"Potter, just stop! I want to ask you something!" I yell to him as he reaches the large oak doors, and has slammed them open.
I reach where he is, and look at him, unsure of what to ask. I just wanted him to stop.
"What do you mean you want to ask me something? Let me ask you something." He says, a blaze in his eyes.
"Fine." I say simply.
He starts to ask furiously as to why I'm here, but I hardly hear it.
I feel this flutter in my stomach. I've felt this before. I look up, still not really paying attention to what he is saying.
I'm horrified at what I see.
Mistletoe. No, why was there mistletoe there? Why?
"Potter." I say, trying to be calm. He ignores me, and keeps going on as this flutter in my stomach keeps intensifying. "This can't be happening right now." I think to myself.
Just let it happen, Draco. It will eventually anyway. I hear myself say. It must be the mistletoe.
"Potter." I say, a bit more urgently this time. Doesn't work. He still ignores me. The fluttering keeps getting stronger, making my face flush a little.
"Damn mistletoe!" I think angrily.
You love mistletoe, admit it. My inner voice says once again.
He keeps going on, I say it once again.
"Potter!" I say, my urgency level going beyond the boiling point. He still ignores me! This-this fluttering is driving me mad! "It's-it's going to happen! I-I can't stop it! And I don't want to stop it!"
See, what did I tell you? The inner voice once again. If I could, I'd kill the damn thing!
"HARRY!" I yell, my face flushed from all this fluttering going on!
I finally got his attention by saying his first name. And he seemed pretty shocked.
"What did yo-" I'm sure he was about to say more before I grabbed him by the shoulders, and descended my lips onto his.
"Damn, damn, DAMN! Muggles don't know what they're messing with when they hang mistletoe for the holidays!"
He doesn't respond. I'm about to pull away, when I feel him lightly kiss back. I'm a bit stunned.
If you kiss under the mistletoe, you have to have feelings for the other person. And Potter was kissing me back!
He wriggles his shoulders from my grip. I loosen them, and gently put them around his waist.
I feel him move his arms up. He seems to not know where to put them. So he just rests them upon my chest as pull him closer.
I don't notice the falling snow outside, I don't notice the chill that blows our way. I only notice Potter's kiss, such gentleness that I haven't felt before.
We now have to part, for need of air. I stare at him in his shining green eyes. He stares back, taking in a deep breath.
"Malfoy-"
"Harry Potter," I interrupt him, "The Boy-Who-Lived, the Golden Boy of Gryffindor." I still stare, thinking if this is the right thing to do.
"Ask me again why I'm here instead of at home." I say quietly.
I've been putting up a shield. But I don't want to now. I want Harry to know why I'm not home for the holidays, I want him to know what I was reading. . . I want him to know me.
He-he kissed me. . .He kissed me. . .DRACO MALFOY KISSED ME? What's going on?
I, I have to pull away. I should slap him! But, I just can't. This doesn't make sense. . .why does this feel right?
I start to kiss him back, not knowing why. I'm just absolutely lost in this kiss, lost in why I'm kissing back in the first place.
We pull apart, any longer and we'd be passed out.
I come to realize that his arms have snaked around me. When did this occur, when did my arms come to rest on his chest? Was I that lost in his kiss?
He stares into my eyes, as if he's searching for something. I stare back into his gray eyes that were usually always cold. But now, they held warmth.
"Malfoy-" I start to say. But he interrupts.
"Harry Potter. The Boy-Who-Lived, the Golden Boy of Griffyndor." He stops. What is he thinking?
"Ask me again why I'm here instead of at home." He says quietly.
"What?" I say, a bit in disbelief.
"You heard me. Ask me why I'm here." He says quietly once again.
"Okay," I say quietly myself, "But, I want to know something first."
"Go ahead." He says with a faint smile. He really needs to smile more.
"Why did you kiss me?"
"Because, I like you." He pauses for a second, and gives a chuckle, "And I wouldn't have done it if I didn't have a mental shove from a plant."
"What?"
"Look above you, Potter." I do as he says, and I see. . . Mistletoe?
"What does mistletoe have to do with it?"
"Do you learn nothing in any class? In herbology, Professor Sprout taught us that mistletoe is a magical plant." I guess I don't learn anything. I stare at him, not being able to remember our lesson in mistletoe.
"Mistletoe has the ability of bringing two people together. But, they have to like each other in order for it to work. So, I kissed you. And," He stops as a smirk spreads on his face, "You kissed back. That must mean you like me."
"I like Malfoy. . ." That was my only thought in my thousand thoughts a second mind. Because. . .it was true.
"I guess it does." I smile a small smile at him.
But now, my smile disappears as I start to ask that question.
"Malfoy, why are you here? Why aren't you at home?"
"Well-" A crash from the Great Hall interrupts Malfoy's answer.
Oh God, I forgot that dinner was still going on!
"They probably heard all my ranting." I say, a bit shocked.
"Please, the professors are too loopy to notice anything." Malfoy answered, "Do you want to go somewhere else, Potter?" He asks me.
"Let's go outside again." I hear myself say.
All this time he was still holding on to me. Now he lets go, a bit of reluctance on his face.
We start to walk outside, the cold blasting at our flushed faces.
The snow was still falling, more lightly now than before.
"Do you still want to tell me?" I ask as we still walked along.
"I do." He says quietly, "You know how my father's in Azkaban." He says, not looking at me, "Well, after awhile of him being in there," He stops in his tracks, and now looks at me, a sad look on his pale face, "After awhile, my mother was not feeling well. Not physically, but mentally. She became depressed." He takes a look at the ground now, his expression of sadness becoming deeper, "She knew she was depressed, so she decided to check herself into St. Mungos." So that's who he was sending a package to.
"I'm sorry, Malfoy." I say, putting a hand on his shoulder.
"You don't have to be sorry, Potter." He says. He looks at me, and a small smile is on his face, "She's getting help now."
We start to walk once again in silence, and now we come up to the bench that we've sat on so many times during Christmas break.
"Do you want to sit down?" I ask Malfoy.
"Sure."
Now we sit, but not in our usual places. We sit more closely now.
"Malfoy," I start to say, not sure if I should ask. "What book were you reading that you got so defensive about when I asked about it?"
. . . . .
