Author's Note: Blast! I've done it again – Abandoned a pre-established chapter-fic to write ridiculous, clichéd one-shots. I don't know why I don't just stick to the one-shots.
Anyway, I hate Christmas. I really, really do. But, the season is upon us, and, you know, I'm a sheep, so here it is. The quintessential Draco/Hermione Christmas one-shot, complete with bewitched mistletoe.
Hurrah!
Disclaimer (i.e. legal crap): H. Pizzle and friends belong to JK Rowling, a whole lot of publishers and probably a team of highly-paid, well-dressed pompous lawyers with leather briefcases. I am not highly paid, I am not usually very well dressed, and I do not own a leather briefcase. And I am only sometimes pompous.
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Hermione made her way quickly through the crowd of students filing out of the Great Hall, wanting to get to the library before she had to leave to catch the train to King's Cross. There was a book she wanted to read over the winter holidays which had completely slipped her mind, what with exchanging gifts with Ron and Harry, finishing an extremely ugly Potions essay and fighting off Neville's pathetic attempts to get her under the mistletoe. She was set to go home this afternoon, and had meant to go to the library before breakfast but had overslept.
"Hermione, where are you going?" Ron called after her, struggling to get past a group of Hufflepuff first years.
"I'll be back," she called over her shoulder. Harry shouted something to her, but she didn't hear it. She simply waved at them and continued on her way. Once she got away from the Great Hall, things quieted down. Most of the students were, of course, going home for the holidays and were in their rooms doing last-minute packing and saying good-bye to friends and housemates. She had the corridors to herself. She decided to take the long way around.
As she wandered down a third-floor corridor, she pondered about her Christmas gifts. Harry had gotten her a very nice, limited edition of Hogwarts; A History. It was fabulous, all sleek and new. Not at all like the copy she kept on her night table; all bedraggled and dog-eared. She wasn't even sure she would crack the binding on the new one.
Ron had gotten her a bag of Bertie Botts, a few chocolate frogs, and an Exploding Snap deck. It was all very sweet (literally), but very un-thoughtful. Hermione sighed and shook her head. Ron was one of her best mates, but was thick as a brick when it came to things like this. Perhaps he should take lessons from Harry, who always seemed to have very thought-out, considerate gifts for her and everyone else. Ron simply got whatever generic gift he thought of last minute and assumed that would suffice. Just thinking about it got her irritated. It was just like the Yule Bal in fourth year. He had waited, as usual, until the last minute and lost his chance.
Hermione rounded a corner, completely absorbed in her own thoughts, and ran smack into someone going around the corned in the opposite direction.
"Oh, gosh," she stammered, trying to regain her composure, "I'm so sorry, I wasn't -"
"- paying attention?" finished a voice for her in an unmistakable drawl. "That was clear by the way you hit me like a rampaging Hippogriff." Hermione rolled her eyes, but held her tongue. It was, after all, Christmastime. A time to be civil and joyous and…well, all the things that Draco Malfoy most certainly was not.
"I'm sorry. I was just caught up in my own thoughts." She thought it sounded civil, if a little tense. She just wanted to get to the library, get her book, and spend sometime with Ron and Harry before she left. "Happy Christmas, Malfoy," she offered, then continued on her way.
"Bugger off, Granger," he replied sweetly, and made to leave.
Hermione took precisely three steps when she suddenly had the feeling in her stomach that she had grabbed a Portkey and was snapped backward, hit something very solid, and slid to the floor with a thud. She heard an "Oof" behind her and turned her head. Draco was sitting on the floor behind her, rubbing the back of his neck. He stood and turned, glaring down at her.
"What is the meaning of this, Granger? I know that I am devastatingly attractive, but Accioing me is terribly unbecoming and little stalkerish."
Hermione scrambled to her feet and glared back.
"Really, Malfoy. As if I'd Accio you for any reason other than to bounce you around a room in rodent form." She abandoned all hopes of civility and good will in the face of Christmas and Draco leaned forward, snarling.
"Piss off, Mudblood. Run along to Potter and Weasley, they'll be wanted to know you're safe." He turned to leave. After three steps, the exact same thing happened. He came whizzing back and landed on his bum. He howled with rage and jumped up.
"Granger! I demand that you stop whatever you are doing to me this instant! It is childish and stupid and frankly it is pissing me off!" He stamped his foot to emphasize his point. Talk about childish. Hermione just rolled her eyes.
"I'm not doing anything to you, Malfoy. I have no idea what's going on, so sod off." She turned on her heel and tried – again – to leave. But she was pulled back – again – by some unseen force and landed – again – on her behind. She did not get up this time, just sighed and threw her hands up. This was just not turning out to be a good morning. She felt Draco sit down behind her.
"Well, then, Granger, what is going on?"
