The Weasley twins are at it again. And what's the best prank when it comes to Christmastime? The good ol' mistletoe that's been responsible for more couples getting together than it has the right to claim, of course. But who are they going to target?

I must apologize. I'm not giving this a year mainly because it's been a while since I've read the books and I unfortunately don't own them so I can't go check myself. Because Hermione's a prefect and Fred and George are still at the school, it should be Hermione's fifth year, but I didn't have the energy for a fluffy, pink, Delores Umbridge. So I shamelessly obliterated her. You can pretend it's set whenever you like.

Disclaiming – I don't own Harry Potter, his friends, Othello, or the brainwave best use of mistletoe. Pity.

"And I tell you, those Weasley twins should be kept locked up in a cage when they're not in class – and preferably when they are! Without their wands!" Hermione Granger somehow managed to look blazingly indignant even though she was drenched. A noise of exasperation followed. "The cheek! To think they can set up a prank ambushing the prefects and get away with it! Oh, do they have it coming to them...!"

Ginny spoke hesitantly from the desk she was perched on. "Well, Hermione, with all due respect, they weren't targeting the prefects, per say. Just you."

Hermione raised her eyebrows disbelievingly in Ginny's direction. "You're going to argue with me now; when I'm wet, and cold, and … and..."

"Furious?" Harry ventured from his spot at the back of the classroom – further from the wrath of his best friend.

"Livid!" Hermione spat. She saw Ron next to Harry and her hand tightened threateningly around her wand. "RONALD WEASLEY, YOU HAD BETTER NOT BE LAUGHING AT THIS!"

Ron tried manfully – and failed dismally – to stifle his laughter. Hermione, with a strangled shriek of disgust, threw her hands into the air and marched for the door. Her mutterings about murder being too good for those redheaded, prattish, obnoxious cads could be heard by the three in the room until the slamming of the door covered it all.

Ron finally gave in to his laughter. "Did you see her face? Merlin, they're good! I didn't think they had the guts, after last week's dressing-down. Remind me to thank my brothers when I see them."

At that comment, Ginny almost flew to in front of the boys and slapped her brother soundly across the cheek. "Now, I think it was as funny as anyone, but anyone with a trace of decency would feel at least slightly sorry for their best friend after something like that. Pull yourself towards yourself!"

Harry, however, was ignoring the bickering siblings and examining a piece of parchment with a worried look on his face. "Oh, no. Problem. Ginny, you need to run back down here and through the Charms corridor to the stairway at the end there. The twins are behind the tapestry at the bottom of the stairway. Pull them out and get them into their own dorm or the Room of Requirement. I'm going the other way to waylay Hermione before she remembers how they punished Iago."

Ginny was turned towards the door, but then turned back. "How who punished who?"

Harry waved her on. "Muggle reference. Long story. Now go, before you meet the same fate!"

Ginny needed no more prompting, and took off like there were ten Basilisks after her. Harry tapped his wand on the map. "Mischief managed." Then he, too, moved towards the door.

"What about me?" Ron asked, using his sleeve to wipe his face. Harry grimaced.

"Well, if I were you, I'd go to the dorm because Hermione can't find you there and give you the same treatment as the twins. And then I'd wash that robe, because that's disgusting." And with that, he took off after his friend.

Luckily for Harry, he was taller than Hermione and fitter as well, so he caught up to her rather quickly. Thinking on his feet, he conjured up a towel. "Hermione!"

"Go away, Ron!"

"It's Harry." He caught up to her and handed her the towel.

"Oh. Sorry, Harry." Hermione dried her ears. "Now I can hear properly. And now, where's your map? Because I'm going to find those cads and stuff them into their own, disembowelled intestines. After the Chinese water torture technique!"

Harry grinned. "I was thinking you'd go along the lines of punishing them like Iago, but yours does sound more painful."

"You read Othello?" Hermione sounded surprised.

Harry shook his head. "Watched the movie. That beginning scene scares me every time."

