---(HP)
"'The Druids believed mistletoe could provide protection; promote fertility, love, and health; and exorcise demons. Putting it in a baby's crib would keep the fairies from whisking away your child. And some people even believed that wearing it around your neck could make you invisible,'" Harry Potter read from a card that was attached to the sprig of mistletoe he had picked out for the Weasley's holiday party. He looked around the store he was in, and not seeing anyone he knew there—although he was sure many people knew him—he brought it up to the cashier and paid for it.
"Invisible . . ." Harry muttered as he walked down the lane to Grimmauld Place. An idea was hatching in his brain and he couldn't wait to set it into action.
Once inside, he began his search for some string to tie the mistletoe around his neck. In the kitchen he found Hermione.
"Harry! Can you taste this? I want everything perfect for later . . ." she announced. Harry obediently opened his mouth and she stuck a spoon in. He smiled when the sweet substance touched his tongue.
"Mmm . . . What is it?"
"The filling for my pumpkin pie. Is it any good?"
"'Course it is, Hermione!" Harry was used to this ritual of her having low expectations and him bringing them up. She smiled.
"Thanks, Harry," she said quietly.
---(HG)
I was so surprised to see him react so positively; for some reason, lately he had been avoiding me like the plague. As far as I knew, I hadn't done anything wrong. Anyway, I was glad he liked my pie—for some reason, I had this urging to make it this year.
A crash from across the kitchen shook me out of my thoughts. I spun around, only to find Harry standing sheepishly amid a pile of pots and pans. I raised my eyebrows.
"I was trying to find the string, Hermione! I thought it might be on the top shelf, so when I tried to climb up, all the shelves fell down," he protested. It was true; I could see remnants of a splintered ebony shelf on the floor with the pots and pans. I sighed.
"The string's in Buckbeak's room. Why don't you go find it—I'll clean this up," I said. He grinned and ran over to me, giving me a huge bear hug that lifted me off the floor.
"Oof—Careful, Harry," I grunted. Did I really grunt? Oh dear . . . Ever since I had an inkling Harry might be the man of my life I had tried to be more feminine than usual.
---(HP)
Inwardly, Harry laughed. It had been a while since Hermione had acted normal around him—but perhaps that had to do with him acting odd around her. He had realized he felt like more than a friend to her about a week ago in the Three Broomsticks and had choked on his butterbeer.
Hermione's feet kicking his thighs jerked him back to reality. He gently set her down and grinned.
"Miss Granger, I've got some string to attend to. Cheerio!" he said as he strolled off down the hallway, which was now thankfully Portrait-less. He bounded up the stairs and took a sharp left into Buckbeak's room.
Harry bowed to the hippogriff and waited for him to bow back. Once Beaky bowed, Harry was free to roam about the room and so he did. He poked around the dressers, and in the top drawer of a yew one he found a picture that stopped his heart. He sat down heavily on the bed next to Buckbeak before fainting.
---(HG)
I had finished cleaning up in the kitchen so I went upstairs to see how Harry was faring with the quest for string. Why he needed some, I had no idea, but I decided to help him anyways—that crooked smile of his was overpowering. I pulled open the door to Buckbeak's room, only to see Harry out cold on Beaky's bed. I screamed.
"HARRY! Oh, Harry, please wake up!" I yelled as I shook him. My panic was overriding logic, and soon I was sobbing and hitting him.
"Ow . . . What in the name of Merlin are you doing, Hermione?" I fell backwards onto the floor.
"HARRY! Oh, Merlin, I thought you were—" He put his finger over my mouth to stop my rambling.
"Don't finish that sentence," he said, his smile disappearing. I held up some string I had found in the kitchen, surprisingly on the top shelf he had been trying to reach. He laughed and took it. "Thanks Hermione," he murmured into my hair as he pulled me into a hug.
"No problem," I said breathlessly. I always loved the hugs we shared, and at the same time hated them. We were close, but not close enough to kiss.
---(HP)
Harry held her, and as he inhaled the smell of her shampoo he realized that they were very close. He pulled away slowly, as if procrastinating the moment where they'd be apart again.
