A/N: D/Hr all the way! ^_^
Disclaimer: I don't own the world of Harry Potter. Wish I did…but I don't. J.K. Rowling does.
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Mistletoe
The brisk wind swept Hermione's hair off her face, whipping her robes around her slim body, which was clad in a bright holiday sweater, and seeping a chill into her skin. She sat alone on the raised stands surrounding the Quidditch field, huddled against the cold. Her face was lifted, her brown eyes following the lone figure on the broomstick flying about the field. The scarlet-and-gold scarf wrapped around her neck and the green Quidditch robes draped over the lean shoulders of the figure perched atop his Firebolt X told a story that even words found difficult to convey.
After close to three-quarters of an hour of concentrated practice, the figure dipped his broom downwards and zoomed towards the brown-haired girl waiting for him in the stands. He pulled up level to the railing and cocked a brow at her.
"You didn't have to wait for me, you know."
She shrugged and smiled at him. "It's fine. I got some Arithmancy homework done." She held up the two and a half feet long parchment as evidence.
"Are you cold?" he asked solicitously.
"No." She stood and gathered her things, then gave him an expectant look. "Walk with me."
He swung one leg over the handle, sliding off the broom to plant his feet firmly on the stands. Grasping his Firebolt X in one hand, he flashed her a grin and the two walked side-by-side down the steps. As they headed towards the castle that housed the various classes of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Hermione couldn't help but cast a sidelong glance at the boy next to her, speculating on how many things had changed in the past year and a half.
A sixteen-year-old like herself, Draco had been her, Ron, and Harry's clear enemy since their first year. That had all changed last year, however, when Draco had made a very public, very fierce, and extremely precarious denouncement of the supporters of the Dark Lord, especially the Death Eaters. While the students of Hogwarts had stared open-mouthed in shock, Dumbledore had taken in the young Malfoy, shaking with both fear and rage after his speech, into his office for a long discussion. When he had been let out, Hermione had noticed a marked difference in his attitude, which he explained had been purely a front in face of Lucius' wrath a few months later after a hesitant friendship had been formed.
Misunderstood. That's what he'd been. Hermione knew the feeling all too well. The stereotypes, the blatant typecasting, all based on backgrounds, families, parents' choices…things beyond personal control. She knew what it was like to be labeled a know-it-all Mudblood; he knew what it was like to be labeled a future Death Eater. Her hunger for knowledge and plain looks didn't help; his being a Slytherin and in constant company of fellow sons of Dark Lord supporters didn't either. In the light of his new standing, they'd forged a tentative friendship that had grown stronger as they'd discovered more and more things in common.
Harry and Ron…they hadn't understood at first. They'd been afraid, suspicious, and wary. But Hermione had gotten her way. She could be stubborn when circumstances called for it and she had been stubborn about giving up a relationship that had given her a new perspective on life, a relationship with a person who understood her as much, if not more, than her two best friends. All four of them knew about stereotypes. And all four of them learned to give each other a chance. Time had helped suspicion wan and trust blossom and Hermione, to the extreme envy of half the population at Hogwarts [the female half], was now the best friend of three of the most sought-after guys in school.
Draco, who was now under the protection of Professor Dumbledore as much as the Boy Who Lived, was grateful for his newfound friends. It had taken time before he had grown accustomed to people who didn't expect him to be someone he wasn't, to live up to an image he didn't really want to uphold, but now that he had, he couldn't imagine acting any other way. Sure, he was still the "Slytherin bad boy" but it no longer denoted a sense of evil and for that he was thankful.
"Are you going home for the holidays?" he asked Hermione, drawing himself out of his thoughts.
She shook her head. "No." She looked at him and continued, "My parents are going to on a business trip. Some conference."
Though he heard her words, her cinnamon eyes told him the real story. She was staying for him—him and Harry, that is. Neither would be returning home for Christmas, Harry uneager to see the Dursleys again, still fervently hoping for Sirius' name to be cleared and officially declared his guardian, and Draco even less thrilled to go home to a furious Lucius.
"Is Ron staying?"
Hermione shrugged. "I don't know. He hasn't said anything."
Privately, Draco thought the gangly redhead would. He couldn't picture the Weasely missing any opportunity to be around Hermione, whom he obviously worshipped. At least it was obvious to Draco—Hermione seemed fairly clueless and he was content to leave her that way.