"Oh, right – the suspended cage, in the sun." Hermione actually paused in her frighteningly purposeful walk to consider this. "Well, if McGonagall would confine them to cages, then I suppose that would be easy enough – just levitate them in the middle of the Quidditch pitch." Then she shook her head. "But they're not in cages – more's the pity – so I'm going to have to go with disembowelling. Now, where's your map?"

Harry knew he had to buy the twins time to get safely away – hopefully without Hermione knowing that he had anything to do with it. "Okay. Let's start with getting you dried off." He performed a drying spell that dried Hermione's robes and hair – which instantly crackled and poofed up like he hadn't imagined possible.

"Great," Hermione groaned, touching the crispy-feeling mess. "I can't let anyone see me like this."

Harry thought for a second and recalled a charm he had heard Ginny and Molly use a few times over the years. "Hold still." He pointed his wand at Hermione's head. "Kollao carce chevea." As a result, Hermione's hair twisted itself into a neat braid with a small piece of ribbon to keep it together. Hermione ran her fingers over it in amazement.

"How on earth did you learn to do that, Harry?"

Harry shrugged. "I've heard Mrs Weasley use it."

That was a tactical error; the name Weasley sparked in Hermione's mind just exactly why she was mad. "Okay, Harry, you've stalled long enough. Now give me that map."

"I don't have it," Harry tried valiantly, seeing that there was no hope of diverting her attention again.

"Don't lie to me, Harry," Hermione said warningly. "If you're protecting them, I'll take you down."

Harry tried desperate. "Look, Hermione, I know what they did was rude and horrible and everything else. But you fighting with them – especially when there are no teachers around – will just get you into trouble, and you're a prefect – you can't get into trouble. So what you should do is tell McGonagall. She'll give them detention and you won't get into trouble."

Hermione considered only shortly before nodding, and Harry sighed in relief. If Hermione had one weak spot, it was getting into trouble.

Ginny, meanwhile, had managed to sneak her brothers into the Room of Requirement. "You know, that really wasn't a very nice thing to do. It was stupid too – you're getting on Hermione's last nerve. I wouldn't be surprised if she does more than give detention and deduct points one of these days. You're lucky Harry sent me to get you – she was apparently planning to Iago you?"

"What's that?" George asked, still clutching a wizarding camera that had been used to capture Hermione's expression of shock when the flood came at her from all directions.

Ginny shrugged. "I don't know, I didn't have time to ask. Ask Harry. And I think you'd better give me that camera."

Sequestering themselves in their room that night, Fred and George Weasley were grumpy to say the least. That … that girl had reported them to McGonagall, who had seen no trace of humour in the incident and assigned the twins two hours of detention each night for three nights, writing out lines each time. That night had been 'I must not play pranks, especially not on prefects or females.' The next night, so McGonagall had informed them, pages of 'I must not make a mess in the corridors, or the classrooms, or the dorms, or anywhere on the Hogwarts grounds.' And she had positively grinned on informing them of their last set – they would be copying out a bunch of monologues by someone called Iago, from a play called Othello by William Shakespeare. "Gred, we can't leave this here," Fred informed his twin.

"I know, Forge. And something tells me Harry was in on reporting to McGonagall. I say we owe both of them."

"But what should we do?"

At that moment, Lee Jordan, the twins' friend, dorm-mate and fellow prankster, burst into the room. "Twins! You're never going to believe who got caught under the mistletoe! Snape and McGonagall!"

Instead of laughing as they usually would, they just exchanged a diabolical glance. Fred's smile was sinister. "Mistletoe, you say..."

In the common room that night, Harry was surprised to see the twins come downstairs – Hermione was in the common room, and they generally avoided her after a prank. But there they were, as cool as you please, and looking as if they were actually planning on doing homework – George had a Potions tome under his arm, and Fred was carrying quills, parchment and Chocolate Frogs – both claimed that work was impossible without sweets. But each had only written an inch when Fred jumped up. "George! A spider!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Don't tell me you're afraid of spiders?"

Ron shuddered.

