ALL SHE WANTS FOR CHRISTMAS
2002 WIKTT Xmas Challenge. Contains the following goodies: Xmas Hogwarts Reunion; a not so ordinary sprig of mistletoe; someone gets a gift of socks; the song All I Want For Christmas; someone is on polyjuice; an embarassing gift; someone is sleepwalking; the phrase "Do I look like a red-nosed reindeer to you?"; the phrase "Don't stick that in there!".
Hermione rolled her eyes at the invitation, and then a ten-sided dice. Less than four, she wouldn't go, between four and eight, she'd think about it, greater than eight, yes she'd attend. If she got a perfect ten, she'd go and wear joke reindeer antlers. Never once had she rolled a ten in all her years of Magical Monopoly(if you bought Diagon Alley, Knockturn Alley, and Warlock Walk, you could build a school and charge ten thousand galleons a visit).
Harry Potter apparated into her flat just in time to see the dice spin on the kitchen bench.
"What's the bet?" he asked her.
She told him. He grinned as the dice landed on '10'. Fantastic. Now she had a witness. She'd have to do it.
When Harry finished laughing, he said he too had received his invitation to the Hogwarts Alumnae Xmas Reunion. Hermione sighed.
"I suppose it will be fun," she said. Her voice was as heavy as the Christmas puddings she made every year. Depth charge puddings, Ron Weasley called them.
"Ooh, yes," said Harry. "You'll be able to access the Restricted Section of the library. Pick the teachers' brains. Free the house elves."
"Shut up, Harry."
"Check out the possibilities of a job as a tutor."
"Shut up, Harry."
"Cuddle up to Macgonagall and be someone's pet all over again."
"Shut up, Harry."
"Better get out your Head Girl badge."
Hermione struck with her wand. Harry rose to the ceiling, feet first. He folded his arms.
"I can wait," he said. "By the way, you have cobwebs up here. And why are your knickers on top of the fridge?"
Hermione lowered him to the floor, none too gently. She put her wand away, and heard someone step out of the fireplace in the living room/bedroom.
"'Mione?" came Ron's voice. "Have you got an invitation yet?"
Hermione wondered if her two friends had ever heard of knocking.
Harry called Ron into the kitchen. "You'll never guess what Hermione's going to wear to the party," he said.
"Black lace knickers? Oh, no, wait, you lost those, didn't you, Hermione?"
"They're on top of the fridge," Harry supplied. "Hey, how do you know about her knickers?"
Harry couldn't decide if Ron or Hermione blushed deeper. For what felt like the zillionth time in his adult life, he restrained himself from enquiring about the extra-curricular activities of his friends. He suspected Hermione and Ron kept each other company out of habit. It certainly didn't stop Ron shagging half the Squadley teams(wizard netball) in London. And who knew about Hermione. He didn't want to know.
"So," he said, loudly, brightly. "We're off to Hogwarts. When are we leaving?"
The Terrific Trio made plans.
Just before they Apparated to Hogsmeade, Harry presented Hermione with a pair of cheap felt red reindeer antlers.
"I really don't think-" she began.
"You said if you threw a ten, you'd wear them."
"Do I look like a red-nosed reindeer to you?"
"With or without the antlers?"
"Shut up, Harry."
Ron said he'd pay ten galleons to see her arrive at Hogwarts wearing them. Twenty. Thirty. Thirty three and five knuts. Harry chipped in. Fifty galleons and the promise of breakfast in bed. Hermione didn't earn very much as a Junior Research Officer at St. Mungo's. She planted the antlers on her head. Maybe now everyone would see what a fun kinda gal she was.
Everyone stared as they caught a carriage to Hogwarts.
"Mummy," said a tiny witch in a great big coat. "That lady's got antlers."
"Shh, dear, it's not nice to point at people's deformities," said the mother, who scurried her daughter away.
Hermione sighed. Was she having fun yet?
*****
The carriage delivered them to the front door of Hogwarts. The place felt empty. The students had departed for their homes. Only the staff were left, kept on two days to celebrate with the class of 2007. Each Xmas it was a different graduating year. Next year it was to be the class of 1945.