The two made their way into the castle silently. In an unspoken agreement, he escorted her to the Gryffindor tower, where the picture of the Fat Lady hung. It was a ritual they'd performed many times, early Saturday mornings, while most of Hogwarts still lay peacefully asleep. Now they would each return to their own common rooms just in time for their sleepy friends to slowly straggle out of bed for breakfast.
As they walked, they passed the holiday decorations lending a festive air to the halls. Yards of green and red and white and gold had strung themselves to every torch, every chandelier, and candles had appeared in every window. Mistletoe was floating around in the most unsuspecting of places and the occasional choir of ghosts could be heard singing Christmas carols. Candy canes were served with every meal, although some were the trick Cartwheeling Canes that would send the eater careening around the Great Hall. It made for some entertainment, anyhow.
Passing Professor Vector's classroom where she had Arithmancy with Draco, Hermione glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. Her gaze trailed across his grey eyes, still mysterious but far less cold once she'd gotten to know him, his pale skin that refused to tan, the light blonde hair that hung, tousled, around his face… He was, she admitted to herself, one of the best-looking guys at Hogwarts. Lavender and Parvati's giggling debates over their personal lists of cute guys had always included Draco and Hermione saw why. He was tall and lean, his active participation in Quidditch toning his body, and his lazy smile had a way of closing out the rest of the world, a quality few girls could resist.
"No wonder half the girls at Hogwarts are in love with you," she muttered, shifting her books from one arm to the other.
"Pardon?" He raised an eyebrow.
She blushed and focused on climbing the stairs that led to the Fat Lady. She hopped over one that, if stepped on, gave the stepper a feeling of plunging their foot in a bucket of ice –cold water. "Er, I just meant…"
"I see." He sounded amused. "You think I'm sexy."
Her eyes flew to meet his. "You wish!" she exclaimed.
He remained unflustered. "You know you do," he teased, a corner of his mouth drawing up into a quick smile. "You can't resist me…" He laughed as she harrumphed and turned, stalking away. Lazily, he swung a leg over his Firebolt X and trailed after her.
"Draco!" She emitted a startled sound as she stopped in front of the Fat Lady, who'd tucked a sprig of mistletoe in her hair in honor of the season, and turned to face him. "You know riding broomsticks inside the school is against the rules."
"Go ahead…take away the points. I'll just give them back." He grinned at her annoyed look. She was itching to take the points away from Slytherin house, he knew, because friends or not, there was still a rivalry for the House Cup, and she did love exercising her rights as Gryffindor prefect. Even though he, as prefect for Slytherin, could reinstate them instantly.
"Oh sod it," she sighed. "Just get off."
He obliged and dismounted. "You're so fun to tease," he said, smiling down at her.
"I'm glad you find me amusing," she replied, her expression a little annoyed.
His eyes glittered. "Amusing," he echoed, "and beautiful." As her eyes widened, he leaned down swiftly and pressed a hot, hard kiss to her lips. She drew back instinctively but after a moment, melted into the embrace. When he finally pulled away, his gaze roved over her closed eyes and dreamy expression. Berating himself for crossing the line of friendship, and one of his most valued friendships at that, Draco shook his head and whispered, "Happy Christmas." Her eyes flew open and he gestured at the mistletoe in the Fat Lady's hair. He swallowed.
"See you later, Hermione."
She watched him walk away, heading for the Slytherin dungeons. What had that been all about? Her fingers touched her lips briefly as she recalled the tingly warmth that had washed over her when he'd kissed her. What did it mean? Her reaction—his kiss— A smile crossed her face.
"I love him," she whispered to herself. She laughed. "I love Draco Malfoy." It had been building up for the past year… She'd been drawn to him since the beginning and circumstances had finally given her a chance to become close to him, to know him, and now…now, the inevitable had happened. She'd fallen in love. Hermione shook her head, picturing Harry and Ron's reactions. That would be a sight.
"Are you going to stand there all day talking to yourself?" the Fat Lady asked without malice, her round face curious as she peered down at the Gryffindor girl in front of her.
Hermione's eyes flicked to the mistletoe in the Fat Lady's hair. "It's a conspiracy, isn't it?" she asked, grinning. "You're on your matchmaking spree again, aren't you?"
The Fat Lady smiled a Mona Lisa smile. "Password?" she asked primly.
"Mistletoe."
The portrait swung open and Hermione climbed into the Gryffindor common room to find her best friends.
~FiN~
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A/N: Review! And the next installment, a R/Hr ship will come…soon? Eventually. lolz Sometime still in the Christmas season, I promise.