To everyone: on my profile, I have attached a poll at the top of my page. This poll is concerning what two other fics I should work on at the same time as this. I have already posted the Prologue for "Leave Out All the Rest" and intend to complete it (it will be a slow process, however), but I also want to hear your opinions.

Please, before posting on the poll, read the summaries I have posted in my profile.

Thanks to valegrl35 who pointed out to me that I made a little mistake in this chapter (character confusion). It's Seamus who has the Muggle dad, not Dean (he's Muggle-Born). Thank you, the correction has been made. ^.^ For your love, you get cookies. 3

Thank you.

Chapter 3

Mistletoe Magnet

The party was already getting into full swing by the time they arrived; it could be heard quite clearly a good two corridors away. Draco had not been able to mask his surprise at the rowdiness of the Gryffindors while Hermione gave him her infamous 'I-told-you-so' look that had him shrugging.

Rounding the corner, Hermione smiling up at the painting of the Fat Lady, who looked positively irked at the sounds coming from the room beyond.

"Honestly," she huffed loudly, spotting Hermione and Draco, "you two better get in there and tell them to calm down! I'm not dealing with this rowdiness all night long!"

Not even watching Draco's reactions out of the corner of her eye – she knew that he was positively dumbstruck at the way the portrait was reacting – she smiled to the woman. "I heard rumours that Violet and a few others were supposed to be visiting you."

Huffing even louder, the Fat Lady shrugged her shoulders and Draco watched as she began ranting and raving about how Violet was having an affair with Lancelot, the painting near the Ravenclaw dormitories, and how she hadn't even broken it off with Elric the Kind, up near the Astronomy tower, and how she was too pissed off to even want anything to do with the woman.

Hermione managed to interrupt before the Fat Lady continued with her rant, giving the woman what Draco would have considered to be an award-winning smile. "I will see about the noise level, don't fret. How about you see if Faatima on the fourth floor wants some company? I'm certain that she's not too involved with the male portraits to be gallivanting about at this hour."

Thought crossed over the woman's face for a while, brow furrowed as she considered the situation, and before Hermione or Draco could even say a word, she clapped her hands and smiled down at them. "What a brilliant idea! I can't believe I didn't think of it before! You are such an angel!" With that, she rushed off, leaving her portrait empty.

Hermione stared dumbfounded at the empty portrait for a moment before Draco sent a glare her way. "Now how are we supposed to get in, darling 'angel'?" he asked, gesturing with his arm, causing the bottles in the bag he held to clink and jingle loudly.

"It's not my fault!" she shot back, hands instinctively moving to her hips as she slipped into defensive mode. "It's not my fault that Violet is such a tart!"

"It's your fault for putting it into that woman's mind that she should just go off without letting us in."

"I didn't see you try and stop her. What about that heart-stopping smile of yours? Why didn't you use your amazing wiles on her? Hell, you should have just stripped!"

"What would me stripping have anything to do with stopping that damn painting?"

"She would have been too busy staring at your body to leave!"

"Why didn't you strip then?"

"Because I believe that she is only into blokes."

"Well…blimey, Hermione! Why do I have to completely strip? Why does it have to be me?"

"Because," she blushed furiously as she spoke, "you have a decent body, alright? She would have gone mental over you!"

"Are you complimenting me while insulting me?" He had slowed down his voice, a mischievous look on his face.

"Sod off," she snapped, crossing her arms in frustration. "You bloody well could have stopped her but you didn't! It is equally your fault."

"My fault? It's not my fault I have a gorgeous body that I don't always take advantage of." He was moving closer, stance growing more and more threatening with the minute.

She, all the while, didn't give a damn whether he decided to hit her or kiss her; all of a sudden, just wanted to feel his touch. It must have been the passion of the argument…their blood was flowing, hearts beating wildly; she must be getting aroused from the argument.

Or the idea that they might have really, really, really good make-up sex afterwards.

"Maybe you should take more advantage of it!" she snarled, pushing at his chest with her free hand. "You should have stopped her."

