A/N: Chapter now proof-read and edited by my dear beta, Dreamthrower! Thank you, mizzadamz, Ouatic-7, Larislazuli, ToniOcean , BlueWater5 , FrancineHibiscus, skyeryder01 and guest Jana for reviewing!

Oh-ho, the Mistletoe!

Hermione rushed down the stairs again to pick up the potion which she had left on the table in the parlour, next to her new flamingo slippers. She was glad that Luna had reminded her of the Sweet Dream Elixir – she had almost forgotten about it due to the evening's unexpected progression. There was no doubt who she would dream about under the influence of the potion; her friend and mentor had been on her mind every sleeping and waking moment as of late, even without the help of stimulants. And she was very much looking forward to having an especially lucid dream of him. If she was lucky, it would be one of her racier fantasies she would get to experience...

She was just about to enter the parlour when Severus, who apparently had come back to clean up the mess the angry gnomes had left behind, was on his way out again.

She felt a weird tingling sensation all over her body when she almost collided with him. At first, she ascribed it to his sudden, unexpected nearness that always made her stomach flip in a rather nice way. But when he took a sharp breath, she knew he had felt it, too, and realized that the magical sensation was physical rather than metaphysical. She lifted her face and looked up. Sweet Merlin! The mistletoe!

"Oh..." she breathed, her eyes widening.

"Indeed," he said, his face not betraying what he made of the situation.

Hermione couldn't deny being happy about it. She had been hoping to steal a mistletoe kiss from him ever since Draco had caught her in the kitchen doorframe. Nah – who was she kidding? She had been thinking about kissing him every night for the past few weeks, and every time she'd been in his office. Now was her chance to make it happen again, and she wouldn't allow him to find a way to back out now.

"Well, I believe we have no choice in the matter," she said, pretending a nonchalance she didn't truly feel. "Harry has put a charm on it..."

"So I noticed." Severus had felt his chest tighten the moment he had become aware of the magic holding him in place. The charm would keep them stuck underneath the door frame until they had kissed. If he were honest with himself, he'd admit that he had wished it would happen ever since Hermione had gotten herself trapped underneath it with Draco. It might not have meant anything to her or to his godson, but seeing another man put his lips on hers had stirred a strange kind of reaction in him. There was no denying it: The feeling, as alien as it was to him nowadays, was jealously. He couldn't even remember when he had last felt it. Wishing to wipe Draco's kiss from her lips with his own was just one part of his desire to kiss her again. He had wanted to do so ever since the night in his office about two months ago.

It's just a harmless Christmas tradition, a smooth and devious voice in his head assuaged, nothing to worry about. And true enough – he couldn't be held responsible if he kissed her this time – he hadn't hung the damn thing, after all.

But he truly shouldn't, another, nagging voice warned. Being around her so constantly, having been in her mind so often and having gotten to know her so well – he was in far too deep already. She was temptation incarnate, especially now, in that beautiful dress, looking all grown up, elegant and desirable. And kissing her again would make it all so much worse. How was he supposed to carry on treating her as his student for another five agonizing months if they kissed again? Hermione or Miss Granger, friend or student, innocent girl or beguiling young woman... the lines had blurred to the point of non-existence.

His body had its own view on things, however. It definitely saw a woman, an attractive one at that, and it wasn't feelings of friendship that made him long to kiss her. And how could he not – standing so close to her that she was touching him, looking up at him with undisguised longing in her gaze? Nobody had ever looked at him with longing. With lust, maybe, in the heat of the moment. But what he saw in her eyes was different. A need for closeness and intimacy that was not primarily sexual. She wanted him. He didn't need Legilimency to read it in her mind. It was there in the flush of her cheeks, the sudden shine in her eyes, in her slightly parted lips that she moistened instinctively.

Merlin, how could he – how could any man – resist such temptation?

Hermione saw the torment in his eyes, and she understood his reluctance. But for once, she was allowed to act – kissing under the mistletoe was not frowned upon, not even if the pair stuck there was officially in a student-and-teacher relationship. Of course, it would depend on the kiss... but there was no one to witness. She usually wasn't bold when it came to these matters, but rather shy and insecure. But right now, she knew exactly what she wanted, and that was to feel his lips on hers again.

Taking initiative, she slung her arms around his neck, pressing herself against him. Merlin, he was so tall – unless he bent down or lifted her up, she wouldn't even be able to reach his lips! Up this close and within easy reach at least for her eyes and hands, they looked more delectable than ever. She couldn't resist touching them. Slowly, she circled her finger along the lines of his mouth, over his pronounced cupid's bow and the soft pad of his lower lip. They were slightly parted, and she could feel his breath on her fingertip. Her own breath became shallow and her knees weak.

Thankfully, he finally took mercy on her and slung his own arm around her, anchoring her, and she could feel his heart hammering in his chest.

