During a long, fitful night, Hermione had come to a conclusion.

If Cormac's nifty Valentine's mistletoe was somehow responsible for the innocuous, suspicious feelings she'd been experiencing around him, most likely the magic would wear off after Valentine's Day. Or at the very least, Cormac would no longer have a reason to keep it on his doorframe, and he would dispose of it. Or, given his proclivity for the thing, he might stow it away.

Regardless, if the magic with which it had been imbued was no longer permeating the air around her, she would be able to get away from it and clear her mind once more.

Then Hermione would be able to go back to an existence of simple co-workers with the man.

All she would have to do would be to avoid excess contact with him in the meantime. Their report was more or less prepared, and they had minimal work left as far as their presentation to the department heads.

The only remaining problem was that their presentation was scheduled for the thirteenth, the day before Valentine's Day. So the magic would likely still be active.

Hermione had considered seeing about delaying the presentation until the fifteenth, but she had quickly dismissed the idea. She wasn't willing to sacrifice all the hard work they'd put into the project, and she certainly wasn't afraid of Cormac.

Even if she did harbour some small measure of true interest in the man, it was irrelevant. While the Valentine's mistletoe was active, her feelings weren't legitimate, and anything that might have been shared between them would be false. Furthermore, they worked together. It was unprofessional.

The sooner the better. And besides, after they were through with the presentation, they wouldn't be in one another's space nearly as much.

So it would just be a matter of keeping things civil between them until then. Hermione could do civil.

They had worked together for three years, and nothing untoward had ever happened in that time. Surely nothing would go wrong in a matter of days.

Even with George's bloody love mistletoe hanging in Cormac's office.

Honestly, it was a wonder the man hadn't suspected George's intentions. Even if Cormac was friends with George, as he claimed, he ought to have realised nothing from the joke shop was as innocuous as it seemed.

Although she had to admit, it was awfully sweet that Cormac had taken up such an active role in looking out for George. Merlin knew, the man still struggled with the loss of his twin brother, even so many years later.

As she exited the lift into the department that morning, sleep-deprived and a little worse for the wear, Hermione blew out a breath, steeling her shoulders and lifting her chin.

She could do this. She'd fought in a war as a teenager—she could keep her distance from one man. One sweet, genuine, incredibly attractive man.

Grinding her teeth, she winced. Pompous. Prone to ignoring subtleties and nuance. He could use a haircut, if she was being brutally honest.

"Hermione!"

Startled, she came to an abrupt stop en route to her office via the central atrium. Despite her best efforts to sneak in before anyone else, Cormac was already there, a grin on his face and a sparkle in his eyes as if her very presence had made his day.

Hermione fixed her face into a stern expression and offered a sharp nod. "Cormac. Hello."

Though she hastened her pace, his legs were longer and he kept up with her stride easily as she continued on towards her office. She clicked her tongue as he followed her through the door.

Ignorant of subtleties indeed.

"Did you need something?" she asked, turning towards him.

His smile faltered, only for a second, before he leaned against the doorframe, folding his arms. "I wasn't sure about your schedule—but I thought we could hammer out the rest of the details for the presentation?" There must have been something on his face, because a small knit pinched the skin between his brows. "Unless you'd rather not."

Releasing a sigh, she offered him a smile. She couldn't be rude to the man—not a chance. Not when he had been so good to her.

Hermione waved a hand towards the chair he'd spent the better part of the previous day occupying and admitted, "My morning is free," before settling in beside him.

When his lips curled with a soft, private smile, she carefully stowed the swooping of her stomach to the side.

None of it was real, anyways. Thanks to his nifty bloody decoration.

It took longer than Hermione had expected to comb through the fine details of their presentation—largely due to the fact that she and Cormac were prone to drifting away from the topic at hand. If nothing else, she hadn't laughed so much at work in a long time.

And really, it wouldn't be terrible if something happened between her and Cormac. He offered pleasant company, and there was something reassuring about his presence, as if she didn't need to be the one in charge for once. His easy, casual manner was a good balance to her own perpetual need to constantly push herself beyond her limits.

