Harry Potter happily sat up in bed. There were only two days left before Christmas break, and he was dying for the classes to be over.

"Wake up, Ron!" he said, drawing back the curtains around Ron's four-poster bed. Ron was sprawled across the bed, his flaming-red hair sticking up at odd angles, and his face buried in the pillow. Harry tugged at his arm.

Ron gave a muffled groan. "Don' wanna…get up…" he mumbled. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Get up, you lazy git!" he said, grabbing Ron's pillow and yanking it out from under Ron's head. He gave a strangled yelp at the sudden movement and toppled off the bed.

"Bloody hell, Harry!" Ron rubbed his head. "What didja do that for?" he whined, piteously.

"Because! We're going to be late for breakfast!" Ron glowered at his best friend.

"Hyper, much? What're you so perky about?" Harry shrugged, still grinning like an idiot.

"I have no idea! I just have this feeling like something big's about to happen." Ron rolled his eyes and began pulling on some clothes.

"Whatever, Harry. If you ask me, you've had one too many Sugar Quills…" Laughter came in response. Ron suppressed the urge to roll his eyes again and followed his sugar-happy friend out of the Gryffindor Tower and down to the Great Hall.

"Morning, Hermione!" Harry said, cheerfully, sitting down across from her. She nodded, but she was absorbed in a book. Ron sat beside her and leaned over, as if to se what she was reading.

"Harry's gone nutters, 'Mione," Ron whispered, as Harry engaged Dean in an excitable chat on football. Hermione looked up in time to see him trying to demonstrate a highly complicated-looking move, which he had made up on the spot. Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"What did you guys do to him?" she accused, as Harry tried to demonstrate a coffee-grinder.

"We didn't do anything! He was fine last night! He just woke up as Mr. Sunshine!" Ron replied, staring at Harry. "Do you think he's cracked?" But Hermione wasn't listening. Instead, her gaze had been drawn to the Slytherin table, where three particulars were watching Harry, sniggering. Hermione stood up, grabbed Harry before he could show Seamus a Judo Chop of Death, and dragged him over to one Draco Malfoy.

"DRACO MALFOY, WHAT DID YOU TO HARRY!" Hermione demanded, shoving forward the spastic boy. Draco smirked.

"Isn't it obvious? Harry just finally decided to come out and show you what he wants to do, deep down! Apparently, he wants to play football, breakdance, and do karate." Hermione recognized the spell.

"Ludakris!" she said, throwing aside her morals. Draco's face contorted into a million-dollar-smile that could have won over the whole school.

"Hi, Harry!" Draco said, cheerfully, bounding over to the Boy-Who-Lived, who seemed to be sobering up, so to speak.

"Hi, Malfoy!" He was still cheerful, but he was saying 'Malfoy,' instead of 'Draco.'

"Hey, I wanna show you something."

"What?" Harry asked, curiously.

"What a good kisser I am!" Harry smirked.

"Egotistical, much?" he said, now almost completely sober. "What, what!" Yup. Sober.

Draco grinned and stepped closer to him, wrapping one arm around Harry's waist, and pressing his lips against those of Harry "Golden Boy" Potter.

Harry opened his mouth to talk—more like to squeal in protest—but it was suddenly filled with none other than Draco's tongue. Hermione decided this would be a good time to whisper, "Finite incantatum!"

Draco's eyes flew open and silver met emerald in shock. Realizing what he was doing, Draco shoved Harry away, breathing heavily. A silence filled the Great Hall, and every eye was on the two. Draco, eyes still wide, wiped his mouth and fled the Great Hall.

Immediately, the deafening buzz of whispered rumors filled the Great Hall, pounding in Harry's head. He turned to Hermione. "What the heck just happened?" She smiled weakly.

"He was under a spell," she said, offering no more explanation. She felt a wave of pity for Draco, and felt he needed as much of his dignity as he could salvage.