170Such a lovely response to the first part of this, I can't thank you all enough!
Alpha love to In Dreams who wouldn't have let me edit this down to fest length even if I'd wanted to lol
Saturday is a scurry of activity in the common room, Hermione's classmates readying their trunks and baggage for the weeks they will be away. They are running back and forth, haphazardly throwing items into disorganized arrangements and calling out for 'that scarf' or 'if someone could toss me that shoe!".
Tomorrow, the Express will take them all home, leaving Hermione and a handful of the war's most unfortunate victims. Deciding at some point during that day she has no inclination to spend her days feeling sorry for herself, Hermione has started reading ahead into the texts of her favorite subjects. She has just reached chapter fourteen of Advanced Runes, a study of the Khmer empire and its use of rune based magic, circa 1000 C.E. when a body flops down beside her in the middle of the chaos.
"You're falling behind, you know."
She looks up, finding Draco grinning down at her. Hermione frowns and counters, "we've only reached chapter ten in the class. I'd say I'm quite a bit ahead actually."
With a chuckle, he plucks the book out of her hand, careful to lay her bookmark in place, and lays it on the low table in front of them. "Not that, Granger. The calendar. Unless you're trying to hoard it all for yourself, I want to see what else is in that thing."
"Oh, right." She's done her level best to spend the day not thinking of her parents at all, but perhaps that's not the healthiest response. She sighs but agrees, "I'll just grab it."
Walking toward her room, she sidesteps and hops over at least two trunks, a familiar cage, and a handbag. Obstacles behind her, she crosses her room and grabs the calendar, only to turn and find Draco right in her personal space.
"It's mad out there," he notes. "Let's just stay in here where it's quiet."
The memory of his cool lips against her skin flashes across her senses, and she tamps it down before her little crush can get away from her. He will probably have forgotten her by the time he gets back anyway. Rumor is that Narcissa has planned quite the soiree for New Year's Eve, all the old families invited. Draco is as likely to find himself falling into his silk sheets with Pansy Parkinson or one of her ilk as anything. The thought turns Hermione's stomach.
"Right, much more quiet," is all she can think to say.
The first door, the one that should have been yesterday, is an incredibly tiny bottle of Kettle One vodka and a note from her mother that says, those little elves can get you some olives I'm sure. She chuckles and passes Draco the note.
"I think I quite like your mother." They split the vodka, sharing it in two shots and foregoing the need for olives or even something as civilized as a glass.
"Maybe I should have opened that last night, after all," she says, and it has enough mirth that they can both laugh at the sentiment.
The next door, the nineteenth, holds a fortune cookie. Hermione can't know for certain, but suspects it came from the restaurant where she and her parents spent nearly every Sunday afternoon while she lived at home.
Draco is appalled by the paper fortune inside. "I'm just saying, I don't think that's entirely sanitary." He wrinkles his nose even as she laughs, holding half of the broken cookie out to him. He takes it gingerly and nibbles a corner from the end. "Doesn't taste like much," he pouts.
"Certainly no shortbread," she agrees, unfolding the tiny fortune as she chews a portion of the cookie. "Soon you will receive a message from a loved one," she recites from the paper.
Her companion quirks one eyebrow. "That's it? That's a fortune? Merlin, Granger, Trelawney could have guessed that correctly."
What follows is a lovely debate, if you ask Hermione, about the comparisons between muggle and magical interpretations of fortune telling. They don't answer the questions of the universe, but manage to find some similarities in their philosophies.
"It's late, Granger," he finally says, glancing at her clock on the wall. "See you in the morning?"
She nods, knowing he will be on the Express by lunch, but thinking it will be nice to see him off. The rumors have already begun circulating, other students having noticed that they spend some time together. Hermione never put much stock into what other people thought before… May as well give them something good if they're going to talk.
"Would you like to join me for breakfast?" She blurts it out before she has time to think. It's not unheard of in the post-war climate that they might sit together. The faculty has encouraged a lot of House Unity measures, including the merging of House tables. However, habits die hard, and most students still flock into their color-coded delegations.
The grin he gives her is worth any discomfort she faced. "Could we sneak a shortbread down on the way?" he asks, and Hermione understands it's his own way of offering her a resounding 'yes'.
Hermione wakes early the next day. She has found Malfoy to be a fairly early riser. For once, she wants to be the one waiting for him. Not to mention, within a few hours he will be gone. She'd like to enjoy as much time with him as possible.
