Chestnuts Roasting Over The Open Firewhiskey: A Hogwarts Christmas Tale

Finding Wings

Draco took the long way to breakfast the next day, hiking from the dungeon to the owlery to send his mother another letter. He'd been writing to her daily since the term started, and until two days ago she'd responded in kind. He knew she'd be busy over the next few weeks, but it didn't calm his anxiety when the owls arrived without anything for Draco Malfoy. He felt his anxiety for his parents building, creating a nervous energy he couldn't burn off.

Normally Draco sauntered around campus in an air that befit a Malfoy, mirroring the practiced swagger his father moved with. When his father walked, it was clear nothing could ruffle a Malfoy man, not even something as significant as time. Or it used to be clear, before his father's arrest. Draco shuddered at the memory of how he saw his father last, just before starting the term, a shadow of his former self after months in Azkaban. He used to think of his father as the ultimate authority on all matters, but since the battle at the Ministry, his certainty began to waver as he saw the once proud man slowly crack.

With no one around to see him, he raced up the stairs two at a time, trying to see how fast he could make it to the top. A bit childish, he conceded to himself halfway up, but this was likely the last time he'd have the chance to act this way and he wanted to use it. Breathless after reaching the top, he paused in the door frame for the owlery. Someone was in there already, a shadow in the corner. His guard up, Draco rested his hand on his wand and took a step forward. He relaxed as soon as he could see the figure feeding the owls treats, petting and cooing at them. "Probably a lonely first year given the size," he thought, dropping his hand from his wand. As he looked closer, he realized the petite form was Granger. Draco considered backing away so she would not see him, but just as he decided he needed to make his escape, her head shot up. As soon as he saw her confused expression, he knew it was too late to turn and run.

"So, Granger, not going home for the holidays?" Draco asked after a beat of startled silence.

"No...I'm staying here," she answered slowly, her brown eyes wide in surprise.

"What am I doing that is so shocking?" Draco wondered to himself as he took in her overwhelmingly muggle outfit. "And what is the pale pink monstrosity she's wearing instead of a cloak?" It underlined his belief that muggle clothing was inferior to the elegant robes he grew up with. Though he'd never complain about the tightness of muggle jeans, he mused as he snuck a peek, eyes skimming her thighs.

"Ah, I'm not going home either," he responded nonchalantly with a small shrug. Draco watched as her surprise turned to suspicion, her dark brows knitted with guarded confusion. This was the longest conversation they'd ever had without an insult passing between them, he noted mentally, regretting that he hadn't fled when he had the chance. He wasn't especially in the mood to spar today, especially when the easiest targets were on holiday.

"What do you want Malfoy?" she asked with a bite in her voice, not so subtly reaching for her wand in her pocket.

"Just trying to have a civilized conversation, a concept you're unfamiliar with, it appears," Malfoy snapped, frustrated by her inherent distrust of him. "I'm unarmed for Merlin's sake!" he screamed at her mentally, his irritation growing. "You're in my way, Granger," he held up the parchment meant for his mother in his hand, trying for his coldest look.

"Well seeing as this is perhaps your first attempt at anything civilized, it is not surprising you're failing," she shot back. "I just need to tie my parchment on and I'll be out of your way," she explained with a strained composure, reaching out for a snow white owl that Draco recognized as Potter's. "Of course she is writing to him the day after saying goodbye," Draco thought, scoffing aloud.

"Someone is impatient," Hermione muttered to the owl in response to Draco's noise. He narrowed his eyes at her, feeling that familiar pull to put the know-it-all in her place.

"Oh really?" Draco mocked. "What an astute observation, Granger. It is not as though some of us have better things to do than stand about watching you coddle these birds."

Hermione didn't respond, silently rolling her eyes at him instead. Internally, Draco smiled, excited he'd still gotten a reaction out of her. He prepared himself for a quip that never came. Instead, she finished tying the parchment to the bird's leg and whispered goodbye to the bird before walking towards Draco's position in the door. Draco stepped in front of her, blocking her way out, without thinking about it. He didn't like it when she didn't at least try.

"Oh and Granger, just because your boyfriend Scarhead isn't here to impress, doesn't mean you should revert to your animagus form," Draco sneered. He watched her stoic face falter for just a moment, before becoming indifferent again. "No wonder you feel at home with these birds, they've probably been missing their nest," he added for good measure, gesturing to her wild curls.

Hermione huffed and pushed past him with some force. Without moving, he listened to her retreating footfalls running down the stone stairs, fading the further she made it down. But her reaction didn't give him the usual satisfaction. Confused, he walked to his eagle owl and tried to sort out his thoughts. The only difference he could determine between today and their usual encounters was there was the lack of an audience. "In that case, this will be a long three weeks," he thought as tried off his parchment.

Hermione was still annoyed hours later, distracted from the Charms essay assigned over the break. She was even more irritated at herself for allowing Draco Malfoy of all people get to her. She hadn't realized he was one of the students staying behind and was shocked by his sudden appearance this morning. Hermione couldn't recall a time when they'd been alone together, let alone Malfoy trying to start a normal conversation with her. Not that she was 100% sure his switch in demeanor wasn't a new tactic to upset her: pretend to be friendly for a moment before reverting to his usual routine. "The only normal part of the encounter was his insults," she mused while staring into the common room's roaring fire. She kicked herself for getting upset about his comment about her appearance, comparing her to an animal and insulting her hair. These weren't new insults, it wasn't as though she hadn't heard them all countless times before, especially from him. In fact, they were much kinder than his go-to slur. Hermione turned this over in her head before realizing she must've been more susceptible because of how lonely she was without her family or friends during the holidays. She'd just have to be more alert for the next few weeks and avoid him, she decided, turning her attention back to her homework.

The next morning, Hermione sat on the window ledge in her room and watched as snow blanketed the campus, coming down in sheets. She cracked open a new book that she'd picked up from Hogsmead a few weeks earlier, eager to dive into another world for the morning. After a few minutes, something flashed by in the corner of her eye out the window. Tearing her head from her book, she realized someone was out flying on the quidditch pitch in the snow.

"Who would be insane enough to fly in this weather?" she asked Crookshanks softly, eyes still on the figure shooting across the gray sky at Harry-like speed. The ginger cat stared back at her as she tried to remember which players were still on campus. "It must be Malfoy," she relayed her realization to the half kneazle perched on her feet. Crookshanks meowed softly in response before resting his head back on her leg and closing his eyes. She turned back to the window to watch the Slytherin seeker fly.

"It is rather beautiful, the way he climbs and dives through the air," she thought, unwilling to share this compliment aloud, even to Crookshanks. His swift maneuvers reminded her of the graceful divers she'd watch on July beach holidays with her father. She watched the black-clad figure for several more minutes, mesmerized by the movements. "Quidditch isn't all that bad," she supposed, likening the solo flyer more to ballet than the brutal wizarding sport she endured for her friends. "Without the violence of the bludgers," she added seriously.

"Crooky, should I write Ginny to tell her I just thought something positive about quidditch?" she whispered to her sleeping cat with a chuckle. She turned back to her book, happy to forget ever thinking of Draco Malfoy as graceful.