Dear Reader,
I just received an e-mail saying that Collecting Kisses made its way into the preliminary nomination round for "Best of 2009" at dramione_awards! If you've already read this and are coming back to enjoy it again, would you please go over and vote for it? If you haven't read it yet, maybe after doing so, you do like it enough to click on the link above, would you vote for it?
If you don't like it, please don't tell me, because I might cry. I'm sensitive that way. :)
With much gratitude and Happy Reading!
~ foggy
Oh, Berries...
Disclaimer: Please do not sue me. I own nothing but this plot line.
This morning's head-splitting hangover proved one primary reason why she should never drink Firewhisky in the presence of a certain platinum blond, soon-to-be Potions professor. Even though they had once been mortal childhood enemies, five years of working in close quarters as junior professors at their alma mater allowed for the development of a certain ease with each other's company.
Mortal enemies.
This wasn't an unfair characterization for Hermione to make of Malfoy, mind you, for the former Death Eater, turned fighter for the Light, had nearly made a career of belittling and tormenting her during most of their younger years at Hogwarts. Let it be said that this year hadn't been without its trials either. The verbal sparring between the two, however, lacked its former malice, now having fermented into something surprisingly less acetic and, actually, quite fine.
Shortly after the war's end, Hermione, Draco Malfoy, and a handful of other students from their year returned to Hogwarts to finish their schooling. Without the ever present companionship of Harry and Ron, Hermione was left to entertain a friendship of sorts with the aforementioned blond since they'd been chosen to be Heads that fateful 8th Year…
...and as they say, the rest is history.
Rolling off the bed, clutching her head, Hermione gingerly made her way to the closest shared bathroom in the junior professors' living quarters, shared by Malfoy, Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, and herself. The bathroom was, thankfully, empty.
This wasn't usually the case, since Malfoy had the annoying habit of occupying one of the two rooms for hours on end as he administered to his painstakingly rigid morning ritual of maintaining his carefully groomed appearance.
The cold tiles suddenly underfoot brought Hermione to swift attention. The feel of the coolness beneath her arches caused yet another moan to leave her lips, after she'd moved too swiftly to lessen the impact on her tootsies. Her ineffectual, bumbling attempt to find the usually handy hangover potion, and accidental glance into the mirrored medicine cabinet, when she's slammed it shut in annoyance, gave her yet two other reasons to swear off alcoholic drinks forever.
They'd been celebrating something… Oh, yes, passing final examinations to accomplish complete certification. They were all to be named to full professorship after the winter holidays.
But no outstanding scores and celebratory cocktail would ever excuse this sort of blinding physical pain, she thought wretchedly as she gazed at her post-party self.
What she saw in the mirror gave her horrified pause. Never mind her less than lovely, bushy-haired, makeup-smeared appearance, what her eyes focused was the no longer empty space above her head.
For there, hanging in mid-air, was a little plant, known during this season as mistletoe. Its presence in Hogwarts' hallowed halls since her first yuletide in the Wizarding world was an ever annoying reminder for a girl like her that boys were solely visual creatures. Even now, with some maturity, they were yet unable to look beyond the package dressings to find the beauty within.
How many times had Hermione stood beneath the identical to this very plant only to be ignored for a different sort of slag-like beauty occupying the same room?
Hideous tradition! She would have spat this aloud if she could form words in her mouth, which felt full of cotton.
With an eye on her reflection, Hermione tried side-stepping, doing a little jig, and even attempted to sever the plant by slamming it with the door, but to no avail. It appeared to be following her wherever she went and whenever she moved… including in the shower, on the loo, and at last out into the common sitting area, also dubbed, the teacher's lounge.
In the process of jumping on the sofa trying desperately to catch the blasted weed, she caught sight of Malfoy at last emerging from his room. To her growing annoyance, he was in picture perfect form. Hermione had no doubt as to where the suddenly missing hangover draught had vanished off to, considering Malfoy had been three-sheets to the wind himself.
"Granger, I thought we'd established that jumping on the furniture is not an acceptable form of entertainment. We're twenty-two years of age, for Merlin's sake, Granger, not two," he admonished, with a short condescending laugh when she landed inelegantly before scrambling back to her feet trying to launch herself back up to capture the wretched plant.
"Why did you do this, Malfoy?!" she rasped, hearing her unused voice ring in her aching head for the first time that morning.