"Why does it always have to be my fault? Why can't you take the blame for once?" His mouth was getting dangerously close to hers.

"Because I know that you are to blame too!" Her breath mingled with his as her voice lowered.

"So you do agree that you're at fault," he said, voice falling on a murmur as his lips descended on hers.

Both bags dropped simultaneously, a loud clattering sound that broke the silence as his lips consumed hers, teeth scraping along her mouth and tongue, his own tongue delving into her mouth to plunder and steal her treasure. Her teeth found it and bit down, chewing on it as he let out a loud, guttural growl of pleasure.

His hands dove into her hair, gripping it tightly to keep her mouth in place as he fiercely captured her mouth. Her hands grabbed hold of his shoulders, both for support and to pull him closer as her legs liquefied and turned to jelly.

He let out another growl as he felt her nails dig into his skin through his shirt, and he slid his hands down, gripping her hips and lifting her with ease, slamming her body into the nearest wall. She mewled, that loud, long cry that made his body heat to a feverish peak, and she wrapped her legs tightly around his, unable to bear any distance between their bodies.

"Ahem."

He tugged his lips from her, dragging them down her throat as she threw her head back in pleasure, the mewling growing louder as his teeth joined his lips, bruising the already bruised fleshed, preparing to mark her again and again as his.

"Ahem!"

Both pulled away, gasping for air as the sound finally reached their ears, and Hermione buried her face into his shoulder, unable to deal with facing whoever had made the sound.

Draco lifted a shaking hand to rub over his face, trying to decrease the desire threatening to overflow in his body, taking in one long, deep breath before turning his head to face the source of the sound.

"Honestly, if you two are going to shag, you may as well find an appropriate setting! I have guests!" The Fat Lady cried, glaring at him from her portrait, gesturing to two other women who had joined her.

One of them, a petite, Middle-Eastern woman with a long black plait, had buried her face into her hands, most definitely blushing brightly, while the other, a taller woman with a mass of red curls, was grinning broadly.

"Oh, come on Rosie; look at 'em! Don't they look so adorable?" the redhead squealed, nearly jumping with joy.

The couple could only assume that Rosie was the Fat Lady's real name and both made the mental note and filed it away for a later date, in case either of them had to get on her good side for one reason or another. Draco then let out a loud sigh and slowly helped Hermione unwrap her legs and ease her feet back onto the floor. Gripping her elbows when she stumbled slightly, he placed a gentle kiss to her forehead before turning to glare at the portrait.

"You could have let us in before going out on your excursion," he said sharply.

"And you two could have waited a little bit," the woman snapped back, crossing her arms and letting out a loud huff. "Honestly, I wasn't going to be gone for long."

"Oh, Faatima, stop closing your eyes and look! I'm willing to bet anything he is bloody long!" the redhead cried, yanking on Faatima's arms, trying to get the poor woman to look.

"It's not proper," the other woman said weakly, managing to keep her hands firmly locked over her face.

"Stop being such a bloody prude!" the redhead huffed.

"Please, Morgana, stop," Faatima murmured. "It's not proper to watch the act of procreation. It's not my fault that you're such a tart."

"Oh, I am not a tart!"

"A succubus in the form of a painting."

"Darling, I used to be a succubus."

The Fat Lady rolled her eyes as the two women began to argue, mainly about Morgana's past deeds and Faatima's lack of sexual activity.

Hermione shoved her hair from her face, shaking it back an attempt to look more regal and composed than completely flustered. However, one look at the childish argument taking place in the portrait had her grinning broadly. Until she took sight of the Fat Lady's knowing and reprimanding gaze.

The blush instantly flew back over her cheeks and she shuffled on the spot, fiddling wit the hem of her shirt as Draco let out a sigh.

"Honestly, Hermione, you don't have to be so bloody embarrassed," he chastised her, rolling his eyes before facing the portrait. "I want your word that none of you will tell anyone about this, ghost, portrait, student or professor. Not one single thing that has the capacity to communicate will know about what you saw."

"Now see here," the Fat Lady began, drawing herself up, "you can't just go around ordering me about!"