"No, my dear Hermione." George Summoned the spider and placed it into a shallow box, casting a charm on it so that the spider couldn't get out. "I want to try something. Engorgio."

Hermione disarmed him with one flick of her wand. "What exactly do you think you're doing?"

George sighed. "Well, according to you, Fred and I can't try out spells or anything on first-years. So we have to make another plan. Why not on spiders?"

"Because what did the poor spider ever do to you?" Hermione's hands were on her hips. "And that's wrong," she added, glancing at his parchment.

George scoffed. "You haven't even done this work. How would you know?"

"Because I actually read my Potions Theory book," Hermione challenged. "And there's no way that unicorn hair combined with Acromantula venom and Blast-Ended Screwt spit makes as good an antidote as a bezoar."

George raised his eyebrows. "And why not, pray tell?"

Hermione sighed impatiently. "Because the venom is poisonous, Blast-Ended Screwt saliva has no use except as a growth agent for Mandrakes – you'd know that if you had listened in Care of Magical Creatures or Herbology – and unicorn hair is neutral unless it's mixed with either ground poppies or – more commonly – the juice of a sopophorous bean."

"George, it's not working!" Fred burst out suddenly, and Hermione spun to see him aiming his wand at the spider.

"GEORGE WEASLEY!" she screamed. "You were just distracting me so your brother could torture the poor spider!"

George grinned and took his wand from Hermione's loose grip before waving it over his parchment, revealing, instead of the 'dribble' (one of Hermione's favourite words for incredibly incorrect information) that he had been arguing over, a surprisingly factually correct paragraph on bezoars. Then he looked at his brother. "What isn't working, Gred?"

"Iago! Nothing's happening!"

Harry realized first what was happening, and burst out laughing. He was rolling on the floor by the time George cast a sober-up charm. "What's so funny?"

"Ginny!" Harry called for the younger girl, and she came over. "Did you tell them that I said Hermione was going to Iago them?"

She nodded. "That's what you said."

Harry looked as if he wanted to start laughing again, but he couldn't because of George's spell. "I said she was going to punish them like they – as in the Venetians in Shakespeare – had punished Iago. Iago is a person, not a spell!"

The Weasleys all had a good laugh at that, but Hermione looked even more furious than before. She turned on Harry. "YOU SENT GINNNY TO GET THEM AWAY BEFORE I COULD FIND THEM!"

Harry blanched. He was dead.

"YOU HAD YOUR MAP AFTER ALL, YOU PRAT! YOU DIDN'T WANT ME TO FIND THEM!"

"I just didn't want you to get into trouble," Harry tried, but Hermione was already halfway up the stairs to the girls' dorms. Harry tried to run after her, but when he was halfway up, the stairs turned into an icy ramp and dumped him unceremoniously on the common room floor. The twins kept laughing. Harry, muttering violently at them under his breath, scooped up the nearest thing on the table – which happened to be a fruitcake – and flung it at them before hurrying up the stairs to his dorm.

Fred and George just grinned. A flying fruitcake thrown by Harry was all the more reason for their prank of the next day to be carried out.

Hermione avoided Ron, Harry and the twins the next morning; going down to breakfast early and attempting to shovel her food down before the boys appeared. She was just about to leave the hall when Fred came barrelling him. "Oh!" he spluttered, hiding something behind his back. His nervous behaviour heightened Hermione's sense for mischief immediately. "There you are, Hermione! We were wondering."

"You're down early today, Fred," Hermione said smoothly, noting how the muscles in his arms moved, meaning that he was trying to get rid of something. "You and George usually sleep as late as you can."

"I … um … well, turning … that is, I … uh, I'm turning over a new leaf!" Fred practically shouted.

Hermione nodded sweetly. "And what's that behind your back, Fred?"

His face became even more panicked, and he stuttered out, "Nothing! I mean, why would there be anything? Behind my back, I mean. Unless you're talking about my very attractive derriere..."

Hermione gave up the guise of patience. "Show me your hands, Fred."

