Summary: Every year, Hermione receives a mysterious Christmas gift. Every year, Draco denies knowing anything about it.

Monday, December 21, 1998

It all started 8th year.

The first term was drawing to a close and Hogwarts was abuzz with students and professors alike preparing for the upcoming holiday break. Everywhere you looked, someone was rushing to finish a last minute assignment or packing to go home. The 8th year dormitories were no different.

A surprising number of students had opted to return to complete their final year, making the new dorms a necessity. Luckily, the Room of Requirement had been up to the task even after the devastation the room of hidden things had suffered during the battle.

While Harry and Ron had jumped at the opportunity to go straight into Auror training and some students had still managed to sit and pass their NEWT exams over the summer, the rest longed for some sense of normalcy after the horrors of the prior year and Hogwarts, now led by Headmistress McGonagall, had been there to welcome them back with open arms.

Hermione had received the same offer as Harry and Ron. Really, she could have had her pick of any job she wanted to train for at the Ministry to hear Minister Shacklebolt tell it, but she'd turned it down, wanting to do things in the proper order and return to the comfort of something she knew after all the unknowns of the prior year.

Neville had also been offered a job at the Ministry, but he, too, had turned it down. After spending the latter half of his 7th year in hiding from the Carrows, he'd wanted his memories of his last year at Hogwarts to be something positive.

Judging from the way he'd hit it off with Hannah Abbott after their return, it was obvious he didn't regret that decision.

Dean Thomas had never had a 7th year to begin with, having been on the run because of his blood status. Neither had Susan Bones whose parents had taken her abroad after the murder of her aunt Amelia.

Seamus Finnegan was in much the same boat as Neville and hadn't been ready to leave Hogwarts behind just yet.

The Patil twins had returned as well, though their reasons were unknown. The two kept mostly to themselves, the loss of their friend Lavender Brown in the battle weighing heavily upon them.

Theodore Nott was a bit of an oddity, the only Slytherin to voluntarily return. He made no secret of his hatred for his father and everything he had stood for. In fact, he'd been a key witness in the trials against several of the surviving Death Eaters over the summer. He'd decided to return because Hogwarts was the safest place for him for now until the aurors managed to round up the last few of Voldemort's followers who had managed to escape.

And finally, there was Draco Malfoy, back at Hogwarts because it had been that or house arrest for his crimes during the war. He'd probably have ended up serving a sentence in Azkaban alongside his parents had it not been for Potter playing the hero once more and testifying on behalf of both Draco and Narcissa at their trials. Her sentence of only one year in Azkaban was thanks to that testimony, as well. Lucius, on the other hand, was likely to rot there before ever being eligible for release.

Draco had been given a choice. He could submit to house arrest at the manor, guarded by one of the aurors, or, thanks to the alternative offered by Minerva McGonagall, he could return to Hogwarts and finish his education under her watchful eye and at the end of the year, his behavior would be evaluated.

Headmistress McGonagall was a far more preferable jailor than some nameless auror. He essentially had the same freedom as any other student, provided he check in with her once a week.

Not that he particularly took advantage of that freedom…. He still kept mostly to himself and had only recently started to spend time in the common area of the 8th year dormitories rather than staying holed up inside of his own bedroom outside of class and meal times. He only wandered the hallways or visited other parts of the castle at night, away from the prying eyes and whispers of the rest of the student body, most of whom still blamed him for Dumbledore's death and would rather see him rotting in Azkaban.

On this particular December afternoon shortly before the last day of classes, Draco sat in the corner of the common area, his parchment and books spread across the table in front of him while he finished his Transfiguration essay. He faced the rest of the room with a wall at his back, a habit he had picked up during the war.

The room was quiet save for the crackling of the fireplace, the sounds of turning pages, and occasional cursing heard from Seamus Finnegan who was struggling to complete a potion for extra credit from Slughorn on the other side of the room.

Finnegan sat on one couch with his cauldron on the table in front of him while Hermione Granger lounged on the couch opposite, reading a book. The rest of the 8th years were either in an afternoon class, in their rooms packing to leave, or else had already left for the holiday. Because they were all over age, the 8th years had the option to leave as soon as they completed their last class by going to Hogsmeade and then apparating to their destination rather than waiting for the Hogwarts Express to come like the younger students.

Granger, bloody overachiever that she was, had probably finished her assignments several weeks ahead of time. He knew her last class had been that morning, yet she had made no move to pack for the holidays. Not that he was keeping track of her class schedule, of course...It just happened that they had several classes in common.

