A Christmas Drabble prompted by Dramione Fanfiction Forum (18+). Many thanks to Rosella Burgundy for her wonderful support and enthusiasm.

Pairing: Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy

Warnings: Possibility of a toothache from the sweetness...

"You can not be serious, Granger. You're not putting that there, are you?" Draco hissed as he walked into their shared eighth year common room.

She turned to glare at him, her hands on her hips with fists of tinsel dangling from between her clasped fingers. "And why the hell can't I, Malfoy?"

"Because that's a horrible spot for the tree. It would look much better over in the corner." Using his wand, he levitated the already half decorated tree towards the fireplace.

"Who do you think you are?" she seethed through gritted teeth.

Draco grinned to himself, enjoying the rise that was easily attainable from the bushy-haired witch. He chanced a glance at her and couldn't help the double take, the tree slowing its progress as he did so. She was wearing an oversized knitted sweater with a large golden snitch on it. It hung to her upper thighs and the sleeves were rolled up to her wrists. He thought he noticed super short shorts underneath it as she stomped her foot in agitation. His eyes ran down the rest of her body, long legs covered with knee-high snowflake socks.

"Bloody hell, when did you start taking the Weasley's hand me downs?" he asked her, his smirk growing wide.

He wouldn't dare let on exactly his thoughts of what the revealing flesh did to him. For some reason, she was comfortable in her attire, and it only made him more intrigued by her. When did he start to notice her? Of course, there was the fact that they shared a common room now, along with twenty other eighth years that had returned - something about house unity McGonagall had spewed. Maybe it was when they were partnered in potions, and once they had stopped calling each other foul names, that they realized maybe the other had some meaningful attributes.

"This is Harry's sweater, thank you very much, and what do you care?" she asked.

The tree had stopped and was suspended in midair, the fairy lights twinkling throughout the branches. He watched her, her eyes sparkling, ready for a fight. He rather enjoyed when he noticed that glint. What he didn't notice was the twitch of her wand and the tree slowly begin to move back towards the windows where she had it placed originally.

"I don't care at all, actually. Just an observation," he quipped as he moved towards her. He dared not let on that while he hadn't noticed her charm, it was quite obvious to see a lit tree move across the room. He walked the few more steps towards her, enclosing her in his personal space. The tree dropped suddenly and his lips widened even more at the thought that he had affected her enough for her to lose concentration on her spell. They had been dancing back and forth the past few weeks, and the game was just part of the fun.

"You do realize you're standing under mistletoe, right? The Nargles will infest your thoughts if you don't get from under it," he said in hushed tones, close enough that a whisper was all that was needed. Internally, he applauded himself for using Lovegood, one of her good friends, as a tool to get to her.

Her eyes widened and she looked up quickly. "Draco Malfoy, what did you do?"

Refusing to remove his eyes from her face, he took in the splattering of freckles across her nose and the way her lashes were so long that the corners of them tangled together. He only smirked slightly and shrugged his shoulders as he replied, "Only helping a pretty girl out. I'd hate for the Nargles to get you."

"There are no such things," she pouted, meeting his eyes, her golden ones swirling like melted butterscotch. He watched as her gaze flicked back and forth between his, her thoughts almost coming alive on her face - curiosity but also hesitant. Her own thoughts were betrayed by her eyes as they darted to his lips quickly.

He arched a brow, but said nothing, silently requesting her permission. He'd been unconsciously thinking of kissing her for weeks now, and suddenly the moment was standing dead in front of him, and the thrill pumping in his veins was almost enough to make his stomach flop against itself.

A resolve settled over her features and she met his gaze, strong and resilient. "Go on, then. Rescue the Gryffindor princess from a possible infestation."

His brain whooped in triumph while his heart beat madly against his chest.

"Very well, Hermione," he whispered right before their lips touched.

Seconds later, they breathed heavily against each other, her hands fisted in his robes, his own tangled in her hair.

"I think you're, right by the way," he said, ghosting her face with his breath. "It does look better by the windows."