Taking more care with her appearance than usual on a Sunday morning, Hermione dresses in fitted muggle trousers and a light jumper with a V neck. Her hair she tames as best she can before slipping on a pair of boots and opening her bedroom door.
...Only to find Draco already sitting there in a fireside facing her door, his fingertips tapping on his leg. "Ah, sleeping beauty awakes."
She flushes and mutters, "git," though a shy grin. "Do you not sleep?"
"I slept like the dead, Granger, but we had a breakfast date, did we not? Wouldn't do to be tardy."
Hermione ducks her head as they walk out together, focusing far too much on his choice of words and wondering if he meant anything by the specific term 'date'.
The chatter in the Great Hall is at a fever pitch, students loudly telling their friends about all the exciting or important things that await them when they reach home.
"I'll be going skiing with my mum and her boyfriend."
"I'm meant to see my grandmother, but reckon I'll skiv off, let my sister visit the old bat."
"It's not the same without William, but father needs us to get through this one."
Around the room, pockets of quiet break the chaos. A student here or there is sitting in silence, pushing eggs or toast around a barely touched plate. Those are the students that will share her holiday, Hermione thinks. Those with no where to go.
"Granger?"
"Hmm? Sorry?" Draco has obviously asked her a question that she missed, lost in her people watching and her thoughts. He frowns a little.
"I asked if you want to see off the carriages."
"Oh! Well, yes, I think I would." She had planned on it all along but doesn't take the invitation for granted. Does he, perhaps, want to say goodbye? She indulges for a brief moment in romantic notions that he might even kiss her farewell. Ridiculous, she knows, but it's fun to imagine.
After breakfast, they return to the common room to find it still buzzing with preparations. Now, it is the procrastinators' shift. The students who were oddly absent last night are now rushing to prepare their bags.
"Shall we open the door for the day?" Hermione looks back at Draco as they enter the room, thinking it would be nice to open one more advent door together before she is relegated to revealing the rest in solitude.
"A little early for you, isn't it?" he asks with a smirk. She shrugs, feeling like he must know exactly what she was thinking. Hermione isn't known for subtlety. Surely he must have some inkling by now that she finds him attractive. It's a wonder he hasn't run away screaming. Or worse, let her down gently. The thought is nauseating.
"I think we can make an exception," she says, leading the way to her room. He follows just behind, and she closes the door once he's in.
Merlin, she's going to miss this tomorrow. It has been so much less lonely, sharing the calendar with Draco the way she once had with her parents. She hopes the rest of the doors are full of cosmetics and other non-shareable items, just so she won't have to miss having someone with which to share.
"Right then. Day twenty."
She giggles when Draco somewhat dramatically counts down from three, and then she opens the door with a flourish.
Draco peers over the top of the calendar in front of her, trying to peek inside. "What is it?" He's so excited, it makes her heart flutter. His numerous boyish moments could melt her down to her bones.
Pinching the item with two fingers and lifting it out, Hermione shows him a set of two crystal otters. They are playful things, one sitting up tall and the other crouched down as if trying to incite play. She tilts her head and gives them an adoring look. "Aren't they so sweet?"
"I'm not sure, but I might feel attacked. Are those ferrets, Granger?"
That takes her by surprise and she laughs out loud, cupping the otters in her hand to protect them, lest she drop them with the mirthful shaking of her frame. "Otters, Malfoy! They're otters, of course!"
His furrowed brow tells her he doesn't understand why that might be obvious. "Sorry. It's my patronus. I'm actually surprised they remembered. Rather touched, actually, that they did." He doesn't immediately respond, so she tries again, clarifying, "My patronus is an otter." He still seems a little unsure.
"You can cast a patronus?"
That sobers her right up. Suddenly she remembers; all those nights she was with Harry in the Room of Requirement practicing defense, Draco was somewhere else, learning to be the source of dark magic she was meant to battle.
She lays the figure back onto her side table then remembers he technically had asked her a question. "Erm… fifth year. Some of us… we learned how to cast one. When the dementors…"
"Right. When Umbridge brought them to the school."
"Sorry," she says.
"For what?"
Hermione looks up to see him studying her with one of his more sincere expressions. "Bringing it up, I guess. Mentioning… you know… before."
It takes him a moment to answer. Finally, though, he just says, "As long as it can stay in the 'before', Granger. I like things a lot better now."
