Oh Mistletoe
The Great Hall was a sight to behold, with its magnificent cathedral ceiling exposed. Beyond the grand, wooden beams, the magical sky was reminiscent of a winter's eve. Rich shades of purple, blue and grey blended seamlessly before a soft glow, as the light of the full moon gleamed through the clouds. Frosty white snow dropped through the beams, and drifted delicately downward. The crystalline flakes danced beautifully in their decent, and magically evaporated midway to the ground. In their place, twelve oversized Christmas trees lined the walls. The trees were wrapped in warm, amber lights, and adorned with spectacular glimmering ornaments. The lights twinkled aimlessly, and wisps of silver tinsel sparkled under their glow. The fragrant decorations filled the room with the rich smell of pine, cinnamon, and sweet vanilla. An oversized hearth brought warmth to the hall. The crackling and popping of the burning oak logs, and the occasional turning of a book page, were the only sounds that could be heard in the nearly empty room.
Near the fireplace, Hermione sat alone at one of the four walnut tables that filled the Great Hall. She had her bare feet curled up next to her on the bench, and had propped a large, worn tome on her knees. Her fur-lined winter boots were on the floor, neatly tucked beneath her seat. With one hand, she held the bulky volume in place. The other was resting before her on the table, wrapped around a steaming mug of cocoa. She was dressed for comfort, wearing an an oversized green sweater she'd attempted to knit the previous year, for S.P.E.W. Her hair was piled in a curly mess on top of her head, and barely held in place by a tightly wrapped hair-tie.
The hour was late into the night, and she relished in the serene silence of the castle. Just as she was finishing a chapter in her book, the bell tower echoed softly through the walls, signaling the midnight hour. She slipped the book from her knees, carefully marking the page she was on. Prefects were allowed to roam the castle freely at night, but she didn't want to push her luck if she ran into Filch.
Hermione slipped her feet into her boots, collected the worn book in one arm, and exited the Great Hall. She made her way through the Entrance Hall, and to the base of the Grand Staircase. There was a portrait just one floor below, which had a secret passageway to the corridor near Gryffindor tower. She began her descent, watching her feet to make sure she didn't fall through a disappearing step. She felt the temperature change as she turned a corner and continued downward. She shivered, despite her oversized thick, knit sweater. How did Slytherin students keep warm all winter?
She heard footsteps, and glanced ahead to see Professor Snape walking up the stairs. Casting her eyes downward, she stepped closer to the wall to allow more room on the stairs. Just as they were passing each other, they both suddenly became stuck on the same step.
Hermione, shocked by the sudden stop, felt her upper body fall forward. She threw her hands out in front of her instinctively, dropping the large tome she was carrying. Instantaneously, Professor Snape's arm shot out, and she fell into it instead. It took her a moment to regain her composure, but when she did, she realized she had a strong grip on the professor's right forearm.
"I-I'm sorry, Professor."
She pulled her hands back quickly, and crossed them in front of her. He'd certainly give her detention.
When he didn't say anything, she timidly spoke, "I'll just continue on then."
She tried to move her feet, and once again went falling helplessly forward, her arms flailing chaotically. To her utter embarrassment, Professor Snape managed to get arm around her waist, and steadied her again.
"If you feel it worth your while to try that once more, I'm afraid you will have to deal with the consequences of your incessant stupidity, Miss Granger. I will not continue to waste my time here," he sneered, "If the supposed brightest witch of her age would be so easily taken down by a simple sticking charm, I'm afraid there is little hope for your generation of dunderheads."
Hermione cringed, waiting for the punishment she was certain he was ready to give. Points loss? Detention?
She watched as he silently cast what she recognized to be Finite Incantatum, and made to continue up the stairs. To her shock—and to his, if his expression were any indication—his feet did not move an inch. Her eyes widened more and more, as he cast a number of spells, each of them unsuccessful. She began to look around helplessly, hoping it were some cruel joke, and the prankster would jump out of the shadows and reverse whatever they'd done.
She snorted; that was unlikely. Who would admit to that, when the most feared professor in the school had fallen prey to it?
"Do not make that horrendous sound again, Miss Granger. It is maddening, and I don't want to explain to an irate Minerva why her house lost all its points."
She looked up at him to apologize once more, when something caught her eye on the ceiling. The small decoration began to grow, and her eyes widened in horror.
"No," she whined, "Oh no, n—," she was cut off.
"Silence! Ten points from Gryffindor, for your infuriating whining."
She gulped as the mistletoe continued to grow, "Sir, above you."
He paused and looked upward; a new expression crossed his face. He made eye contact with her for a split second, and she began rambling frantically.
"We just have to find whoever placed it here… the twins always used to do this in the common room… it can be undone by whoever placed it… there's not a lot of students, we can—," she was cut off by a sharp intake of breath.
She watched in shock as her professor doubled over, and clenched his left forearm in pain. Realization struck, and her fear filled eyes met his. She knew what that meant. He was being summoned by You Know Who.
He managed to stand upright again, but kept a tight grip on his left forearm. "There is no time for that, I need to leave now," he hissed through clenched teeth.
She stared at him in horror, "But… but…" she stammered trying to find the right words. She couldn't kiss him!
"Miss Granger, do not flatter yourself to think I want this. I need to maintain my appearance with the Dark Lord. Think of the Order," he snapped.
The Order, right. She placed her cool hand on her cheek, trying to reduce some of the heat she could feel rising into them. Deep breaths, she thought. You're a Gryffindor. You're brave. You can do this. She glanced up and made eye contact with him. Feeling like she could cry from the humiliation of it all, she quickly diverted her eyes, and turned her body away from him. Leaning against the stone wall, she tried to compose herself.
"You're making this worse," he pinched the bridge of his nose, "The more that mistletoe grows, the longer it will take to get away from it. Look at me, Miss Granger."
She took a deep breath and turned back to him, her heart pounding in her chest.
"If you wish, I can help you forget this ever happened, but right now there are more urgent matters to attend to."
She took one final deep breath, looked into his eyes, and nodded, "Okay."
She had limited experience kissing, so she didn't really know how to start. Sensing, however, the professor was not about to make the first move on his younger student, she took initiative. It was the most awkward and embarrassing and humiliating moment of her life, but she timidly reached one hand out to his shoulder and stood on her tip toes. With eyes wide open and looking anywhere but him, she quickly leaned in and planted a peck on his lips. She made to move away, but he grabbed her arm and stopped her.
"I'm afraid the mistletoe will need more than that,"
Inches from his face, she felt his hot breath wash over her, and she turned an even deeper shade of crimson. Nodding, she leaned in once more, and this time he responded. His lips moved against hers gently, and she allowed her eyes to flutter closed. She felt him snake an arm around her, and pull her closer to him. His chest pressed into hers, and she felt the heat of his body through her sweater. She took a breath as he deepened the kiss, and inhaled a mixture of sandalwood, licorice and rosemary.
She felt the magic loosen its grip on her feet, and pulled back. The kiss ended abruptly, and her old potions master swept up the stairs and out of sight before Hermione had a chance to process what had happened.
The warmth of his lips still lingered on hers, and she absentmindedly brought her fingers to them. A ferocious blush rose to her face, at the realization of how terribly inappropriate the event was. She'd expected the kiss to be an unpleasant experience. While it hadn't been filled with passion or even a hint of romance, she was left surprised by the fact that she didn't feel the least bit repulsed.
She took a deep breath to ground herself, and collected her large, worn book from the floor. When she finally made it to her four-poster bed that night, she was unable to close her eyes without replaying the kiss over and over in her head.
I'm thinking of incorporating this into a much larger story. Please let me know what you think!