Disclaimer: nothing you recognize belongs to me... it belongs to the lucky and amazing J.K. Rowling.
AN: This takes place in their 6th year as if HBP never happened...
Mistletoe
Hermione wrote out the last word to her transfiguration essay, finally satisfied with it. She knew that she would get a good mark. It was her last holiday assignment, so she would be able to relax over the rest of the two weeks allotted to them. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, and even as she thought this and rolled up her essay the Great Hall was being decorated with trees, ornaments, holly, and (most dangerously, in her opinion) sprigs of mistletoe. It was going to be a quiet holiday, as most of the school was heading for home where their parents could make sure they were still safe and sound. After the attack of Voldemort at the Ministry, the wizarding community had become rather alarmed about sending their children off to Hogwarts again. As far as Hermione knew, only she, Harry, Ron, Malfoy, his goons Crabbe and Goyle, and his best friend Blaise Zabini were staying.
"Joy," she muttered sarcastically to herself, thinking of the wonderful time the trio was going to have sharing the castle with only Malfoy and company and the teachers. If they were all lucky, perhaps they wouldn't be expelled by the end of the holiday.
Ron and Harry walked into the empty common room in good spirits, cheeks glowing with cold and covered in snow. "Honestly, you two," Hermione scolded affectionately. "You're going to catch your deaths in all that snow one of these days. Go put on some dry clothes on."
Ron and Harry complied before settling down for the rest of the night to a loud game of wizard chess while Hermione read and gazed out the window at the deep blue night, the grounds covered in snow drifts, and snow still falling softly, blanketing Hogsmeade in purest white.
The next day Hermione awoke early as always, though she did not welcome the idea of climbing out of her warm cocoon of sheets and blankets. The house-elves had kept the fires going in the night in all the used dormitories, but she knew from experience that this would not prevent the stone floor from being ice cold. She at last ventured from her warmth, scampering quickly across the floor and into the bathroom where she took a hot bath.
Normally the slim brunette wouldn't bother to tame her hair or apply make-up, but today was Christmas Eve and therefore cause for straying from the ordinary. As she left the shower, Hermione did a tricky motion with her wand, which caused warm air to blast her hair and dry it. Then she applied Madam Charisse's Magical Hair Potion, which smoothed her hair straight and flowing in moments.
Smiling at the result, Hermione tastefully applied light blue eye shadow that sparkled in the light, blush, and a shimmery lip gloss. She carefully chose and put on a pale blue cashmere sweater (a birthday present from her mother that year), flared jeans, white high heels, and matching jewelry. At last she was ready.
Hermione descended the stairs to the common room, her transformation complete. Harry and Ron stared, open-mouthed, at their best friend, quite speechless.
"Erm, hello," Ron managed after a time, quickly shutting his mouth and nudging Harry who quickly followed suit. "What are you all dressed up for?"
"Well, it's Christmas Eve, and I thought I might as well look nice since it's a holiday," Hermione beamed, suppressing chuckles at her best friends' reactions. It was still just her, plain Hermione after all. Just now she looked nice, too.
"You look… nice," Harry said, getting up and offering her his arm. "Let's go to breakfast, shall we?" he said, recovering. Ron followed behind them as the three laughed and teased their way down to the first meal of the day.
They arrived to discover that the long house tables had been banished to the far walls and that a table had been set up for everyone in the center of the hall, covered in plates and plates of delicacies and pastries.
A familiar blond had just sat down to a large plate of dainty pastries, eggs, sausage, toast and bacon when the Golden Trio entered the room. Malfoy hardly gave them a glance as they walked in, but quickly did a double-take. Surely that wasn't the third member of the golden trio, Potter's mudblood, the bushy-haired, buck-toothed know-it-all Hermione Granger? Of course it couldn't be. This woman was sophisticated and dainty, beautiful and pleasant to the eye, dressed impeccably, none of which described the Hermione Granger he knew.
And yet, what other girl would Potter and Weasel be able to talk to so easily? It was common knowledge that they weren't the charmers he was. So what were they doing with this beauty? And why hadn't he seen her before?
The sound of the three talking as they came within earshot of him interrupted Malfoy's thoughts.
