Disclaimer: HP belongs to JKR. Too bad, I was all set to rake in the earnings too. Oh well. Enjoy for free!
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"Watch it, Malf-!"
Hermione bit off the end of her exclamation and sighed irritably. Too late. The git had, in true idiotic form, hooked the end of the sleeve of his fancy robes around a large branch of the fake Christmas tree while he was placing the final ornament, the star, on the top, and then tried to levitate himself back down again.
As she watched the plastic tree, the painstakingly arranged ornaments, and the boy all fall at the same rate, the rate of gravity, Hermione gritted her teeth. Never mind that her parents frowned at her mistreatment of her pearly whites, she had just spent hours hanging bloody lights and ornaments on that monstrosity of a tree and valiantly ignoring Malfoy's snipes and obnoxious insults, and the clumsy oaf had just ruined all her hard work in less time it would take for Ron to say "bouncing ferret wonder."
Crash!!
She closed her eyes, massaging her temples and wondering if Professor Snape would pity her enough to give her a headache potion, since Madame Pomfrey had already restricted her stock after Hermione had enthusiastically overdosed herself, forgetting that the potion was much more potent than the muggle drugs she usually took, like aspirin and Advil.
"Bloody hell! My head is cracked open! Get Madame Pomfrey, someone, I'm dying!"
Hermione kept her eyes closed, not wanting to witness the utter ruin, but retorted, "Well your lungs certainly are fine, Humpty Dumpty, and your head never housed anything important anyway so you should be fine."
"Granger, I order you to go fetch Pomfrey!"
"Shut up, you-you imperialistic, overblown bastard! It was your own idiocy that made you fall anyway, and now you've gone and obliterated hours of my hard effort!"
"Your hard effort? I contributed, you know!"
"Yes, like the suggestion to decorate it completely silver so it would be green and silver, that was very hard work Malfoy."
"I'll have you know that silver and green is a very impressive color scheme. It was an important contribution, or it would have been if you'd listened to my advice instead of decking it out in Gryffindor colors."
"It's Christmas, and the Headmaster wanted us to display house unity. Christmas colors themselves are a symbol of the unity. Red, green, gold, silver. At least we get traditional colors. The poor Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs are mixing yellow and blue on their tree, and neither of those colors go well on green. Especially since nothing seems to go well with the awful plastic of the fake tree. Where the Headmaster got them, I'll never know. I hope he paid very little for them."
"You know, you could open your eyes and come over and help me out here, Granger."
"Oh. Right." Hermione took a deep breath and opened her eyes. To chaos. "On the other hand, why should I? I should just leave you like that, and let you explain to Professor Snape why the Head Girl and Head Boy, who oh-so-conveniently won themselves detention for fighting in the hallway, couldn't complete their simple task of decorating a tree muggle-style. And you can explain the absence of a ladder when you were supposed to be using no magic at all.
Still tangled up and deeply buried under red and gold tinsel, the tree on top of him, Draco paled. "Granger, no! You can't do this to me!"
"Oh yes I can. Just watch me."
"No, please! Don't make me face Snape! He'll make me do it all over again—with a ladder!"
Hermione turned, a very Slytherin smirk on her lips. "Well, Malfoy, if you hadn't started the fight that got me my first detention, with Professor Snape no less, I might have been more sympathetic. But you started the fight, and then you blamed it on me when Professor Snape caught us, and then Professor Dumbledore's portrait decided to chip in his two cents worth of ideas for detention assigned so close to Christmas, and of course since a Hufflepuff and a Ravenclaw had already gotten themselves detention he suggested this tree decorating thing. I hate decorating! It's commercialized, and it's not my job. My job is to bake the Christmas cookies for my relatives, and keep the younger kids entertained. My job is not to spend hours untangling some godforsaken fairy lights and hang ornaments of angels and doves on a bloody plastic tree that scratches!"
Draco's shrunk back further and further into his refuge of poky branches and red tinsel as Hermione took a deep breath, finishing up her tirade.
