A/N Drabble for the Daily Prophet Round 2 competition. Prompt taken from Season 2, Round 8 (position: chaser 2): 'Kill 'em with Fluff' - write a fluff piece that includes an imperius curse without losing fluffiness!
"No, Hermione, I don't want to."
"Why not?"
"Because it's a stupid idea and it won't work."
"And sitting here, fantasizing, will?"
"No. Nothing will. He's not into blokes. End of story."
"How do you know, Harry? You've never asked."
Harry stood up from his chair in front of the fire in the Great Hall. All the eighth years had decided to stay over Christmas, and so the hall was unusually packed for December 24th.
"Hermione," Harry said patiently, "he's not into blokes, and I'm okay with that. He's a complete git anyway. I don't know why I suddenly fancy him." He frowned.
"Because you've had seven years of foreplay," Hermione muttered.
"What was that?" Harry asked, tearing his eyes away from the blonde boy who appeared to be arguing with a very bored Pansy Parkinson.
Hermione shook her head slowly, unable to keep a smile from her face as she observed Harry's vacant expression.
"Just. Talk. To. Him," she said firmly, shooing an overly festive piece of flying holly away from her face.
"No," Harry said, laughing. "I'll see you 'round, guys." He turned to leave the hall.
Hermione glared after him while Ron grunted something unintelligible from behind his quidditch magazine, the tips of his ears bright red.
"You're going to have to look him in the eye again someday," Hermione said drily.
"But not today," Ron replied cheerfully.
Hermione sighed, resting her chin on her hand as she watched Harry leave the hall. On the other side of the room, Draco stood up abruptly, throwing his hands in the air and stalking away from a now clearly amused Parkinson. Poor things, Hermione thought idly. They really need someone to just force them into confessing...
She froze, a thought suddenly hitting her. Harry was almost through the doors by now. She had to make a quick decision.
"Oh, I can't believe I'm doing this," she groaned as she pulled out her wand.
Ron looked up in alarm.
"Imperio," she muttered, pointing her wand at Harry.
Ron spun around in shock, just in time to see Harry turn and grab a stunned Draco by the waist and swing him into a long, glorious kiss.
Ron squealed.
Hermione grinned and lowered her wand, muttering a quick counter curse as she did. After a few seconds, the Great Hall erupted in deafening noise.
Strange, Hermione thought. Malfoy almost leaped into Harry's arms. I would have expected some resistance, simply because they're both so damn stubborn.
The feeling that someone was watching her made Hermione look up, just in time to see Parkinson casually lowering her own wand, a counter curse upon her lips. Parkinson smirked at Hermione and shrugged. Hermione surprised herself by smiling back.
In the background, the boys continued to kiss.