Draco turned to Hermione with an irked gaze and she shrugged in response; she understood the Fat Lady more than he did and she knew that the woman was being quite honest in her statement; she didn't let anyone push her around.

Sighing with resignation, Draco did the only thing he assumed would garner the Fat Lady's trust and silence. Slowly, he lifted his hands, rolled up the sleeves, and began to unbutton his shirt.

"What are you doing?" the Fat Lady shouted, eyes wide with shock as he began to spread open the oxford.

"OH MY!" Morgana shrieked, pleasure clearly written over her beautiful face. "Faatima, isn't that the most beautiful male specimen you have EVER seen?"

"It is the only male specimen I have seen," Faatima retorted sharply; although her gaze never left Draco's chest. "And I have to admit…I quite like it…"

"I knew that you liked blokes!"

"Sod off."

Hermione bit back laughter as Draco fully exposed his chest, knowing that the Fat Lady was too flabbergasted to say anything. Draco, she had to admit, had sculpted one gorgeous body. The lean torso, the defined abs and pectorals, the broad shoulders and thinner waist, it reminded her very much of an ancient Greek sculpture. She knew that no woman in her right mind would be able to resist the man once he had exposed his attractive body.

Hell, she sure as hell hadn't been able to resist it…and she was able to resist just about 99.9% of all things women found tempting, including the chocolate cravings one got just about every day for one week a month.

"So, do I have your trust, my beautiful, beautiful Rosie, that you won't tell anyone what you saw?" Draco drawled, moving closer to the portrait, leaning against the wall in a way that would accent his body and definitely draw their gazes down to the thin trail of hair leading into his pants.

Hermione, all the while, could not tear her eyes from his arse if she tried. Damn that man…

Swallowing several times, the Fat Lady fanned her face before nodding several times. "Yes, oh quite yes, we won't tell a soul, will we ladies?" She looked to her companions as they nodded in agreement. "See, we won't tell anyone."

"Good," he said, adding his infamous grin that made most women melt. Hermione was quite surprised that they hadn't completely melted off of the portrait as all three women sighed heavily and seemed to slump.

Clearing her throat, having finally torn her gaze and mind away from his delectable arse, she moved beside him to gain his attention; she didn't even try to garner the women's attention, they were far too gone to focus on anything but Draco's 'rippling abs,' as Morgana had called them.

"Yes?" he said, turning to flash her the same smile.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione resisted the urge to pinch his nipple in retribution, but knew that it would only start another argument – which she would definitely lose, since she had suggested that he take off his clothes in the first place – and would end up with him pressing her against the wall again.

Not that she minded the final result but…now was not the time…

"Don't you think that it's about time we joined the party inside?" she asked, moving to pick up both discarded bags. She was completely oblivious to his following gaze, eyes darkening with lust as she bent over, wriggling her pretty little bum in the air.

Damn…he loved it when she wore such bright knickers…the neon pink stood out starkly against the jeans and shirt. He wanted to just grab her, do various filthy things, and then walk away with the knickers burning a hole in his pocket.

She would probably get very, very, very angry, but he didn't give a damn so long as he got to keep the knickers.

"Stop staring at my bum."

Blinking, he was surprised to find her looking at him from over her shoulder, slowly standing upright.

"I wasn't."

"Yes you were."

"I was not; I was making sure that you didn't forget something."

"What would I forget?"

"To put on your knickers?"

"You pervert!"

Thoomph! Her fist made contact with his spleen this time and he gripped it tightly, leaning against the wall in an overly dramatic fashion. He turned his gaze towards the women in the portrait, making sure his shirt fell open perfectly to expose his body.

"Can you believe she just hit me?" he cried, making sure his voice sounded pained and sultry at the same time. "I think she has caused me a great injury; she must have used magic to penetrate my hard abs!"

"You horrible wench!" Morgana shrieked, turning on Hermione. "You have injured this beautiful, gorgeous, sensual man!"

"I will go and get help!" Faatima cried, stopping only when Draco called out to her.

