Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling... I am not filthy stinkin' rich... without these two things, it is impossible for me to be the owner of any books known as the "Harry Potter" series. You agree, ne? You'd better, 'cause it's true. :sigh: so forth and on with the fic!

The Magic of Mistletoe

Harry woke Christmas morning, feeling very alone. He was the only boy in his dorm who had not been able to leave for the winter break. Even Ron had been able to leave this year, to go visit his grandparents in Ireland.

"Well, we would take you Harry, but the school won't allow you to leave with someone who isn't your parent or guardian," Mr. Weasley said, wringing his small, thin hands.

"Besides," Ron added, "Dad's parents are a complete bore. The only thing they ever talk about is fried potatoes and the lake of Ere... like some shriveled pond is all that great."

Harry knew Ron was just saying that to make Harry happy. So he shrugged as nonchalantly as possible, and wished them the best.

Now Harry wished he were with them, boring grandparents and all.

He sat up and looked at the large stack of gifts before him. There was the lumpy, hand made shirt from Mrs. Weasley. Next to it, a small package from Ron. The rectangle-shaped present from Hermione was most likely a book. He easily spotted Hagrid's present: large, lumpy, and possibly dangerous to Harry. There was another, very small, present, that Harry might've missed had he not noticed the speck of silver shining in the light.

He got up out of bed and opened the larger packages, leaving the small silver one for last. The sweater from Mrs. Weasley was the same as always- large and maroon. The package from Ron was a bundle of assorted goodies from Zonko's. The present from Hermione did turn out to be a very large book, one titled "The Most Advanced Defense Magicks". Just as Harry feared, the present from Hagrid was something potentially dangerous to his health... rock cookies, and just about literally at that. Now all that was left was the small silver box.

He reached for it, and looked for a tag. Finding none, he opened the box carefully, expecting to be bombarded with some type of something hazardous.

It was a tiny sprig of mistletoe... who would send Harry mistletoe? He found a piece of parchment and read the scribbled handwriting aloud.

"There's magic in mistletoe. What could possibly be going on?"

Harry was deeply confused.

He puzzled over it for a moment, before he heard Hermione coming up the stairs.

"Harry? Are you awake yet?" she called up.

Harry dropped the box and smiled warmly as she entered.

"Yes, I just got done opening my presents. Thank you for the book, Hermione."

"You're welcome, thank you for the necklace," she said, fingering the silver chain that held a snow-colored rose surrounded by small diamonds. "It's beautiful."

"I saw it, and I knew I had to get it for you," Harry flushed. "After all, it's been one year today."

"Yes, it has been," Hermione smiled, leaning to kiss him.

"Hungry?" he asked her in reply, standing slowly.

"Starved," Hermione sighed, taking his face in her hands softly. "Get dressed, I'll wait for you in the common room."

" 'k," Harry turned.

Hermione walked out, and Harry went back to his bed to pull his hangings closed. He stopped at the sight of another silver package, this one larger.

"But how...? I must be losing it," he thought, tearing open the present.

Inside was a photo album, much like the one Hagrid had given him his first year. This one, however, contained pictures, as well as writing under them.

The first page had a picture of his mother and father when they looked to be the same age as he was now. His mother wore a long white velvet robe, and she was kissing his father, who was wearing a black leather jacket, and they were... why, they were kissing under mistletoe! His father turned to look at him, and pointed at the writing below the picture.

Mistletoe was how I got your mother to love me. You have to have mistletoe to know if it's true love.

How does mistletoe tell you about true love? Harry thought, bewildered. He turned to the next page, but it had no picture, just the words from the earlier parchment: There's magic in mistletoe.

I think I am crazy. I must be...

He turned the page, and this time there was a picture and words. The picture was of Harry's dad holding the mistletoe over his head. Below it, he read a small incantation-type spell.

In winter moon,

mistletoe as the lead,

I find the love of my life,

standing before me.

Lae-una vaerta shie

doona ela in

zaschu kellipo duen

tantero va sho.

You must say this while holding the mistletoe over someone's head. If the mistletoe turns white, it is true love. If it turns blue, you are better suited as friends. If it turns red, it will end in death, and if it is black, it is not meant to be at all.

May it be white for you, Harry.

Harry sat back, shocked and puzzled. He had to have white for it to be real... what if it were red or black? He wouldn't be able to take it if he and Hermione...

But he had to know. He scribbled the incantation onto a spare bit of parchment lying by his bed. Then he dressed, and stuffed the mistletoe into his pocket along with the incantation.

He hurried downstairs to the common room where Hermione was waiting. She stood immediately, and began to head for the door.

"Wait Hermione," he called, pulling her into his arms. Before she could say anything, he kissed her quickly, passionately. Then he whispered softly into her ear, "Pray that it's white."

He started the incantation in a whisper, her lips grazing his as he spoke. He finished and kept his eyes on hers, his mouth to hers. Finally, he pulled himself away and looked up.

"Harry, what is going on?" Hermione asked, as tears rolled down his face. "Harry, what is the matter?"

Harry picked her up, and twirled her around, setting her down softly when he finished. She looked up and saw something white that looked like mistletoe above them.

"Harry, what is that?" she said exasperatedly.

"Just a blessing from my parents," Harry smiled, kissing her again, softly. Their bodies melded together, and Harry smiled through their kiss, through his tears, to realize, to know, that Hermione would be the one he spent the rest of his life with. "Just the magic of mistletoe..."

The end!!! Aww, the perfect fluffiness of it all... :sigh: I started this as a one-shot, but got a review that said I should do more... so this is it! Sorry, but this is the last edition to my fluffiness for this story... I think that there's nothing I could add now to make this any better at all... besides, it's MiNdLeSs fLuFf... there had to be an end to it pretty soon... But I love my 'mini-series' nonetheless... hope the readers do too! review, review, review! :Hugs: