Hallelujah - A Christmas Story

A/N: Please review.

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It had seemed so damned idealistic at first. The Death Eater, Dark wizard, and hater of muggles everywhere had fallen for the one woman that was the antithesis of who he was.
He had been trolling through the streets, looking for some kind of relief after Narcissa had left, his legs restless, his mind wandering, when he ran across her little bookstore. The door was red and had gold lettering, proclaiming it to be “The Enchanted Library.” He fell with love with the scene he saw through the windows. The place was filled with people scrambling up texts for the loved ones. He watched the crowd migrate and shift as it searched for the perfect tome.

Then he saw her.

She was sitting on a red velvet chair, a picture book fanned open so her adoring crowd of youngsters could look at the pictures as she read him. He was struck with the sudden realization that he had never read to Draco. He had never held a book so lovingly and caressingly open on his lap, inviting his son to marvel at the drawings as he told the tale of brave knights, foolish frogs, and evil ‘witches’. He had never poured knowledge into his son’s head, good knowledge that would teach him how to be a man and how to help those around him.

Instead, he had taught his son what it was like to be a murderer, what it was like to watch his father torture and kill innocent people. Lucius had taught his son that happiness and love were just trivial emotions that the muggles suffered from, and “weren’t we better then them?”

It was seeing Hermione with those kids in front of him that made him realize he wanted more children. Not just so he could have more heirs, but because he wanted to fill his children with the knowledge of goodness and grace that he had never given Draco. He wanted to make them happy, to love them and care for them. Seeing Hermione’s interactions with the children made it plain who he wanted to help him.

He watched her laugh as one of the children asked her a question, her mouth wide open; her eyes scrunched tight, head thrown back in joy. She was a marvel to behold. He looked at her ring finger and noticed that it was blank. Why hadn’t some wizard put a ring on her finger long ago? She was a prize and any wizard would be happy to be seen with her on their arm.

The door opened then, the twinkling sound of tiny bells catching his attention. He grabbed the door for an elderly couple and then slipped inside the warm shop. The shop was decorated in Halloween paraphernalia, spiders hanging from the ceiling and orange and black garland draped along the bookshelves and twined around the banner for the stairs let led to the second floor. He wondered what was up there, when a voice cut into his musings.

“May I help you, Sir?” He turned his head to look at the witch standing beside him. She had to be about twenty two years old and she looked vaguely familiar, as if she had been a classmate of Draco’s.

“Yes, you can,” he looked her over, taking in her strange, blue eyes and long, dirty blond hair. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw something like radishes dangling from her ears. “Who is the proprietor of this bookstore?”

“A Miss Hermione Granger.” Luna looked him over and scowled. “If you think you can buy her shop out, Mr. Malfoy, you have another thing coming to you.”

Lucius startled at the vehemence in her voice, looking confusedand affronted by her tone and words. Why ever would he want to buy out a bookstore, especially one that brought such joy to people?

“Luna, you’re needed at the counter,” a strong, warm, feminine voice said from behind him. He closed his eyes as her scent drifted to him, that warm smell of sugar and figs. She smelled good enough to eat, but that was getting way ahead of his plans.

He turned around, his smile fading at the narrowed look of suspicion in her eyes and on her face. She placed her hands on her hips and glared at him, her face softening slightly when a little kid ran past.

“What is it you want, Malfoy? I’m not in the selling mood today.”

He went to take a step forward and thought better of it. “That’s good, because I’m not in the buying mood today.”

She scoffed, turning her head to the side, managing to retain eye contact. “So you’ll just come back when the mood strikes then?”

He took that step into her, invading her personal space now. He watched her lick her suddenly dry lips, warmth and color blossoming in her cheeks. “Yes, I think that is what I’ll do,” he picked up her hand and ran his lips along her soft skin, rubbing his thumb into her palm. “For the mood will strike, Hermione, but it won’t be the mood you and your employees expect.” His words dripped with insinuation and for a moment she was trapped, staring into gray, winter eyes that seemed to hold all the secrets of a winter’s day. She suddenly realized where she was and pulled her hand back sharply, cradling it in her hand.

“Get. Out,” she growled as low and menacingly as she could manage, fire burning in her brown eyes.

“Until we met again,” he inclined his head in a formal bow, before turned and walking through her doors. She listened to the tiny bells ring in the sudden silence of his departure. The store was alive with noise, but all she could hear were those bells.

What had he been doing here? She never would have dare dreamt that Lucius Malfoy would darken her door. Never would she imagine that he would walk into her bookstore and press his lips to her flesh, all of his own accord.

Never would she imagine that tiny little thrill she received from his display.

Luna watched from the counter with a knowing grin on her face. Lucius Malfoy wasn’t interested in their little bookstore, or securing more money for himself. It seems the wizard had come out of his self-imposed exile after his wife’s departure and had set his sights on his first conquest: the proprietor of The Enchanted Library, Hermione Granger herself.

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Now on his fourth drink of the night, Lucius could not help but think about that first meeting. He had not expected to fall for Hermione so fast, or so soon, but it seemed Fate had a different plan. And when Fate wanted something, that old bitch always got it.

