees. The sleeves were capped at her slender shoulders and were it not for the kindness in her eyes, he'd swear she was a Christmas vixen. Whatever the style was, it was assuredly muggle.

In an odd moment of fate, they locked eyes as she studied the crowd still focused on the Minister. Draco swallowed but kept his features neutral, fearing she'd interpret any slight change the wrong way. She blinked and looked away quickly.

Hermione Granger descended the steps as quietly as possible, making her way silently through the crowd as she approached the table where her two best friends were seated. The room broke out in a murmur of whispers and Kingsley must have noticed as he began wrapping up his speech.

Narcissa nudged Draco with her elbow discreetly and leaned over. "Is that…the Granger girl?"

He swallowed again as the room erupted into polite applause and many people took the end of Kingsley's speech as their cue to envelop Granger in greetings.

Most hadn't had the luxury of seeing the female third of the golden trio in person since she left England. She'd worked one year at the Ministry and dated that ginger rodent before she abruptly left the country for a liaison position at the French Ministry just as news of their breakup hit the papers.

Draco didn't realize he was staring as he nodded. "Yes, it appears so," was all he could manage.

Narcissa studied her son closely and stole another look at the witch for herself. She was on the short side, as she remembered the girl, and those curls were at least somewhat managed. She was slender and lacked the decorum Narcissa sought in most others as she observed the witch tip her head back in a loud guffaw at something the Potter boy said to her.

It would do well for Draco to make nice with her. For one, her son had the tendency to be rather broody. She wanted his conscience to be free. And it never hurt to make good business connections.

"You should speak to her, Draco. I know you sent her a letter of thanks for her testimonial at your trial but you really should thank her in person. It's polite."

Draco glanced at his mother finally, one pale brow ticked high. "Did you somehow steal another glass…or three…of champagne without my knowing? I can't speak to her. She's likely to slap me like she did our third year."

Narcissa appeared unamused and merely tipped her chin in that all-too-familiar stubbornness which was usually how she got her way. "Draco, it would be good for your soul to make amends officially. You know how I worry over you and your future. Your magic has known too much darkness."

He rolled his eyes to the bewitched ceiling and scowled at the cherubs chasing one another around sprigs of mistletoe. However, he stood without further argument and left the table without another word.

"I'm cancelling her bloody subscription to Witch Weekly," he muttered to himself as he weaved through the crowd of partiers.

With some time, it seemed that people were allowing the poor witch some air though interest in her reappearance in British wizarding society was likely to remain beyond just this Ministry function. Draco could hear the band striking up a familiar holiday tune in the background and couples were rushing past him to fill the middle of the room turned dancefloor.

He paused a few tables away, watching discreetly as she hugged Dean Thomas and Ernie MacMillian who were hovering. Draco nearly physically flinched when Potter caught his eyes. Harry smirked at him before he leaned over and whispered something in his wife's ear. Ginny Potter then turned to look at him as well and her own grin grew. The couple stood from the table and began moving in his direction, to dance it would seem. Draco stepped to the side to clear their path but they stopped in front of him.

"Malfoy, fancy seeing you here," Ginny grinned at him.

"Yes, because I'm determined to try once again to charm you away from Potter," he smirked at his former classmate.

Harry just rolled his eyes at him, completely used to the blonde's joking by now. "In your dreams, Malfoy."

Draco was unfazed when they brushed past him and took up a spot on the dancefloor. Soon enough, Weasley and his banshee of a wife shuffled by as well and for one blessed moment she was alone.

He approached with caution, careful not to startle as she stood sipping a glass of champagne and observing the couples dancing.

"Finally catch a breath," he managed to say, but his throat was tight with nerves.

Hermione looked up at him and found herself a little startled by his sudden appearance. He was exactly as she last saw him—all sharp angles which he'd grown into since childhood and pale features.

