THE DRAGON OF HOUSE BLACK

Chapter 17: Down Undah

Hermione

Christmas with the Weasleys is always a boisterous affair. Being an only child made it a little overwhelming at first, but now it's a balm to my soul. Its not Christmas if my senses aren't overwhelmed by all the people here to celebrate in this wonderfully cluttered home.

Handing my painstakingly wrapped gift to Draco, I'm irrationally nervous. It's damned hard getting something for someone who can snap his fingers and have it. Therefore I had to seriously think outside of the norms for my dragon's gift.

When he got the owl saying he'd made the national team, his excitement was almost immediately subdued. He didn't even tell me he'd gotten it, I happened to find it digging through our things scattered about our room in the burrow. How heartbreaking it was for him probably knowing that a letter from Montrose, or the Quidditch council was most likely in route already demanding his departure from the team.

I'm not one to bask in the spotlight. Never someone who uses my fame or status to gain. But if anyone thought for one moment that Hermione Granger, still the acting president of S.P.E.W., would sit back and not use every weapon in her arsenal to get her mate back on a broom, then you're quite frankly wrecked in the head.

Did I want to threaten to castrate Gordon Douglas if he didn't get his head out of his stupid arse and fight for the best seeker in the past 100 years? No, ok maybe a bit. Fucking twit.

After I solved that particular issue, did I tell the Head of the Quidditch committee that I'd write an entire book on the bigotry and bias against shifters of all natures if they didn't allow him back to play? Absolutely.

It's rather sad to think that the easiest part of my gift was to get a bill passed at the Ministry ensuring shifters the right to a fair chance at working environments. Kingsley didn't bat an eye as he forced it through.

Draco shakes the small package, making a faux spectacle about the lack of noise. Smiling shyly, I watch as his talented fingers slip through the loops of the bow, pulling it apart. Though there is plenty of noise and needling going on around us, in this moment all I see is him. Sliding his finger underneath the crease and under the tape, he expertly unwraps the paper. Easing the box open so slow I might actually go crazy, I'm about to fuss when his jaw goes slack.

When the lid of the box falls softly to the ground we all can see what sits neatly within. A white and red checkered jersey with the number #19 and last name MALFOY across the back is folded perfectly inside. The logo for the England National Quidditch team on the front, just waiting to be revealed, though there's not doubt in my mind he knows without having done so.

In all my years with Draco, I've never once seen the witty, smug, handsome man truly at a loss for words.

"H-how?" He asks, his voice thick with emotion, as he holds the jersey with a gentle awe.

Shrugging I say, "Extortion, intimidation, castration."

Ron's egg nog spews from his mouth and nose as he chokes from my words. Ginny and the twins laughs thunder through the room while Molly, Arthur and Percy all attempt to hide their light chuckles behind their hands.

Draco nods his head with his lips pursed playfully. "Ah the old E.I.C. Tactic. Classic."

Smiling so hard my cheeks hurt, I leaned over and rest my forehead on his. We stay like that just wrapped in one another's contented presence before Molly harps its time for us all to open our gift from her.

We're all doled out our yearly beloved sweaters knitted by Mrs. Weasley. With myself getting two boxes for once this year. Confused I go ahead and open them both. A happy gasp escapes as I set my prized H sweater down and grab the one with an A on it. Which is sized perfectly for Aegon! Oh how marvelous! I'm so exhilarated by Aegon's new doggy sweater that I don't realize Draco got a small box from Molly as well.