A youngish witch greeted them at the entrance. "Good afternoon. My name's Athena Dickson. I'm the Charms mistress here at Hogwarts. If you'll go inside and find your way to your old rooms, you're bags will be brought up." She blinked at Hermione's antlers, but said nothing. "Professor Dumbledore thought it would be fun for you all to have your old dormitories. Head Boy and Head Girl will of course have their own quarters. You do remember who they were, don't you?"
Hermione tossed her hair and antlers. "I was Head Girl." Snooty, just a bit put out. "I'm Hermione Granger."
Dickson smiled. "Wonderful. I'm sure you can find your way about, all of you." She was all ready looking past Hermione at someone else who was approaching. "Welcome back to Hogwarts."
Ron dragged Hermione through the doors. "Honestly, Hermione, she doesn't know who you are. Do you think your name's engraved somewhere?"
Hermione stuck her tongue out at Ron. Harry trudged towards the stairs. Five minutes in Hogwarts and Hermione had reverted to Miss Priss. She and Ron were all ready bickering. Never mind his old room. Was there a bar in Hogwarts? Could he find it? Was it open 24/7?
*****
Hermione surveyed her old room. Someone had changed the drapes, and there was a lingering smell of Chloe perfume in the air. She sat on the bed. Still that lump over on the left side. She bent forward and looked under the bed. Sure enough, the last Head Girl had scratched marks onto the wood. Each year, the Head Girl carved her year, and notches to denote how many boys she'd slept with in her time at Hogwarts. Hermione hadn't discovered the etchings until halfway through her last year. She was a very competitive girl. She smiled when she remembered falling asleep sometimes in History of Magic classes. She glanced over the intervening years. This year's Chloe girl had one more notch than she. Hermione frowned.
She was still a competitive girl.
*****
Hermione surveyed the schedule of events that had been delivered to her room along with her overnight bag.
6pm: Mix and Mingle. Gift exchanges.
7.30pm: Light dinner
9pm: Return to Great Hall for Xmas party/dance.
At least there was no curfew on the party, the way there was when they were all students.
Hermione thought it best to get the antler thing out of the way at the Mix and Mingle. They didn't go with her planned evening dress. Not that they went with her long skirt and matching pullover either. She brushed her hair, applied a fresh slick of lipstick and levitated her pile of presents down the stairs.
Ron and Harry were loitering outside the Great Hall. Ron grinned when he saw the antlers again. He fingered them.
"Nice," he said. "They suit you." And he hung a small bell in her hair.
"Don't stick that in there!" Harry said, and grabbed the bell out. He magicked up a ribbon and hung the bell around Hermione's neck. "That's much better."
If she used her wand, her packages would fall down. If she held her packages, she couldn't use her wand.
"With friends like you two," Hermione said.
"We wuve you, Hermione," Ron said in a falsetto. And they dragged her through into the Hall.
It was decorated as to their first night at Hogwarts, candles in mid-air, and the night sky. Very nostalgic.
"I suppose you've read all about that in Hogwarts: A History," came a voice from behind Hermione. Susan Bones grinned at her. "Nice head-dress. Very Christmassy."
Hermione launched into a long, boring explanation every time someone mentioned the antlers. Same way she explained exactly how she'd come to be Head Girl five years ago. Ho-hum. Her gift packages floated around her, mingling with those of Susan. Two collided heavily. Their wrappings embraced, melted into each other and the lid of one box wriggled under the lid of another. A certain amount of obscene humping ensued before Hermione and Susan pulled them apart.
Hermione squeezed her gift. Good, no damage done. It still felt like socks. And everyone knew Dumbledore adored socks. Hermione had gone out of her way to visit The Sock Shop and buy several pairs of rainbox striped socks, including one pair of toe socks.
Over on the left, Ron was batting away a sprig of floating mistletoe. The mistletoe sprouted tiny arms and grabbed his hair. It dragged him towards Aleisha Tompkinson. Once there, the mistletoe grasped her ear and brought their faces together. It was muscular mistletoe and very aggressive in its intent. Ron and Aleisha exchanged a half-hearted kiss. The mistletoe released them, and sped off in the direction of Edmund Pilates.