She takes it for what it is; an apology and a lament. Hermione nods at him and agrees, "Me too."
What might have become of this, their last private moment, is interrupted by the clock on the wall chiming the hour. "Oh! We better get down to the carriages!" She would feel terrible if he had to rush because of her. She's happy for him, really, that his parents are waiting for him. There's no love lost between Hermione Granger and the Malfoys, but no one can say a mother ever loved a son more than Narcissa does Draco.
They walk together at an unhurried pace, and Hermione wants to imagine he'd prefer to stay as much as she doesn't want him to leave, regardless that she knows it's a selfish thought.
At the carriages, she tells him, "Don't disappear, alright? I just want to wish Neville a Happy Christmas."
There are generally no drawn out goodbyes before Hogwarts releases for the Christmas season. No weeping or whinging. If anything, the excitement that has permeated her common room the last two days has bled over outside the castle. Neville returns her sentiment, complete with one of his awkward hugs. Luna tells her she will be on holiday with her father in Zanzibar. Apparently the Quibbler has an exclusive on some imaginary beast or the other. Hermione pretends to be very happy for her.
She misses Harry and Ron in moments like these. Not distracted by studying (or Draco), she misses the joy she finds in their friendship.
Turning back toward the castle, the last of the students jockeying for positions in the carriages, she looks for Draco. For just one moment, she's afraid he has already boarded, forgoing a proper goodbye. Hermione is about to be truly angry at herself, but then she finds him standing to the side near the last few students yet to either board or those set to return to the castle.
"I'm so sorry," she breathes, rushing over to him. "I was caught up with Luna. She's going to Zanzibar of all things! You'd not believe the things she thinks she is going to find there. Honestly, she's eerily brilliant, but some days she's just flat out eerie… oh! Oh, Merlin, Draco, you need to go!"
He looks down at her with a completely bemused expression. "Go where, Granger? You're so agitated…"
She stomps once, huffing, and gestures to the carriages with a quick jab of both hands, palms up as if presenting them. "The carriages! They're about to leave!"
Draco chuckles at her, his eyes warm. "I'm not leaving, obviously."
Obviously?
"You're not?" She probably looks completely dumbstruck. It would be an appropriate expression.
He has the audacity to scoff at her. "Of course not. And let you get ahead on N.E.W.T.S preparation? Please. I won't make it that easy for you, witch."
He looks down at her, a soft smile still curling his lip, and holding her gaze like she's supposed to be puzzling him out.
"You stayed for me?"
If there are any students left around them, Hermione doesn't know it. Probably, the thestrals are taking off and the students are cheering and yelling farewells, but Hermione doesn't hear a thing. She's captured in slate grey eyes and concentrating very hard on breathing.
His smile, no less warm but broadening with delight, hints at her answer. "How much shortbread do we have left, Granger? Enough until Christmas? I want you to know I gave up the Black recipe chestnut stuffing for you. The least you can do is keep me in sweets."
He offers his elbow which she takes, laughing softly and following him back to the castle. Perhaps, Christmas is looking a bit brighter after all.
The shortbread lasts until the twenty-third, and that is on pretty strict rationing. "Tragic," Draco mutters just before he takes the last corner of the last one into his mouth. Hermione starts to speak, trying to say he's probably had quite enough the past three weeks anyway, but he holds up his hand to signal for silence, keeping his eyes closed as he chews, savoring the final morsel.
When he swallows, thick and exaggerated, to which Hermione rolls her eyes, he levels her with a look. "Now you have to share whatever is left in your calendar, obviously."
She counters, "As if I've been terribly stingy up until now."
Draco waves away the point with a flippant flick of his wrist. "Be that as it may… " He looks back at her with a smile. "Shall we see what's in there this evening?"
She glances at the clock and finds it to be nearly ten at night. They've spent the better part of the day reminiscing Christmases past, playing exploding snap, and sampling the bottle of fire whiskey Lucius had sent over as an early gift.
I was a young wizard once, the man had written. You think I don't know you've stayed around for a witch? Happy Christmas, son.
"Imagine if he knew you were spending time with me…"
She'd regretted the comment immediately, their easy atmosphere evaporating, but Draco had said simply, "He knows better than to make any designs on my choices from now on."
And that, as they say, was that.
