Chestnuts Roasting Over The Open Firewhiskey: A Hogwarts Christmas Tale

The Week Between Christmas and New Years

"Good morning," Hermione cheerily greeted the blond quietly eating alone at the Slytherin table. She climbed into the seat next to him and smiled warmly at him. As his eyes landed on her, she took a deep breath to strengthen her resolve to not immediately confront him about the letter.

"Granger," Draco replied with a nod, watching her suspiciously. "What are you so happy about?"

"Just slept well. Do you have plans today?" Hermione asked, looking at him expectantly.

"No," Draco said, still wary. "We discussed going to the library. And I have a project I am meant to be working on, but I don't particularly want to do that today," he added, sounding bored.

"Why don't we research in Gryffindor Tower?" Hermione suggested. At his confused look she shrugged and said as nonchalantly as possible, "It is just a tad more comfortable. And we can discuss any findings at the volume we choose, since no one is there."

As they began walking toward the library to check out more books, Hermione watched him from the corner of her eye. Had she not read the letter, Hermione wouldn't have had an inkling that Draco felt anything for her. His face was cold, set in apathy, and he stared straight ahead as they strolled. Hermione caught his eye and gave him a smile, fighting the internal disappointment that she had to tackle the next step in her plan before diving into the letter: figure out about the trouble he is in. She was worried if she dove into his potential feelings too soon, she'd agitate him or scare him off. Instead, she would stick with her original plan. "So last night you mentioned your parents were on a business trip. What do they do?"

"What do you mean?" Draco suddenly looked defensive, stopping immediately in the middle of the hallway.

"I thought your father was still in prison and your mother didn't work. I know your father was on the board for Hogwarts, but outside of that I have no idea what he does." Draco gawked at her like a deer in the headlights for just a moment before schooling his face into the sneer she hadn't missed.

"Yes, I do recall mentioning that," Draco said slowly before taking a long pause. "My father is no longer in prison."

"I didn't realize he was released," Hermione forced herself to sound calm, as though she was commenting on the weather rather than a maniac who tried to kill her and her friends a few months ago. "You must be thrilled."

"He wasn't," Draco replied simply, letting the sentence hang there. The silence stretched between them as Hermione processed what Draco said. His father had either escaped prison or, more likely, been broken out by fellow Death Eaters. She watched his face contort as though he were in pain as she stood there, soundlessly analyzing. After a few moments, he let out a heavy sigh. "Granger, why don't we raincheck on the research? As curious as I am, I realize I shouldn't shirk my responsibilities with my project."

"What is this mystery project?" Hermione asked, hoping this route would offer an opening instead.

"I'm doing an independent study with Snape," Draco said coldly, setting his jaw as he glared at her. "He wanted me to be better prepared against the Dark Arts."

"An independent study..." Hermione trailed off, unspoken questions whirling around her. As she looked at the boy across from her, she decided on a simple one, a final chance to save the day and continue with her plan. "So, no time for our investigation?" Hermione tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

"Not today," Draco said, shaking his head once. "Perhaps we can pick it up tomorrow. I'll see you at dinner." Draco turned on his heel and stalked down the hallway, quickly rounding a corner.

When he ducked out of sight, Hermione cast a silencing spell on her shoes and hurried to catch him. As she quietly followed him to the corridor on the seventh floor, she saw his flash of platinum hair disappear behind a closing door. She sat down, prepared to keep watch, and pulled out a parchment and self inking quill to organize her thoughts and jot down her best hypotheses for what Draco was doing in the Room of Requirement. Flashes of Lucius flew through her mind as she constructed the worst possible scenarios of the problem Theo mentioned. Hermione desperately hoped Draco wasn't already a Death Eater, but took comfort in the fact that even if he was branded, his confession about blood status under the potion meant he didn't agree with their ideals. She sat there for hours, waiting through dinner for him to exit. When he didn't come back out by 7PM, Hermione dejectedly returned to the Tower. She'd have to continue to look for clues tomorrow.