"Whatever are you speaking of on this bright and sunshiny day?"he inquired playfully, noting her discomfiture at his barely audible laughter. He was leaning, in standard langorous Malfoy fashion, with his shoulder resting against the frame of his bedroom door. It was only while he stood this still that Hermione took notice that he, too, had a sprig of mistletoe above his head.
"Why do we BOTH have mistletoe hanging over our heads, Malfoy? We have classes to teach! Our friends are coming tonight for the reunion Yule Ball! We can't go out like this!" she shrieked, which caused her to, again, wince in pain. Still she somehow kept upright, standing wide-legged on the sofa for balance, hands akimbo, glaring down at him as though he were a mere cockroach at her feet.
"This was your idea, Granger, remember?" He drawled this, casually examining his cuticles and then absently gesturing to the plant above his head. "Last night you said, and I quote, 'I'd like to wipe that insufferable, smug smirk off your face, Ferret,' an endearment that I take high offense to considering how far we've come. In any case, you suggested this wager, and I'm determined to win."
Hermione's eyes went wide with the memory of how the Firewhisky had shot courage into her veins last night. She'd made a bet she couldn't lose.
Oh, yes, she remembered.
With a groan she slid to sitting on the sofa, her head carefully cradled in her hands.
Wager: Count the number of kisses. The one with the most kisses by the end of the Yule Ball would be deemed winner. Loser had to submit to a realkiss from whomever or whatever the winner chose.
Rules: 1. No students (obviously) and 2. Only full lip-to-lip contact counted as an official kiss.
"Can we please call this off, Malfoy? I was hardly of right mind to be making bets with the likes of you last night," she moaned.
"Are you welching, Granger?" he asked, much too delightedly for her comfort, "If so, I'd like to proclaim myself the winner…"
At Malfoy's wisecracking, revolting images of having to kiss things like a flobberworm or Cormac McLaggen flitted through her mind and Hermione immediately held up a staying hand.
"Wait, no, Malfoy, never mind!" Mind reeling she found a practical question to still her jumbled thoughts. "So, how do we keep count? Honors system?"
At his scoff, she knew she wouldn't be able to count the little platonic smack of good morning kiss she'd planned to place on Hagrid as soon as she left the room.
She watched Malfoy warily as he walked up to her and pointed to the plant above his head.
"These handy things will keep count for us. Do you see how they don't have any berries? For each authentic kiss you receive, a berry will sprout." He looked slightly perplexed as he examined his own plant.
"What, Malfoy?"
Pointing to his plant he spoke his previously hidden thoughts.
"I wonder how that little offshoot will be able to handle the large number of berries I'll be collecting today," he said with a smirk. "I think I need something more along the lines of a branch to be able to support the weight properly."
"You're hilarious, Ferret," Hermione pouted prettily. With her mind at last working, though a bit slower than usual, Hermione suddenly found reason to smile. With growing smugness, she realized there were far more male professors on the grounds than female. Not to mention, she knew who was attending the Yule Ball tonight. She just knew she'd more than likely be the one collecting the spoils when all was said and done. "Besides, we'll see who'll be needing that branch today, Malfoy!"
She got up so quickly, and with such a self-satisfied smirk, that Malfoy had to do a double take.
"Hey, Granger! There's to be no adjusting the professor's dress code approved robes to increase your chances! Granger! Hey! Granger! Did you hear?" he shouted the warning with a scowl as he saw her fiddle with the clasp of her skirt as she opened and walked through the door.
Poking her head back in, she retorted, "Oh, I don't think I'll need to adjust anything, Malfoy." With a toss of her head, suddenly feeling loads better, she cackled and added, "See you later to count my berries, Ferret!"
Collecting kisses...
"Neville, would you do me a great favor and kiss me, on the lips?" Hermione was standing in the middle of the Hogwart's greenhouse talking to Neville Longbottom's expansive back and quite attractive bum.
"W-w-what, Hermione?!" he gaped, whirling around to face the all-about-business witch.
"I've a bet with Malfoy that I can't lose!" she explained impatiently, not wanting to be late for her first lecture of the day. "I need to get a berry on that stupid mistletoe plant above my head by having you kiss me full on the lips," she pointed upward without looking, all the while wetting her lips with the tip of her tongue in preparation of a good snog.
Neville nervously looked up to where she was pointing but appeared even more befuddled than before.
"Look, Neville, this is horrendously embarrassing as it is, and since neither Ron or Harry are here, you'll have to do!" she said exasperatedly. "I've got class quite soon and I need to get this done so I can get to the other side of the castle in time!"