"Well, I'll get back to . . . things . . ." he said as he left the room, leaving a dazed Hermione behind. He walked down the corridor, but once he got to the next hallway he ran to his bedroom. He shut the door and plopped himself down on the bed, putting the drawing in his bureau. He tied the string to the mistletoe that was in his pocket and tied it around his neck. He stood up and looked in his floor-length mirror, but could still see himself.
"Oh well," he muttered to himself. "Maybe it only works on other people." He tiptoed downstairs, where he could hear Hermione finishing up the turkey.
He stole the fork from her mouth and tiptoed off with it, laughing silently at the look on her face.
---(HG)
I had just taken the turkey out of the oven before the fork I had put in my mouth was taken out. I whirled around to see who had done it, only there was no one there. I frowned, and checked the floor to see if I had dropped it. I hadn't. I frowned and finished up with the turkey.
---(HP)
Ten minutes later, Harry was sneaking up behind Hermione. He poked the sides of her waist and backed away quickly. She screamed softly, and turned around to try to find her attacker.
He backed out of the room and ran up to his bedroom. He took the sketch out of his bureau and stared at it, absently rubbing at the place on his neck where the mistletoe scratched it. Footsteps coming toward his room jerked him out of his reverie and he quickly stuffed it under his pillow.
"Harry?" Hermione asked from his doorway. She looked around his room, sighed, and walked out. "Where could he be . . . ?" he heard her mutter as she went back downstairs. He laughed and followed.
Five minutes later, he was lifting a throw pillow off the couch from next to Hermione and watched her face go from shock to frustration. She stood up and yelled, "WHOEVER IS TRYING TO SCARE ME, STOP—IT ISN'T WORKING!"
"I'm the Ghost of the Christmas Future, Hermione Jane Granger. . ." Harry said in a deep voice as he backed out of the room.
---(HG)
Now I was really scared. A ghost? What had I done to make myself have to be haunted?
"I'm not scared of you, Ghost," I retorted, but inside I was trembling. Something about the voice was familiar, though. I smiled—in idea was forming in my head.
I marched into the kitchen and found some rope. "Prepare to be humiliated, Mr. Ghost," I said, and laughed.
---(HP)
Harry galloped as quietly as he could back to his room. He needed another peek at the drawing before he could scare Hermione again.
He stepped through the doorway to his room, and as he did so a loop of rope on the floor caught on his foot, and before he knew it he was hanging upside down from his ceiling. Hermione strolled out from inside his closet.
"Hello, Mr. Ghost," she purred.
Hermione purrs! Why didn't I know she did that?!?!? He thought franticly.
Before he knew it, she was standing with her head in front of his. She reached out and felt the string and mistletoe hanging from his neck. As soon as she did, he knew she knew what it was, and instantly her face changed.
"Why, Mr. Ghost, you look astonishingly like Harry!" she exclaimed in mock surprise. He grinned sheepishly.
"I'm sorry, Hermione, I never meant to scare you, it just got out of hand . . ." he rambled. She put her finger over his mouth.
"You have mistletoe over your head," she whispered and leaned forward. Soon her lips were on his and an electric shock went through his body.
"So," she said breathlessly as she pulled away, "what was on that drawing?" Harry grinned and pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket.
"See for yourself . . . but Hermione, all the blood's going to my head—do you think you could let me down?"
"Oh right—sorry," she said as she helped him become right side up again. "Harry—it says L.E. in the corner—what does that mean?"
"Lily Evans, I'm guessing." He smiled and looked at it over her shoulder. "It's beautiful, no?"
"It is indeed."
The bushy-brown-haired girl hugged the messy-black-haired boy. They both looked remarkably like the two people under mistletoe in the drawing by the boy's dead mother . . .
He never found out if she knew what was going on the whole time, or if the mistletoe really worked, but he did find out one thing that Christmas Day—Hermione was an excellent kisser.
Okay so I had to edit this because the ending was crappy. Sorry it's a day late now—I did work hard trying to get it on time. Oh well.
The opening quote is from a link off of that I found yesterday. It's not mine. )
"Two Years Later" is coming along nicely—I think an update will be up soon.
Hope you had a happy holiday!
-insanehpluver-