Chestnuts Roasting Over The Open Firewhiskey: A Hogwarts Christmas Tale

Cheers

Draco shifted uncomfortably on the green couch, the common room abandoned. The remaining Slytherins were still at the feast that Draco hadn't been able to bring himself to attend. He sighed, staring blankly into the fire. Draco was not one to get easily bored. Yet, he was finished with his assigned work, done with the book his mother had sent him as an early Christmas gift before she went silent, finished with his hidden pack of Bernie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, and alone with his thoughts again on Christmas Eve.

He wondered what his parents were doing tonight, if they missed him, if they were safe. He'd heard tales of the dark festivities held in the Dark Lord's honor before he was born, usually from a drunken Aunt Bella lost in nostalgia during the Christmas holidays. From muggle torture to blood traitor murder, that was a bag of fun that just did not appeal to Draco. Not knowing what he had them doing was suffocating, but he assumed with the Dark Lord, knowing may be worse. He thought of what Theo was doing tonight at Nott Manor (probably drinking alone), of what Blaise was doing in Italy (probably flirting at his mother's annual Yule festivities), and even of what Pansy was doing in Bulgaria with her father (fawning over this perspective pureblood match she hadn't shut up about in the common room for the last month). He thought a moment about Pansy, wondering what might have been. They had always been friends, and he loved her, but after their forced breakup he had felt relief. Guilt too, for making her feel bad, but overwhelming relief. Relief for keeping her safe from the Death Eaters, from his mission, and relief from the pressure that had hung over him since fourth year. He realized that while he loved her, he wasn't in love with her, not the way he saw his father was deeply in love with his mother. But Draco would never get to be in love with someone - he would either die at the hands of Albus Dumbledore when he tried to kill him or at the hands of Voldemort when he failed to kill his headmaster.

He dropped his head into his hands and grumbled in frustration. There had to be something he could do to stave off boredom and avoid these thoughts. He could work on his assigned pet project in the Room of Hidden things, a logical thought bubbled up. He groaned in response. He'd purposely worked slowly on that this term in an effort to put off the inevitable he was facing this spring: taking the mark, granting Death Eaters access into the castle, and killing Dumbledore. Draco started in the opposite direction, to his room, to avoid that particular train of thought.

As he walked he considered what he could do to stay busy tonight. His main source of entertainment over break had been his run-ins with Granger. She'd likely be in the library again, working on something. Perhaps he could seek her out tonight and....and what? He couldn't think of a believable excuse he could give for sitting down and chatting with her. It's not like he could tell her why he needed a distraction. And why would she ever talk to him anyway? Frustration rose in his chest - why did he keep thinking about this witch? He flopped face first down on his bed in a rather undignified fashion, letting out a surprised yelp when he landed on something hard. He reached into his robe pockets and pulled out Theo's forgotten flask. " Drinking could certainly be a distraction ," Draco reasoned as he traced the engraved snake that adorned the flask. The faint smell of vanilla hit him as he opened the flask, making him chuckle at his own ridiculousness. He'd thought he'd been thinking about the swot all week, and really it was just this in his pocket the whole time.

"Very well, Theo. Cheers to the last bit of life I have left," he said out loud to his empty room before taking a thoughtful pause. "And cheers to a quick death," he added, raising his flask and picturing Theo doing the same back to him. He raised it again this door thinking of Granger and an otherwise practically empty castle. "And cheers to this bloody place too I guess."

The scent of parchment hit him hard as he put the flask to his lips. He took a big swig and considered the taste. Definitely not the run of the mill firewhiskey. "What is this Theo?" Draco muttered, feeling the overwhelming anxiety that had been swallowing him since fifth year suddenly lifted. He was light as air, floating back toward his bed. And he was...something else? He felt a joy rising up in his body, an emotion that had been noticeably absent in the past seventh months. Upon identifying the emotion, he decided to down the rest of the flask in one gulp, desperate to feel the elusive state once again. Suddenly all he could smell was the strong scent of vanilla.

Draco melted back into the bed. "Cheers Theo," he said to himself, fingers outlining the first genuine grin to cross his lips in months.