To her surprise, Fred's face relaxed, and he brought his hands out in front of him. They were empty.

Hermione inspected them carefully. "Why are your hands covered in scratches?"

"Crookshanks," Fred said smoothly. "Woke up with that hideous Kneazle on top of me, didn't I? Had to put up a fight to be able to breathe again. I don't know why you keep it around."

Hermione huffed; still suspecting that something was up but wanting to get out of the hall before the other boys showed up. Especially Harry; she hated being mad at him, but she had to at least keep up the show until he apologized. And it was pretty funny; the whole Iago thing. And she would have gotten into trouble. "I'm going."

"No!" Fred looked panicked again. "That is, you can't. Head Boy wants to address the school at breakfast. He says everyone has to be there."

"How do you know?" Hermione asked suspiciously; the Head Boy was a Ravenclaw who avoided the twins, unless he had to scold them or wanted to lecture them on responsibility.

"Oh, he announced it to Ravenclaw, and Luna told Ginny, who passed it on to the rest of the house," Fred said nonchalantly.

Hermione groaned. "Fine." But instead of heading over to the Gryffindor table, she went to join some of her Ravenclaw friends. She was still mad at Ron.

The group of Hufflepuffs that walked in at that moment were left wondering why one of the Weasley twins was standing in the doorway with a bunch of mistletoe hanging from the waistband of his pants, like a green tail.

Harry, meanwhile, was only just waking up. He looked at the sun coming in his window with some confusion before looking at the clock on the wall. "Oh, bloody hell!" he exclaimed when he saw that he was the only one in the dorm, and that he had overslept by almost an hour. "And I haven't finished my Charms work! Oh, Flitwick's gonna have my head...!" He threw himself out of bed and reached for his clothes. As he tried to get dressed, however, he realized that his fingers weren't working properly. Looking down at them, he saw that all of his fingers had been Transfigured into thumbs.

Surely Hermione wouldn't ...no. Harry shook his head. No matter how mad she was, Hermione would never do this. And the worst part was, Harry couldn't get a good enough grip on his wand to undo the spell. And he couldn't do up the button on his pants with his fingers as thumbs. Giving up in disgust, Harry threw his robes on over unbuttoned jeans and his sleeping t-shirt. He didn't bother with shoes, although he did manage to get his wand into his pocket. Then he ran for the stairs.

Hermione was getting fed up with waiting and finally turned to Terry Boot. "When exactly did Harris Higgins say he was going to make this announcement?"

Terry looked puzzled. "What announcement?"

Hermione huffed. "The one Fred told me he was going to make, and that's why I had to stay down here."

Terry burst out laughing. "Hermione Granger! A smart witch like you, listening to one of the Weasley twins! I would have expected better."

Hermione flung herself to her feet and flung a breakfast roll at Terry's head to stop him laughing. "Shut up." She began making her way to the door – if she even saw the twins, she'd throw something a sight worse than bread at them.

George nudged his twin in the side. "Fred! She's leaving! What do we do?"

Fred looked up. "Wait. Harry's coming. It should be okay."

Sure enough, Harry was about to burst into the Great Hall, intent on going straight up to the professors' platform and getting McGonagall to fix his hands so he could eat his breakfast – and hold his wand to hex whoever had made him oversleep (he had recognized in himself the side effects of the SuperSleep Potion, and his suspects were Fred and George). He was so intent on getting there before anything could stop him that he didn't notice his very angry best friend approaching form the opposite direction.

"Yes!" Fred and George chorused quietly when it became evident that Hermione and Harry had not noticed each other, but were set to collide just inside the doorway. On the count of three – just seconds before they would walk into each other – Fred reversed the Notice-Me-Not charm, while George whispered, 'Activo'. In the next moment, the two collided.

"Oof!" Hermione looked up from her mad escape rush to see that the person she had collided with was none other than Harry. "Oi! Look where you're going!"

"Sorry, Hermione." Harry blinked, and she saw that he wasn't wearing his glasses.