But even as she had the thought, the reality crashed once more upon her that she couldn't trust any thoughts or feelings on the matter to be real.

No matter how intrigued, or even how interested she found herself in the man, it could all be for naught when the middle of the month passed.

And a small voice at the back of her mind suggested that even Cormac's own interactions with her could be influenced by the blasted decoration. So she did her best to ignore the insistent thoughts that pushed at her through the rest of the week.

Through the weekend, Hermione found it easier to distract herself from what she refused to call something so juvenile as a crush, but an infatuation sounded too heavy. She kept herself busy with cleaning, ran several errands, and reached out to some friends she hadn't seen in a while.

The presentation was Monday afternoon, so she only had to work closely with Cormac McLaggen for one more day before she would be able to take a step back. The thought incited unease in the pit of her stomach, but again, she knew it was due to George Weasley's Valentine's Day decoration.

And though by Sunday night Hermione had relieved some of the incessant thoughts about her co-worker and former youthful fling, she couldn't help the thought that she wanted it to be real.

Blessedly, Monday morning moved quickly; she suspected it was partly to do with the fact that she was nervous about the presentation itself, but also, Cormac had been working on another project and had kept to his wing of the department.

Nearing the end of her lunch break, she looked up to see him leaning in the open doorframe of her office and stubbornly ignored the swooping in her stomach at the sight of him. She hadn't seen him since Friday, and she couldn't quite help the smile that pulled at her lips.

"Are you nearly set, co-conspirator?" he questioned, a crooked grin sliding across his face.

"Yes," she breathed, rising from her desk and collecting her files before approaching him at the door. Theirs wouldn't be the only presentation on the topic, but Hermione was hopeful theirs would be the best—and would proceed towards the Wizengamot to be pushed through the channels of Ministry policy. "I think we're as ready as we'll ever be."

Cormac stared at her for a long time, a tilt to his head and his expression thoughtful. "This has been really fun—despite the dry subject matter. Working together, I mean. We should do it more often."

Hermione frowned at the way her heart leapt in her chest at the thought. Even so, she couldn't help her reply. "I've really enjoyed working with you as well, Cormac. I couldn't have asked for a better partner on this project."

And she meant it. Despite their differences, they complemented one another well. She was starting to think, even outside of the workplace. But those were dangerous thoughts, too.

The smile faded from Cormac's face, his mouth twisting to the side, and for a moment she thought she might have said something wrong. But then he nodded and said quietly, "That means a lot, Hermione. Thanks."

For a long, extended moment, she stared up at him, into his expressive blue gaze, and her heart beat a little faster. They were close enough to touch, and she kept her files hugged closely to her chest, lest her hands betray her.

Finally he glanced away, clearing his throat. Hermione forced a thick swallow, unable to smile. One more day, and they would go back to normal. Tightly, she managed, "Shall we?"

Sweeping a hand through his thick curls, Cormac cracked an uneasy grin and waved a hand towards the door. "Ladies first."

Their presentation was first, with the others to follow, and then the committee would deliberate before announcing the proposal of their choice towards the end of the day.

Hermione was certain her presentation with Cormac had gone as well as they could have expected. The heads of both International Magical Cooperation and Magical Transportation seemed receptive to the simplicity and easy implementation of their suggestion for an issue that had long plagued the Ministry with its inefficiency.

It seemed half the department was involved in the presentations that afternoon so any hopes for getting work done were a wash with the ruckus coming from the central atrium. And even if Hermione had tried, she didn't think she could focus.

If the committee were to select their proposal, it would be a big step for her career in the Ministry. Hermione didn't want to be a junior in the Department of Magical Transportation forever, but it had been one of the only options available when she sought to get a foot in the door at the Ministry, and it had been a good enough job for her to stick it out for a number of years.

Cormac hadn't pushed when she said she wanted to wait on her own, even though she knew he was visiting with the rest of the department in the atrium, awaiting the committee's decision.

She couldn't quell the jitter of nerves, even despite that their presentation had gone well, and she found herself pacing the small space of her office, clutching her elbows with her arms wrapped across her front.