"No, I will be fine," he said, letting his head fall back, hair falling in such a way that his face and body resembled that of a fallen angel. "I will survive…I do not need assistance…"

"But…but…"

The Fat Lady let out another huff, something that she seemed to be rather skilled at doing, and turned to Hermione. "Honestly, did you have to hit him so hard? All he did was make sure you were wearing knickers! I would appreciate a man who did such a thing for me!"

Did those women even know what they were saying? Hermione blinked several times before fighting back several fits of laughter at the insanity of the situation. Her eyes filled with tears up with the effort, and the women assumed that they were tears of shame.

"Serves you right," Morgana snapped, crossing her arms under her ample bosom. "The poor man doesn't deserve to be mistreated. Now…if I could come out of this painting," she added, turning to face Draco, who has now closed his eyes as though these were the last moments of his life, "I would never mistreat you."

"I know you wouldn't," he murmured, slowly opening the grey orbs to give her a deep, erotic look.

Hermione swore the woman wet her knickers when he directed the gaze to her. She let out several laughs, trying her hardest to hide them behind coughs.

All the while, nobody noticed as Faatima slipped out of the portrait…

"Feel bad, don't you?" the Fat Lady said, turning back to face Hermione, distracted from Draco's body by the sound. "You should; you hurt the poor bloke. Apologize!"

"No, I will be okay; she did not mean to hurt me!" Draco cried, throwing an arm over his forehead dramatically. "I was wrong! I should be apologizing!"

"Shut your pretty mouth and let the girl apologize," Morgana said, voice softening as she believed his dramatics.

Hermione rolled her eyes for the millionth time and suddenly grinned in a very mischievous manner. Had Draco been looking at her, he would have been both proud and terrified at what the smile might suggest.

Slowly placing the bags on the floor, she made her way over to him, stopping just a few inches in front of him. When he turned his gaze to her, he blinked rapidly in surprise and arched a brow at her questioningly.

Suddenly, she reached out and gripped his shirt, throwing her head back, causing her hair to flow around her face in a wild and very erotic – at least to him – manner. "Oh! Please! Please, Draco, forgive me!" she cried, tugging harder onto his shirt. "I am so very sorry for wounding you! Let me kiss you better!" She fell to her knees, forehead pressing against his navel as he gawked at her with unmasked surprise.

"Hermione…this isn't really necessary…" he mumbled, torn between arousal and embarrassment as the portraits watched on, clearly moved by this display of such heart-wrenching guilt.

"I am so terribly sorry!" she cried, pushing several tears out of her eyes for effect; she had learned as a child that the best way to get things from her dad was to cry. Although she never really utilized it – she preferred being stubborn and arguing until he became confused – she had practiced and perfected it. She began to trail her lips along his abs, slowly moving up to find the red mark she had left on his skin.

"Hermione," he gasped out, hands clenching by his side to resist the urge to dig them into her hair and push her mouth lower instead of higher.

"I'm sorry!" she sobbed softly, pressing her teeth against his convulsing skin, enjoying the feel of his flesh heating under her touch. This was going to be good…

Just as her lips met the spot she had hit, just as she dug her teeth into his flesh and twirled her tongue over the barely red skin, the door swung open, earning loud screams of anger from the women in the portrait.

"Now, if you two plan on keeping this relationship a secret, don't you think that doing things in a more private place might be wiser?"

Draco's head spun to face Blaise, who had wisely shut the door and was leaning against the wall, a smirk plastered onto his face. Draco's face mottled with red and he buried his face into his hands and Hermione grinned against his skin; she had noticed Faatima had left and knew that, if she had gone looking for help, the closest place would have been the Gryffindor common room.

She was also able to calculate that, the only person in the room intelligent enough to understand the scenario to a T, would be Blaise and that he would prevent anyone else from coming out to witness what he just had.

Biting down on his skin, she stood up in front of him, adjusting her clothes and fluffing her hair, before turning to give Blaise a broad smile.

"Hullo, Blaise, I trust you're doing well?"

"Hermione," Blaise replied, grin broadening, "I see that you are becoming more and more like a Slytherin with each passing day."

