Vacivitas

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Will he Occlude today?

She's just finishing finger-combing some mousse into her coils when the pop of Pinky's appearance rings out behind her. Hermione sees the little elf behind her in the mirror and grins. She's wearing an extravagant pink dress that reminds Hermione of Cinderella.

"Well, don't you just look beautiful, Pinky," she says, turning to look down at her. "Happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas, Miss!" Pinky is all smiles as she offers Hermione a small parcel. It's rectangular, wrapped in shimmering red and gold with a frilly bow to match. "This is from Pinky, Moe, and Dipsy."

Hermione grins as she eagerly tears into the wrapper. It seems morbid, to be so excited over Christmas when the people she cared about in the past are dead. To be cheerful and in the holiday spirit when she's living in the manor of a monster who she just-so-happens to have feelings for. Someone she kissed, Someone she plans to kiss again.

"Oh, my goodness!" Hermione exclaims in delight as she reveals a first edition leather-bound copy of Hogwarts: A History. "I love this, Pinky. Thank you."

"Master says this is Miss' favorite book,"

"He did, did he?" she says in response to Pinky's claim.

Pinky nods and her smile brightens. "Master always knows how to make Miss happy."

Hermione's heart skips a beat. How does Draco know her favorite book? She's never told him that before.

Unless.

Unless Tracey's offhand comment weeks ago had been correct. Perhaps Draco did have feelings for her in school, as absurd as that is. She can still recall the conviction in his voice and anguish in his eyes the day of his mother's funeral when they'd argued at the top of the stairs.

"Turn you in? Just like that. Drop you off to be skinned alive and dismembered in front of me? Fantastic. Exactly what I've dreamed of for for fucking years."

Had he been watching her from afar? Had it started as a crush and developed into something more? Or was it something darker, some macabre fascination with someone he thought was beneath him? During their Fifth Year, Draco wasn't on her radar. She was too busy worrying about her exams, Dumbledore's Army, and Umbridge. Her experiences with him that year were few, with the most interaction being the day Umbridge tried to Crucio Harry. She hadn't paid Draco any attention, but maybe he'd been paying attention to her.

Hermione is a girl. She understands what it's like to fancy someone and think you've fallen completely in love with them from afar. It's plausible that Draco had simply fancied her, only to have it develop into something more. Or maybe he fancied the idea of her; of having someone care about him in a world where his friends were glorified lackeys and his parents sacrificed him to a madman.

But fancying her when he was fifteen is a far cry from risking his life lying to the Dark Lord to keep her hidden. The way he looks at her...the things he's done for her...the things he said to her...it shows her that whatever this is, it's not just fancy. It's something deeper. Not love—no, of course not. Draco can't possibly love her. She isn't sure if she could ever love him .

And yet.

And yet she's sitting at her vanity in a room he gave her, holding a first edition copy of her favorite book because he paid attention to her when she thought no one was looking.

It doesn't make any sense at all, but since when have matters of the heart ever made sense?

After a small conversation, Hermione and Pinky make their way to the sitting room where the presents are. The Christmas tree is the only light source in the room, the shadows showing Hermione it's still fairly early in the morning. Tillian and Faye are there waiting on one of the couches, bundled up in pyjamas and blankets and whispering to one another. There are House Elves everywhere , both adults and children. Hermione can't count them all. She realizes as Pinky joins them that they're most likely the twenty-seven members of her family, aside from Dipsy and Moe. Pinky tries to introduce every single one of them to Hermione, aunts and uncles and wives and husbands and nieces and daughters and sons and nephews, but the names start to blur together and Hermione's unable to stop her brain from tuning them all out. All she can think about is Draco, last night, their kiss, and the fact that she's actually spending Christmas in the Malfoy Manor with thirty House Elves.