When his movement was not forthcoming, Hermione grabbed onto Neville's jumper and pulled him close. It seemed to at last register in Neville's mind that he'd be kissing his colleague, soon-to-be Professor Granger in a matter of a moment if he didn't do something to stop her insanity. Neville grabbed her petite shoulders and held her off, pushing her slightly back, so that she was away from him by his, much longer, arm's length.
"Hermione! First of all, I don't know what you're on about! You know I've been pursuing Luna for months now! I can't be seen snogging you!" he said, quite miffed. "And secondly, ordering a bloke to kiss you simply because your first two choices are absent, is hardly the right sort of foreplay. That comment was just for the sake of reference, mind you, not that I don't think it would be.. anyway... Hermione, this whole thing, right here, is just ... well.. not my cup of tea!"
Shamefaced, cheeks blazing, Hermione silently stared at her feet, completely mortified at the dressing down she'd just received from her good friend, Master Herbologist and Potioneer, soon-to-be Professor Longbottom.
"Merlin, I've gone mad! Stupid ferret!" she mumbled pathetically. "I'm so sorry, Neville. It's just that I can't lose to Malfoy this time. I've got to findsomeone to kiss me properly!"
"Hermione, why don't you just grab some mistletoe and…"
"What? But I do have mistletoe!! It's hanging right there! Right above my head!" A quick glance upward revealed to Hermione the presence of the hated weed.
"Hermione, I know plants! No, you-"
"Hello, Hermione. Neville."
At Luna's smiling approach, Neville stopped his protests short.
"Hello, Luna," Hermione pleasantly greeted her friend and colleague, soon-to-be Professor of Divination and apprentice to Hagrid.
Now red-in-the-face, Neville busied himself with some nearby Bubotubers.
"I'll leave the two of you to… whatever it was you were going to do," Hermione announced hastily as she moved out the door with a wave.
It wasn't until she was halfway to her own classroom that Hermione realized she needed to come up with a better strategy than attacking former Gryffindor friends to get some berries on her mistletoe.
At last sighting, Malfoy had a line of females waiting to kiss him just outside his classroom door! It was maddening to know that he was far more attractive and kissable than her. He must be emitting some sort of pheromone that shouts, "kiss me, I'm single!" Circe knows women are prone to be attracted to amazingly scented males, the exact sort of pheromone Malfoy happens to exude from his every pore.
Hermione harrumphed loudly enough to cause a few First Years to scurry out of her way.
What she needed was a sure thing...
Hermione stood in the corridor for a moment, deep in thought. She walked over to one of the open windows and looked out onto the rest of the campus, catching sight of the Quidditch field.
Viktor!
Visiting Quidditch Coach Krum would be out in the pitch today! Thank goodness! It wouldn't do to present Malfoy with a mistletoe offshoot with zero berries. Satisfied with her solution, Hermione made her way to her next class intent on tracking down Viktor at her next free period.
Fortunately, she didn't have far to look for the Quidditch star. He was at the front of the Great Hall eating his own lunch when she'd decided to partake of some food before making her way to the Quidditch field in search of him.
Learning from her less than seductive approach of Neville earlier, Hermione, opened her robe at her neck, combed her fingers through her hair, pinched her cheeks and licked her lips before trying for what she deemed a sultry female sway up to the professors table. Viktor's mouth hung slightly open when he finally noticed her approach. His eyes flicked up to the mistletoe above her head and he sent her a flirtatious wiggle of his dark eyebrows. His eyes skittered to a darkened alcove, behind the teacher's loft. He moved quickly, beckoning her over with a slight curling of an index finger, which she answered with a slowly snaking seductive smile.
What she missed as Viktor pulled her into a familiar breath-stealing kiss was the stealthy attention of a certain blond professor who'd just sat in his seat at the head table, and his dark steely glare at the sight of her and Krum lip-locked in the darkened corner.
"Castreo!" Malfoy muttered under his breath before taking a bite of his food. His wand was pointed at Krum, who immediately doubled over in pain. The Quidditch coach was laying on the ground, clutching at himself thanks to Draco's well aimed hex.
"Viktor!!" cried Hermione in alarm.
"If… you…" he gasped, rolling around in pain,"… didn't…want… a kiss…" He struggled with breath, hand covering his family jewels, much to the confusion of Hermione who'd troubled herself to kneel beside him. "…You… shouldn't…. at me… looking…" She nearly cried out at the accusation in his gaze, "…like… that… Herm-own-ninny!"