"Unfortunately," she said, moving over to pick up the discarded bags for the second time, "Draco has been a bit too influential. Fortunately," she added, "I, too, have been influential."

"So I see," Blaise said, turning to where Draco kept his face buried in his hand, unsure of whether he wanted to punch Blaise or thank him, all the while debating on how to deal with a certain hardened appendage in his pants that was pressing uncomfortably against his zipper. "Having fun?"

"Sod off," Draco snapped, pushing back his hair as he managed to compose his facial expressions.

"Why do you have your shirt open?"

"Ask the minx over there," Draco retorted, gesturing to Hermione before he began buttoning up his shirt.

"Minx? Really, now, I always thought of Hermione as more of a…lioness," Blaise replied thoughtfully, grinning as she blushed darkly. "Don't worry, I am not flirting with you," he added.

Nodding, she cleared her throat and rolled her shoulders, suddenly wishing that she could be anywhere else.

"So, please explain to me why my good mate over here had his shirt wide open."

"I wish that he could keep his shirt off all of the time!" the Fat Lady sighed loudly, causing Blaise to arch a brow as he began to calculate the situation.

"It's he such a gorgeous man?" Morgana said, leaning against the frame.

Faatima snuck back into the portrait and let out a cry of dismay as she saw Draco's almost completely buttoned up shirt. "No! Why would you want to cover such a lovely body?"

Blaise burst into a loud fit of laughter, having figured everything out, and was on the receiving end of various death-glares from Draco. He was quickly joined by Hermione as she giggled loudly.

"I hate you both," Draco grumbled, adjusting his clothes.

Blaise shrugged through his laughter and Hermione chuckled out the password, still laughing as the Fat Lady begrudgingly opened the door to them. Draco followed them in, glowering, trying his hardest to use his glare to make them pay.

He knew it wouldn't work, however; he, too, found the situation to be hilarious.

After quickly casting several silencing spells, Hermione and Draco had been swept into the sea of students filling the Gryffindor Common Room. Draco had made several remarks on how much red was being used and how it was rather painful to the eyes, while Hermione nudged him in the ribs multiple times, smiling to those that greeted them.

The Firewhiskey was placed on a nearby table of refreshments, alongside the Butterbeer and several signs telling underage students to stay away. Soon enough, Seamus and Dean swept down upon them, pulling them into the throng, talking and laughing, drinking and eating as they enjoyed the atmosphere. Hermione, while her first instinct was to find a quiet corner and read, couldn't help but admire the party; it was wild and boisterous, and yet, it was not too overwhelming. It eased into her, seeping slowly into her pores until she found herself smiling for no reason other than that she was content to be here.

Her foot would tap to the beat of the music that blared, her fingers drumming against her thigh as she listened to one of Dean's many Muggle-father-related stories. The poor man just couldn't get accustomed to having a wife and son as magical folk.

She had to admit, however, that the party just didn't have the exact same atmosphere as they used to; Fred and George weren't around giving out their joke toys, making people laugh, or doing the wildest things. There were, however, several items of reminiscence, reminding the students very much of the Weasley twins.

A few Weasley Wizard Wheezes' products lay about in various corners, from the fake wands to everlasting glitter bombs. The room was filled with students, from all Houses, and everybody was enjoying a good laugh here or there from one of the Weasley toys. The thumping music would occasionally be broken by loud sounds of explosions from the various items, followed by boisterous laughter that filled the air.

Some students were dancing, the tables that usually cluttered the space pushed aside to form the refreshment bar, the music beating out a perfect tempo for good, fast-paced dancing. On every hour, a large clock above the staircases would belt how the amount of time left until the midnight countdown, and everyone would avidly discuss just what they planned on doing, who they wanted to snog, and how much fun they would have in the coming year.

There was a sea of colour, every colour from every House blending together to form a rainbow of bodies, there were even several Slytherins who had either converted before the war or had never once held Purist ideals. Ravenclaws were talking to Slytherins, Hufflepuffs joking with Gryffindors, and there were even some Slytherins who dared take some steps towards forming relationships with Gryffindors. It was, Hermione had to admit, a miraculous sight.

