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Hallelujah - A Christmas Story

By: StarKneazle
folder Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Lucius/Hermione
Rating: Adult +
Chapters: 7
Views: 5,165
Reviews: 18
Recommended: 0
Currently Reading: 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or these characters. I make no money from this piece of fiction. All credit goes to JK Rowling.
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Three

A/N: Please enjoy and review!


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Christmas Eve dawned blindingly bright, helped in part by the blanket of snow that covered the ground. Hermione turned over in her sleep, turning her face away from the blinding light, pulling the covers closer to her chin. She was still snuggled down in the warmth of her blanket and the warmth of a memory she would rather soon forget, but did not have the fortitude to deny.

She dreamt of Lucius’ arms. The strength they held, the love and tenderness she always found in his arms completely at odds to the steel ropes of muscles under his flesh. She dreamt of the first Christmas they had known each other, truly known each other. They had gone to the diner and she watched, an observer instead of the participant she had been, as Lucius and her ate breakfast food late at night. She watched the joy flitter across her face as she saw Lucius trying muggle breakfast food for the first time, the laughter brought to the surface as he fussed over his plate of pancakes. The first bite had been hesitant at best, but after he had swallowed his food he had been like a child in a candy store. He demolished his stack of pancakes, the muggle waitress bristling as he barked for more. She watched herself laughing at the joy on his face when his new stack was brought, the way he licked his lips without even realizing he had made the gesture. He demolished his second stack and it was only then that Hermione informed him that they made pancakes that had tiny chocolate chips inside.

Now, Lucius Malfoy had never been a man who sought out sweet things. He ate the occasional gourmet confection, but the idea of normal chocolate inside normal stacks of fried batter had never occurred to him. His eyes nearly fell out of his head when she said this, Hermione falling onto the cushioned booth she was sitting upon as he barked at the waitress to bring him chocolate chip pancakes, and to make sure he didn’t run out this time.

Hermione watched the scene from afar, remaining in her role of casual observer as the scene shifted.

This was a scene she knew to well. Lucius was sitting at his desk, a letter clenched tightly in his fist, his eyes unfocused as he stared ahead. Hermione had entered his study to find him this way, having full rein of the Manor as they now lived together. She ran to Lucius and began to shake him, but the Dark wizard was non responsive as Hermione tried every trick she knew to get him to respond. He just continued to stare ahead, his gray eyes lost and confused, not looking at anything, his eyelids refusing to blink, as he stared at the wall. That did not seem to be right; it was as if he stared through the wall. Hermione grasped his hand and it was then that she noticed, really noticed, the piece of parchment in his hand. Hermione was able to pluck it from his fingers without a fight, her eyes widening as she read the few sentences that were printed across the paper. She gasped, and then looked back at Lucius, who had not moved.

She tried to rouse him one more time but he ignored her, finally standing up and walking from the room. He had not acknowledged her once. She wanted to run after him, grab him tightly, and never let him go. She found, though, that she feared the rejection that she knew would come. She knew that Lucius would not be able to look at her, to allow her to hold him, to allow her to see him cry. She knew that this was a pain he would have to overcome on his own. She knew that from this day on, a piece of him would forever be locked away because a piece of him had died.

Draco Malfoy was dead.

Hermione felt her dream shift again, and she knew the scene that would follow. It was the day of Draco’s funeral and Hermione had found Lucius, drunk as the dead, curled up on the floor in his bathroom. His eyes were bloodshot and his hair was uncombed. Hermione’s heart broke as she looked at her love, a broken shadow of the great wizard that he was. She tried to gather him in her arms, but he pushed himself away from her, instead reaching for his only comfort; the bottle of cognac that sat on the floor. When Hermione tried to take it from him, he pushed her away so hard that she fell onto the floor, her back smacking against the marble floor of his bathroom. Hermione looked at him through strands of her hair, watched him raise the bottle to his lips and suck at the liquor that flowed into his mouth and down his throat. He did not seem to realize, or even care that dribbles of the alcohol flowed out his mouth. His mouth could not contain the amount of liquid he was trying force down his throat, and so it bubbled forth and stained his face and robe. The robe was black, so it would not show, but Hermione realized that people would be able to smell the cognac on his breath and robes at the funeral.

She stood up and went to him, trying to wrest the bottle from his mouth. He held on tightly, his eyes blazing with anger as he stared her down. She pulled with all her might and finally the bottle came loose, Hermione stumbling against the counter due to the force. She glared at him and then threw the bottle as hard as she could, the glass shattering against the white wall, the amber liquid staining the paint.

“Draco would be ashamed,” she spat at him, turning on her heel.

“Draco is no longer here. He can no longer look at his father in shame. He has been freed of me!” Lucius bellowed at her retreating back. She slammed the door to the bedroom, leaning her head against the wooden door.

Lucius had never made it to his only child’s funeral.

There was slight tapping on Hermione’s window and she groaned, rolling back over in her sleep. She could see the magnificent spread of blinding light behind her eyelids, the light blinding her eyes. She put a hand over her eyes and slowly opened them, the tapping growing more intense the more she ignored it. She waited until her eyes had adjusted to the light shining in front of her hand and took her hand away from her eyes, looking around her room in wonderment.