Draco Malfoy wouldn't be going anywhere for Christmas, either. He could have gone to the manor if he'd wanted, but there was no point. No one would be there, so he supposed he may as well spend Christmas alone at Hogwarts than bother packing and unpacking to spend Christmas alone somewhere else when he could do it perfectly well right where he was.

He finished up the last bit of his essay and rolled up the parchment, stowing it away in his bag along with the books he'd been using. He'd been ready to get up and go turn the essay in when he heard more muttered curses from across the room and looked up to see the potion Seamus was working on hadn't turned the purple shade it should have by this point and instead was a rather bright shade of blue. Finnegan glanced across at Granger as if considering asking for her help, but she was still engrossed in her book and hadn't noticed his plight.

Draco was sure he knew where the potion had gone wrong and how to fix it, but Finnegan wasn't about to ask for his help and he wasn't about to offer it. Deciding it was none of his business if the other boy failed his potions extra credit assignment, he hoisted his bag over his shoulder and stood to leave, but something stopped him.

Finnegan rifled through his potions ingredients and pulled out a vial containing a greyish powder. The label was partially worn away, the only word still visible being 'horn.' The instructions called for Powdered Bicorn Horn, so that wasn't cause for concern….except when the bottle stopper was removed and the scent wafted toward him. Powdered Bicorn Horn had a sickly sweet scent, but the vial emitted a bitter scent. There was only one other powdered horn Draco could think of that would look like powdered bicorn horn, and that was powdered Erumpent horn, something they had only used to brew one potion in the NEWT level class because of the dangers it posed when interacting with most other potion ingredients...particularly with aconite, which Draco had already seen Finnegan add to the cauldron earlier in the day.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Draco said as he watched Finnegan's hand hover at the edge of the cauldron, the vial tipping precariously close.

"Sod off, Malfoy, no one asked for your opinion."

"I rather think I'm entitled to an opinion when you're about to blow up the whole common room."

Hermione had looked up from her book by this point. She untucked her feet from beneath her and shifted on the couch to look over at Seamus, the open book still balanced on her knees. An infinitesimal widening of her eyes was the only sign that she had realized the same thing that Draco had.

"Seamus, I think he's-"

But whether she was going to say he was right or something else entirely, Draco never found out, because at that moment, Seamus's hand slipped and the powder fell into the cauldron below and the resulting boom knocked Draco off his feet.

Cursing, he dropped his bag of books to the floor and sprang to his feet, wand out to clear the smoke.

To his right, he heard running footsteps as Neville came rushing out of his room to investigate.

"Drop your wand, Malfoy," Longbottom said upon seeing Draco standing with his wand drawn.

Draco snarled. "Oh, because naturally it's my fault something happened. Salazar forbid you look around and realize your idiot friend made something else explode. It's not like it's the first time he's done it!" He gestured angrily with one hand toward the room's other occupants.

At the center of the chaos, Seamus coughed and sputtered, using his wand to siphon the remnants of the potion away, but the damage had already been done. There were scorch marks on the sofas where the liquid had spattered, a hole burned into the cauldron and through the table beneath it. No matter how many times Finnegan cast Reparo, nothing seemed to change.

"Oh, McGonagall's gonna kill me…." he muttered, sinking back down onto one of the sofas and inspecting the damage done to his robes. The dragon-hide gloves he wore were the only thing that seemed to have repelled the potion and remained intact.

Across from him, Hermione still sat, staring numbly at the ruined book in her lap after she had tried to repair it as unsuccessfully as Seamus's attempts to repair the furniture had been. There were angry red welts forming on her hands where the potion had splashed and scalded her, but she didn't seem to notice.

Neville took all of this in and slowly lowered his wand, mumbling, "My apologies, then, Malfoy."

But Draco wasn't listening. He stuffed his own wand back into his robe pocket and purposefully strode toward the bushy haired witch. "Granger, you alright?"

She didn't seem to hear him, her focus entirely on the remnants of her destroyed book. Perhaps she was in shock, Draco thought, though it seemed unlikely a potions accident would be responsible after everything else she'd witnessed before.

"Oi! Granger!" he tried again, snapping his fingers in her line of sight.

She jolted backward, only then seeming to realize he was right in front of her. When she looked up, there were unshed tears glistening in her eyes.

Draco frowned. "Granger….You need to go to the hospital wing." He gestured toward her hands.

Only then did Seamus seem to notice her injuries as well. "Oh, Merlin, Hermione...I'm so sorry…"

Hermione still made no move to get up, looking down at the book again instead as if she couldn't believe that it was really beyond repair.

Draco was losing patience. "Listen, Granger, you have two options. You going to the hospital wing is non-negotiable, but you can either walk there on your own or I'm going to carry you there."

