Author's Note: The song is called The Carol Of The Bells. I own no rights to the Harry Potter series. Because, if I did, it would be called the Draco Malfoy series, but that's just me. So, you may be wondering, if I like Draco more than Harry, why is this an implied, one-sided Harry/Pansy? Because I strongly dislike both of them, and feel they would make an amazingly horrible couple. They deserve each other in my mind.

Anyway, this is my first attempt at fanfiction, and any constructive criticism would be appreciated. I have some ideas for other pairings, so if I get enough reviews, I may make this into a series. Thanks and Happy Holidays!

-Kim

Hark how the bells

Sweet silver bells

All seem to say

Throw cares away

Ding

Dong

Ding

Dong

"Now that the talking bells have told me to lighten up, I have to, don't I?" Jet black hair was pushed away from brilliant green eyes, once described as 'As green as a fresh pickled toad.' Weird simile, courtesy of one First-Year Ginny Weasley. In a way much cliched by Ebenezer Scrooge, Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, trudged through the halls of Hogwarts on his way to the traditional Christmas Day feast.

Red and green banners were everywhere, hanging from the ceilings, fluttering in the air, and being trodden on by wet, snowy feet on the ground. Even the stupid bells, singing in their high-pitched little voices were red and green.

"Sucks to be Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw this time of year, doesn't it?" Harry asked his trusty sidekick Ronald Weasley.

"Why? Oh! I get it! It's because Griffindor's red and Slytherin," Ron mimed barfing at this, "is green isn't it?"

Harry frowned at Ron's density. Honestly, was it too much to ask for an intelligent friend that didn't feel like lording it over people, like Hermione did? Not for the Boy-Who-Lived it wasn't! The frown morphed into a smirk, pitiful compared to the glory of Draco Malfoy's, as two hapless wanderers were trapped under one of the enchanted mistletoes. "Here's the best part of Christmas at Hogwarts mate," Harry said, clapping Ron on the shoulder and pointing to Kaitlyn Bernard and Taylor Brown. The odd pair were hopping around each other in what appeared to be a strange reenactment of the Crowned Crane's mating dance. Peeves floated overhead, yelling 'encouraging' remarks at them.

"Come on, get a move on! It's TRADITION! Can't go against TRADITION now can we?"

Ron giggled in amusement while Hermione sighed in irritation. Boys. Kaitlyn and Taylor, finally coming to terms with the fact that they wouldn't be able to get out of kissing each other any times soon, looked each other square in the eye, and pecked each other on the lips. Taylor straightened almost immediately after contact had been achieved, and stormed off, barging through the laughing crowd that had assembled during the mating dance, face red with embarrassment. Kaitlyn, close to tears at the cruel laughter of her school-mates, ran in the other direction, long brown hair obscuring her face.

"Honestly Ron, can't you see that Kaitlyn's upset?" Hermione stared at Ron's face, almost purple for laughing, and turned on her heel. Marching after Kaitlyn, she called over her shoulder to Ron, "Just think about how you would feel if you were Taylor, Ronald. Just think about that."

"What the hell is she talking about mate?" Ron looked at Hermione's retreating back.

"You'd better go after her and ask her yourself," Harry said calmly, voice not betraying the hilarity he saw in the scene. Ron nodded resolutely, and walked after Hermione and Kaitlyn, calling for them to slow down.

Harry chuckled lightly once his friends were gone, then frowned once more. That was probably the highlight of his day. Sad, really, how depressing his life had become after Sirius had... died. Now all that was left for Harry was to kill Voldemort. An exciting prospect.

The crowd dispersed, the Boy-Who-Lived wandered in the general direction of the Great Hall. The feast wouldn't be any fun without Hermione and Ron after all. Oh, how he missed the carefree days of his youth! The youth spent without the Dursleys that is. Mulling over the childhood he might have known, Harry unwittingly stumbled underneath something green and spiky.

"Dammit! At least nobody's seen me here..." Harry quickly sidestepped from beneath the mistletoe. A fate worse than death awaited him if he stayed. "Dammit-again!" Harry couldn't escape! The mistletoe resolutely hovered above his messy hair.

"Can't go against TRADITION now can we Potter?" Peeves cackled from the ceiling. "You'll just have to wait for a girl to come along and free you, now won't you?"

"Get this OFF OF ME!" Harry screamed at the pesky poltergeist. It was all his fault! HE had been evil enough to enchant this... this... PLANT to stay above his head!

As if Peeves could read Harry's mind, he rose slightly higher and taunted in his patented sing-song voice, guaranteed to annoy, "Twasn't me that charmed the mistletoe. Haven't you ever read Hogwarts, A History?" Harry shook his head in disbelief. Of course he hadn't read the massive tome! "Well then, tough for you! If you had, you'd have know that all mistletoe in Hogwarts is enchanted mistletoe, charmed to stay above the head of whosoever wanders underneath it!" Peeves cackled evilly once more. "If you're so against finding someone to kiss under it, you could just wait it out. I hear that in twenty-four hours, the charm will fade. No one's ever lasted that long of course."