"I didn't do this! I don't know what happened. OH! I'm so sorry, Viktor!" she said again, reaching out her hand which he flinched away from. This delighted Malfoy, now watching the scene from the corner of his eye.
"Please… Herm-own-ninny…" Viktor, pleaded, trying to regain his breath and not throw up. "Just… go."
With concern and an ache to assist, Hermione did as he asked, slinking back to the main table, not bothering to glance at Malfoy who was chuckling into his plate.
Hermione caught sight of Malfoy again between classes. She'd been walking in the halls, just coming from teaching Sixth Year Muggle Studies class, up to the second level where she would be covering First Year Charms for her Master Teacher, who was on holiday leave that afternoon.
Malfoy had a scowl on his face, sweat dripped from his brow, and behind him, a horde of witches were running toward him.
Merlin's Pants! Was that Headmistress McGonagall leading the pack?!
"Granger!" he sounded breathless.
Frightened, even.
She ignored his shouted plea for help, horrified at the the unexpected spurt of jealousy that swept through her at the sight of all the young females running full tilt, behind her beloved professor, to capture Malfoy. All of them could and likely would openly profess their love to the one man she'd only recently realized she had feelings for.
With a huff, and a lift of her chin, she strode up the stairs to her final class of the day.
By the afternoon, with classes completed, and despite many attempts, Hermione had managed but one kiss.
A swift glance at Malfoy, who'd quickly passed by her on his way to his room, showed his sprig had two berries. Hermione knit her eyebrows, confused at the lack of the profusion of berries she'd expected to be weighing his mistletoe down by now. Wordlessly pondering Malfoy's lack of holiday smooches, she left the teachers' common room to make her way to the train station, ready to welcome the Hogwarts Express and her friends who would be attending the reunion Yule Ball.
Red hair and retribution...
The sight of her favorite redhead and bespectacled green-eyed friends had Hermione in a right state of light-hearted excitement. Both had their dates with them so they kept their greetings down to hugs, though both men eyed the mistletoe floating just above their friend's tousled curls.
"I'll tell you about that stupid weed as we make our way back," she said, offhandedly, turning to hug and air-kiss Cho Chang and Padma Patil. Both girls looked quizzically at Hermione for her odd comment to Ron and Harry.
Ron had been Hermione's boyfriend for a short time after the war, but due to being in different places in their lives, they decided to part amicably. He and Hermione still loved one another, though, but not enough to change their habits for the other. Padma seemed well-suited to Ron's current life, for now, at least. Harry, on the other hand, was currently on a break with Ginny and had asked Cho to attend the Yule Ball with him.
"It's a stupid bet with Malfoy," Hermione grouched, catching sight of the devil himself further down the platform. He'd just clasped hands with Blaise Zabini and…
OH!
and had just been soundly kissed by the likes of an overly excited Pansy Parkinson. A dark look from Blaise had Malfoy quickly extricating himself from Pansy's grasp. Once the kiss was over, Pansy looked properly mortified by her behavior.
"Bugger! That would be three!" Hermione muttered to herself, worried she'd never catch up at this rate. Hermione refused to acknowledge her heated envy of the female Slytherin's place in Malfoy's life which allowed her to place upon him such a public and enthusiastic kiss.
"Hermione, what are you mumbling about?" Ron asked, his arm slung over her shoulders, head dipped to keep his inquiry to a whisper. The movement of Ron's head despite, the presence of Padma on Ron's other arm, piqued the interest of the blond wizard down the way. Malfoy frowned at the sight.
Harry moved to Hermione's other side, hands firmly clasped with Cho's, he, too, had thrown his arm over Hermione awaiting her answer.
"OK, guys, I got drunk with Malfoy last night."
"Hermione!!!" came four incredulous shouts aimed at her.
"What?! We were celebrating becoming full-fledged professors," she beamed. "It's just that I did something rather stupid."
"Oh gods, Hermione! Too much information!" Harry and Ron said together while the girls excitedly cast her "do tell" looks.
"It's nothing like that, you! Get your minds out of the rubbish bin! It's just that now I've got to win this ridiculous bet."
"Well, what's the bet?" asked Ron.
"Wait, let me guess," Harry said looking upwards, "Its got to do with that pathetic twig of mistletoe that's hanging over your head."
Rolling her eyes, she looked to the other girls for comfort. Both were staring above her head.
"But Harry, there isn't anything there!" announced Cho.
"I can't see anything either," claimed Padma.
The Golden Trio looked up again to confirm the mistletoe's existence.