"So, Malfoy, I'll leave you to it. Merry Muggle Christmas!" She practically skipped as she departed.
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Severus Snape, with his penchant for spying, had an identical smirk on his face as the one superimposed on Hermione's as he watched the girl blithely leave her reluctant and recalcitrant partner to his own designs. Yes, she would have made a very good Slytherin, he thought, suppressing a laugh. He had appearances to keep up after all.
He strolled into the Great Hall, where young Malfoy wrestled ineffectively with the branches of the accursed tree that Albus' portrait had slyly suggested when he had first assigned the two detention, and quirked an eyebrow at his godson. "Mr Malfoy. What do you have to say for yourself?"
"I, er- I- that is to say- I, um-" Draco spluttered, still wrapped up in decorations, and, for the first time in Severus' recall, blushing furiously. It was rare that a Malfoy lost his upper hand, and Severus enjoyed it.
"I'm waiting Mr Malfoy. Today, if you please."
"I- oh blast it all. Uncle Severus, that-that awful girl just left me! The tree fell, and she left me to wither away alone under it!"
"Spare me the histrionics Draco, you know better. I couldn't help but overhear something quite interesting before Miss Granger flounced out, looking extremely pleased with herself."
Draco winced in apprehension, waiting for the condemnation.
Severus drew out the excruciating silence skillfully, before remarking, "If you wanted her attention, Draco, I really wouldn't go about wrecking trees and falling from the sky. It's easier and less hard on your body if you just confront her and ask her to the Yule Ball."
Frozen in shock, Draco could only stare incredulously as his godfather, the exonerated and much-feared but timidly respected headmaster of Hogwarts, gave him love advice and then swirled, his black robes and cloak making for a dramatic exit—and he called me overly dramatic! Draco thought absentmindedly, still focused on disbelief as he watched the back of his former potions professor. Just before he went out the door, Severus turned back briefly. "I wouldn't wait too long if I were you, that's how Weasley got into trouble last time. Oh, and you will clean all of this up the muggle way, and your next Saturday will be spent redecorating it. No cheating. Inform Miss Granger that she will be expected to help in the redecoration process. I also expect a full two feet in readable writing on the muggle traditions of Christmas on my desk on Monday. Good day, Mr Malfoy."
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"Granger! What's taking you so long?"
"I'm coming, you blithering idiot! Two minutes!"
"Honestly, I thought punctuality was one of your qualities, Granger. Obviously not. You've been in your room changing forever. How long does it take to put on a bloody dress? You put on, you slip on some sort of shoes, and you go. Okay I allow that wrestling your hair into something resembling actual hair and not an animal might take a while, but we're going to be late if you don't buck up, and as Heads, we should set a good example, so hurry UP would-"
His breath caught. His mind fogged the way Potter's glasses did in humid weather, and for a moment he could only gape at the open door.
"Touché, Malfoy. Didn't your mother ever teach you that girls are entitled to take longer to dress up?"
She wore a simple gown, bought from some muggle store, she had mentioned earlier. It was silk the color of the sea, in a Grecian-inspired style that flowed and moved much like the sea the hue evoked. Her hair frothed naturally, half-restrained by a jeweled clip, and standing there at the doorway and reprimanding him for his impatience, she looked like some ancient goddess of the ocean, Draco thought dazedly.
He interrupted her. "Hermione, you look- you're gorgeous."
Well, he contemplated, it was a first- the first time he had managed to halt her tide of words so effectively with just a sentence.
"Thank you, Draco." She smiled, genuinely. "You look very good too. Where did you get a muggle suit?"
"I have my ways," he remarked grandly as he caught her hand and steered her towards the door. "Ouch!"
Hermione had hit his shoulder. "Arrogant git."
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Everyone fell utterly silent when Hermione and Draco appeared to take the traditional first dance between the Head Boy and Head Girl to open the Ball. Draco sympathized with them. He had had the same shock on seeing Hermione too, only he was the lucky one who was taking her to the Ball tonight. He smiled smugly, then quickly wiped it off his face before Hermione noticed and hit him again.