Having her reach out and touch him did him in. He wasn't made of stone, although it surely felt as if parts of him were. And for all that he thought her an angel, he wasn't a saint. He wanted her... Merlin, how he wanted her!

With a hunger like he had never felt before, his mouth descended on hers, drinking in her blissful sigh and sweet taste. There was still a hint of the wine she had drunk on her tongue, and much more than alcohol, her taste was intoxicating and went straight to his head. It took all of his willpower to remember who he was – and who she was – to not let his baser instincts take over. If he allowed that to happen, she'd finally meet the side of him he had not allowed her to see. She'd finally know that he wasn't the aloof, striving-for-patience and trying-to-be-gentle professor she had chosen to paint him as, but a rather dominant man - one who longed to consume, to overpower and to demand her full surrender. It would leave no room for doubt that he was claiming her as his. And though he longed to do so, the still functional part of his brain told him firmly that he must not, that neither of them was in a position to accept what the other could possibly offer. So he held back, kissing her with just enough ardour to let her know what she signed up for if she insisted to continue on that path.

Hermione couldn't help but let another moan escape from deep in her throat. This was not what she had dared to hope for. She had expected to either receive just a soft peck on her lips, or maybe, if she was lucky, a kiss like the one he had given her in his office – deliberate and gentle. But this was something else... more raw, more powerful. She could feel his hunger and passion from the way he invaded her mouth, drinking in her eager response. And there was literally no room for doubt that he was responding to her as well, given that he held her pressed so close to his body. Oh boy...

No, she corrected her own mental exclamation when she felt the evidence of his arousal hard against her thigh, reminding her that he certainly was no 'boy'. It filled her with a weird sense of power that she could evoke such a passionate response in him – she, the brainy, know-it-all bookworm, who was anything but an expert when it came to men, especially not one as intimidating as him. The fact that he made no attempt to hide his erection and the undisguised ardour with which he was kissing her was doubtlessly meant to serve as warning, though she had no idea against what. It was an empty threat, anyway. She knew that she could count on him to not let things get too far. While she was usually rather timid when it came to physicality, she felt safe in the knowledge that he certainly wouldn't press for anything she wasn't prepared for, and she shamelessly took advantage of that fact. She returned his kiss with abandon, losing herself in his warmth, his touch and his taste.

Severus felt her melt into him, and it stirred up desires he had up to now successfully subdued around her. She was surrendering, yielding, giving herself completely over to him, blissfully unaware what sleeping dragons she was waking by doing so. Sweet Merlin...

He barely had enough of his sanity left to firmly rein in his rampant emotions and gather his senses. The girl was a bewildering mix of contradictions, and she constantly called forth equally contradictory reactions in him. While she was fierce, pushy and courageous in many aspects, there was also a vulnerability to her that he had never noticed before, although it had been there even before the war. It brought out a surprising protectiveness in him, a patience and gentleness he hadn't even known he possessed.

So far, he had handled her with caution and concern, foolishly viewing himself as her mentor, but that had been nothing but self-deception. There was nothing fatherly or remotely benign about his motives. She had no idea what she was getting herself into. He felt that she needed to be aware of that, in case she had deluded herself into thinking that he was her knight in white armour, as much as the black he shrouded himself in should have dissuaded such notions. So his kiss – though deep and passionate, carefully controlled – had been meant to intimidate, to make her aware of how hot the fire might get that she was so innocently playing with. Yet unwittingly, she had somehow turned the tables on him and attacked him with fierce abandon. Even that was a contradiction. How could one raise an attack with unconditional surrender? Why did he feel as if he was suddenly the one under fire? Carefully, delicately, he reassembled his defences, mindful not to hurt the conqueror when he gently retreated.

Hermione's eyes had glazed over when she opened them again. He fought the urge to place another, gentle kiss on her half-open lips, if only to kiss good-bye to her mouth, to this intimacy, to her as the woman he desired. He might be able to somehow justify this one mistletoe-induced kiss to himself, but he wouldn't be able to justify another. And he knew he wouldn't be able to keep it simple. So he just allowed his fingers to softly caress her cheek when he let go of her, committing to memory the sight of her: her skin flushed with desire, her pupils dilated and her lips looking thoroughly kissed.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm the rapid beating of her heart. Wow. The man certainly knew how to kiss. She had always thought that this knee-turned-jelly thing was just a silly depiction in romance novels. Who'd have guessed it could really happen? She felt the holding magic from the mistletoe releasing her, but his magic held her captured still, just as his arms did, which she was grateful for.

"I believe we are both free to continue our way..." he pointed out softly, not yet moving himself.

"Yes," she murmured. "I was about to..." Hermione furrowed her brow, trying to remember why she had come back to the parlour. Ah, yes. The potion. "I forgot something..."

"Well, then..." He finally let go of her and stepped aside, gesturing to the way he had cleared. She missed the feeling of being in his arms already. "Don't let me deter you. Good night. Hermione."

"Good night – Severus."