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This Christmas
Prologue, or One October Day
Theodore Nott was peculiarly partial to rainy weather. He loved it when nature turned dark and tempestuous - it suited his soul, balancing his own tendency to brood, giving him a sense of harmony, a sense of peace. Thus, every once in a while, he would go for a long, invigorating walk during a rainstorm.
It was an odd penchant, and maybe, as Draco had put it, ‘embarrassing on so many levels'. It was a weakness - he knew that, and he did agree with Draco's assessment as wholeheartedly as his inner Slytherin allowed. Alas, as the generation of the Second Wizarding War, they all had developed some kind of coping mechanism, and that was his unique method. At least, it was much healthier than overuse of the Calming Draught or the dreamless sleep potion. The worst that a stroll in the rain could cost him was a sore throat, a running nose, and a ruined pair of shoes.
It was raining, late in October - autumn storms were his favourite - and he was strolling through a completely abandoned park, relishing the refreshing feeling of the cool drops plummeting down on his face and shoulders. It was actually a right downpour, and his overcoat was already soaked, with the water freely trickling from his hair, his eyelashes, and the tips of his fingers. He didn't, however, pay any mind to it, as he was too busy breathing in the heady scent of wet earth, letting the rain wash off the stress, the worries, the memories, everything.
Walking slowly down the paved path, he was surprised to notice a lonely silhouette moving toward him. Frantically casting the Disillusionment Charm on himself, he stepped back from the pavement and leaned against a tree, where he waited, mildly intrigued. Who else could fancy a walk in such weather? As the figure drew closer to him, he could see clearly that it was a woman. Her ivory raincoat was just as soaked as his overcoat, and her curly, chocolate-coloured hair was thoroughly dripping wet. However, despite all that, her facial expression was as peaceful as his had been a few moments ago. Her coral lips were slightly parted; her lucent, amber gaze glowed serenely, and ... she looked exactly like a well-known war hero.
"Damn," he exclaimed, as he recognised her. It was Hermione Granger, of all people. Who could have thought it?
The young witch had already almost passed his hiding-place, when she suddenly turned her face toward him and, fixing her shining eyes on his, smiled. For a second, he stopped breathing. What on earth! She wasn't supposed to see him, for broomstick's sake! Still bewildered, he gave her a slight nod, just out of courtesy, of course, and she continued her stroll down the path, seemingly unperturbed by their encounter.
Damn indeed, he concluded as his eyes followed her figure until it disappeared in the fog.
About Two Months Later, December Twenty-Fourth, Ministry of Magic
Distribution Department
It was that blasted Christmas time again, and the Distribution department was, once again, pure hell to work in, as if it weren't bad enough at any other time of year. Lucy furrowed her brows and glared with disgust at the mountain of presents for the Ministry employees that towered in front of her. "Darn!" she exclaimed with annoyance. If she had had the opportunity, she would have undoubtedly hexed those witches from the Purchasing department into oblivion for their stupidity. How for Merlin's sake was she supposed to tell those presents apart, when they were all wrapped in identical green-and-red-striped wrapping paper? Even the bows were all the same - red, red, and bloody red again.
Well, if Lucy were entirely truthful with herself, then she would have to admit that the combinations of stripes did differ for each department. Plus, every package had a neat, golden label bearing the name of its recipient. That fact didn't make her life any easier, though. She needed to deliver all those packages quickly and accurately, and the choice of wrapping paper this year didn't support her objective at all. Besides, she never cared for the labels anyway, because, as far as she was concerned, as long as she shot the packages along to the right department, she was all right.
Lucy drew a heavy, tormented sigh, took her wand, and began to work. A second later, the packages flew to their intended recipients - more or less.
Department of International and Public Affairs
It was almost lunchtime when a flat, square-shaped package, wrapped in paper with a Christmas theme and topped with an obnoxiously big red bow, soared out of the mail-slot and landed on Theo's desk with an enthusiastic thump, tipping over a vial of ink in the process.
"What the hell," he muttered as he cleaned up the mess and reached for the package. He was practically certain that it hadn't been intended for him - it would have been a true Christmas miracle if it had been. Lately, the Distribution department had been seriously getting on his nerves with their utter incompetence.