Across the castle and several floors up, Hermione was having a remarkably good night. Christmas Eve in the Hogwarts Library alone was a fantasy that she didn't know she had. She'd finally made peace with Peeves yesterday, able to make herself comfortable in one of her favorite places on earth. At 4PM this afternoon Hermioine waltzed through every single aisle, pulling both favorites and new editions. It was nearly 9PM now and she had just cracked open Hogwarts: A History. No matter how many times she read the book, it would always be her favorite. Hogwarts was the first real taste of the wizarding world she was able to claim as her's. She loved reading about the ghosts she spoke to regularly, the complex enchantments put on the Great Hall over the years, and about the library she sat in at this very moment. She was lost in a paragraph about Rowena Ravenclaw when an unexpected voice interrupted her.

"You are so beautiful." She looked up, startled by the interruption, and felt her jaw drop. The tall form of Draco Malfoy was standing over her, staring intensely at her. Did he just say that to her? "Just so beautiful," the blond boy whispered as a dreamy smile broke out over his face.

"Excuse me? Are you speaking to me?" she heard her own voice say, sounding especially far away. Had she fallen asleep while reading and dropped into a nightmare?

His face dropped. "Of course I'm speaking to you, gorgeous" he raised his voice in response, apparently irritated by her question. While the tone certainly sounded like Malfoy she knew, the words did not. "I'm speaking to the most attractive, smartest, bravest woman on the planet." She gaped at him as he pulled up a chair next to her. Lowering himself entirely too close to her, he propped his chin up and leaned over the corner of the table, studying her. Hermione felt herself shift away in her chair, eyes still locked together. While his gray eyes looked softer than normal, they were rapt on her. She looked away quickly, knowing she was blushing against her will at this onslaught of attention. "Are you sure you're a muggle and not part Veela?" he whispered.

"Malfoy are you quite drunk?" she demanded bluntly, thunderstruck at the overt behavior she'd never expected directed towards her by any pureblood fanatic, let alone her school tormentor. She recognized the look he was giving her though. Hermione had seen Seamus Finnigan look at Parvati Patil this way at a post-quidditch party in the common room before pouncing on her last year. He had been funneling butterbeer for a good hour before the move, spurned on by liquid courage. Perhaps whatever firewhiskey Draco had been imbibing to bring Christmas Eve cheer had driven him mad? She looked nothing like Pansy Parkinson, nor any of the other well-coiffed Slytherin girls she'd caught flirt openly with Draco.

"No, just love drunk," he said airily, with that uncharacteristically wide smile back on his face. She hadn't seen him smile in some time. Not that he ever smiled at her , of course. Nothing so positive for The Boy Who Lived, the Weasel, and the mudblood , she thought bitterly. The most that was ever directed at her or her friends was a malicious smirk. But she at least had seen him genuinely smile in passing moments. Talking eagerly about quidditch with Blaise Zambini during dinner across the Great Hall. Smiling proudly at Pansy Parkinson during the Yule Ball. Laughing at a joke Theo Nott cracked in class. But she had not seen it in maybe a year. She realized he had become a shadow of himself this year. Quiet, sullen, and exhausted looking. Perhaps Harry was right, something was decidedly off with Malfoy this year.

An invasive hand came to rest on her own, startling her out of the thoughts swirling around her. When she pulled her hand away quickly, he frowned and looked like a wounded animal.

"I can't stop thinking about you," he pleaded, the smile returning to his face. Hermione couldn't find a trace of twisted glee at her discomfort.

"You really are drunk," she scoffed in astonishment. Draco Malfoy would never say anything like this. That was just it...Draco Malfoy would never act like this. Without abandon or an agenda. Even drunk. She imagined he would be a stoic drunk, or maybe even an angry drunk at most. But not a lovesick fool. Either this was a sick joke he was playing on her or....or this was a sick joke someone was playing on him . She looked at him again. Glassy eyes, soft smile, sweet nothings to a woman he couldn't stand. " Love potion ," she wagered. Someone dosed Draco Malfoy with a love potion meant to attract him to someone he hated. " Great ," she sighed. " What am I meant to do now? "