"That sneak! I knew something was wrong!" shouted Hermione, furiously. "I've been going around nearly begging for kisses all day. At least Viktor kissed me…. but the rest, all of the male profess- …. oh. my. god. NO. ONE. SAW. IT!!!! I. AM. GOING. TO. KILL. THE. FERRET!!!"
"No! Wait!" shouted Ron, suddenly excited, grabbing Hermione in a gentle headlock. "You can get your revenge tonight at the ball, Hermione. Girls," he said, with a sly grin aimed toward both Cho and Padma. "We're going to get that Slytherin good this time!"
The things yule say...
An extremely perturbed Draco had been sitting in the middle of the ballroom, in plain sight, not just confused, but rabidly angry. Only two hours earlier, when Granger was supposed to be getting ready for the ball, he'd caught her snogging the Weasel outside of his very own classroom.
He thought he'd heard a knock on his door and when he'd gone to open it, he was greeted with the unsavory sight of the two of them just coming up for air from what appeared to be a very steamy kiss, confirmed by the appearance of another berry on Granger's mistletoe twig.
Two.
And now, Malfoy was sulking while scanning the room for her.
To make matters worse, not one witch had thrown herself at him, yet. It was all downright insulting. He'd seen Potter's entrance with Cho and the Weasel with one of the Patil twins. There was yet no sign of the third of the Golden Trio. He'd tried to surreptitiously keep an eye on the staircase, but he was getting impressively annoyed at her tardiness.
Then he started hearing the talk.
Whispered male proclamations reaching his ears in rapid staccato.
"Have you seen Professor Granger? Wow, who knew she'd grow up to look like that!"
"Granger's got some legs on her not to mention…"
Malfoy was barely able to quell a growl at the last pantomimed body part when, at last, he spotted her entering the room. She was dressed in red, looking as succulent as a…
As the rest of the men in the room caught sight of her, the hushed male voices, like sports announcers, surrounded him rushing to make further play-by play comments about the very witch he'd been eyeing.
"Hermione looks absolutely kissable tonight. Maybe I'll catch her under the mistletoe soon," came one deep, unidentifiable voice
"Too bad, I came with my date. Pansy would slaughter me if she knew I wanted to give that muggleborn witch the kiss of her life," stated his friend Blaise. "Imagine the audacity of her to charm that mistletoe to follow her every move!"
What?! Zabini had noticed Granger?!
Then, he caught sight of Potter moving in to greet her. His date was noticeably absent.
Blasted females all needing to use the loo at the same time!
And, of course, that Hermione, never doing things as other girls do. She was making her way into a room full of men who were lusting after her.
Now, I have to protect her, came Malfoy's next outrageously put-out thought. This spurt of possessiveness saw him to his feet and propelled him to move closer to the two.
His outrage grew as he passed more men who couldn't keep their lascivious thoughts about the witch in red to themselves.
He watched helplessly as The One Who Hadn't Died, reached out to touch the girl he'd been tormented by in his dreams. The ease of Potter's public affection for Hermione sliced at him. This, along with the madness that had claimed him at listening to other men speak of things he'd only dared to fantasize about, was a lethal combination that had words tearing out of his mouth that he otherwise would never have given voice to.
"DON'T TOUCH HER, POTTER."
"Why ever not, Malfoy?" came the blithe response of The One Who Prevailed. Potter's disturbingly calm reply as he reached an arm out to hug Hermione, threw Malfoy into a deeper rage. Draco dragged his gaze from Hermione's confused face to watch Potter lay claim to Hermione's waist. The instinctual movement of her hand to encircle Potter's waist had Malfoy seething.
"BECAUSE… BECAUSE…" Draco spluttered, quite aware now that he'd attracted an audience.
Harry shrugged at Malfoy's sudden inability to gather enough wits to form a comprehensible sentence, and boldly moved closer to Hermione. She'd been watching Malfoy and Harry having this peculiar discussion about her, convinced that she'd walked in on a huge theatrical farce that would surely show her to be the fool. She stood silent awaiting the cruel punchline, or her pre-determined cue to await Harry's kiss, whichever came first.
Draco stalked ever closer as he watched Potter's head dip to touch foreheads with the woman he'd had been pining after for what seemed like forever. It was only this year that he'd felt he'd gotten close enough to even begin thinking about starting something as benign as friendship with her. The mere sight of the Golden Boy swooping in to claim her, this ever elusive snitch, had Draco beside himself with thunderous fury.