Snorting irritably, he methodically turned the package in his hands until he finally spotted the label, which read:
Hermione Granger
Department for the Regulation and Equality of Magical Creatures
Theo chuckled. Just as he had predicted, it certainly hadn't been intended for him or for his department. The name of the intended recipient, however, made him ponder his next action carefully. Normally, he would have hurled the package back right where it had come from and forgotten about it. This time, though, he wasn't sure. He traced the golden letters with the tip of his finger, recalling his strange, rainy encounter with Granger two months ago. He still remembered quite vividly her heavy, wet ringlets, her parted coral lips, her amber eyes focused on him ... yeah, perhaps he remembered it just a little too vividly.
After much consideration, he stood up, grumbled: "All right," and, grabbing the package, marched from his office. He still debated with himself while crossing the waiting-area, and he did pause in front of the door, once again going over his sudden decision to deliver the package personally to the witch. I'm just doing it out of courtesy. It's not a big deal, he told himself eventually. It was Christmas time, after all. Plus, he was going to pass her department on his way to lunch anyway. At last, thoroughly annoyed with himself, he ran his hand through his hair, muttered: "Sod it!", and stepped into the crowded Ministry corridor.
He strolled briskly through the halls, carefully avoiding the mistletoe and glaring at the hollies and poinsettias with which some inane person had decided to decorate the Ministry walls. At one point in his journey, he thought that he saw Draco turning the corner, and sped up, although he was almost certain that he was mistaken. Draco didn't work at the Ministry and had no reason to be here. Moreover, he was thoroughly occupied with organising a Christmas party at Malfoy Manor. He and Luna are probably busy getting rid of Dabberblimps, Theo thought wryly. Frankly, he liked Luna and thought that she suited his friend well. She was Draco's coping mechanism, he reckoned, and he knew better then anyone that Draco really needed her. Luckily, she was always ready to take care of any stray Wrackspurt that dared to mess with her wizard's mind. Perhaps I need someone to watch after the Wrackspurts in my head as well, Theo joked to himself as he rounded the corner, noting that, just as he had thought, Draco was nowhere to be seen.
By the time Theo reached his destination, he was half-deaf from the incessant ringing of bells, and had already damned that blasted holiday, the Ministry, and everything else he could think of, at that moment. Once inside, however, he noticed that the sound-diminishing charm was in place and breathed out with relief. Thank Merlin for common sense!
The waiting-area of the Department for the Regulation and Equality of Magical Creatures was as abandoned as that of his own. People just can't keep their minds on work at this time of year, he mused as he walked toward Granger's office, the door of which was slightly ajar. He was already by the entrance when he heard a rustle and, intrigued, peeked inside. Granger was sitting at her desk, looking perplexed and holding a package almost identical to the one under his arm. He knocked on the door and, without waiting for her reply, stepped inside. He heard her catch her breath the moment she saw him on the threshold. "Nott!" she exclaimed, dropping her package on the wooden surface of the desk with a muffled thump. "What are you doing here, Theo?" she asked, a bit more softly, as she got a hold of herself.
Theo cocked an eyebrow at her, surprised by her use of his first name. She was correct, though, because, while they rarely, in his opinion, had anything to do with each other, they had been recently formally reintroduced at one of Draco's parties. Hence, in fact, they were on a first-name basis. I still prefer Granger, he stubbornly decided, and sauntered toward her.
"I brought you this," he said, and dropped his package on her desk. "It was delivered to my office by mistake," he explained, gazing at her while she inspected it. Her temperamental mahogany ringlets had a life of their own, as usual, forming a heavy mane around her pale face. Her mouth was slightly open again, and he wondered, for a few seconds, if her nasal passages were perpetually congested. In any case, for whatever reason, he found the sight of her parted lips disturbingly enticing. Troubled by his irrational reaction, he tore his gaze away from her tantalising pout and skimmed her face. There was an ink-stain on her pointed chin, and he diplomatically muttered the Scouring Charm, for once not thinking of the consequences.
Granger, always too perceptive for her own good, immediately noticed the wave of magic washing over her face, and frowned. A moment later, she narrowed her eyes and silently fixed her stern, questioning glare on him, clearly waiting for an explanation.