"Malfoy, that's really not-" Neville began, but he stopped when Hermione stood.

"I'll go to the hospital wing myself, thanks, but just…" she looked over at Neville. "Don't let anything else happen to it while I'm gone, please." she nodded toward the book which she had set aside when she stood.

"Of course," he promised, looking a bit confused over her concern for the book over her own health.

"Right, then. So Longbottom will babysit the book, Finnegan will go tell the Headmistress what he's done this time, and I'll make sure Granger doesn't get lost on her way to the hospital wing."

Hermione scoffed. "I am perfectly capable of getting there myself."

"Under normal circumstances, I'd agree with you, but as we don't know what side effects that concoction of Finnegan's might have-"

"Oi! I'm still right here!"

"-it so happens that I was on my way to turn in my Transfiguration essay and the hospital wing is on the way, so…." he walked past her, retrieved his bag from where it lay discarded on the floor, then strode toward the door and pulled it open. "After you, Granger."

Hermione huffed, but walked through the door he held open anyway and out into the 7th floor corridor. Now that the initial adrenaline rush from the exploding cauldron had subsided, there was a dull ache in her hands that she hadn't noticed before and she looked down at the welts as she walked, thinking that she could have probably healed them on her own with dittany had the option occurred to her sooner. There was still a bottle of it in her trunk. Though she wouldn't admit it to him, it probably was best to have them looked at by someone more experienced in healing.

Draco had fallen into step silently beside her while she inspected her injuries and she sped up her pace slightly. He raised a brow and just increased the length of his strides to match her new pace.

"I really am capable of seeing myself there, Malfoy."

"Didn't seem like it the way you were staring at that book like it was that ginger beast you call a cat that had died instead of your book. I mean, I know your love of books is on par with Madam Pince, but it's just a book-"

"It's not just a book," Hermione snapped, hair flying behind her as she made to storm off.

He caught up to her a short distance down the corridor and put a hand on her shoulder to stop her. "Sorry, Granger, didn't mean to-"

"Don't touch me," she cut him off, shrugging off his hand and whirling around to face him.

Draco held both hands up in an 'I surrender' gesture. "Sorry, Granger," he repeated. "I didn't mean to offend you."

Hermione was surprised to find that the apology seemed sincere even if the words were foreign on his tongue.

"I didn't know the book meant so much to you," he said.

She took a deep breath, counted to five, and then exhaled slowly. "It's fine," she said after a moment. "You wouldn't have known." And she turned to continue on her way toward the hospital wing.

He stood a moment longer, allowing her to get a few feet ahead before he continued on as well. There was a long silence as they reached the stairs and went down to the next floor.

They were halfway along the next corridor before she spoke again.

"It belonged to my mother," she said suddenly. When he remained silent, she continued, "She'd read it to me when I was a little girl...It's one of the only things I have left of hers…"

He couldn't see her face from where he still walked a few feet behind her, but the emotion in her voice was unmistakable. He'd noted her use of past tense, but he didn't want to push her and ask what had happened when she'd already surprised him by opening up about as much as she had. "I'm sorry," he said again, at a loss for anything else to say.

They continued the rest of the way to the hospital wing in silence and he held the door for her when they got there before he continued alone to turn in his essay.

When he returned to the 8th year common area, he found it unoccupied save for Theo Nott who lounged on one of the (surprisingly now undamaged) couches.

Theo looked over when Draco entered. "McGonagall came by and fixed everything," he offered by way of explanation when he saw his confusion. "Gave Finnegan one hell of a tongue lashing first, though. He and Longbottom went to check on Granger."

"Did she fix the book, too?" Draco couldn't help but ask.

Theo's brows knit together in confusion. "The book? Oh, you mean Granger's book? No, it's a muggle book, there wasn't anything even McGonagall could do for it." He jerked his head toward a table that sat just outside of Granger's bedroom where Draco could see the remains.

He crossed over to it and looked down at it. It didn't seem like much. The cover was worn and the pages were yellowed even without the damage done by the potion which had left a large hole straight through the last half of the book and through the back cover. Blue stains were spattered across the remains not melted away. He was able to barely make out the title on the cover. The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, he read. Strange, he thought, a book she had been read as a child was about a wizard….he wondered if her parents had suspected she'd had magic early.

When he turned around again, he found Theo watching him with a knowing smirk plastered across his face.

"What?"

"Nothing," Theo said, shrugging. "Just that I heard someone was playing the hero earlier...Insisting on doing the gentlemanly thing and escorting Granger to the hospital wing…"

"I only did what anyone else would have."

