Merry Christmas Mr. Malfoy (Book 1)

Chapter 7 : Burning Pain

Burning Pain

He was upset. She'd noticed it when they met up to gather the students for the return to Hogwarts. He was tense, his body coiled like a snake ready to lunge, and it made her worry.

Since when did she start worrying about Draco?

It was weird; ever since she began this plan, ever since she first stepped outside with him to enjoy the snow, she felt like their relationship was gradually growing more intimate.

She didn't know when it started or why it was even happening; all she knew was that it was happening and she probably couldn't stop it if she wanted to.

Sitting on the kitchen table, letting the aromas waft around the Common Room, she let her eyes drift close as she inhaled the sweet scent of chocolate. The day had been stressful; she'd dealt with Ginny's inquiring stares, the stress of having to find the perfect gift for Harry (which wound up being the latest broom, Firebolt 3000, something she, Ginny and Luna had all pitched in to buy), rounding up rowdy teens, and Draco's strange moods.

She needed this time to relax. To enjoy the process of baking, to focus only on measurements and when to pour, how to pour and when to mix, and to let the sweet scents take her to a world where there was no stress.

To a place where she didn't have to ask before she did anything.

While waiting for them to finish baking, she had quickly scribbled a note to her mother asking her to send her laptop and a few of her favourite Christmas CDs and movies. She would have to wait until later to take it up to Owlery; she didn't want the brownies to burn.

Humming a song, she literally laid down on the table, keeping her eyes shut as she found a sense of inner peace.

Today had been very odd. She'd heard several rumours that Pansy had run back to the school crying, which had been added to the rumours that Pansy and Draco had had a rather big row. Hermione had been mildly curious of what had transpired, until she'd seen just how tense Draco was during the 'round up' period. In fact, he had nearly made a fourth year cry.

She had tsked at Draco, giving him hell in front of the fourth year, and helped the poor girl with her bags; the child had bought too many things.

It was odd, thinking of the fourth years and how different life had seemed for her, Harry and Ron. In fourth year, they had been forced to grow up fast. The Triwizard Tournament had forced them to mature in a way no child at fourteen should mature. Then, with the revival of the Dark Lord, there had been no more time for playing or thinking of Christmas presents.

There had only been darkness and death.

They'd grown up fast, almost too fast, and she wanted to make sure that no child had to grow up that fast ever again. She wanted people to enjoy their childhood, to enjoy living life, even when times got stressed or dark.

Maybe...maybe this was a reason for why she wanted Draco to enjoy Christmas. He, too, had been forced to grow up fast. In all of her years at Hogwarts, she had never seen him truly enjoying himself. His smile never met his eyes, his laughter washollow and emotionless, and his steps were never light with mirth.

Yesterday, for the first time, she saw him smile a smile that reached his eyes and made them glow, she had listened to him laugh that deep-bellied laugh filled with joy, and she had watched him walk with a light spring in his step he thought nobody noticed.

People thought that, at nineteen, one was too old to enjoy life and its childish aspects. Hermione thought that no one was ever too old to enjoy life.

Leaping off of the table, she gathered up her clean equipment and began the process of preparing the cardamom-spiced shells she'd planned on making the day before.