"You've finished the transfiguration essay already?" Ron asked, shocked. "Hermione, we haven't even been on break 24 hours and you've already finished all the work!"
So… it was Hermione Granger, but she had done something to her hair so that it shone and laid straight down her back. She had done something with her make-up so that her chocolate eyes sparkled, her lips looked full and inviting, and her cheeks glowed. Her body was slim, but pleasantly curvy, now that it wasn't hidden by shapeless robes and uniforms. Her clothes were beautiful and classic. Perhaps she had cast a glamour on herself… no one could change that much in less than 24 hours!
The trio filled plates with all sorts of food and sat down at the table, continuing their conversation and ignoring the presence of Malfoy and his friends.
Hermione was talking pleasantly about a Christmas when she was very young and her parents had given her skis and insisted she have skiing lessons almost as soon as she could walk. Now it was one of Hermione's favorite hobbies, but she rarely had a chance to go skiing since she was at Hogwarts all winter. Ron took an enormously bite toast with marmalade and began to talk around the food, gesturing violently with his glass of pumpkin juice, which was threatening to spill. Hermione looked away distastefully and caught Malfoy's silvery blue eyes on her.
"Malfoy, can I help you with something?" she said icily, though she couldn't help but notice he had gotten awfully good-looking all of a sudden. He was no longer a scrawny boy, but a firmly built man. He no longer wore his hair slicked back harshly from his face, but a little long so that it fell into his deep eyes. Ron choked on his toast, seeing the situation between his best friend/crush and his worst enemy unravel before his eyes.
Malfoy smirked as her eyes roamed across his body and said, "No, may I help you, Miss Granger?"
"Oh, shove off, Malfoy," she said vehemently, blushing a deep crimson. Harry and Ron exchanged glances before getting up, one grabbing each of her elbows and dragging her up to the common room, much to the amusement of the Slytherins who laughed uncontrollably as the two boys carried Hermione away by her elbows.
As soon as they had reached the safety of the common room, Harry and Ron launched into an interrogation. "Was that what I thought it was?" Ron asked angrily. "Were you just checking Malfoy out? He's our enemy, Hermione. He calls you Mudblood! Uses it instead of your name! How could you ever be attracted to scum like him? Come on, Hermione, what has happened to you? Just because you're dressed like other girls dress today doesn't mean you have to act like them, or in other words worship the 'Slytherin Sex God' as they call him!"
Hermione simply laughed it off. "Slytherin Sex God? Oh I never—" she paused to take a breath. "Heard such a stupid thing in my life! Of course I wasn't checking him out. And besides, even if I was, I would never like him like that!"
Ron grunted in grumpy approval and flopped down in an armchair, staring into the fire.
Hermione retreated upstairs to do some reading and wrap a few presents and let Harry help Ron calm down until dinner that afternoon.
"Damn it all, mate, did you see Potter's mudblood?" Blaise Zabini asked Malfoy, impressed. "How'd she do that? That's one crazy-ass overnight makeover! She's practically shaggable now."
"Zabini, are you actually thinking of shagging a Gryffindor and a mudblood at that!" Malfoy asked as if Zabini had lost his mind.
"No, but she's hot, you have to admit it," the dark-haired boy said appreciatively.
"Whatever you say, mate, whatever you say," Malfoy said, shaking his head disappointedly, but he couldn't get the goddamn mudblood off his mind.
After several hours of enjoyable and rare quiet Hermione heard her name being called from the common room.
"Hermione! Time for dinner!" Harry called. Hermione, surprised, looked to her clock which told her that it was indeed time for dinner and got up, brushing herself off and straightening her clothes before emerging from her the 6th year girls' dormitories.
Hermione went to join the two boys and there was an awkward silence between them. Harry nudged Ron sharply in the ribs.
"Ouch! What the—oh right! Erm, I'm sorry, Hermione. Of course you wouldn't like Malfoy. Don't know what I could have been thinking," Ron said apologetically.