"I don't know Malfoy. All I know is that I will miss the train to King's Cross and therefore miss my holiday with my parents if we don't figure out how to get out of here."
"We? You got us into this, Granger. You get us out." Draco crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned back against the wall. Hermione glowered at him.
"Me? How did I get us into this?" she asked shrilly.
"Well, you ran into me, and then all of a sudden I was stuck here. Therefore, it is your fault." He looked pointedly at her, as if this was impeccable logic and there was no way she could argue with it.
"You're an idiot," she said simply, leaning against the opposite wall. "There must be some logical explanation for all this." She looked around, checking for anything out of the ordinary. Suit of amour, paintings, Mrs. Norris padding down the hall. Everything was in its place. What was different?
"Oh, Granger," Draco drawled invitingly, "Look up."
Hermione looked at him quizzically for a second, then did as he said. There, hanging from the rafters above them, tied with a red velvet ribbon, was a sprig of mistletoe. Hermione's heart sank. She knew Dumbledore, and it was just like him to bewitch a piece of mistletoe to keep the two people under it in place until what had to be done was done.
"Blast you, Dumbledore," she muttered under her breath. Then she looked up at Draco, who was staring at her with the tiniest hint of a smirk on his lips. That prat! He thinks this is funny! "I am not kissing you, Malfoy." Hermione stood up, preparing to go down fighting. If she had to stay in this corridor until the Christmas decorations came down, so be it, but she was not snogging Draco Malfoy. He stood up, too, and smirked the patented Malfoy smirk at her.
"Oh, yes you are, Granger. And do you know why? Because if you do not, I will miss my holiday. And if I miss my holiday, my father will be very, very upset. And my father is not a pleasant man." He stopped and considered for a moment. "Besides," he added, "you are a female. And all females want to snog me." He spread his hands in a "What are you going to do?" gesture and shrugged. Hermione tried not to reach out and smack the self-satisfied expression from his pale face.
"Actually, Malfoy, I don't find you the least bit attractive." It was lie. A blatant lie. He was attractive. He was vile, despicable, evil, elf-enslaving, Death-Eater-in-training slime, but he was good-looking slime.
"That's a lie," he stated simply and matter-of-factly. He took a step closer to her. "You do think I'm good-looking. You are just too stubborn, pig-headed and generally Gryffindorish to admit it." He took another step forward, so that he was almost nose-to-nose with her. Hermione tried to take a step back, but hit the wall. She had nowhere to go and was having trouble breathing. He smelled like oranges. His eyes bored into hers, stormy and icy and impenetrable. She could feel his breath on her skin and it gave her goose bumps.
Then it occurred to her just exactly who this was and she snapped out of her trance long enough to push him away.
"See here, Malfoy. I will not stand here and be insulted by the likes of you," she stated firmly. Well, she had meant it to be firmly. It mostly came out breathless and squeaky. Draco laughed and shook some hair out of his eyes. He started toward her again, glaring at her with purpose. She shifted uncomfortably, not sure what to do. She couldn't run away, and she really did have to get out there soon, or she would miss the train. But kiss Malfoy? The thought gave her chills, although she wasn't sure what kind of chills.
He got close enough to whisper in her ear and her thought process became muddled and confused.
"Now, now Granger. It won't be so bad. Just one little kiss, that's all. That's not so bad, is it? Is it really that horrible to have to kiss me? Am I that loathsome?" His voice was soft and mocking and he sounded a little hurt. Hermione forgot herself and shrugged.
"Well, I suppose not – I mean – I would never – under normal circumstances, that is – I mean – " she floundered for complete sentences, babbling incessantly, while he placed two fingers under her chin and lifted her face to his. Her string of nonsense came to a grinding halt as their eyes met. Draco smirked and leaned down to cover her mouth with his own. Hermione's eyes closed instinctively as his mouth moved against hers. She sighed and kissed him back. Just as she was about to reach up and actually touch him, he pulled back and stepped away. She opened her eyes and stared at him, confused, for a second. He chuckled. She glared.
"What," she demanded, "are you laughing at?"
He shook his head and started off down the hall, the spell now broken, mistletoe harmless.
"Malfoy!" she shouted at his retreating back. "What are you laughing at?"
He stopped walking and turned back. "Never you mind, Granger. Now, scurry along." He motioned for her to go. She let out a frustrated cry and turned on her heel, marching off in the direction of the Gryffindor dormitories, her library book forgotten. She was halfway down the corridor when she heard Draco's voice.
"Oh, Granger," he called.
She stopped walking and turned around.
"What do you want, Malfoy?" she sounded tired and fed up. She was sick of this game.
"Happy Christmas," he replied, then turned and walked off, leaving Hermione standing alone in the corridor, gaping.