"Why not?"

"Why, because of the carols! If you think the bells are horrible, just wait til you hear the mistletoe!" Laughing triumphantly at Harry's stunned expression, Peeves zoomed off.

"Why you little..." Harry pulled out his wand and fired jinx after jinx at the harmless looking plant above him. Nothing worked. "You've got to be freaking kidding me! Augh!"

Just as Harry was plotting revenge on Peeves, Pansy Parkinson was prancing about the corridors in high spirits. "With all this mistletoe around, Drakie-poo and I simply MUST be caught under one! I wonder if there's any way to ensure that though..." Pansy's voice trailed off as she contemplated the many ways Draco would attempt to get out of kissing her. "He wants me, he really does, he just can't admit it, the poor dear," she said sympathetically to the wall. "But when he finally kisses me..." Starry-eyed, Pansy practically waltzed down the hall to the Great Hall.

"Oomph!" Stars were deported to float about Pansy's pug-nosed face as she stared at the person she had run into. "Drakie?" she whispered, stars obscuring her vision. Nope, not Draco. "Excuse you Potter," Pansy said, and flounced off.

"Wait! Pansy! Come back!"

Turning, expecting to see Potter at least ten feet away from her, Pansy saw, up close and personal, startlingly green eyes. Potter was right behind her!

"What are you doing, stalking me?" she asked, voice quivering with rage.

"Just look up." Harry's slender finger pointed towards the ceiling.

"No!"

"Please, just get me out of here. Before the singing starts! Please," Harry pleaded, dropping to one knee and bowing his head.

"Of course. NOT!" Pansy sneered at Potter's face. "Why would I kiss a Griffindor like you?"

"Because you can't move without me following you," Harry said simply and explained that the mistletoe was enchanted to follow whosoever was beneath it, and if two people were under the plant, the mistletoe dragged them together. "If you don't believe me, just try walking away from me. I promise not to follow you of my own free will." Harry made the common Muggle gesture for 'Cross my heart and hope to die.'

Not dignifying Harry's remark with a response, Pansy walked away from him, her eyes focused on a spot just above his head. The spot was getting smaller and farther away...but not Potter. "Stop following me dammit!"

"I'm not!"

And, indeed, Harry wasn't trailing after Pansy on purpose. To demonstrate the fact, Harry dug his feet into the space between tiles on the floor. When Pansy kept walking, Harry's torso was dragged after her and, once he was stretched as far as was possible for his slight frame, his toes were lifted from the crack.

"See?"

"Oh," Pansy said simply, her mind overcome. "Well, I certainly don't want a Griffindor like you following me around, so..."

Getting it over with, Pansy disposed of the Crane mating ritual that was customary in these circumstances. Her lips collided with Harry's rather forcefully. She tried to pretend that the black-haired boy leaning down to kiss her had grey eyes and classic features. Lost in her fantasy of Draco finally snogging her, Pansy wound her arms around Harry's neck and kept kissing the startled Boy-Who-Lived. When Harry tried to break away, Pansy growled and looked him square in the eye.

"Damn!" Eye contact broke Pansy's fantasy and she was back to being in Harry Potter's arms. "Now the freaking mistletoe will leave us alone," she said rather breathily, startled over how well Potter kissed...

"Um, yes." Harry's eyes were huge in his pale face as he glanced hastily around. "Thank God, no one's here," he mumbled under his breath, not sure what he would have done if someone had been watching. Probably jinx them to death.

Sucking in a deep breath, Harry turned away from the Slytherin. As an afterthought, he called over his shoulder, "Happy Christmas then!"

"Happy Christmas," Pansy breathed, still in shock over the kiss. Staring at the ceiling for a moment, Pansy noticed that the mistletoe was gone, a puff of mint scented green smoke in its place.

"Must have been some kiss to poof it away."

Pansy's eyes darted about the deserted corridor wildly, looking for Peeves. He was nowhere to be found, but his voice drifted back to her.

"Some kiss..."

"It was not! It meant nothing and it was horrible!" she protested to thin air before trudging off to eat, the spring in her step gone as she puzzled over the kiss. It meant nothing, didn't it?

In a stark contrast to Pansy, Harry Potter was elated. He had been wrong. Kaitlyn and Taylor's kiss hadn't been the highlight of his Christmas. His kiss with Pansy had been the best part of Christmas here at Hogwarts. Off-tune whistling accompanied his joyous walk to the Great Hall.

At the beginning of the Christmas Feast, Dumbledore looked at his assembled students, all those who had chosen to stay over break. His usual speech of togetherness and joy was ended by one single sentence that rang true in two seventh-years' hearts.

"Christmas is a time of miracles and of love."