"Thanks, Ron," Hermione said as they entered the Great Hall, which was fully decorated with twelve towering Christmas trees decorated in silver, gold, and red bells, lights, and stars. Holly adorned the table in an arrangement at every other place setting. Mistletoe hung in intricate patterns on the ceiling across the Great Hall and the hall outside and Hermione took care not to linger underneath any as she took her seat between Malfoy and Harry. The meal was large and delicious, and soon everyone was full to bursting with food and resorted to amusing themselves with the crackers, which emitted candy, kits of do-it-yourself projects, mice, and hats.
Suddenly Ron felt violently ill, and Harry took him up to the common room, saying, "Hermione, I'll take him. You stay here and enjoy your dinner. See you in a bit!"
Hermione agreed all too eagerly. Nursing a sick Ron was not how she wanted to spend her Christmas Eve. She deserved better. Soon enough the teachers left and Hermione got up to leave as Malfoy announced that they would be doing shots and pulled out a bottle of Fire whiskey from his pocket.
"What's wrong, Granger? Can't accept the challenge? Too scared about your spotless reputation?" Malfoy harassed her, smirking and pouring four glasses of the red liquid, leaving one glass empty.
Hermione was never one to not face up to a challenge and especially one from the great prat Malfoy, so she sat back down, accepting her glass and downing it in one gulp, cringing as the alcohol burned down her throat.
"Impressive," Malfoy smirked, downing his as well.
Hermione only accepted four shots, enough to make her tipsy, but few enough that she retained her better judgement, watching Malfoy and Zabini get thoroughly hammered.
Finally Hermione began to feel tired and got up to leave.
"Gransher, don't go yet," Malfoy begged, slurring his words drunkenly and downing yet another shot, the bottle nearly empty. "Herm-me-own-knee, shtay here jusht for a lil bit longer, eh?"
Hermione giggled at his drunken speech as she continued out to the door of the hall.
"Herm-me-own-knee, shtay here pleashe! I wan' you t'shtay!" Malfoy called after her, getting up and stumbling toward her, not seeming to notice he was using her first name.
"Malfoy, you're sloppy drunk!" Hermione giggled, for she was one of those who was a silly drunk. Malfoy did indeed look sloppy, his black button-down shirt wrinkled and untucked, some of the buttons undone and his hair messy in an irresistible way. "I'm going to bed! Night, Malfoy, Zabini!" she said as if the three had been friends all their lives, waving good-bye to Blaise, who winked at her and giggling again.
She went out the door, Malfoy still following her. "Herm-me-own-knee, I'm no' drunk, I shwear. Shtay, pleashe! Jusht a lil longer?"
"Malfoy, I'm going to bed. You should too," she sighed, getting frustrated as he followed her into across the hall.
"Herm-me-own-knee, I lurve you, okay? Now will you pleashe shtay? Pleashe? Shtay wish me all night," he implored her, giving her a pathetic puppy-dog look.
"You love me, Malfoy?" she laughed uncontrollably for several minutes while Malfoy looked startled and injured. "That's the funniest damn thing I've heard all night! In fact, that's the funniest thing I've heard in my life," Hermione said, chuckling.
"Well—well, you can't go t'shleep! Look what you're shtandin' under, Herm-me-own-knee!" he laughed, stumbling even closer to her. Hermione looked up to see a delicate sprig of mistletoe. "Now I've gots t'kish you!"
He moved closer and closer until his lips caught hers. Even in his drunken stupor he was a great kisser. His lips caressed hers as his tongue begged entrance and explored her mouth gently. He tasted of fire whiskey, which added fiery passion to the kiss. After several minutes, they broke apart, starved for oxygen. A shadowy figure went back up to Gryffindor Tower, retching for the third time that night even though he thought the sickness was over. Hermione lingered in Malfoy's strong arms for a moment, head resting on his hard chest before pulling away.
"You've had your kiss, so now I'm going to bed. Good night, Draco," she said, climbing the marble staircase and promptly vanishing from sight.
"Good night, Hermione," he said lovingly, perhaps not so drunk after all.
AN: This was originally intended to be a one-shot DMHG fic, but if I get enough positive reviews I might continue it for a few chapters. So go ahead and make my day and press that little review button there. I will probably update and finish this fic quickly if I decide to continue it because winter break is here.