"I SAID, GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF OF HER, POTTER!" Malfoy bellowed, now striding over to get toe-to-toe with his adversary. "I DON'T CARE THAT YOU'RE THE SAVIOR OF THE WIZARDING WORLD!"
"And again, Malfoy, I say, give me a good reason not to greet my very best friend properly, especially with that sprig of mistletoe above her head," came Potter's placid response.
Harry shot him a look that silently dared Draco to make a more spectacularly embarrassing move to gain the girl. Hermione was shocked silent through the whole bizarre exchange, still waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Staring squarely at Malfoy, Harry puckered up and aimed his lips toward Granger's. This was the last straw that had Draco slapping his hand against Harry's mouth, with a resounding WHACK! He kept it there, too, drawing an incredulous gasp from the rest of the crowd. Some wondered at the outright, uncharacteristic behavior from Malfoy. The rest wondered why on earth Harry hadn't done anything to retaliate already.
In fact, Potter seemed like he was patiently waiting for something.
And when that something occurred, it stopped the breath of the spectators...
"I LOVE HER, YOU SCAR-HEADED ARSE! YOU'VE HAD MORE THAN FIFTEEN YEARS TO TELL HER HOW YOU FEEL AND THAT OPPORTUNITY IS LONG GONE. I HAVE LOVED HER FOR NEARLY A DECADE AND I'M FINALLY GETTING THIS CHANCE TO DO THIS RIGHT!"
The gaiety of the party came to an abrupt, complete standstill at the sight of Malfoy losing his signature cool while the one who usually wore his heart on his sleeve, Potter, appeared in complete control.
Silence fell heavily onto the revelers who were all wearing the same stunned expression.
Unfortunately, for Draco, the floodgates to his heart and its secrets were not so easily quieted.
In the midst of all the tension, Malfoy felt the formation of a grin beneath his palm before quickly snatching his hand away from Harry's mouth. With a disgusted look at his palm, Malfoy wiped it forcefully against his trousers… several times.
"FOR. ONCE. YOU. WILL. NOT. RUIN. THIS. FOR. ME. POTTER! SO, GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF HER, RIGHT NOW," Malfoy continued to fume, "AND LEARN TO KEEP YOUR DIRTY LIPS TO YOURSELF!"
For the guests, the good-natured trickery they'd participated in at the expense of the notorious Draco Malfoy, and for the benefit of Hermione Granger had all been in good fun. Never had the reunion attendees ever imagined such a drama would unfold simply because of a little holiday jest that promised to bring the former Prince of Slytherin down a notch or two.
As Draco's infuriated gaze swept across the room, it took a few moments for it to fully dawn on him what he'd actually done. Horrified that he'd lost his temper and shouted his long held secret to the mountaintops, Draco blanched, losing what little color he'd had in the first place.
Ron, agog, sent Harry a look of complete disbelief while the latter only shrugged, hands in pockets. He was joined, shortly later, by an elegantly dressed Cho who was wearing a wide grin on her face, matching the one on Harry's.
Professor McGonagall looked pleased as punch at Draco's unexpected announcement.
After nearly two minutes of what seemed like a never ending pregnant pause, Hermione at last shut her slightly agape mouth.
"You love me, Malfoy?" Hermione squeaked at the blond wizard who was now whiter than a sheet. "For nearly ten years?! Why… why didn't you ever tell me? And why were you such an unbelievable git for more than half those years??"
Cho put a staying hand on Hermione's shoulder to quiet her babbling. Wordlessly telling her to wait for some privacy before continuing.
Harry turned to the band, indicating they should begin playing a very loud piece again. Longtime friends of both Draco's and Hermione's gathered around the couple to offer them some solitude while the shock value wore off. Zabini was the first to speak.
"Mate, perhaps you should take Granger back to the teacher's quarters. You both look-"
"plum tuckered out," finished Luna tactfully.
"Yes, Draco, take the Mu- uh… Granger someplace else," Pansy suggested with some reprimand in her voice. "That was bad form, Draco! Usually you're much smoother than that! You must truly be in love."
A look of abject horror flashed across her face before she recovered her usual look of pure disdain. Blaise grabbed her hand and kissed it, causing Pansy to smile.
"Wait, Hermione, do you want to go? With him? Alone?" asked Ron, concerned, shooting a not so deathly glare at Malfoy, but a cautious one, all the same. Padma tugged at his sleeve, sending the redhead an, "are you sure you want me?" kind of look.
In the end, it was only Harry who moved.