Hermione saw Dumbledore making his way through the crowd, stopping to greet old students. He smiled at Hermione and she threw her arms around him.
"Professor Dumbledore!" She gently pushed her gift towards him.
Susan Bones took a step backwards, waiting her turn to greet the Headmaster, at the same time turning her head to spot her own friends. She waved at Sanjeev Sri, who now worked for the Ministry of Magic in an Upwardly Mobile Position, and denied his randy past, except when it came to seducing his superiors.
Susan gave Sanjeev a present. He smiled insincerely at her. Clearly, friendship wasn't everything. But expensive gifts were. He tore open the box. Susan tried to stop him.
"Maybe you should open it later," she said, blushing. "It's a joke present." She lowered her voice. Padme and I bought it together. You know, in memory of…." Her voice trailed away.
Too late. He fished inside the box and lifted out….. It was brown and shaped like a penis. Someone in the crowd snickered. Everyone knew you could buy chocolate 'things' in Muggle sex shops the same way you could buy chocolate wands in Zonko's. But this wasn't chocolate. It appeared to be made out of wool knitted in cable stitch.
Susan stared. "That's not right," she said. "It wasn't made of wool!"
"Ahh, this must be for me!" Dumbledore crowed, and plucked a gift from the air with his name on it. The gift had just been mating with Sanjeev's.
Hermione had a horrible feeling. Mating gifts. Transference of essences. She tried to stop him. She really did, but with a flick of his wand, he opened the gift and three long rainbow coloured tubes hung in mid-air. Cock-socks for the man with a chilly willy. One of the cock-socks still had toes.
Dumbledore roared with laughter. "My dear, since I made it known I liked socks, that's ALL I get for Christmas, but never once has anyone ever….." He burst into laughter again.
Hermione blushed as red as her antlers. Why couldn't she transfigure into a reindeer and gallop out of the Hall?
Dumbledore thanked her again and moved on, eager to show anyone and everyone his wonderful present. Most thanked the gods he wasn't wearing it.
The enchanted mistletoe had just forced Madam Hooch into giving Neville Longbottom a reluctant peck on the cheek.
Ron shook his head. "What's gotten into you, Hermione? First the antlers, then the cock-socks. What next? Spiked egg-nog?"
"They were ordinary socks!" Her voice ground out between her teeth.
She could hear Dumbledore's voice. "Minerva, look!"
And Macgonagall's distant reply. "Oh, for Luna's sakes, Albus! No, I don't want to see. Who gave you those? No, don't come any closer, I have a wand!"
In a corner, a group of half-drunk Hufflepuffs(where the hell had they found the bar? Harry wondered) were singing Christmas carols, and old pagan ditties.
"All I Want For Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth," warbled two Muggle-borns.
Hermione hung her head. "All I want for Christmas is some normality," she said, half-sobbing.
An arm snaked around her waist. "Surely you want more than that, Granger."
She jolted backwards, turned. Lindy Percival leered at her. Lindy Percival from Ravenclaw? Lindy Percival with the blue eyes and blonde hair who was beloved by many a boy? Lindy who sang like an angel, who suddenly had a throaty voice? Hermione peered hard. There was something wrong. The hair was too straight, the eyes a fraction too dark.
"I'd like to think I've got a present for you," Lindy said. She reached for Hermione again. There was a smell about her. Brandy certainly, but laced with….. Hermione gagged. She remembered that smell too well. Polyjuice potion.
She stared hard at Lindy. "Draco Malfoy?"
"Shhh," said 'Lindy'. "No one knows I'm here. But I just had to come. I thought maybe…." A shrug. "Maybe Dumbledore could help me."
Hermione wasn't working at St Mungo's for nothing. That damned impulse to help people. "What's wrong?"
Draco's voice came slurring out of Lindy's pert mouth. "You do read the papers, don't you, Granger? Now that Voldemort's gone, my family's name is mud. I can't go anywhere, do anything. All because of my bloody parents."