Draco spoke not a word as her eyes carefully took in his appearance. Time healed some wounds and merely lessened the pain of others. He no longer had a single thing he could mock about her appearance and hadn't for some time.

"You look well, Malfoy," she nodded, as if giving her stamp of approval on a work of art. "And yes, thankfully. I tried not to cause a scene but clearly guessed wrong."

"Fancy that," Draco drawled before he could stop himself, "Hermione Granger wrong about something."

She tipped her head curiously, eyes narrowed and focused on his own grey ones. "It's rare but I'm not perfect."

Draco opened his mouth to respond but snapped it shut with a click of his teeth and watched as she glanced around him, something catching her attention and his brow furrowed when she groaned.

"Merlin, not him."

He managed a quick glance over his shoulder to find Cormac McLaggen striding rather ungracefully through the crowd. The man was bumping into people left and right in his haste to reach her and looked like a fool doing so.

Spurred by momentary insanity or borrowed Gryffindor courage, he'd never know, Draco held his hand out to her, palm up.

"It's me or him, though I'll admit I'm very few people's favorite."

Hermione focused on his pale hand, large and noticeably bare on his ring finger.

"A snake or a rat in lion's skin," she muttered with a shake of her head as she set her glass on the table. "I'll take my chances with the snake."

Draco couldn't help his amusement when she placed her hand in his but managed not to allow it to slow him down. He turned and pulled her along, managing a smirk for McLaggen who paused to watch them pass.

The tune changed to a mellow number perfect for swaying as they reached the dancefloor. Draco turned to her and carefully rested a hand on her waist. He felt the burn of her warm skin against his when she gripped his hand, her other coming up to rest on his bicep.

She looked anywhere but him for the first few bars of the song but he found himself unable to look away from her. Her hair was a bit shorter than he recalled, the curls bouncing just past her shoulders. She still favored parting her hair to one side and he wondered about the rose gold snowflake she'd used to pin one side back.

Draco cleared his throat and she turned her focus back to him. "I take it from your reappearance that you've transferred back to this Ministry here?" He spoke loud enough for the couples dancing near them to hear.

Hermione lifted a pointed brow but nodded, "I have. It was time really. Paris was lovely for a while but I missed home and my parents."

"And you finally forgave the ginger rodent for calling things off?" He ticked a pale brow high when she narrowed her eyes at him in silent warning. He smirked. "I can read, Granger. Most everyone assumed when the news of your transfer and your breakup emerged at the same time that you were distancing yourself from certain people."

Hermione grumbled something under her breath. "I won't deny needing my space but things have been fine between Ron and me for ages now. Besides, it was mutual. We were wrong for each other."

He snorted and smirked down at her. "Well, I could have told you that."

"Because you know me so well, Malfoy," she quipped hotly.

He lifted his shoulder in a shrug before he released one of her hands to twirl her. He brought her right back smoothly and smirked. "True but keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Besides, you're too good for him."

It was her turn to lift an incredulous brow as she swayed with him, neither aware of any curious onlookers, particularly his mother as they struck up a comfortable banter with one another.

"Do be careful, Malfoy or I might begin to believe you have some measure of respect for me."

He swallowed and released her for one more twirl, but this time pulling her a bit closer. "It's Draco and perhaps I do."

Hermione softened slightly in his hold, unable to look away from his eyes. She'd not known what to think when she saw him picking his way through the crowd to her. Minus what she heard about him or his mother in the Prophet she still maintained a subscription to, she could tell the years had been rough for him. It wasn't in his face, as she hated to admit it but he'd grown into those pointy features. And thankfully, it wasn't in his hair which he chose to still crop short unlike his father. It was in his eyes. She could see the years of struggle, the stress from doing everything possible to change people's minds about him.

"Draco," she copied him. She savored the taste of his name on her tongue. "That would be quite the improvement," she tipped her head curiously again, "But I have it on good authority that you've done quite a bit of that over the years."