Her room was hazed over in the new light of day, the white purity of the snow enabling the light to shine brightly as it bounced off her walls. Her room seemed too small to contain all this pure light and she stared at the beauty of it all, a small smile creeping across her face. This was what Christmas should be like!

The tapping came again and this time she saw it. A regal looking owl was tapping on her window, a scroll tied around its feet. She stared at the owl for several seconds then groaned, pulling the covers over her head and falling back against her pillows.

She did not believe it. Or rather she did believe it. Lucius was the most stubborn, audacious, and down right most impossible person to deal with when he wanted something. He would stop at nothing to get what he wanted, everything and everyone be damned.
It was far too early for this.

She threw back the covers from herself and stood, placing her feet in the burgundy slippers that were resting next to her bed. She looked down at where she had left her robe and sighed. Everything she was wearing had been a Yule present from Lucius. He refused to get her Christmas presents, saying that the idea of Christmas was just to muggle for him, and so every year he had gotten her a Happy Yuletide present, while she had merrily gotten him Happy Christmas gifts.

They had been a strange couple in deed.

Ignoring the owl, she bent down and picked her robe up from the floor. She slipped her arms into the rich fabric, trying to chase away the image of Lucius holding her in his arms. She found herself smelling the fabric, sighing when she realized what she was doing.

Her robe and nightie no longer held that scent that was pure Lucius, that scent of expensive leather and tobacco, sandalwood and musk, as they had been folded up and tucked away for a year. They now only smelled like her, as the scent of her body had rubbed off on the clothes that surrounded these scraps of silk.

The owl continued to tap at the window as she walked from her room. Tea and a chocolate covered biscuit would cheer her up. She fought down the craving for chocolate pancakes, hoping the tea biscuits she kept for special visitors would chase away the cravings.

She went into her kitchen and did not need to bother with flipping on a light. The whiteness from the outside spilled into her open window and she smiled as she went to her kettle, taking it to the sink and washing it out before filling it up. She started to hum her favorite Christmas song, swaying a little to the music in her head.

Lucius Malfoy be damned! She was going to enjoy this Christmas, if it killed her.

She winced slightly, remembering her dream. Bad turn of phrase. She was going to enjoy Christmas, even if it annoyed the hell out of everyone else.

That was much better.

She was just putting the kettle on the stove when she heard tapping at her window. She looked up to find that damned owl again. That foul creature was a persistent pest. It seemed Lucius had given the damned bird explicit instructions and it was not to be turned away for any reason. She narrowed her eyes at the animal, wondering what her cat would do if it got a hold of it. Visions of disemboweled owls filled her head and she shuddered, turning back to her kettle.

The tapping began to get louder and more frequent as she moved about her kitchen, trying her hardest to ignore the bird as it continued to hover at her window. She wondered briefly if magical owls became tired the way mundane owls did, and then realized that of course they didn’t, as they sometimes had to fly vast distances with large packages.

Still, she felt her heart constrict as the owl continued to hover outside, no longer expanding the energy to peck at her window as it watched Hermione eat her biscuits and drink her tea. No doubt the little dear was hungry and tired.

Sighing, she abandoned her delicious tea so she could open her window and retrieve her letter. The owl flew in without any acknowledgement of her, flying directly to her table and began pecking at a biscuit. Hermione sighed as she watched the bird decimate one of her prized biscuits, scowling as it moved onto a second. Didn’t Lucius feed his poor birds? Merlin knew he had the money.

Hermione closed the window as it was too damn cold in just her scrap of silk and went to retrieve her letter, receiving a nasty hoot from the owl for being disturbed from its’ meal. She gathered her courage and unrolled the scroll, fighting down her temper as she read the missive the owl had delivered.

Hermione-

Please forgive my abrupt behavior last night. I was not thinking clearly. I will be dining out tonight and would appreciate your company. I will be in the usual spot, as the proprietors of a certain establishment do not care that it is Yuletide Eve.

Sincerely,

L. Malfoy


She stared at the parchment in her hand, her eyes narrowed in anger. With a little growl of anger, she crumpled the parchment up in her fist, and then banged her hand against the wood of her table. That fucking bastard. He was going to go to their diner, the diner she had shown him, on the night they had met, and eat damn chocolate chip pancakes and wait for her. He was treating it like date, asking her to accompany him. He wanted to woo her, to court her again! That fucking, selfish, son of a –

Her thought was cut off by Lucius’ owl rising into the air and flying to the window, tapping on it with its beak. Apparently, Lucius was so sure the she would show that he did not even want a reply. Well, that was perfectly fine with her, as she had no intention of writing a response! With a scoff of indignation, Hermione walked to her window and threw it open, allowing the owl to fly off into the blazing Christmas Eve day. She slammed the window, the glass rattling in its pane.

Well let him wait. Let him sit and wait for her. Let him know the humiliation and degradation she suffered at his hands when he had chased the bottom of a bottle and forgotten her.

She stomped out of her kitchen and went to turn on her shower, the letter still crumbled on her table.


*

A/N: Expect the finale of this story by the end of the week. It's going to be a short little thing, as I want it out before Christmas, but I have all day tomorrow to write it. Yay for finals being over!!
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