Hermione was cool. Draco with a sob story. Sob story about his name being mud. And his next few words had to do with blood. He never changed.
"The only way I can hold down a job is-" He gestured to himself.
"And what does Lindy think about this?"
Draco lowered his voice to a whisper that was nearly lost amongst the buzzz of conversation about them. "I'm someone new every few months."
"Maiden, Mother and Crone, Draco! How long have you been doing this?"
"Since Voldemort's death."
Four and a half years, then. Long enough for him to start going mad. Long enough for his cells to become confused. And long enough for him to become addicted to the potion. By now, he probably couldn't be himself if he tried. Hermione wanted to by cynical and say 'No great loss', but she thought of his handsome face, his arrogant stance, and his surety that he was a Malfoy and therefore one of life's superior people. She felt sorry for him.
She motioned with her chin to Dumbledore. "Go to him. Tell him what you told me."
Draco hung back. An addict who hated what he took, but thought he'd die without it. And possibly he would. She took his arm, and steered him towards the Headmaster.
"Professor, you remember my old friend Lindy, don't you?" She smiled, all teeth and glittering hard eyes. "Lindy has something she'd like to discuss with you." She pushed Draco forward.
Dumbledore looked from Lindy to Hermione, caught Hermione's stare, and then back to the blonde woman before him. His eyebrows rose. "Miss Percival, certainly. Perhaps you'd like to come to my office. You were such a quiet girl here, I'm sure you never saw the insides of it. Unlike Miss Granger, of course." He steered Draco towards the exit, making small talk, waving the cock-socks for emphasis.
"That Lindy's gone a bit pervy," Ron said, nudging Hermione in the ribs. "I saw her grab you. Who'd've thought. I had a bit of thing for her."
"Ron," Harry chimed in, coming back bearing three glasses of butterbeer. "Everyone had a thing for Lindy. Even old Snape gave her top marks."
Snape gave someone else top marks in Potions? Hermione bristled. She was still a competitive girl. Harry saw her frown and thrust butterbeer at her.
"Drink, and stop being such a Head Girl. Oh look, there's Seamus Finnigan! Why is that spring of mistletoe dragging him towards me. Urk, no, get off! Argh. Oh gods, if it's the only way to stop it….. Blech, you taste horrible, Seamus. What the hell is your brand of aftershave?"
Hermione spent the next half hour doling out her presents, and receiving a bundle in return. She had the good sense not to open Ron's in public. As she suspected, it was black lacy underpants to replace those they'd tossed on top of the fridge in a wild moment of passion. She hated to think how long they'd been up there. Six months? Twelve? When the hell was the last time they'd done it anyway? They really were much better friends than lovers.
*****
Dinner was a quiet affair, except for the prowling mistletoe. Lindy Percival was noticeably missing. Hermione wondered if Dumbledore had indeed sorted out Draco's problems. Most of the teachers were present, except for dear retired Professor Flitwick, and Professor Vector who was away on long service leave. Even Madam Trelawney had come down from her tower and was nibbling at a plate of cucumber sandwiches, crusts cut off because her constitution was so delicate.
Professor Snape was missing. Hermione wondered if he would turn up at all. She couldn't picture parties being his thing. Maybe they should have thrown a funeral instead.
Her mind kept straying to Draco. Surely there was an antidote to polyjuice addiction. What had Madam Pomfrey given her all those years ago when she'd had her accident with polyjuice potion. Potion…..? Surely there had to be something in the potions laboratory.
She had an hour until the ball. Plenty of time. She sighed and let the mistletoe drag and drop her in front of Blaise Zabini. A quick kiss and she was free. She excused herself from Blaise's disturbing overenthusiasm and made her way down to the dungeons. As cheerful as ever. She noted Filch had finally got his request filled. Along the walls of the corridor were a series of chains and wrist bands. Purely decorative, but they added to the atmosphere.
The potions laboratory was unlocked. Hermione crept into the room, feeling like a girly second year student. She reminded herself she wasn't. Grown up, she repeated. Grown up. Look, longer legs, no scabby knees, hair nicely tamed, big boobs. Adult.