There was so much hanging on the results, and every few minutes she found herself glancing at the clock, wondering if time had perhaps simply stopped.

After what had felt like days, a soft knock sounded on her door, and she stopped, frozen to the spot, with a quiet, "Come in."

Cormac sidled into the room, closing the door behind him. His expression was blank and her heart sunk in an instant; he was so often jovial and positive that dread filtered through her. He leaned back against the wall, folding his arms, and his blue stare met hers as she walked closer.

Hermione felt her shoulders sink, her stomach turning and a bitter taste in her mouth. Voice quiet, she asked, "We didn't get it?"

With a grimace, he stared at her for a long moment; any remaining hope fell from her and she glanced away. Then he nudged her in the shoulder; a slow grin spread across his face when she looked back and he muttered, "Of course we bloody got it."

Gaping, Hermione stared at him for a fraction of an instant before she threw caution to the wind and leapt forward, wrapping her arms around his neck in an embrace. She couldn't stop her own grin.

After a moment's hesitation, his arms came around her back and drew her tighter. Hermione realised the mistake at the feel of his hard body against hers, the scent of his woodsy cologne playing at her senses.

She was taken back to her sixth year at the familiar feel of him, the way his hands had felt on her, the reverence with which he had kissed her. One of her hands snaked up the back of his neck, into the curls at his nape, the side of her face pressed against the warm skin of his throat.

Something shifted between them, his hands dragging along her back, and all the rest of it ceased to matter. Her mind emptied of any thoughts but for the feel of him, indulging in the touch of his hands, and when she drew her face back, she almost instinctively sought his lips.

Her mouth grazed his, tentative and seeking, and with the gentle pressure of his lips against hers, she kissed him again, eyes fluttering shut.

Cormac dragged one assertive hand along her neck, burying it into her curls as he kissed her harder, more insistent, and she surrendered to his touch like the comfort of an old friend, mouth opening to him as his tongue teased hers.

Even as teenagers, he had always known how to make her feel just right. A soft whimper escaped her lips as he dragged his teeth along her jaw, pressing her back against the door, one hand sweeping down her hip to the curve of her arse. He kissed her again, teasing and meticulous, and Hermione's heart beat an anxious cadence in her chest as she ran her hands down his sides and back, overwhelmed at the feel of him.

In that moment, nothing else mattered; not the presentation, not the Valentine's mistletoe—

Hermione froze, eyes snapping open as horror raced through her.

The Valentine's mistletoe.

Cormac drew back at her sudden lack of response, chin ducked and blue eyes meeting hers. He was breathtakingly attractive and Hermione couldn't calm the roaring of her blood in her ears as his expression dropped.

"I'm sorry," she gasped out, feeling a hot sting of shame colour her face as she stared at him. "I just—I can't—"

Despite the confusion that flickered across his face, Cormac nodded. "It's okay."

Frustration streaked through her and she turned to look away, dragging her bottom lip between her teeth because all she wanted to do was pull him back in again. "It's that bloody decoration you've got up. I don't the spell that's on it, or—"

"The decoration?" Cormac asked, his voice quiet and cautious. "I don't know what you're—oh."

"The one George gave you," she whispered.

Cormac merely echoed, "Oh." He stared at her for a long moment, so long that Hermione wasn't sure whether he was going to say anything more, his expression carefully blank. "You think it has something to do with this. Because George gave it to me."

Hermione could only nod.

"Right," Cormac bit out, and finally offered an uneasy smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I thought maybe you were actually—well, never mind. We'll forget about this then, yeah?"

"Cormac," she breathed, devastated as he stepped back, jaw hard. "Please don't—"

"At least the project's through." His throat bobbed with a swallow, but his face was still painfully devoid of expression. "I'll see you later, Hermione."

He was gone, the door closing quietly behind him, before she could finish with a feeble, "—Be upset."

Eyes stinging with hot tears, she could only stare at the door, stunned.

Hermione couldn't remember the last time she had felt like such a pool of overwhelming shame. Not only had she kissed Cormac despite knowing that she couldn't trust her own feelings, she'd hurt him. She couldn't decide what was worse.