The song ended and everyone clapped politely. Draco released his hold on her, but not really wanting to. She felt warm in his hands and he'd not realized just how cold he truly was.

"I assume you had a reason for seeking me out that had nothing to do with trying to ask me to dinner or nosing into my business," she commented when they separated.

Draco ran the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip and nodded. "I wanted to thank you."

Hermione's brows lifted high. "Thank me?"

He nodded, undeterred by her confusion. His eyes shifted pointedly to where his mother was speaking with some older witches a few tables away. "Yes, for speaking on my behalf. I never had the opportunity to do so in person and I wanted to say thank you."

She drew the corner of her lower lip between her teeth as she followed his gaze. She nodded once she understood.

"You already thanked me. You wrote me a letter."

His lip curled slightly against his best efforts to control the reaction. "Accept it or not, Granger."

Instead of becoming indignant at his tone, her mouth curled in amusement and she nodded. "You're welcome, Draco. And don't you think you can call me Hermione?"

Draco opened his mouth to respond but was cut short by the supposed 'rat in lion's skin'.

"Hermione," Cormac greeted with a wide grin as he sidled up to the two of them. "Good to see you back. I was hoping to take you lunch. Maybe this weekend? Hear about your time in France and all that."

Draco watched the expression in her eyes waver and could tell she wanted to roll them at the git. However, she smiled kindly, preparing some sort of response.

"It's good to see you as well," she lied. "I'd really love to but—"

"She can't," Draco interrupted before he could stop himself. She bit her lip as she locked gazes with him, imploring him to continue with whatever tactic he had to get her out of it. "She can't because...she's already agreed to have lunch with me."

Cormac's face twisted into an unattractive scowl as he finally acknowledged the blond. He rested his hands on his hips and glanced between them.

"Seriously? Like I'd believe that. Hermione wouldn't want to spend time with a prick like you."

"But I did agree to lunch," she interrupted this time, nodding towards Draco. "Draco was going to tell me about his business buying and selling artifacts. I've a new flat to furnish, you see, and he's offered his help in obtaining some items for me."

"Exactly," Draco agreed. "Now scamper off, McLaggen. You're ruining what little Christmas cheer I have left and it's only December 2nd. I still have at least twenty-three days left to morph into Scrooge and most wouldn't like to expedite the process."

Cormac muttered something rather rude under his breath and stalked off through the crowd.

"Tosser," Draco snorted. He glanced back down at the witch in front of him. "Furnishing your flat?"

Hermione shrugged, "It was the best I could think of and once I said it, I realized it wasn't a terrible idea if you're up for it."

Draco eyed her outstretched hand and grasped it in a firm shake. "It's a deal."

The light chiming of bells drew their attention above their heads. A bit of mistletoe was tangling above them, wrapped with red ribbon and two tiny bells. Draco scowled at it, afraid of looking down to see her reaction. They'd have to kiss or the bloody thing wouldn't let them go.

Hermione was biting her lip when he chanced a look but she didn't appear disgusted as one might have expected. Instead, she merely shook her head and braced a hand on his shoulder without warning. Draco held his breath as she came closer, the scent of her perfume now evident. Something floral and calming and he wanted to bathe in it.

Hermione noticed the stiffness in his posture but ignored it. He may not want this little display but they had little choice. She carefully pressed her lips against his cheek for a short count of three before dropping back to her heels.

Upon seeing his stunned expression, she smiled kindly. "The Ministry in Paris was rather fond of the magicked mistletoe as well. I can tell you that one time getting slobbered on by some half-drunk dolt was enough for me to research it a bit further. A kiss on the cheek is sufficient to be released from the spell. Most people just interpret it rather literally."

Draco nodded, wide-eyed and cleared his throat. "Give your academic brain my thanks," he muttered robotically. "I'll owl you about lunch."

Hermione nodded, her hand coming to her mouth to hide her amusement at his reaction as he turned on heel and stalked back across the ballroom.