Glass bottles lined the walls, all labelled with Snape's spidery hand scrawl. Hermione squinted. Was that Finargus Essence or Fig Newtons he had written there? Something swooped by her hair. She brushed absently. Probably one of Snape's bats, or spiders, or whatever pets he kept. Or one of his fleas. It swooped again, caught in her hair, and pulled. Bloody wild mistletoe. It dragged her onward into the laboratory, right through the back door, through Snape's office, through another door into Snape's private rooms. Snape was at his desk, leafing through a huge book of potions. Draco Malfoy, now in his original skin and looking worse for wear, was curled in an armchair near the fire. His skin crawled, and his across his face flitted change after change. Lindy Percival's eyebrows became darker, darker, became Goyle's thick brows, reverted to Draco's pale ones before skidding into Crabbe's monobrow. Hermione took all this in at a glance as she was dragged around Snape's desk. The mistletoe took firm grasp of Snape's hair and pulled his face up.
They looked at each other from a distance of two inches. Snape swore and struggled with the mistletoe. It reached out a claw and slapped him. Then it banged their foreheads together. Hermione's antlers fell off, hooking on Snape's nose on the way down.
Snape sighed. "There's only one way to make it let go," he said.
"Well, do it, and hurry up."
Snape kissed her. It wasn't as unpleasant as she thought it would be. She opened her mouth slightly, just as he pulled back. She was left gaping like a fish.
"Shut your mouth, Miss Granger," Snape said. "You're not at the dentist."
Hermione took offence. Her parents were dentists. At least they had the manners to ask you to rinse and spit.
The mistletoe flitted out of the room, flapping its little sprigs, and a minute later she heard Filch shout.
"Let me go, you stupid…..I am not going to kiss Mrs Norris. Gerrorf me….oh, all right, just this once."
Was that a smirk she saw on Snape's face before he turned his attention back to his book?
"Have you found something for Draco?" she asked.
"Does it look as though I have, Miss Granger? I would perhaps work faster if you weren't here. Surely the ball is about to start? And your paramours are waiting?"
Hermione grabbed a book off his table. "Two heads are better than one," she said.
Snape rubbed at his bumped forehead. "Let me contain my joy at your help."
Hermione flipped open her book. "Bet I find a solution before you do," she said.
He held no terrors for her now. She'd survived seven years of Potions with him. She'd encountered his even-more-of-a-bastard brother teaching at university. Severus was sneaking looks at her breasts. Exactly who had the upper hand now, O Tall, Dark and Kind-of-interesting in-a-bad-boy-way?
She raced through the potions at top speed. She was still a competitive girl. Draco whimpered.
*****
Snape closed his last book with a snap. He rubbed his eyes. Hermione shut her own book.
"Nothing?" she asked.
He shook his head. "It is not usual for someone to become addicted to a potion," he said.
Well, der.
"And the risk is that the person will simply transfer addictions," Hermione added.
He eyed her. "You speak with experience?"
"A cousin. A Muggle. There's a substance called heroin-"
"I am familiar with the chemical."
"It's addictive. He used for three years, then a doctor put him on methadone. He couldn't get off the methadone, until…." She trailed off, glancing at Draco. "He went cold turkey. He asked to be locked in a room and he went through withdrawal."
Snape grimaced. "It would not be pleasant."
Hermione shook her head. "It wasn't, so I hear. He's re-addicted now, to heroin. I wanted to help, but he wouldn't let me."
Snape considered Draco. "I could spell him so that he has an aversion to polyjuice, becomes ill if he uses it."
As one, Hermione and Snape rose. Hermione grabbed cushions and blankets from Snape's room and made a comfortable nest in the corridor. Snape dragged Draco out and they used the decorative wrists shackles to cuff him to the wall. The chains reached the ground, so he could lie down. Draco was only half-awake. He moaned in his sleep.
"How long?" Hermione asked, grim.
"A week, maybe less if he will take Restoria Potion."
A series of facial features rippled across Draco. Hermione pulled out her wand.
"Slumbera," she said, and Draco sank down into sleep.
Snape tossed a blanket over him. "I shall watch him, Miss Granger. Perhaps, like Cinderella, you should go to the ball."