At least she hasn't drawn her wand, he thought, and lifted his hands up in a pacifying gesture. "Relax, Granger," he said. "You, um, you had a little something on your chin. Right here." And, surprising himself, he swiftly reached and touched the exact spot on her face. He hadn't, however, anticipated that her skin would be quite as warm and velvety as it was. And he certainly hadn't expected her eyelids to flutter and close as soon as his fingertips, on their own accord, of course, began to trace her jawline gently.
‘Oh," she breathed out almost inaudibly, and tilted her face closer to his caresses. His daring thumb found and grazed the well-defined contours of her lips, and her hot, wet tongue darted out and touched its pad.
"Granger," he growled warningly.
"Hermione," she corrected him in a breathy whisper, and licked his thumb again.
"Don't toy with me, witch," he warned her once again, and sharply tilted her chin up.
Her eyes flew open, and she focused her amber irises on him, watching intently as he moved his lips closer and closer to their unexpected but oh-so-temping target. They were a mere inch apart, when a door opened and closed with a loud bang. That sudden sound brought Theo back to reality, and he hastily let go of Hermione and stepped back. "Er, yes, all right, then, later, Granger," he muttered and, trying not to look at the clearly disappointed witch, rushed from the room.
"Theo, wait." He heard Hermione's voice and the tapping of hurried heels behind him. She caught him by the main entrance of the department, and he couldn't help gazing appreciatively at her expertly-fitted black skirt and white shirt. Her face was flushed, either from her brisk walk or from their aborted kiss, probably the latter, and she held the green package topped with a red bow in her hands. "I forgot to give you this." She smiled, tentatively, and handed it to him. "Somehow yours ended up with me. Now I see why poor Lucy from Distribution got them all mixed up - they do look quite similar with all those green and red stripes and those horrendous bows."
Theo took the package from her, accidentally grazing her fingers in the process, and noticed that her cheeks were flaming even more. "It's different," he commented, scrutinizing the package closely.
"Mm?" She arched an eyebrow at him.
"The wrapping paper, Granger. The green and red are different on this one," he explained.
"Hermione," she corrected him automatically, and added: "Yes, you're right, it actually is."
"What's in there, anyway?" he asked, feigning interest. "I usually toss them straight into the bin, to be honest."
"Next year's calendar."
"With kittens?" he said, and grimaced.
She snorted and rolled her eyes. "God, no, of course not. Just some natural scenery, typically. They are rather useful, by the way: charmed with all the important dates for each department."
"Pity," he hummed, and smirked. "How is your initiative going?"
"It's going well. Thank you for asking." She beamed at him. "And how is your Eastern project?"
"Fine, fine," he grumbled, watching with distaste the people who were dashing around them. The lunch hour was obviously over, and the common area was quickly filling with employees, which made him uncomfortable. "Are you going to be at the Manor tomorrow?"
"I guess so. Luna's reminded me about it every day for a month. You?"
"Yeah, same here with Draco," he chuckled. "All right, Granger, see you tomorrow, then." He turned on his heel and was about to stroll away when he felt Hermione's hand on his. Halting, he faced her once again, noticing a shadow of uncertainty in her eyes.
"Um, I was wondering, maybe, if we could go for a drink after work today," she blurted, blushing prettily. "If you don't have any other plans, of course," she added, nervously twisting one of her mahogany curls.
He wanted to say ‘yes', because he didn't have any plans for Christmas Eve whatsoever, and he genuinely liked the idea of spending an evening with Granger. Alas, a millisecond before he began to open his mouth and agree, some asinine Hippogriff burst through the entrance, simultaneously stepping on one of his feet and almost bumping into the witch. "Watch where you're going!" Theo spat at the nitwit, jabbing him between the ribs with an elbow for good measure. The moment was utterly ruined, and the ever-growing crowd around them suddenly annoyed the hell out of him. He snapped: "Sorry, Granger, I have some prior arrangements for this evening," and hurried down the corridor. Yet her softly spoken correction - "Hermione" - reached his ears before he managed to round the corner.
Christmas Eve
Five hours later and already at home, Theo was still irritated, though, by that time, mostly with himself and, of course, with that blasted troll who had ruined everything. At this point of the evening, he had only two options: either to get pathetically pissed, or to go to Malfoy Manor and spend the evening in the company of gooey-eyed blondes. The second option made his gorge rise, and, with a growled "Bugger," he threw his overcoat over his shoulders and Apparated with a crack.
