Comfort

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

A few hours later, Hermione was standing in the middle of her parent's living room floor. She dropped the keys on the coffee table with a heavy sigh and flicked on the light. She hadn't wanted to leave the hospital. Her father had yet to come out of surgery, but her mother had insisted. She had been up over twenty-four hours as it was, and her mother had told her to come home and rest a while. She promised to contact her as soon as she knew anything on her father, and when she did, Hermione could return and bring some things she needed from the house. She sat down and leaned back in the recliner, promising herself that she would only sit there for a moment before heading upstairs.

Later as a knock at the door pulled her from her sleep, she was surprised to find sunlight streaming in through the windows. She yawned, stretching her arms high above her head as she did, then felt the yawn catch as she remembered where she was and why. The memory of her parents accident came rushing back to her, and that was torture enough, but the other memory that flooded her mind caused her to bury her face in her hands and mumbled, "Oh, no." She flung the blanket off of her legs and jumped to her feet.

Wait a minute, blanket? She looked down at the floor; sure enough it was the blanket that her mother usually kept draped over the back of the couch. Surely she hadn't woken up, retrieved the blanket then settled back down in the chair. She bent over, picked up the blanket and turned towards the couch. "Merlin!" She exclaimed, her hand coming to her heart as she stopped. "How did you get in here?" She asked accusingly.

Draco shrugged. "It's not that hard when you leave the door unlocked. I knocked twice but you didn't answer." He shrugged. "You should be more careful, you never know what might come in."

"What could be worse than a Malfoy?" She snapped. Then she remembered what he had done for her last night. She hadn't asked anything of him, yet he had brought her to the hospital, he had held her while she cried. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you, it's just been a bad night." She tossed the blanket on the couch beside him and picked the keys up off the table. "You'll have to leave now; I've got to get over to St. Mungo's. Hopefully nobody's woke up yet."

"It's Christmas, Hermione, you have the day off."

She picked her coat up from where she had dropped it the night before and slid her arms into the openings. "I know that, but I told the children Santa was coming. If they wake up and find nothing, it will ruin the whole story for them."

Draco walked over to her, hands in his pockets. "You're afraid that they won't believe in something fake?" He shook his head and wandered around the living room, picking up small Christmas knickknacks, looking them over, and then setting them back down. He finally stopped in the doorway, leaning against the jamb, waiting for her reply. "Isn't that a little, well, mean?"

"No, it's not." She countered, walking up to him, waiting for him to move out of her way so she could go through into the den, and the waiting fireplace. "Please move I need to get to the floo powder."

Draco didn't move. "No need, I've taken care of it for you."

"What?" Had she heard right? Draco had taken care of it? Surely he hadn't told the children that Santa was just a fable.

"All the little brats will awaken to the many wonderful joys of Christmas." He said dryly, rolling his eyes. "I even had a house elf drink some of the milk, which I might say was only minutes from curdling, but the cookies were delicious. Do you honestly know how hard it is to creep through a room and not awaken a sleeping child? And you muggles try to say that a fat man does it. Please. But, yes, Santa did visit, and each child will have a few toys."

A few toys? "Oh dear." Hermione said, "You must have missed a wing, I could only afford to buy each child one toy. Did you get the hall off of the kitchen?"