"Harry, where are your glasses?" she asked in concern; her anger was melting away.

"In my dorm. Somebody," and he sent a pointed glare toward the Gryffindor table, "Transfigured all my bloody fingers into thumbs, and I can't do a thing. I was going to ask McGonagall to fix it. Don't suppose you can?"

Hermione shook her head regretfully. "We haven't done human Transfiguration yet. And besides," she half-turned away from him, "I'm mad at you."

Harry sighed. "Mione, I'm really, really sorry. Really. I didn't do it to spare the twins – you know that! I took you to report them! I did it so you wouldn't get in trouble. I knew you were mad and that you'd regret hurting them afterwards, and I didn't want that. I'm truly sorry."

Hermione relented and smiled. "I know."

"Am I forgiven?"

"Yes," Hermione told him, and hugged him to prove it.

Fred and George, and most of the rest of the school, all who could see the mistletoe, wondered what was going on. Didn't they know that a hug wouldn't get rid of mistletoe? But it dawned on George. "They're just talking. They haven't seen it yet."

But they were about to.

"Let's get you over to McGonagall," Hermione said, taking Harry by the arm – holding his hand felt too odd, with just thumbs. "I … oof!" Both stumbled backwards, as if they had just walked into a wall, like that around the Goblet of Fire.

"What the...?" Harry stuck one arm out, and encountered a barrier. "Oh, no."

"What is it, Harry?" Hermione sounded panicked.

Harry sighed. "You look up, and tell me."

Hermione did as he requested. "Mistletoe!"

"Fred and George," Harry stated blandly.

"Oh, am I going to hex them! You won't be able to stop me this time, Harry." Hermione reached into her pocket. But Harry reached out a mangled hand to stop her.

"NO, Hermione, don't! Any spell cast while you're under the mistletoe backfires on the caster – like Ron's slugs, remember?"

Hermione let out a strangled scream, returned her wand to her pocket, and thumped the barrier. Then she was jumping around, clutching her hand. "OW! Ouch, ouch, ouch! Ohh, that was stupid!"

Harry glanced at the mistletoe again. "Here." He took her hand and brought the sore spot to his lips. "Didn't your mother used to kiss all your boo-boos better?"

Hermione nodded and chuckled, even though there were unfallen tears in her eyes. "Thanks, Harry."

(The 'Awww!' of all the girls in the hall was audible.)

Harry stuck out a testing hand to see if that kiss fulfilled the mistletoe's requirements. But no; Fred and George were too smart for that. "You may not be thanking me when I tell you that it's impossible to magic the mistletoe away." Harry looked down, feeling his cheeks flush bright red. Hermione's weren't much better.

They stood there in silence for maybe a minute before Harry's stomach growled, causing both to look up; Harry wondering if there was any chance that Hermione hadn't heard it; Hermione realizing that she'd have to give him permission to kiss her; he was too much of a gentleman to do it without asking. Not that it would be horrible for her or anything – she had seen Harry and Ron as brothers until recently, but when she had missed Harry terribly and worried over him constantly over the summer, she had logically deducted that she had a crush on the Boy Who Lived.

Harry, on the other hand, was sweating in nervousness. When Dudley had, over the summer, referred to Hermione jeeringly as 'that freak with the bushy hair', he had sprung to her defence, punching his cousin in the nose (earning himself a stint in his far-too-small cupboard) and then thinking of almost nothing but Hermione for the rest of the holidays. He had been working since he returned to hide his crush on his best friend, but he knew that once he started kissing her, he wasn't very likely to stop.

"It's okay, Harry. Really." Hermione spoke softly. "I don't mind."

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable," Harry muttered, looking at the ground again.

Hermione smiled. "You won't. Really."

So Harry looked up and leaned down (only slightly, because he wasn't that much taller than Hermione was) to rest his lips on hers. He had vowed to himself to keep his arms at his sides, so it came as something of a surprise when Hermione's arms reached up to hold him around the neck. Of their own volition, Harry's arms moved until they circled Hermione's waist. And, all of a sudden, their lips were moving together. An identical thought was flying through the heads of both: I'm not crushing alone.

