"Merry Christmas," she said, and without thinking, hugged him. She stepped forward and put her arms around him for a brief, tight embrace – and he went stiff as a damn plank and his breath rushed in sharply. Hermione could have died. This was Malfoy and whether he'd called her by her first name or not, they probably weren't close enough to merit hugs, not even two-a-penny Christmas hugs. But then the tension ran out of him, and his hand came up and patted her clumsily between her shoulder blades as he leant into her just a little. He was warm and solid against her, and smelt of expensive cologne, and her fingers tightened on his back, his chin bumped against her forehead, and her insides felt quite warm and contented. For a moment, the awkwardness went away.