He had gone back to her shop four days later, with a bundle of expensive lilies in his hand. He had made the florist throw in several different varieties of lilies, so she wouldn’t get bored with looking at them. All conversation in the bookstore had stopped when he walked into the door with his fragrant bouquet. He paid no attention to the group of onlookers as he strode purposely towards her, her eyes wide as she looked at the beautiful and expensive arrangement of flowers in his hand. She swallowed, her eyes darting side to side as she looked for any kind of escape. Soon, the fragrant smell of the flowers was under her nose and she closed her eyes, a headache forming somewhere in her left temple.

“Ms. Granger,” she opened her eyes at his masculine voice, finding his face close to hers, yet far enough away to give the illusion of personal safety. “Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to dinner this evening?”

Several witches in the crowd gasped and her eyes were drawn to them, noticing that the bookstore was far exceeding the capacity of people that should be in the shop. No doubt that if given the room more people would be crowded in here, as onlookers were gathered outside her windows.

“Now is not the time for this, Mr. Malfoy.”

“There has never been a better time,” he laid the flowers on the counter in front of her, smiling when she reached out a hand to touch one of the soft petals. “Call me Lucius, please.”

Hermione drew in a shaking breath and picked up the flowers, bending her head down to smell them at the root. She couldn’t help but close her eyes at the luxurious smell of the lilies, all the different varieties forming one massively fragrant flower. She opened her eyes and keeping her head bent over the flower, she turned her eyes on Lucius.

“You can’t buy me with expensive gifts, Mr. Malfoy. My heart is not won that easily,” she turned from him and walked away, winding herself through her customers and disappearing upstairs. The silence that followed her departure carried a loud buzzing with it, and he felt as if his ears would fall off. His lip quirked up into a half smile at the empty counter.

She had taken his flowers.

*

For almost two months, he came every fourth day, with a new arrangement of flowers. Sometimes it was lilies; sometimes he brought orchids, one time he had brought an arrangement of Scottish wildflowers, Hermione being amazed at the purple-pink of the heather, foxglove, and dogrose clashing beautifully against the yellow of the celandine, tormentil and buttercup. It was the bluebells and the forget-me-nots that did it, though, her eyes watering up as she looked at the flowers that had bloomed around Hogwarts.

He had developed a pattern of coming around closing time and found her alone in the store when he produced his assembly of Scottish wildflowers, her eyes widening as she took in the beautiful arrangement, only to see the tears well in her eyes when she saw the little sprinkles of blue through-out the bouquet.

He sighed, placing the flowers gently on the counter, before backing up.

“I see that I have upset you. That is the last thing I could wish. Farewell, Ms. Granger.”He turned from her then, unable to bear the sight of tears in her eyes.

“Hermione,” she whispered, before clearing her throat. He turned around to see the flowers in her hand, the tears falling from her eyes as she looked at the beautiful and delicate wildflowers in her hand. “Call me Hermione. How did you get these?” Her voice cracked, her hand clutching the bunch to her chest before looking up into his eyes, only to see that he had reclaimed the distance between them.

“I would get anything for you,” she gave a half sob and turned from him, wiping the back of her free hand across her face.

“Why me? Why now?”

He strode around the counter and lifted her chin, her runny brown eyes melting his as he looked at the pain on her face.

“Because you are my salvation, Hermione. And right now, I need to be saved,” her lips parted at his confession and in an instant he was on her, feasting tenderly against her mouth. His lips played along her gently, kindly, but with a hint of desperate need underneath the tenderness. She did not return his kiss, and he was about to pull back, when her lips parted more and she began to push against his lips with her own, her tears falling down his cheeks as they touched.

She took in a shuddering breath and pulled away, resting her forehead against his. “I haven’t been kissed in years.”

“I feel as if I have never been kissed. Allow me the pleasure of that heaven one more time.” Hermione wound her hand that was still clutching her bouquet around his head and pulled him back down into her, initiating the kiss this time. This time was magic, all raw want and desire, as he slowly slipped his tongue into her mouth. She moaned against him and pressed herself against his body, feeling at home against the solid column of his flesh.

After a moment they pulled away, Hermione’s lips red and puffy, her face flushed, and her tears dry. She kept her eyes closed, giving him a little half smile that lit his heart.

“I know a good little café down the way. They are open every day of the year, so it shouldn’t be a problem that it’s Christmas Eve.”

He smiled, running his fingertip down her nose. “Anything you say, Hermione.” He fired off a Stasis spell so that her flowers would not wilt in the cold and waited for her by the door, watching as she pulled her burgundy pea-coat over her white sweater dress. She was magnificent, beautiful, and simplistic. She did not need the baubles that Narcissa had demanded, and he knew then that giving those things to her would make it all the better, because she would actually appreciate them.

They walked into the cold air and he watched her lock up. Yes, this was a witch to be cherished, to be prized. Not only was she beautiful and intelligent, but proving by how successful her business was she was also incredibly business-savvy. A witch that deserved to be by his side.

Little did he know that he did not deserve to be by hers.


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A/N:I plan on writing a chapter every day and having this finished by Christmas. It's such a lovely story that I can't get it out of my head. I hope you enjoy!