Rising from the sofa in their now private common room, all other final year students having left, she retrieves the calendar once again and flops down beside her unlikely friend.
Next to her, Draco is mock whispering in a not-so-quiet voice, "Chocolate...chocolate...chocolate…"
"Stop that," she chastises with a laugh. "Don't be disappointed when its rouge."
As it happens, it is neither. Instead of chocolates or face creams or anything quite so ordinary, Hermione extracts a tiny compact with a metal casing.
"That's in Paris."
Hermione looks up at Draco who is studying the item with interest. "It is," she confirms. "It's called the-"
"Eiffel Tower," he finishes with her. "Yes, I'm aware. Mother wanted me to see it. I was… perhaps eight? We visited family in France and skirted the edges of muggle Paris. My mother says it's one of the only things muggles have made of which she approves."
She looks at him with wide eyes and whispers, "So many things about that statement I find surprising." He laughs at the comment.
"So why a tiny mirror with a building on it?"
Hermione holds the object closer to his face. "This was a souvenir muggles bought at the World's Fair over a hundred years ago. It was a grand exposition and when the Tower was designed and built. I've always been fascinated by that event. Where in the world Mum found this is beyond me…"
"It seems she has outdone herself yet again."
Hermione cups the item in her palms, looking down at it and unsure how to feel. She was so afraid of losing them for so long. First to the war, then to her own botched magic destroying their minds. They might not be physically with her today, but can she begrudge them their time to heal? And haven't they shown her through all of these gifts, both lavish and mundane, that they know her completely? Accept and love her with all they have?
She feels like she has wept more in this month of December than in all of her life combined. And once again, she barely registers the tears falling until she feels the pad of Draco's thumb wipe a tear away. "I'm sure you know, but they seem to have you figured out," he tells her softly.
Hermione reaches up and lays her hand over Draco's, holding his palm to her cheek. "I thought maybe they decided to go... because they couldn't stand to look at me. After…"
And then she tells him. For the first time since the war, Hermione confesses her sins to someone who hadn't already known. Different than trying to explain her guilt to Harry or Ron or her mentors like McGonagall, Draco listens with rapt attention, asking occasional questions, but mostly just letting her speak.
"They must have understood," he assures her. "You were protecting them. They can't fault you for that, Granger."
She nods, still crying silently. Eventually, Draco slips his arm around her shoulder and draws her back against the sofa cushions. They sit that way for some time, not speaking. Hermione is holding the compact, opening and closing the lid and staring into the flames of the common room fire.
Draco glides one fingertip up and down her arm absently, lost in his own thoughts. Eventually, they fall asleep, curled together and the fire dying down to embers. As the room chills around them, they hold each other tighter until they are wrapped in each other's arms.
Hermione is not the first to greet the morning of Christmas Eve. She know this because, when she turns her head, she finds the clear grey eyes of Draco looking back at her. "Morning," he says softly, voice rough with disuse.
She blushes but holds his gaze. "Good morning."
After a beat, he extracts himself and sits up, stretching his arms over his head. "It's half nine," he comments. "Quite surprised we slept that long on a chesterfield."
Hermione giggles, a bit of nervous energy thrumming through her veins. "I must say, I feel quite rested."
Draco groans at her, effecting a put-upon tone of voice and pretending to complain, "Dear Merlin, now you'll want a repeat of this. Fine," he stresses, as if he's giving up. "I suppose we could try it again tonight. So demanding."
"I literally hadn't asked for anything," she says back, grinning.
"You didn't have to," he winks. "I think after these past few weeks, I know a thing or two about Hermione Granger. For instance, I know you'd like tea with a scone, yes?"
"Maybe you have been paying attention…"
"Slytherin," he tells her. "Observation is a survival skill, love."
Damned if that one tiny final word doesn't make her shiver.
Truthfully, she had expected one of her more emotional or sentimental gifts on Christmas Eve. Hermione has been thrilled by every item she has received, but, being so close to the actual holiday, she is surprised when the door labeled 24 contains a Cadbury Creme Egg and a note.
They can't all be Swarovski crystal, Darling.
She snorts at her mother's cheek.
"Now, that looks edible."
Draco wriggles his eyebrows, and she smirks. "Yes, but see how there's only the one?"
With a rather dramatic gasp, he lays his hand over his heart. "Granger! You wouldn't! After I stayed here for you? Doing my gentlemanly duty to accompany a defenseless witch-"
"Defenseless?!"
