AN: This story was first published for the 'Under the Mistletoe' competition organised by Quills and Parchment over on AO3. This entry won Best Eight Year fic, which I'm very happy with!
It was based off this prompt: Hermione is invited to a Slytherin Christmas party by her newfound friend Draco when they return for their seventh year as she walks into the common room she gets caught under some mistletoe with none other than Theodore Nott.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Hermione hesitated in front of the blank wall, the password on the tip of her tongue. Was this really a good idea? Draco Malfoy had been very persuasive when he invited her for the Slytherin Christmas Party. All eight year Slytherins were confined to the Castle and its grounds for the duration of the school year, and rather than protesting they should at least be allowed to spend the holidays with family, they had, one and all, just decided to have a marvellous Christmas party of their own, family and Ministry be damned. Between an essay for Ancient Runes and a joint Potions project, Draco Malfoy had invited her to join them, since she was staying on as well. She still wasn't quite used to Draco Malfoy being - if not exactly nice, at least not entirely nasty to her. McGonagall had paired them together for just about every single project, apologizing profusely but claiming that no other student would treat him fairly and maybe this way they could promote inter-house unity, and wouldn't she of all people want to make sure the War would never happen again? Hermione had known she was being played but she'd accepted. And she hadn't regretted it. Malfoy - Draco - could keep up with her in discussions, had a sarcastic sense of humour that was no longer aimed at her, and a way of charming people that she wasn't wholly immune against. She enjoyed matching wits with him. They had developed a friendship of sorts, and most of the other Slytherins had accepted her presence in their midst without any fuss.
Still, to spend Christmas in the Snake's Nest was not quite the same as studying together for an hour or so in the safety of the library.
"Don't be an idiot, Hermione. Just go in. It'll be better than spending Christmas alone," she muttered to herself. And with a decisive nod, she uttered the words, "Sanctimonia deridiculissima."
The wall opened before her and she stepped inside. Almost immediately, she was caught by an invisible net. She drowned in all-consuming panic. Her breath froze in her throat and she'd whisked out her wand without even realising and all her muscles tensed, ready to attack, but no words could leave her mouth. Her mind was racing to catalogue all the details around her and determine the threat and it remained scarily blank when she tried to reach for some spell or other to get her out, out, out.
Theodore Nott rose to his feet with all the grace of a cat. "Fine," he grumbled, "I'll go to the kitchens and beg for some more food. Bloody idiots. I asked you for one thing only and you couldn't be bothered." He looked over his shoulder at Draco, who was reaching out for one of the bottles on the table. "Don't you dare start that Firewhiskey without me!"
He turned towards the entrance and was arrested by the sight of Hermione Granger, wand out, body ready to fight but a look of blind panic on her face. He stepped closer, carefully.
Someone was calling her name. She could barely hear it through the rushing of blood in her ears but someone was calling her name.
"Granger… Calm… Mistletoe…" The words repeated in her head until they sounded louder than the fear and she finally could take a breath again. She blinked and noticed Theodore Nott standing in front of her. His face didn't carry that usual, haughty sneer. It seemed as close to concern as she'd ever seen him.
And she'd often watched him.
"It's just mistletoe, Granger." He pointed upwards and her eyes followed his gesture up to the ceiling where a sprig of enchanted mistletoe moved tauntingly in the breeze from the open entrance. She sagged with relief. No enemy. No traps.
"Didn't Draco tell you there was mistletoe? It's been here since the beginning of December. We all sidle through the entrance to get out of its grasp."
Hermione didn't quite trust her voice just yet, but shook her head. Then Nott's lips turned back into that familiar sneer. "I guess I better get you out of this predicament or you'll let all the cold in."
Hermione swallowed and licked her lips. He took one step closer and was suddenly sucked into the magic of the mistletoe, almost flying into Hermione by the sheer force of it. She looked up at him. His blue eyes were inscrutable. He bent down and brushed his lips over hers, so lightly and so softly that she wasn't even sure it had happened until she felt the magic of the mistletoe release her. He backed away immediately and disappeared into the corridor in a flash. Hermione stepped into the Slytherin common room, unsure why she felt so disappointed.
Draco welcomed her with a calculating smile that made her realise that whole episode might not have gone quite as unnoticed as she'd hoped. She pasted a smile on her face and pretended she hadn't just had a panic attack caused by mere mistletoe, though her heart was still racing and her knees felt a little weak. She sat down between him and Pansy and let herself absorb the festive spirit. She didn't even look up when Theodore Nott returned, carrying enough food to host a banquet for twenty, though they were only six. She laughed with Draco and Pansy and topped up her Firewhiskey until the panic and disappointment of that mistletoe kiss were forgotten.
He was staring at her. Again. He always did. Hermione leaned back against Draco, who draped an arm around her shoulders and started toying with her hair while talking to Blaise Zabini. Hermione allowed herself to sag into his embrace and marvelled at how comfortable she felt around Draco these days. Almost as comfortable as she was with Harry and Ron. Of course, had she not known that Draco was one hundred percent not interested in women in any way except conversation and occasional dance partners, she might not have felt quite so at ease with him. But she did feel safe. And, strangely, cherished. And no matter how much Theodore Nott frowned in her direction, she wasn't going to move from her comfortable position.