"Mm-hm, and yet there were two other men from her own house here at the time who could have done it…"

"Sod off, Theo." Draco grumbled, heading across the common area toward his own room.

What he wouldn't admit to Theo, or anyone else for that matter, was that he'd stood by and done nothing while Hermione Granger had been hurt before, and it was something he'd sworn he'd never do again.

Friday, December 25th, 1998

The 8th year dorms were quiet when Hermione woke Christmas morning.

Four days had passed since the Seamus's exploding cauldron incident and the rest of the 8th years has all departed one after the other. Well, all except for one, anyway.

Dean Thomas had been the last to leave. He'd been the only 8th year to decide he'd wait to take the Hogwarts Express with the rest of the students and when he'd left bright and early Wednesday morning, he'd wished Hermione a Happy Christmas and encouraged her 'not to let Scrooge get her down.'

She hadn't had to ask who he'd meant. Draco Malfoy hadn't allowed himself to become involved in any of the holiday shenanigans the rest of the 8th years had participated in. When they'd decorated the tree, he'd stayed in his room. When they snuck in cookies from the kitchens and a few bottles of firewhiskey from a recent Hogsmeade trip, he'd disappeared to some other part of the castle.

Hermione hadn't seen him at all since she'd arrived at the hospital wing on Monday. Madam Pomfrey had been able to heal the welts with no signs they'd ever been there easily enough, but she'd kept Hermione for a few hours regardless to monitor for any other effects the potion may have had.

She wished repairing her mother's book had been so easy. What remained of it lay on her nightstand. Despite its ruined state, she couldn't bear to get rid of it. Most of her parents' belongings had been packed up and taken with them to Australia or else sold when they sold the house after she had modified their memories. The book had been the one personal item she'd kept with her. She'd carried it with her in the beaded bag through the war and when she had a particularly rough day, she'd found comfort by pulling it out.

After the war, she had set out to find them again….only to be devastated to learn that all of her precautions had been for naught. The Death Eaters had found them anyway and they'd died not even knowing they had a daughter.

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes but she wiped them away and sat up. She'd known today would be hard. It's why she'd decided to stay behind at Hogwarts instead of going to the Burrow. The Weasleys had enough loss to mourn without her adding her own grief to the mix.

It wasn't until she pulled the covers back and started to get out of bed that she noticed the pile of gifts at the foot of her bed.

There were presents from Harry and Ron, of course. Ginny and the other Weasleys, too, as well as gifts from Order members, even gifts from people she'd never met before who simply knew her to be one of the so-called war heroes.

It was nearly an hour later when she had finished unwrapping them all.

She decided, then, that she should head down for breakfast with the few students and teachers still at Hogwarts. It wasn't likely to be a joyous occasion. Most of those who stayed did so because they didn't have anyone to go home to after the war.

Hermione was dressed and out of her room in ten minutes. The common area was as empty as it had been for the last several days and she'd made it halfway to the door when she noticed it: a small package wrapped in silver paper at the base of the Christmas tree. Certain that it had not been there when she'd gone to bed the night before, she moved to get a closer look and could see 'H.G.' scrawled in neat letters on the outside of the package.

No other 8th year had those initials, so she knew it had to be for her, but why hadn't it been with her other gifts? Curiosity won out and she gently lifted the package and pulled back the paper to reveal a book...but not just any book. It was an old copy of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, the same edition and cover design as the one that had been destroyed. She nearly dropped it in shock. This particular edition had been out of print since 1961 when her mother had received it as a child.

When the rest of the wrapping had been pulled away, a note fluttered to the floor at her feet and she crouched to pick it up.

I know this can't replace what you lost, but I thought you'd like to have it.

Happy Christmas.

There was no signature.

There didn't need to be a signature. There was only one person Hermione could think of who would be responsible and she marched toward his bedroom door, holding the book tightly to her chest with on hand and the note in her other.

She knocked without a second thought and there was a brief pause before the door swung inward and Draco stood, looking at her with an eyebrow raised and an open book held in one hand. "Can I help you, Granger?"

"I just...I wanted to say thank you...for the book."

"What book?"

Hermione looked at him, momentarily perplexed. "This book," she held it up. "The one you gave me for Christmas…."

"I hate to break it to you, Granger, but I didn't get you anything for Christmas."

"You...what?"

"Do keep up, Granger, you're supposed to be the brightest in our year. I said I didn't get you anything for Christmas."

"Then where did this come from?" she asked, waving it in front of him as if it were the only proof she needed.

"How should I know?" he shrugged.

"You were the only person I told about what it meant to me," she reasoned, though she was beginning to sound less sure.

"So? Maybe Finnegan felt bad when he saw how upset you were and got you a new one. Or maybe Longbottom did. He was here, too."