The pain in his blue stare kept echoing back through her mind, her eyes red from the tears that broke free after she Apparated home from work. Whether Cormac was actually still interested in her, or whether he was being affected by George's spell too, didn't matter.

Even if he didn't truly care about her in that way, she had likely ruined a good friendship, and hurt a good man.

But it wasn't fair to him for her to have kissed him without knowing how she actually felt about the matter.

Hermione felt misery and self-deprecation filter through her as she dragged herself into bed, furious with herself and torn at the idea of owling him. By his reaction earlier, she didn't think he would want to hear from her. And even if she did have the nerve—which she knew, in that moment, that she didn't—she had no idea what she would even say to him.

The next day would be Valentine's Day, and then the stupid decoration would be gone. Exhaustion finally took her and she drifted off into an uneasy sleep, wondering how everything had gone so wrong.

Despair sat in the pit of her stomach the next morning when Hermione awoke, fatigued from a restless night. She felt dreadful over all that had transpired the day before, and couldn't summon any of her Gryffindor courage.

For the first time in over two years, Hermione owled in sick to work.

Another owl was already waiting for her when she made her way into the kitchen, and for a fleeting instant her heart leapt at the thought that Cormac might have sent her a letter.

But as she neared the window, she realised it was Harry's bird, carrying a small package of assorted chocolates, with a little red note wishing her a happy Valentine's Day.

He was a good friend, to think of her even though she was single.

Even though she didn't currently feel as if she deserved anything.

For the duration of the morning, Hermione waffled between self-pity and self-loathing, picking at a bowl of soggy cereal in her pyjamas. She desperately wanted to reach out to Cormac, but she had more or less told him the only reason she kissed him was because she thought she was being influenced by magic.

And while her heart was broken at the thought that she had hurt him, she didn't know the truth of the matter.

At every small sound, she leapt in her seat, wondering if it was another owl, but none showed up. She didn't even expect Cormac to want to see her; he was probably pleased she wasn't at work so he wouldn't have to avoid her. It would be evident to him, she suspected, that she wasn't actually sick.

Merlin, the man had a heart of gold and she definitely didn't deserve that.

When Hermione walked past the mirror, she stopped, startled by her own appearance. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, hair a frightful mess, and her sleep clothes ruffled. With a shudder, Hermione frowned. She was better than this.

Knowing she had hurt Cormac's feelings, she had dragged herself around in a pity party, even though he was the one she ought to be thinking of. At the very least, she owed him an apology.

Steeling her determination, Hermione showered and dressed, managing some of the wildness in her hair to settle, and applying a hint of make-up.

Realistically, she should speak to him in person, but he would still be at work, and she had already claimed herself sick. So instead, she sat down at her desk and attempted to write him a letter. Every effort felt insincere and as if she were merely justifying her actions—which wouldn't help matters at all. Finally she settled on a simple letter, knowing it likely wouldn't do anything.

Cormac

I'm sorry for what happened yesterday. I've been attempting to determine the legitimacy of my feelings, and what I did to you was unfair. I hope we can talk about this soon.

Hermione

It wasn't the best she could have come up with, but anxiety raced through her as she sent off the letter, hoping he would at least accept it.

Close to an hour later, a rapping came from the window and Hermione leapt from her seat so fast she nearly stumbled over the corner of the sofa.

Her heart dropped as she skimmed the response, hastily scribbled on the back of her own letter.

Hermione

It's fine. Enjoy your day off.

Cormac

She would have preferred him to be angry with her. His indifference hurt in a separate way, and she carefully folded the letter, sucking in a deep breath. Eventually he would have to talk to her; they worked together and he couldn't be angry forever. She would see him tomorrow and make him talk to her.

Without the blasted influence of that decoration above his door.

The thought swirled in the back of her mind as she gazed unseeingly at the window. Then she jumped to her feet, grabbed her wand, and Apparated to Diagon Alley.

The wizarding high street was busier than she had expected for the middle of the day, but everywhere Hermione looked there were couples, and with a grimace she was reminded once more it was Valentine's Day.

Gathering her courage, she made her way to the orange monstrosity that was Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, and edged into the shop and towards the counter through the crowds.