"-and you would deny me this one thing? Such a trifling matter…"
She shakes her head, bemused and heart light. It will be Christmas in a few hours. What she had thought would be a lonely, depressing affair has been one of the finest holidays she has ever enjoyed. Nearly evaporated are her concerns that her odd friendship might vanish at the beginning of term. He has proven himself sincere in his affections, platonic or not still up for debate. Regardless, she cannot imagine the next few months without this new found connection, and intends to fight for it if need be.
Hermione carefully peels the foil wrapping from around the egg, noting Draco's eyes on her as she does. When it's revealed, she spins it carefully for him to see.
"Share it with me?" he asks quietly, and his tone makes her blush.
"Not really a good way to share these, I'm afraid. You have it. I've grown up on these; I know what they taste like."
She offers up the candy, and, much as he had with the truffle what feels like a lifetime ago, he bites the top of the egg off with his teeth.
His eyes go wide as soon as he hits the center. "What in Merlin's name is in that?!"
"Delicious, isn't it?" is all she says, watching him lick his lips.
"You have the rest. I won't be responsible for denying you that."
Hermione considers him, a slow smile spreading her lips. "I'll make you a deal," she ventures, feeling brave. Perhaps it's that miraculous feel of the holidays, but suddenly she thinks she can take on anything. "Next June, when we take the Express back, I'll pop into a muggle shop and purchase one for you."
"And, one for you as well, I'd wager," he teases.
She laughs and agrees, "For me as well."
"Perfect. Then I guess I can take a little more…"
This time when he bites down, his teeth graze her fingertips and she would swear his tongue tastes her skin. She has trouble catching her breath for a long time, floating into her room when they agree to call it a night. She lays staring at the ceiling for a long time, more excited for a Christmas morning than she can ever remember.
When Draco ventures into the common room on Christmas morning, his heart is hammering in his chest. He hadn't imagined on that first day of December, simple concern prompting him to ask Hermione if all was well, that he would start an avalanche of interactions with the witch, burying him under the weight of his growing affections.
He's startled to find her already waiting for him. One of the many things he has come to know about Hermione Granger is that the witch likes her sleep. It's as he gets closer that he sees the slightly melancholy expression on her face.
Settling into his typical front of nonchalance, he drops down beside her, noting the calendar resting on her lap. "Happy Christmas officially."
She looks at him immediately, trying for a smile but coming up just a little short. If he did not know her so well by now, he might have missed it. "Good morning." He frowns at the tone of her voice.
"Has something happened?"
"Oh, no, not at all. It's always just a little sad, you know? Coming to the end. This year maybe more than most. It almost felt like I had my family with me. Not to mention…."
She trails off, and Draco knows better than to push her for more. "Do you want to wait?" he asks, gesturing to the little door. "You could save it for tonight…"
She shakes her head, curls bouncing and brushing against his shoulder. "We always finish on Christmas morning. I'd rather keep the tradition." Draco nods in understanding, then sits quietly as she continues to consider the calendar.
He watches her finally reach for the door, opening carefully. Inside is another box, similar in shape to the one that held the ring Hermione said had belonged to her maternal grandmother. This one, however is maroon in color and looks to be made of velvet. Before opening the box, she reaches in again and finds a slip of parchment. Not every day had a coordinating message, but Draco is relieved for her sake that she has one today of all days.
Reading over her shoulder, he finds the familiar scrawl he now recognizes as belonging to her mother.
Happy Christmas, our most darling daughter.
I had wanted you to have mother's ring because it represents our past, yours and mine together. But this year more than any other, is about the future. Your father and I cannot wait to make new memories with you, to embrace our family going forward. Even when we were away, I want you to know we always felt there was something missing. We know now that it was you. Please remember us when you wear this just as we always, despite your best magical efforts, young lady, remember you. We love you, Hermione. Our new life together is just beginning.
Mum and Dad
With a trembling hand, Hermione opens the box. Inside is a pendant with a large stone, perfectly coordinated to the vintage ring she received many days before. A dainty chain is attached to the top and disappears beneath the cushion on which the pendant sits.
Draco sits quietly, watching her as she stares down at the necklace, finally withdrawing it carefully from the box. Her fingers shake as she struggles to undo the clasp before Draco stills her with his own. "Allow me?"