He took Hermione's hand and pulled her closer to Malfoy. Then, Harry offered his hand to the wizard he'd long thought of as the enemy. He smiled, and Malfoy, at last, found enough courage to meet Harry's green gaze.
"If you truly love her, Malfoy, Draco-" Harry said, hesitatingly, offering him his more contagious crooked smile. "It's only right that you do it properly. I, for one, am cheering for you. I always have been."
A look of pure shock crossed Draco's face. He found himself grasping his former archenemy's hand, earnestly thankful for the words of support that fell from somewhere completely unexpected.
"Thank you, Pott-… err… Harry." It was Harry who at last pulled the pair of hands in his together, ushering the both of them out the door.
"Harry," Hermione whispered. "How long have you known about this?"
"A long time, Hermione. A long time," he smiled, looking pointedly at her sprig of mistletoe before waving the couple off, "Sorry we couldn't get you any more berries, Hermione. Even though your lack of them might say you've lost the bet, I'd wager you'll be getting one more kiss, or maybe two, before the night's over."
Still holding hands, gazing dumbly ahead of them, the new couple, as though confunded, made their silent way to the teacher's quarters.
Winner take all...
When they were at last alone, Hermione quietly closed the door and gingerly took to perching on the nearest seat.
"You love me?!" she asked quietly. Stunned still. "Even then, when you were hideously cruel to me? How could you treat me that way all those years!!!"
"I had to make you hate me, so I could hate you, too... instead of love you," his whispered confession almost impossible to hear.
Unable to meet her eyes, Malfoy stood at the mantle, kicking at the stone fireplace, trying to digest recent occurrences. Then, his head whipped up.
"Wait! How many blokes have you kissed in your life, Hermione?"
"THAT is not what we were talking about, Malfoy!! Hey, you used my name!?"
"Don't you think it should be Draco by now, Hermione? I've just told you that I love you... That I've loved you for the longest time," he reminded her so sweetly that she became too distracted to hold onto her outrage. While she stared wide-eyed at him, Draco moved to kneel in front of her, his arms wrapped around her waist while he gazed adoringly at her.
" Wha- ... ugh! Stop confusing me. Since you brought it up - this whole wager, you fixed it to your benefit," she scowled, his warmth so unnervingly close it was hard to stay en pointe. "You cheated somehow!"
"No, not really, love. I just adjusted the odds." He grasped her hands in both of his. She looked at him, curious at his use of the new term of endearment
"What do you mean, Draco?"
"I've enchanted the mistletoe," he whispered and leaned in to kiss her.
She placed her hands against his shoulders to stop his not completely unexpected approach. He encircled her waist in his arms again.
"How so?"
"Do we have to get into this right now?" his eyes, half-lidded with desire… for her. Something fluttered happily inside her chest to at last witness him distracted by her. "I adore you for your inquiring mind, love, but really, Hermione, think of time and place."
"I want to know who the actual winner is!" she insisted, albeit flirtatiously.
With a beleaguered sigh he moved only far enough away to indicate with his eyes the item above her head.
"That twig of mistletoe above your head, which has far too many berries growing on it for my personal comfort…"
"Mal-" he shoots her a warning look about her use of his name. On a smiling sigh, she shook her head and restated, "Draco, there are only two berries on mine!"
"As I was saying… far too many berries growing on it for my personal comfort… The way the charm worked, well, it only allowed those you've kissed before, truly kissed, to see the mistletoe and approach you for a real kiss."
"But for you… there were so many!" she cried exasperatedly. Horrified, she recalled the sheer number of women chasing after him today. Some of those who on the prowl were…oh, ick!... surprising!
"I enchanted mine with a different incantation," he whispered with a smirk in his tone, inching closer again. "Every female, but you, above the age of 17 who'd had the least of bit interest in kissing me sometime in their life…"
Her eyes widened, and he had to forcibly remove the hand she'd placed over her mouth to indicate her dumbfounded shock at some of the considerably older Hogwarts women who'd been secretly lusting after Draco. He pulled her from her thoughts when he shook her a little to get her to focus on what he was saying.
"Hermione, why were so many of those men wanting to kiss you downstairs? How many have you kissed? Why could Zabini see it??"
Hermione had the decency to blush.
"All of them were in on the joke that was supposed to get me more berries tonight! It was Ron's idea. Cho and Padma told the women to stay away from you. Ron and Harry told the blokes about the invisible mistletoe and to talk me up when they were in your presence."
"Leave it to The One Who Always Scores to up the ante!" muttered Malfoy disparagingly, "Could Potty see your mistletoe?"