He didn't usually frown at her, though. Usually he stared at her with that infuriating half-smile that intimated he knew something she did not, and those impossibly blue eyes that seemed to see everything and more. Sometimes he even smiled when they studied together. He always seemed to be there, just one step behind Draco, ready to catch her when she tripped or to steer her around a corner if she was reading while walking between classes. Yet he hardly ever spoke to her. She'd managed to peg the other Slytherins quite easily. Draco, sarcastic but smart git with a penchant for dark-haired boys. Blaise Zabini with his mischievous eyes and Italian charm. Pansy Parkinson, strangely fascinated by Muggle fashion, with an excellent head for Arithmancy. Tracey Davis, Quidditch fanatic and brilliant artist. But Theodore Nott… He was as much of a mystery now as he had been in the previous years at Hogwarts. He was quiet and studious, but she had no idea if he preferred walking in the snow or staying close to the open fire in the common room. She didn't know anything about him, which only made her more curious.
"Sickle for your thoughts," Draco murmured in her ear. Hermione blinked, surprised, and turned her head a little.
"I was wondering why Theodore is staring. And frowning." She probably should lay off the Firewhiskey, if it made her incapable of lying. She blushed a little and waited for Draco's reaction.
Draco looked over at Theodore, sent him a brilliant smile and hugged Hermione a little tighter.
"Maybe he's jealous," he whispered with a grin.
"Oh…" She hadn't thought of that. Her eyes flicked from Theodore to Draco and back again. He did always frown at her when she spent time with Draco. Maybe he wanted Draco for himself? But wasn't Draco with Blaise? Hermione decided not to voice her thoughts out loud, but poured another glass of Firewhiskey instead. 'Poor Theodore,' she thought to herself. 'Pining after a boy who will never look at him twice.' She ignored the pang of disappointment in her chest. It did, after all, explain that awkward kiss under the mistletoe earlier that evening.
"I should probably go," Hermione said, trying - but failing - to rise from the sofa gracefully. She swayed on her feet and a strong hand grasped her elbow and stopped her from toppling over.
"Might be safer if you stay here," Theodore's voice said in her ear. "I'm sure the girls won't mind if you crash in their dorm."
But Hermione thought of her own bedroom up in Gryffindor Tower and stubbornly shook her head.
Draco and Blaise were making their way to their dorm, arms around each other's waists and snickering like little schoolboys.
"Theo, you should walk with her. Wouldn't want the Gryffindor Princess to lose her way in the dungeons," Draco said over his shoulder before he disappeared into the corridor that led to his dorm.
Theodore turned a peculiar shade of red and avoided Hermione's eyes. He didn't respond but he did begin to steer her towards the entrance.
"I'm sure I'll be fine," Hermione muttered. But she couldn't really be annoyed at him when he was so clearly sent away so Draco and Blaise could have the dorm for themselves for a bit.
"You better have a Sobering Potion first," Theodore said, pushing the vial into her hand. "If McGonagall catches you drunk in the halls, it won't be pretty, holiday or not."
"Not that drunk," Hermione objected, but she still downed the potion in one gulp and let Theodore steer her out of the Slytherin common room.
They walked through corridors and up stairs in complete silence, their footsteps echoing through the quiet castle.
Until Theodore said, "You know he's gay, right?"
Hermione, who had felt the alcohol clear from her brain with every step, looked up at him sharply. "What?"
"Draco. You know he's gay, right?"
Hermione frowned in confusion. "Of course. He told me months ago. He has some kind of arrangement with Blaise, although I'm not sure how serious they are. I'm sorry, that can't be easy for you."
Theodore slowed until they stopped and looked at her. "It doesn't matter to me who he sleeps with," he said, his blue eyes fixed on her face. She couldn't look away.
"I thought… You were staring. He said you were jealous."
Theodore ran a hand over his face in frustration.
"You really are infuriating, Hermione Granger. Never knew anyone smarter than you but when it comes to people you really can be... " He shook his head and wanted to continue walking, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm.
"What? I can be what?"
Theodore swallowed. He lifted a hand and traced her face with his fingers, the line of her eyebrows, her jaw, her lips, her nose. Hermione shivered under his touch.
"Slow," Theodore said, his voice husky. "When it comes to people you can be slow. I'm not really good at this kind of thing, Hermione."
Hermione's eyes widened in surprise when she finally understood. She took a step back and Theodore's hand dropped to his side, a crushed look on his face.
"But… Me?"
Theodore nodded, looking away from her.
"But…" Hermione tried to make sense of the thoughts running through her head. She focused in one one question. "But then why was that kiss under the mistletoe so… well, lame?"
Theodore pushed his hands in the pockets of his robes and scuffed his shoe on the flagstone floor. He let out a laugh. "Did you really think I wanted to kiss you for the first time in full view of everyone in the common room just after you'd had a panic attack?"
Hermione cocked her head to the side and studied him. The sapphire blue of his eyes, the aquiline line of his nose and the dark blond hair that flopped over his forehead. Her lips turned into a smile.
"How about now?" she asked.
Theodore's head snapped back to her. "What?"
"Nobody here," she said, waving at the empty corridor. "Even the portraits are asleep. No mistletoe to force you. No panic attack. So how about now?" She swallowed nervously and licked her lips unconsciously. Theodore took a step closer to her before he even realised what he was doing. One hand cupped her cheek and she leaned into it a little.
"This isn't a game for me, Hermione," he said, a warning in his tone.
She was still smiling and licked her lips again, this time deliberately and slowly. "I'm not sure what this is," Hermione admitted, deciding on honesty. "But I'm very willing to find out."
Theodore bent closer and pressed his lips against her. This time she felt a spark that ran through her veins like lightning, bursting out her fingertips and toes and swirling in her stomach. He kissed her and kissed her and she forgot to breathe, forgot to move, forgot to be. She could only feel, feel his lips on hers, feel his hands run along her body and nestle in her hair, feel his body under her hands, feel the magic course through her blood, feel alive for the first time since the final battle.
She knew, then, that it wasn't a game for her, either.