Out of Time

Chapter 42

"Yes," she decides at length, "with a few stipulations."

He lifts his eyebrows, prompting her.

"No one else can be around. Don't snatch me in the middle of a party, or something like that."

"Can I snatch you from the party and silence a nearby closet?"

"...yes. And I can't be in the middle of something important, like - like - I don't know, but you can't use it to get me away from something specific. And that includes something you just don't want me to do."

He's impressed by this loophole-closing, she can tell. The Slytherins have rubbed off on her.

"Fine," he heaves out, long-suffering. "Anything else, your majesty?"

"Only one other thing. You can't do it if we've been fighting."

That ought to be self-evident and she'd like to think it would be. It's still smart to air it out, but now she's getting eerie echoes of when they first talked about him waking her up with oral sex.

(Unless we just had a row. No attempted making-up while I'm asleep.
That's fair. I don't plan on having more rows, anyway')

Right before she'd found his Dark Mark. It's an unfortunate parallel. Draco must agree because he kisses her exposed hipbone and reaches down near his feet for something else.

"Fine. I will surprise you while wearing this cloak that doesn't belong to me, at an entirely appropriate time and location, with no one around, no important events occurring, and plenty of spare time. You'll never see it coming. Now, would you like your Christmas present?"

Ever since he said her present was in his worn, leather school bag, Hermione's tried not to think about it. That was over a week ago and it's been hard to accomplish - which is saying something, considering what they've been up to. She adores presents, especially his, and her birthday was more difficult to endure than usual this year. She'd had no parents sending her birthday tidings at Hogwarts, and with Harry and Ron forgetting it altogether (like they usually have).

She'd never go snooping through his bag for it. Hermione had made the mistake of doing that one Christmas when she was young. She'd only been five or six, but she still remembers the glee when she'd found a stash of purchased gifts in the lower drawer of her parent's dresser. Sneaking upstairs had been so satisfying, watching the noisy step on the left that always creaked under her little feet, shutting their bedroom behind her. She'd had a tremendous sense of satisfaction over she'd successfully infiltrating their closest-held secrets of Christmas. Then came the dread of them finding out somehow, and the inevitable shame of what she'd done.

Unbeknownst to her, they did know. Parents are like that, especially when they have a hyper-precocious child who enjoys exploring things on her own. On Christmas morning, there were wrapped presents from 'Santa,' as her mum and dad always did, but the gifts she'd found in that bottom drawer were just... sitting out.

Her lower lip had started to wobble and Liam Granger had taken her in his lap. He'd been so gentle about it and that had made everything worse.

"Now, do you see? The surprise is the fun, sweetheart."

She'd never done it again (obviously, feeling completely shattered sitting on her disappointed father's knee). Only once she was older did she comprehend that she'd taken the fun away from them, as well. Children don't think that way, of course. No other experience registers but theirs, and she'd only felt worse about it as she'd grown old enough to understand. They were supposed to share the fun together.

From somewhere around his knees, Draco hands her a small bundle. It has the rough dimensions of a book, but without the typical stiffness. It feels like something she'd package securely enough to send off with an owl. Brown parcel paper covers it and it's tied off crossways with red, Christmassy twine.