As she prepared to answer truthfully, he stopped her.
"Never mind! I've decided I don't want to know. I don't EVER want to know!"
She smiled and allowed herself to cast one look at his sprig. She let out a relieved sigh, only three berries among the leaves hung above his head. Looks like he managed to escape death by kissing today. If she was allowed to keep her little secret, she too did not need to know where the other two kisses came from.
He arched his eyebrow as he caught her inspection. He looked up, too.
With a grin he pointed to himself, held up three fingers and waggled them. Then, he pointed at hers, and with great show counted her measly berries. He pulled his mouth into a sorrowful pout, holding up two fingers.
Hermione swatted at his chest, but not with much force since all of this truth-telling changed her annoyance to outright amusement at how his enchantment had backfired on him.
"So, enough talk. I win," he claimed impatiently. "May I collect the spoils now, Hermione?"
"Wait! Why did you exclude me?"
"Well," he started, with a secretive smile, touching his finger to her lips. "That would be cheating!"
"What do you mean, Draco?"
"I like the way you say my name, Granger," he said teasing. "Stop asking questions! Don't you ever give it a rest?"
"But I received two TRUE kisses! Your kissers were unfairly compelled!! Aren't I the true winner, Draco?!"
At her reminder of the number of berries on her sprig, he scowled, wishing he'd had the foresight to enchant her mistletoe to automatically hex those who'd kissed her in much the same way as he'd punished Krum for daring to touch her.
"That depends, Hermione."
"On what?"
"Depends on what, or who, you'd have kiss me."
Curiosity sparked in his silvery gaze.
With a smirk all her own, Hermione reached over to take hold of his starched shirtfront. She tugged gently to pull him closer still. Moving her face against his, she felt the scratch of his newly grown stubble against the softness of her cheek. She felt him startle, his heartbeat speeding under her fingers at her unexpected movement. His arms tightened around her in anticipation as he felt her mouth move closer to his quite sensitive ear.
"Why, Draco, I'd always intended that it would be me to kiss you," she whispered huskily.
A surprised outtake of his breath pushed the curly tendrils away from the side her face. The corners of his eyes crinkled merrily as he moved her slightly to be able to gaze into her eyes. As she threaded her fingers in the strands of his hair, Hermione caught the scent of his expensive cologne as it wafted over her.
She caught her lower lip between her teeth, shy now because of her out of character, forward pronouncement. He found he couldn't resist her coyness any longer. At last, he lowered his mouth to finally claim hers. Hermione's heart skipped a beat as he maddeningly stopped his approach when he was but a millimeter away.
"Well, if that's the case, Hermione, then it would be me who is the winner."
The moist heat of his breath tickled at her mouth, but still he did not move any closer. His tantalizing nearness caused her to move her face, opening her lips in gentle invitation, finally closing the space between them. At last, Draco's mouth met hers.
He moved softly, with slow, languorous intent. His lips, an extension of his body's every waking movement, always hinting at this very heated, self-assured seduction Hermione had only daydreamed of being the target of these last five, or so, years. His head moved slightly side-to-side, ensuring his lips touched every centimeter of hers.
Ten years of wanting and waiting for this moment. Ten years of trying to hide his desire for her by masking it in cruel taunts and put downs. Ten years of wishing it was words of love, not hate, that he could allow to spill from his lips.
Ten years…
His tongue, never forced entry, only flicked teasingly until she opened her own mouth to beckon him in. She felt his touch at the base of her spine, his fingers there playing with the curly ends of her long hair. His other hand reached out to gently touch his fingers to her cheek, cradling her jaw in his palm, stroking the side of her face as he deepened their kiss. Her eyes at last drifted close, his remained open for only a moment longer to watch her savor and succumb to his intoxicating charms.
Ten years…
Coming up for air, he moved his face to capture her scent. He smiled into the crook of her neck as heard her pleased sigh. A contented rumble that started in his chest and stopped to purr in his throat was her answer.
Ten years…
to at last find the witch of his dreams in his arms.
Ten years…
to at long last have this…
For Draco Malfoy, it was worth every moment to finally claim his prize.
Dear Readers: Reviews feed my muse and I love reading your feedback. It makes me a better writer to discover what you liked and didn't like in my stories. Won't you take a moment to drop a line? Happy Holidays!
This story was written for a Granger Enchanted Christmas Story Challenge. The Prompt, use the line: "I've enchanted the mistletoe," he whispered and leaned in to kiss her.