Probably one you're looking forward to.

x Noelle

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Conjures ice.

Ever," were the first words to break the silence. They came from Theo, who stared at the cloak with gleaming eyes. "Can I borrow it?"

Draco shot him a flat look. "You're not going to use it for shagging purposes."

"I wasn't going to – "

"You're not going to use it to watch people shag either."

Now Theo scowled. "Killjoy."

Draco opened his mouth to retort, but a tiny laugh from Hermione made him glance over at her. His eyes softened as he took the expression on her face in – the light on her face and the gentle curve of her lips. Merlin, he'd almost forgotten how beautiful her smile was.

"Oh, I see what this is," Theo's eyes flickered between Draco and Hermione, an impish grin spreading across his face. "You're going to use it, aren't you? You're going to shag under it and that's why I can't have it!"

Hermione blushed rapidly, while Draco shot Theo a deadly look. "No one is shagging under it because it belongs to Harry fucking Potter."

There was a startled pause.

And then Blaise broke in with, "I see. So you're thinking that if you shag under it then maybe saint Potter wouldn't want it back and you'll get to keep it. Brilliant idea, Draco, just brilliant."

Actually, that was a brilliant idea – not the shagging bit (okay, maybe the shagging bit too, Draco would be lying if he claimed that thought hadn't crossed his mind the moment he saw the Cloak of Invisibility) – but the idea that they'd get to keep the Cloak for future missions.

It'd certainly work better than the disillusionment charm for hiding purposes.

Well, and shagging purposes too.

Draco almost scowled as he thought of that. Fucking Zabini had put the idea into his head and now he couldn't stop thinking about it.

Shooting a brief glance at Hermione, whose cheeks were still crimson – was she thinking of something along the same lines too? – Draco firmly shoved all awry thoughts out of his mind and concentrated on the matter at hand instead.

"You remember Johnny Martins?" He asked the three Slytherins. "Fresh initiate, always with his friend Guthrie?" They nodded and he continued, "Apparently, he was an Order member for the past year, only to defect to the Dark Lord three months ago. Since then, he's worked under MacNair's orders. Stealing the Cloak from Potter was just one of his many jobs."

"Wait," Blaise cut in, realisation rapidly dawning on his face. "So MacNair's part of the Peverells too?"

"It's unconfirmed. But it seems fairly likely that he'd ask Martins to locate one of the Deathly Hallows. Parkinson—" Draco turned to Pansy. "Get a phial. You can all view Martins' memories whenever."

Pansy disappeared into the room on the right without another word. Blaise and Theo quickly seized the opportunity to snatch the Cloak from Draco and the two were soon trying to conceal various parts of their body just for the fun of it.

Draco watched in morbid fascination as Theo's head floated in mid-air, but a sudden tug from Hermione made him glance down at the girl. She looked anxious, her fingers grasping nervously on the sleeve of his suit. He quickly led her away back to their room, closing the door behind them.

"What's wrong, Granger?" A sudden thought struck him as he looked at her. "Do you remember Walden MacNair?"

"I'm afraid not," Hermione confessed, and her calm demeanour reaffirmed the fact that she didn't. She stared up at him, guilt swimming in her brown eyes. "Draco, was I the reason why MacNair knew where the Cloak was? I – I can't remember if I gave away any information, by accident – "

"No, you didn't. Martins was an Order member, remember? And, apparently, quite a close one. He knew that Potter had the Cloak."

Hermione sighed in relief and took a step forward towards Draco, but he almost flinched away, but she caught his hands before he could. "Draco," she said softly. "You killed someone today, didn't you?"

His jaw clenched. "I kill people almost everyday. It's not a big deal."

"You seem to think it is. So – who did you kill today?" He kept silent, and she suddenly knew. "Oh."

"There wasn't a choice." There was a hint of desperation in his voice, like he was begging her to understand. "He knew too much. If I sent him back, MacNair would be suspicious. Erasing his memories wouldn't work because he'd have to continue being a Death-Eater with that Mark on his arm. MacNair would find out sooner or later and – "

"It's okay, Draco – I mean, it's not okay to kill," Hermione hastened to correct herself, and Draco's lips quirked up in a wry grin at that. She sounded so much like her old self for awhile.