Finally, with a popping sound, the mistletoe vanished. Only then did Harry and Hermione pull apart and notice the cheering and wolf-whistles of the rest of the school. Only Fred, George, Ron and Ginny looked gobsmacked.

Harry and Hermione linked arms and, still blushing, started the walk to the Professors' table. Ginny and Ron intercepted them halfway down.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Ron spat, glaring at Harry.

Ginny was right in Hermione's face. "You know he's mine! I told you I loved him! And now you're going behind my back and kissing him!"

Harry spoke first. "Ron, that was a kiss. To get out from under the mistletoe, I might add. That your brothers put there."

"And Ginny," Hermione continued, "I told you years ago that Harry doesn't feel the same for you and that you'd be better off getting over your obsession. And we were under the mistletoe."

"So it didn't mean anything?" Ron challenged, and Harry raised his eyebrows.

"Well, we wouldn't have done it if not to escape the mistletoe. This, however," and he leaned over and kissed Hermione's lips tenderly, lingering slightly longer than he should have, "is simply because I want to. And you'd better get used to it, because as far as I'm concerned, it's going to be happening for a long time. As long as Hermione will agree."

"Agree to what?" Ginny asked in a strangled voice. Harry grinned; he knew all about Ginny's crush on him.

"Why, to becoming my girlfriend, of course."

Both Ginny and Ron looked as if they were about to explode.

Harry turned to Hermione. "So, what do you say?"

Hermione laughed the freest laugh Harry had heard from her in a long time. "I say yes. I'll be your girlfriend. As long as you'll agree to being my boyfriend."

"Why, of course." And, nudging their way past the frozen Weasley siblings, the two continued arm-in-arm to the platform, where Harry extended his hands to McGonagall.
"Harry James Potter, do you care to explain to me what that was all about?"

Harry grinned. "Why, mistletoe, Professor. And a little bit of a detour, to bring a couple of redheaded siblings back from the Land of Delusion."

Hermione hid her laughter behind one hand, but McGonagall laughed outright. "Harry, you are so like your father. You do know that his first kiss with your mother was under mistletoe as well?"

Harry shook his head.

"Oh, yes, right in the middle of my Transfiguration class. And speaking of that, what happened to your hands?"

Harry shrugged. "I woke up like this. I blame Fred and George."

The Transfiguration professor reversed the damage. "Do you blame them for the mistletoe as well?"

Harry's newly fixed hand found its way into Hermione's own small, soft one.

"Not blame," Harry corrected. "Thank."

The twins took it upon themselves, some five years later, to recite that story – and take all the credit for the beginning of the pair's relationship – at the wedding of the Man Who Conquered to his Golden Girl. Although two Weasley parents and seven Weasley children, along with their various spouses, had been invited, only five of the children showed. Fred and George ended the night with ten thumbs apiece. Harry ended up with an entire fruitcake squashed into that famously messy black hair.

All year round, Harry and Hermione keep the old Potter mansion and 12 Grimmauld Place well-decorated with mistletoe.

A/N: Well, even though my intent was a three-page story, this is at about seven. So sue me.

I intended this as a one-shot, but throughout the process of writing, I realized I can do a lot with it. I had wondered about making this a Marauder-age fic; Lily/James – anyone interested? Or I could do a next-gen. (If I did that, would you want canon or Harmony? BTW, Harmony would probably have a lot of OC's.) Or I could tell the story of what happened between the mistletoe scene and the wedding. (If I do that, I may or may not write in Delores Umbridge – be warned!) If you want any of these, tell me about it in a review (hint hint)!

PS: I made up Activo. It activates the mistletoe (otherwise it would have caught everyone else who walked into the Great Hall).

PPS: I just read over the story. Harry uses 'Why' a lot more than I think he really would. Either he was acting up (my explanation) or he's OOC. Take your pick.

Anyway, I may post again before then, but if I don't – Merry Christmas!