"But neither of them are here now and this most certainly wasn't under the tree until this morning."

"Granger, this is the Room of Requirement….perhaps they required that it stay invisible until Christmas morning."

She frowned, but his suggestion did certainly make a lot more sense than the idea that Draco Malfoy may have walked into a muggle bookstore of all places to get this for her. She was being ridiculous, and he was right. There was no reason he'd get her anything for Christmas and, besides, when would he have had the time? Of course, she hadn't actually seen him the last four days, but she'd assumed he'd been holed up in his room the whole time.

"Right...Well...I'm sorry I disturbed your reading….or whatever it is you were doing," she said, peering past him into the room behind him. She wasn't sure why she was surprised, but she didn't see evidence of a single Christmas gift in his room. Of course he wouldn't have gotten any presents, she scolded herself. His parents are both in Azkaban and he doesn't really have friends...

He shrugged. "Don't mention it."

If he noticed her staring into his room, he didn't mention it, either, but she stood there awkwardly shuffling her feet after her realization. "I was about to go down for breakfast," she said after a moment's hesitation. "Would you like to join me?"

Draco stared at her as if she'd grown a second head.

"It's just...No one should be alone on Christmas, Malfoy."

He stood there still just looking at her for so long that she had been ready to just tell him to forget about it and retreat, but then he shrugged and said. "Yeah, sure."

They made an odd pair at breakfast, catching the attention (and gossip) of everyone who saw them together.

Hermione was surprised to find that he could actually be decent company. Their conversation at breakfast spilled over into a walk in the snow around the grounds.

They talked about their holiday traditions growing up, which had been wildly different.

Her family had always been close and they'd loved to drive around and see the lights on Christmas Eve or to go caroling. There had been family dinners filled with love and laughter.

His had been the opposite. Christmas Eve had meant stuffy formal dinners with the other pureblood families where even the children were expected to act like miniature adults. Christmas Day had meant just the three Malfoys and hadn't been particularly joy filled occasions. Naturally, he'd always received any gift he could have possibly wanted, but there had never really been anyone to share Christmas with and he'd spend most of the day alone on the Manor grounds or in the library until dinner with his parents.

"I think I may have preferred your family's way of doing things...even if it was just once," he admitted as they made their way back to the common room with hot cocoa and cookies from the kitchens in tow later that evening.

"Excuse me, but did Draco Malfoy just say that muggles actually did something better than purebloods?"

And there it was, the reminder of who he was and everything he had done ruining what little enjoyment he'd gotten out of the day. He frowned and fell silent and she regretted saying it almost immediately.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"Don't apologize," he said with a shake of his head. "I had that coming…..the way I treated you and everyone else all those years, it's a wonder you're even speaking to me at all…." They'd reached the common room and he turned to retreat back to his room, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm.

His eyes dropped down to the hand on his arm and then up to meet hers. She dropped her hand and took a step back, but didn't look away.

"I'm not going to say that what you did was ok. We both know it wasn't. But I also know that you didn't really have a choice. None of us did. And you came around when it mattered. You didn't tell Bellatrix it was us when you knew it was. You gave us the time we needed to get out. Not to mention your mother is the only reason Harry is still alive."

He still didn't look convinced, so she added, "Besides, Christmas is a time for second chances, right?"

"I think you've got that mixed up with New Year's, Granger."

"Well, lucky for you, that's next week."

The corners of his mouth twitched upward, he couldn't help it and she answered it with her own smile.

"I was going to read out here for a bit before bed," she said. "You can join me if you want."

"I'd like that."

So they spent the rest of the evening with Hermione curled up on one couch reading her new copy of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz while Draco made himself comfortable on the couch opposite her with the book he'd been reading that morning.

It was past midnight when they each retired to bed with a "Happy Christmas."

The rest of the holiday break passed in much the same way and by the time the other students had begun to return, they'd fallen into a comfortable routine.

Hermione asked both Neville and Seamus about her mysterious Christmas gift after their return, but neither seemed to have any idea what she was talking about.

She never asked Draco Malfoy about it again, though she was certain he knew more than he had been willing to admit.

A/N: This was originally intended to be a one shot spanning 5 Christmases but then the first part turned into this lengthy monstrosity, so I've decided to cut it. It will now be a 3 part with Christmas 1999-2001 being part 2 and the finale, Christmas 2002, being the third part.

Fun fact: this was inspired by my dog knocking a cup of coffee over onto my copy of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows earlier this month.

I wanted to get it up in time for Christmas, so I haven't had a chance to have this beta'ed so I apologize if it's a bit rough. -J