"You did what you had to do," and Hermione spoke slower now, like she was contemplating every word before she said it. "In a war like this – everything's blurred. There are people who do all the wrong things for all the right reasons."

She reached up to brush away a stray lock of blond hair that had fallen into his eyes. Her palm lingered against his cheek and he automatically leaned into her touch. "And with such good intentions – I don't think you can be entirely bad, Draco."

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Hermione was the first one up on Christmas morning. Draco had been the one to teach her how to cast a muffling charm just several days ago, and she picked up her wand to cast one on him now.

After her bath, she changed into a sweater that was not Draco's this time, but hers, and went over to Draco's impressive bookshelf. She located the boxes she'd stored just behind a huge stack of encyclopaedias, and toted them out into the living room. Hermione thought that the Christmas tree had never looked prettier before despite having spent many an afternoon gazing at it. Maybe it was just the festive spirit that was getting to her.

She smiled to herself and rearranged the boxes under the tree. There were no presents under it apart from hers. It was no surprise since, apart from Blaise and herself, the others didn't seem enthusiastic about the holiday. When she was done, she went to make her usual pot of tea. Blaise soon stumbled in and grinned at her.

"Hey, Red," he greeted cheerfully, and went over to pour himself a mug from the pot Hermione had brewed. "Didn't expect to see you up so early."

Her cheeks reddened. "Uh, well – "

"You're excited for today, I get it. Merry Christmas, by the way. You're probably not going to be hearing this from any of the others but me."

She chuckled and smiled at him warmly. "Merry Christmas to you too," she set her mug down and stood up. "I – I have a present for you."

His eyebrows shot up. "Really?"

"Yeah." Hermione went to the Christmas tree and grabbed one of the boxes that had Blaise's name labelled on it. She handed it to Blaise, who seemed genuinely excited to receive it. "Um, it's not much, but it's one of the few things I still remember how to do," she told him, when he opened the box and found a knitted green sweater.

He looked at her in surprise. "Did you make this?"

"Well – yes. They're all in different shades of green. Mine's mint, yours is in emerald, Pansy's is in teal and Theo's is in viridian. Do you like it?"

"Of course I do," he didn't miss a beat, and Hermione's smile widened when he immediately began to pull it on. "Red, this is the first present I've gotten since the war began. Liking it is an understatement."

"This is your first present?"

"Well, yeah, it's a war. It seems pointless to celebrate special occasions when being alive everyday is already a miracle. At least, that's the way Pansy and Theo see it. Frankly, I'd kill for presents every now and then," he added, with a wink.

Hermione considered his words. In some ways, she and Blaise were similar. They'd seen the worst of the war, but it hadn't killed their optimism. "What about Draco?"

"Draco? He just stays away from everything fun or merry in general. I know he thinks he's done too many bad things to enjoy something as pure as Christmas, so he doesn't let himself celebrate it."

"Oh."

"Cheer up, Red. Even if Draco doesn't celebrate, it doesn't mean the rest of us aren't going to. I've got a present for you too."

"What?"

"Yeah. Just let me get Pansy – it's a joint gift from the both of us." Blaise got up and headed back into his room, just as Theo emerged from his, with an annoyed scowl on his face. He wandered into the living room, settling down onto the sofa and stretching lazily.

"For Salazar's sake, what the hell was all that noise? Were you two singing Christmas carols or something?"

Hermione smiled. "Do you want us to?"

"Fuck no. By the way, Red, your present's hanging on the bloody tree."

Hermione's eyes widened and she immediately leapt up. "Where is it?"

"I just told you, Red. Search for it yourself, it'll be like a stupid Easter egg hunt – which, by the way, we will not be celebrating when April comes."

A tiny smile curved on her lips when Theo spoke about April. She was often uncertain about the future, but if Theo saw her staying with them for many more months, she was definitely fine with that. This apartment had become her safe haven, and a part of her never wanted to leave. She never wanted any of them to leave.