A young blonde woman noticed her with a bright expression. "Hermione! What brings you in today?"

"Hi Verity," she managed with a smile, "I was wondering if George is in?"

"Somewhere!" Verity returned, her voice raised over the din as she scanned the shop. Mutely she pointed, and as Hermione followed the trajectory, she noticed George in conversation with a small group of customers. A wide grin stretched across his face as she watched.

"Thanks," Hermione called before making her way in George's direction.

When he noticed her, his mouth fell open in surprise, and he excused himself before sweeping her into a massive embrace in the middle of the shop. Despite herself, Hermione sunk into the brotherly touch, comfort seeping into her. George drew back, holding her at arm's length, as if he were inspecting her. "Mum would say you're looking thin—but what does she know? Come on into the back away from this madness."

An easy smile pulled at her lips as she walked with George into the quiet of his office, taking a seat on a lime green sofa before she turned towards him. "How have you been, George?"

"Keeping busy," he said in an instant, as if it were an automatic response. But then he grimaced, head tilting to the side. "You know how it is. Some days are better than others."

"Yeah," Hermione managed. "I've been meaning to visit more, I've just—"

George waved her off with a grin. "I know you've got plenty on your plate at the Ministry. I appreciate the visit today, though."

Biting down on her bottom lip, she stared at him for a moment, deliberating. "I'm afraid it isn't a purely social call."

"Of course not. What can I help you with?"

Merlin, maybe this was a bad idea. Drawing in a long breath, she began with a cautious, "I hope this conversation can stay between us." When George mimed zipping his lips shut, she smiled. "Well, I work with Cormac McLaggen."

"I know," George said, a curious smile on his lips. "Go on."

"You gave him something," she said, leaning forward in her seat. "A sort of mistletoe that's a Valentine's Day decoration. And I was just wondering what sort of love spell is on it."

A knit pulled at George's brows as he frowned. "Mistletoe?" A moment passed and he nodded. "Right. A couple of weeks ago. Cormac's been a good friend through the years, especially after we lost Freddie. Cor likes stupid shite like that—inappropriate holiday decor, little animal figures with anatomically incorrect faces. Makes him laugh."

The mention of Cormac twisted her stomach into a tight knot and she forced a smile. "Yes. He said he thought it was nifty."

"Nifty." George cracked a grin and chuckled. But then his expression faltered. "No magic in that thing, Hermione. I just thought he would like it—gave it to him as a little thank you for helping me through some dark days."

A wave of nausea swept through her. "No magic?"

His smile softened into something else with a slow shake of his head. "I wouldn't do that to Cormac. The git's got a good heart; I couldn't try to manipulate it."

Hermione's head spun as she attempted to process the thought.

But a cheshire grin crossed George's face once more. "Whatever dirty thoughts you're having about Cor are all your own making, I'm afraid."

She couldn't even pretend at a smile. The desperation in her face must have shown because George clasped a hand to her shoulder. "I don't know what you've done, Hermione, but I think it'll be okay. Here's what I will tell you: Cormac is one of the most genuine blokes I know, and he's going to treat some woman like a queen one day if he ever decides to get over you."

Startled, her eyes snapped up to meet George's kind ones. Her voice was hoarse. "What do you mean?"

"I mean exactly what I just said—and Cormac will kill me for saying so."

Releasing a long breath, she whispered, "I think I've really hurt him, George."

"If I'm piecing this together right," George said quietly, leaning forward in his seat, "I think he will forgive you. If that's what you want."

"It is," she said, without even thinking about it. In an instant, the realisation swept through her that the way she had been feeling about Cormac was real after all—and she didn't know if that made the situation any easier, knowing he wanted nothing to do with her. But she only nodded again, eyes stinging, and repeated softer, "It is."

A slow smile swept across George's face. "What can I do to help?"

Steeling her resolve, Hermione met his gaze. "I need you to give me Cormac's address."

Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading! I know it's a bit of an unconventional pairing, and it means a lot that some of you have chosen to read it anyways :) Chapter 3 will be up on Thursday.

This fic is unbeta'd and mistakes are my own.