Moments later, he reappeared in the park. It was snowing, and snow really wasn't his thing. It was better than wallowing in self-pity, however, so he just buttoned his overcoat and went down his usual path. The uneven, flickering light of gas-lamps caused everything around him to glisten and shine. The snow was wet and sticky, and it attacked his eyelashes, brows, and cheeks with annoying persistence, though he had to admit that the intricately ornamented snowflakes, which were circling in the air, looked somewhat nice.
He continued his walk, thinking about Granger. He was still brooding over the fact that he had screwed up his perfect chance and that he would probably need a bloody miracle to have another one with her, when he suddenly saw her sitting on the park bench under the lamp. He froze momentarily, not quite believing his eyes. Soon, however, his lips curled, and, murmuring: "Bloody miracle indeed," he trotted toward her.
She looked like a snowman, almost fully covered in snow. Only her defiant hair stubbornly refused to turn white. When he reached her, she lifted her face to him and said, her voice slightly hoarse but calm: "You said that you had a prior arrangement for this evening, Theo."
He sat down beside her, and replied: "Aye, I did."
"Why are you here, then?" She turned to him, and angled her head slightly, watching him with interest. "You lied," she accused him.
"Yep," he confessed, and met her gaze as his warm hands found her cold ones, trying to warm her frozen fingers with his.
"Bastard," she whispered.
"Comes with the territory," he remarked, and drew closer to her. With all that white and fluffy stuff twirling around, her amber eyes seemed very, very warm, and her lips, once again, looked awfully inviting. And when one especially audacious snowflake landed on her nose, he really didn't have any choice except to kiss the wet spot it left after it melted.
He pressed his lips to her icy nose, and, unable and, even more so, unwilling to stop, to her eyelids, to her cheeks, to the corner of her lips. He would have continued his deliberate progress, but the impatient witch in his arms obviously had a quite different idea, because she just cupped his face and, with all her Gryffindor directness, kissed him square on the lips. Frankly, he didn't mind at all, and slipped his tongue into her scorching-hot mouth immediately.
After a period of intense snogging under the snow, they had both turned into snowmen, and he decided that it was time to move somewhere dry and warm. "Is your offer still on the table, Granger?" he whispered, grazing her ear with his teeth, and dipping his tongue inside.
"Hermione," she corrected him, and added: "It is."
"Good. My place or yours?" he asked, standing up and tugging her with him.
"Whatever," she muttered into his coat, being quite a bit shorter than he.
"My flat it is, then," he murmured, and, the next instant, they both disappeared, leaving two black silhouettes on the bench for the snow to cover.
Christmas Day
Next morning, Theo, clothed only in his silk lounge trousers, went down to the kitchen to make tea. He paused in the living room and gazed at his fireplace thoughtfully. There was only one package lying near it, probably from Luna and Draco. Amusingly, his friends had also chosen green wrapping paper. Thank Merlin there are no stripes, he chuckled to himself, and disappeared into the kitchen.
Normally, all that Christmas nonsense would have irritated him no end, but not this time. This Christmas, he had unexpectedly received the best present ever. Whoever was in charge of the presents this year, had given him Granger, and so he truly wasn't in the mood to complain about the jingle bells and hollies. After all, he had spent most of the night first unwrapping and then carefully cataloguing, learning about, and investigating his precious present. Moreover, he fully intended to continue to ... ahem ... peruse it on a permanent basis. Hermione Granger was his; she had said so herself. And even though his head had been buried between her thighs at that moment, and his tongue had been doing some wicked things to her, he still considered it a perfectly legitimate promise and seriously intended to hold her to it.
Humming something triumphant, he reappeared on the threshold of his kitchen holding a tray with tea and toast. Still humming, and not sparing even one glance for his fireplace, he strode upstairs toward his bedroom.
"Tea, Granger," he announced as he opened the door, and smiled as he heard her "Hermione" in reply.
Postscript
They were both only mildly surprised that, instead of the traditional Merry Christmas, the moment they stepped out of the Manor Floo, Luna met them with: "I am so glad for you two. Now you will be able to walk in the rain togeth- "
Draco, however, didn't let her finish the phrase, and steered her away with: "Luna, darling, I think I need your help. We've got a mini-mistletoe-crisis in the hall. Poor Severus got stuck with Potter."