She immediately began to hunt for her present. Moments later, she found a wand tied to one of the branches. She turned to Theo, who smirked. "It's yours, Red."

"My wand?"

"Yeah. I got it back for you from the Order – well, technically, Draco and I went together, but I'd like to take full credit for it, because I'm the one who found it. And – I swear, Red, you better not be crying – "

"I'm not! I just — " She sniffled again and Theo shot her a strange look. "Thank you, Theo."

"Don't fucking hug me or anything," he warned her warily. "And stop crying."

Hermione managed a weak laugh. She was still sniffling when one of the doors opened.

"Theodore Nott, why're you making Red cry on Christmas morning?" Pansy stood by the doorway of her room, scowling down at Theo.

"I didn't! I just gave her a present and she started sobbing."

Hermione choked a laugh.

"Well, then, prepare to weep because Blaise and I have got the best present for you," Pansy declared. She and Blaise went over to where Hermione was, and set down a chest on the floor. "Open it."

Hermione flipped the catches on the chest, only to find a whole inventory inside. Phials of medicine and potions; a stack of books and a cloth folded neatly in the corner.

"Most of these used to be mine," Blaise explained. "Pansy and I went to the Black Market the other day and restocked everything. We cast an extension charm so the chest can store far more than it's supposed to. This chest now has every healing potion you'll ever need in the phials and every spell you'll ever use in those books."

"Yes, and one more thing," Pansy added, reaching for the cloth and shaking it out. Hermione's eyes widened when she recognised what it was. "Draco thought it was a good idea that you should be the one to have it. After all, Potter's your best friend and the Cloak would keep you safe."

"You're now our official healer," Blaise finished, with a grin.

Hermione was silent for a long moment. She thought of what Pansy had said about Potter being her best friend, and realised that Pansy couldn't be further from the truth. Because maybe Harry Potter was one of the closest people to her a long time ago, but the war had changed so much. And now she knew without a doubt that the three Slytherins in the living room and the fourth in the bedroom were the only people she knew and loved more than the world.

"You're going to cry again, aren't you?"

Theo's sardonic question made her laugh, even has tears pricked her eyes again. "I'm not. I – I just don't know what to say."

"Then say nothing." Pansy grinned and settled down next to Hermione. "So which one of these boxes belongs to me?"

"Wait." Theo got up and headed over. "We've got presents too?"

Hermione shot him an unsure look. "Do you not want presents...?"

"No, you can't take it back," Theo returned quickly, and promptly found his box under the tree. He opened it with the kind of impatience akin to a little child, which Hermione found thoroughly endearing. And when he found the jumper, she thought that maybe Theodore Nott secretly liked Christmas after all.

She watched the pleased look on Theo's face and the thrilled one on Pansy's when she opened her box, and wondered if maybe not celebrating Christmas had nothing to do with them being Death-Eaters or the war, and everything instead to do with Draco.

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It did have everything to do with Draco, as she soon found out. She'd spent all morning playing the apple game that Theo had invented. Pansy and Blaise had joined in, even though the latter was appalled to see the mess they'd made.

Draco didn't leave the room.

When he didn't come out for lunch, she went back to the room. He was reading; his legs hanging off one arm of his chair and his back against the other side. He looked up when she entered. "Granger."

"Hey, why didn't you come out?"

He shrugged. "I hate Christmas, you know that."

"Yes, I figured." She smiled and shook her head fondly at him. Remembering her presents for him, she went to the bookshelf to retrieve them.

Draco was quiet for a long moment before he spoke. "Christmas reminds me of my parents. We used to celebrate it, but now they're gone."

"Not quite."

"What?"

She fished out two boxes and held them out to him. "You'll see. Open them."

His eyebrows rose, but he took the boxes from her. She fidgeted as she him unwrap the present slowly — far too slowly, until she caved in and opened the box for him.

"It's a sweater," Hermione shook out the midnight-green fabric and handed it to him. She wanted to tell him that the colour suited him best – because if she was light then he was darkness, but light was only often appreciated because of the dark, and so she was nothing without him. She wished she could say it all, but words didn't come easy to her anymore.