Hermione raised one shoulder. "It's not as if anyone will be sober enough to notice I'm missing. Harry found the bar a couple of hours ago. Ron will be as pissed as a parrot. I'd rather stay here."
Snape turned on his heel. "As you wish, Miss Granger. But perhaps you would be more comfortable in my office or rooms than out here."
She took up his offer and settled into the armchair Draco had used. Snape buried himself in reading. The room was quiet, except for the fire. She was warm. She slept.
When she woke, she was back in her Head Girl room.
"You sleepwalk," Snape said. He was sitting on the edge of her bed, looking uncomfortable. "Malfoy is still asleep, so I followed you here. To make sure you were safe, Miss Granger." He licked his lips. "You were asleep only a short while. I suggest that you attend the ball." He cleared his throat. "That was certainly your intent whilst asleep."
Hermione noted her wardrobe door was open and her dress was half off its hanger. She became uncomfortably aware she was in nothing but a set of pale blue lingerie. She had been wearing beige before. She must have walked back here, and….. She swallowed hard.
Snape's eyes were following the curve of her considerable breasts. She'd changed in front of him. As if the embarrassing clothes melting incident in sixth year Potions hadn't been enough.
Snape stood quickly. "Now that you are safe and well, and very healthy….. I'll return to my rooms, Miss Granger. Have a good evening at the ball."
He turned to go, but not without stealing a backwards glance at her blue lace-clad charms. She was always a top student in Charms. There was the matter of the Chloe Head Girl from last year having a better bonk score. And what about that blonde Lindy Percival getting a superior Potions mark?
Hermione reached for Snape's hand.
"Draco will sleep for hours," she said.
There was a nasty scratching noise at her door. Snape opened it, just to relieve everyone's ears. The mistletoe dashed in and did what two adults were reluctant to do. It seized Snape's hair and yanked him across the bed to Hermione. Their lips met. The mistletoe let go, and waited for them to part so it could have fun and push together again. It waited, and waited.
Waited.
Finally, it gave up and set off in search of Professor Sprout. She and Hagrid were just an incident waiting to happen.
*****
Hermione was late to the ball. Snape made a surprise appearance, and spent the evening lurking around the walls, staring through the throng at a woman clad in pale blue, with swollen lips and a slight hesitancy whenever she sat down.
Harry danced with Professor Sinstra. Ron was legless under a table. Crabbe and Goyle admitted their long friendship was more than just friendship.
Very late in the evening, Dumbledore modelled his new socks for Macgonagall, who turned him into a snake.
"That ought to suit your new 'socks' better, Albus. Keep away from me, I have a wand, I tell you!"
Harry Parseltongued the snake still long enough to turn him back into a dishevelled Dumbledore. He then made his way over to Hermione.
"Where were you most of the evening?" he asked.
Hermione shot her friend a look. "I got…caught up," she said, avoiding Harry's eyes.
Harry patted her on the rear. "Library? Hey, oh!" He lowered his voice. "Where are your knickers, 'Mione?"
Hermione blushed. She thought she remembered Snape tossing them out of the window at some point, to land on the roof of the owlery. Not that she was going to advertise that.
"Oh, look," she said, by way of distraction. "The mistletoe has dragged Ron out from under that table, and is…. Run Harry, run! Here comes Ron."
Neville Longbottom burst into the room. 'Hey, look what I found on the roof of the owlery!" he shouted. He was waving Hermione's pale blue french knickers. "Ten galleons to whoever owns up."
Silence.
"Twenty galleons?" Neville ventured.
"Thirty!" shouted some wag in the audience.
"Forty!"
"Eighty!"
The bid got to 120 before no one else would chip in.
"So, whose are they?" Neville asked, twirling them on one finger.
120 galleons. Quite a bit of money.
"Mine!" Hermione shouted. She didn't earn much as a research officer, after all.
"Hers!" Snape yelled, pointing at Hermione. Teacher's wages weren't a lot, either.
Hermione dashed up and snatched the knickers off Neville. "Mine!" she said.
She always was a competitive girl.
**********