She noticed and guessed his train of thoughts, but kept quiet, a little unnerved by the stares. She screwed up her courage and glared back, her best imitation of a combination of Professor Snape's scary Death Eater stare and Molly Weasley's awe-inspiring death glare that promised a long talk later if the situation was not rectified immediately. (Personally, she thought Molly's more frightening because the promised punishment was always doled out liberally, whereas Professor Snape could only assign detentions and essays now.) They stopped staring at her.
Soon, the Ball was well underway and she and Malfoy were deep in a discussion about the limited choices of alcoholic magical beverages, as opposed to the thousands of different drinks available in the muggle world.
"It's much better, I tell you. They're just as potent and just as high class, just that muggles are more creative when it comes down to it. And they've created enough flavors and styles of drinks for everyone to find something they like, whereas in the wizarding world all you get are a handful of choices, all too strong and geared stereotypically towards men. And all taste awful. You should try a good wine then next time you visit France with your family, the muggles have wonderful vineyards there- Oh hullo, Headmaster Snape."
"Miss Granger. Mr Malfoy." Severus inclined his head. "I trust you're having an acceptable time?"
Draco looked up. "Why yes we are, Headmaster. Very much. Thank you." Severus nodded once, and Draco knew that his godfather knew that his gratitude extended far beyond pleasantries. "Your…efforts are commendable." He gestured towards one of the two obviously fake Christmas trees by the entrance to the Great Hall, the one decked gaily in gold, silver, and red and clashing terribly with the yellow and blue tree next to it. Both looked pitiful, a sad excuse of the real thing in the middle of the room.
Both Hermione and Draco winced simultaneously upon spotting what they had spent two consecutive Saturdays in detention for. "Um…thanks, Professor Snape," Hermione managed to offer in a strangled voice. He nodded, and left, murmuring his goodbyes. The two glanced at each other, and burst out laughing.
Behind them, Harry and Ron backed away hurriedly. They had been about to say hi to Hermione, but they knew better than to interrupt when she and Malfoy got like that. Hermione cackling like a hag with Malfoy was a bloody scarring event to witness, and Malfoy grinning like an ass and bickering with Hermione like they were an old married couple was an even scarier experience, one neither intended to repeat.
As they caught their breath from their howling fit of laughter, Draco turned to Hermione. Soberly, he remarked, "At least we lay claim to the Christmas-themed tree. Which sorry fool decorated the yellow and blue tree that is ruining the grand effect of our Christmas tree?"
Severus Snape, surveying the crowd from his secluded table, shook his head in amusement as his favorite godson and the brilliant witch with him dissolved into laughter once more. He glanced down at the photo he had confiscated from the Creevy boy with a trigger-happy finger. It had been buried amidst compromising photos meant no doubt for some blackmail later on. After all, what else would one do with a picture of Potter sleeping, cuddling a stuffed snake, or a photo of Parkinson kissing Zabini in a closet? He took a closer look before tucking it back into his pocket, satisfied that he and Albus had accomplished what they had set out to do.
"Minerva, may I have the pleasure of this dance?" He smiled at his old friend and colleague. Inside the dark pocket, Draco's image lay trapped under a plastic Christmas tree, bedecked gaily in Gryffindor-hued tinsel, shrinking back under the onslaught of words from the brown-haired girl scolding him but watching the girl with a blatantly dreamy look in his eyes.
Oh yes. He's definitely smitten. Albus, your blasted plastic Christmas tree with that spell on it is finally just a fake tree. Good thing too—I was getting sick of your wobbling spell on it, and I never quite managed to take it off the tree. But then, true love breaks all spells, that's something you'd likely say. I should have known that's what it would take to get the damn tree to stay still and not fall. Draco and Hermione's tree seems extremely stable now. Merry Christmas, you old interfering fool!
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A.N: A Christmas fic, in anticipation of my favoritest holiday of all times! Please review, tell me what you think! Flame only if constructive, we're all here to learn and have fun.