"I hope you like it," she said instead.

His lips twitched in a tiny smirk. He smoothed his hands across the jumper carefully, as though he were afraid to ruin it. "'Dromeda sent the wool, didn't she?"

"You knew?"

"An unlabelled parcel sent to our doorstep addressed to you. Doesn't take a genius to find out."

"I called her about it. I wanted to go to the Black Market, but I don't think I'm ready yet."

"Take your time, Granger," he told her, and opened the other box. He frowned as he drew out a phial and turned to her.

"It's my memory – of your mother."

He froze. "What?"

"I remembered some time ago. It's a short memory, but I asked Pansy to extract it for you." She shifted closer to him. "Do you want to view it – "

"No," Draco returned quickly. He couldn't quite meet her eyes, instead staring fixedly at the phial. "I'll see it some other time." There was a pause, and then he glanced briefly over at her. "Presents on the bed are for you, by the way."

"Who's it from?"

"Me."

"You?" She stared at him in astonishment, but immediately reached for the gifts. "But you hate Christmas."

"Yes, but you don't."

"Oh." She eagerly opened the boxes, and a smile curved her face when she saw a new phial in one of them. "Whose memory is this?"

"Everyone's."

She stared at him in confusion.

"The four of us wear phials that contain our own memories," he explained, dragging out his chain and showing her the two phials that hung at the bottom, "so it's time you had one. And since you don't remember much, I put together a collection of memories the four of us – and Dromeda – have of you. And it's – Granger, don't you dare cry," he warned, when started to sniff. "I heard you earlier when the others gave you their presents and you've already maxed out your bloody crying quota for today."

She laughed and clutched her new phial tightly. "Thank you, Draco."

"Don't thank me. Just open the other one."

She chuckled again, brushing her eyes quickly with the back of her hand, before opening the other box. Her eyes widened when she saw a stack of books from authors whose names she distantly remembered. Tolkien. Austen. Dickens. And then her heart stuttered as she realised what they were. "You got me muggle books?"

He nodded.

"I thought you hated muggles. You've always believed that they – we – are inferior." Her eyes flickered down to the scar on her arm.

She was close enough for him to reach over and trace the mark Bellatrix had branded her with, and so he did.

"Everything's blurred, Granger," he murmured, at last, reminding her of what she'd said some nights ago. "Ever since the bloody war began, I'm not too sure what I believe in anymore – this," he brushed his thumb gently over her skin, before dragging up the sleeve of his own jumper. His Dark Mark was as visible and abhorrent as ever. "Or this."

Hermione didn't know what made her act on impulse. Maybe it was the hesitance in his silver eyes, or the fact that she felt the dire need to reassure him. But she didn't think twice when she leaned up, holding his face gently between her hands and pressed her lips to his.

Draco froze against her, but she kissed him soundly, throwing aside her nerves and inhibitions for just a moment. And as his eyes fell shut and his heart began to pound, he realised somewhere in the back of his mind that Hermione Granger kissed like nothing else mattered but him.

Not the war, or the blood, or the destruction – just him, like he'd hung the moon and painted the stars and he was her world and everything in between.

So he kissed her back, because it was the only thing that made perfect sense. She was inexperienced as ever, and so he reached up and threaded his fingers gently through her curls, angling her head so he could deepen the kiss. His tongue gently prodded her lips open and he swallowed the sigh that left her and swept into his mouth. She tasted of peppermint and chocolate and something else utterly addictive that was just purely her, and he felt his stomach tighten deliciously when she sighed his name against his lips.

It was enough to remind him that this was wrong, and so he drew back slowly, guiltily stealing another kiss from her lips before pulling away completely. She gazed up at him with heavy-lids and glazed eyes and Merlin, he fucking wanted her, all of her.

But he couldn't have her.

She smiled and brushed her thumb against his cheek. "Merry Christmas, Draco."

He surprised her with a smile, because it was the first of its kind. He'd smirked plenty, but never had she seen him let his guard down before. "Merry Christmas, Granger."

"Hermione."

"Merry Christmas, Hermione."