She nods but still won't look at him, gazing down at their hands. He extracts the pieces from her fingers and deftly unhooks the claw from its mated loop. "Lift your hair?" he requests quietly. She turns her body away, her knees pushing against the arm of the small sofa, and pulls her curls up from her shoulders.
Draco swallows, knowing it is not an appropriate time but unable to stop his eyes from roving the long line of her neck. He reaches around her throat, carefully slipping his hands over her shoulders and beneath her arms. Bringing the chain around to meet at the back, he closes the piece together and lays the chain against her skin, letting his fingertips linger there.
She turns eventually, and he finds a very becoming blush staining her cheeks. "You're good at that," she mentions, referring, he assumes, to his deft handling of the clasp.
"Practice," he answers with a shrug only to watch her grimace and look away. "My mother," he clarifies. "Narcissa always has coordinating accessories, even for a day at the Manor. Said she found it more ladylike for a gentleman rather than a house elf help with her attire."
She whispers a soft, "oh", of understanding, but can't seem to find anything else to say.
"So," he says, clearing his throat. Draco finds himself trying to dredge up some of the courage for which neither his House nor his family is known. "Finally, Christmas then. I… I must apologize; I don't have a gift for you…"
"Oh, Draco, I hadn't expected you to," she says quickly, perking up as she tries to assuage his guilt. "We've only just become friends…" She looks up at him, unsure, and continues softly. "That is…. we are, right? Friends?"
Draco gives her a crooked grin, assuring her, "I rather thought so. Unless this is an elaborate ruse on my part to distract you from your studies and take top marks."
She chuckles a little. "Well, that sort of skullduggery would be fairly on brand for your House."
Laughing in turn, Draco settles into the sofa, feeling much more comfortable with the tension broken, Hermione's tears stemmed before they could fall.
"Besides," she says, leaning back next to him, "I don't have anything for you either. I'll make it up to you on your Birthday. As many Cadbury eggs as you can handle."
"Don't be daft," he chastises, fondness tinting the harsh words. "You shared every gift with me for weeks. Even one of those truffles. Not sure I could have given one up," he adds, eliciting a laugh even as his brow furrows, his tone turning serious and his head lying against the cushion to look at her. "You shared the season with me, Hermione. Your family and your traditions. No one has ever given me so much."
She turns her body toward him, her cheek pillowing the cushion behind them as well so they are looking at each other, noses inches apart.
"I'm not sure what this season would have looked like without you," she tells him. "Thank you for counting down with me. For indulging all my little muggle things when advent isn't even something wizards recognize. For counting down the days to Christmas."
Draco feels struck by genius, the heavens opening and the seas part, finding the opportunity he has sought for days. He lifts his hand to trail from her temple to her jaw, watching her chest hitch with a held breath as he does.
Taking advantage of her silence, he leans closer and denies, quietly, "I wasn't. I was counting down to this," and then gently presses his lips against hers.
If she's surprised, it doesn't stop her from answering his attentions with nips and flicks of her tongue, inviting him to do more; To give and take more. He does, escalating the kiss in tandem with her until they are pressed together, moaning into each other's mouth, hands searching for skin to touch, for places to hold.
They both pull back, breathing heavily, fingertips still clinging, digging into the other. "You… counted down… to that?" She asks, and she sounds slightly incredulous.
Draco was rather proud of himself for that one. "I did," he grins.
"You waited? Godric, why?! We could have been doing this for days!"
His smirk falters, ego deflating. "Well, when you put it like that…"
Hermione laughs again, pulling him closer to press one gentle kiss to his lips and murmur "Happy Christmas, Draco. Maybe I can find something to give you after all."
He smirks and gathers her against him.
The staff starts to wonder about them by the New Year, absent as they are from most meals. By the time the other students have returned, Draco has moved his favorite sheets onto Hermione's bed, and all of her shortbread, even the plain type is gone. On the first day of class, they emerge from her room together, and, by the time they reach the Great Hall for breakfast, the castle at large is gossiping about the unconventional pair. It doesn't seem to bother Hermione, and Draco just holds her closer, staking a claim and offering himself in turn.
For his birthday, Jean Granger sends a dozen chocolate eggs as well as a tin of chocolate shortbread just for him. As with anything else from now on, he lets Hermione share.
Thank you all very very much for reading and I wish you the Happiest of Holidays.
And remember, the awesome thing about reviews is it is a gift you don't need to wrap :P