Standing by the refreshment bar, popping a few carrots into her mouth, she listened as Seamus told her a story involving him, his mum, and a grocery market that had experienced very 'magical' events.

The scent of autumn reached her nose before he was even behind her; even though the room smelt of sweat, candies, cakes, and pine, she would always smell him above every other powerful scent.

"Hermione, I need to speak with you."

Turning slightly to glance up at him, she gave him a quizzical look, to which he responded by saying it was Head business. Say several excuses to Dean, she allowed Draco to lead her into a secluded corner where they could talk without being interrupted.

"What's the matter?"

He gave her a severe look, letting her know that she knew exactly what the problem was. The only thing is; she had no idea what he was talking about.

"We seem to be having Firewhiskey-related issues," he said, and she knew exactly what he was talking about now. "It appears that several students who have drunk the Firewhiskey claim that there is no alcohol in it. You wouldn't happen to know anything about it, would you?"

"How old were the students?" She had to be sure everything was working correctly.

"Every single one of them was underage. All students of age or older are getting happily drunk from it. The underage students want to know why there's no alcohol in theirs. Again, you wouldn't happen to know anything about it, would you?" He gave her a pointed look, arms crossed as he waited patiently for her response.

"THIRTY MINUTES!" the clock belted out, briefly interrupting her thoughts, causing her think of just how fast time was going by.

Smiling at him, she shrugged her shoulders and decided that smugness and arrogance might make it easier talking about it with him as opposed to feigning innocence. "I charmed the bottles."

"You what?!"

"Anti-alcohol spell," she replied with another shrug. "It was quite simple; I just needed to touch all of the bottles."

"And what does this spell do?" he asked after taking a deep breath.

"Every underage person who tries to drink the Firewhiskey will automatically cause it to be alcohol-free the second they touch the bottle."

"Why?"

Placing her hips on her hips, she gave him a stare in return. "You know very well that I just can't sit by and let students drink illegally! I refuse to get in trouble with McGonagall and possibly lose my Head status. So I charmed the bottles so there would be no harm done, everyone can have good, clean fun, and nobody will get in trouble."

"The whole point of drinking Firewhiskey is to get sloshed!" Draco replied sharply. "Besides, you promised to put up a sign!"

"And I put up the sign," she answered, gesturing to said object. "But I never promised not to tamper with the bottles; I just said that I wouldn't yell at anyone, take off House points, give detention, or ruin the party. Does it look like I've ruined the party for anyone?"

Draco looked around the room, watching the students laugh and dance, sing and talk, completely oblivious or ignoring the fact that the Firewhiskey lost all alcohol when touched by someone underage. There were a few grimaces here or there whenever someone took an swig of the alcohol-free beverage, but it occupied their minds for less than a second before someone came and diverted their attention.

"See?" Hermione said, waving to the room with her hand. "We stay out of trouble, they stay out of the trouble, and I won't feel guilty over anything."

Sighing heavily, he rubbed his face with his hand. He should have known that she would have found a loophole in their agreement and exploited it. Then again, he thought, she was the brightest witch in the world for a reason, and he should have known better than to try and force her to ignore underage drinking.

He hated to admit it, but he was still learning about her just as she was uneducated in things about him. It was only a matter of time before they truly understood one another.

"You are too smart for your own good," he said with a sigh, knowing that there was no point to fighting this. They turned and headed back into the party, aiming for the couches by the fireplace, where Seamus was engaged in a very avid conversation with a few fourth years, as well as several Ravenclaws and a gaggle of Hufflepuff girls.

Hermione simply shrugged and smiled over to Lisa Turpin, who sent her a wave from across the room where she stood with Mandy Brocklehurst and Zacharias Smith. Returning the wave, Hermione was pleased to find two empty seats on the couch, recently vacated by a Gryffindor third year couple.

Collapsing on the couch, Draco leaned over and summoned two large cups of punch, handing one to Hermione and downing the other in a few seconds flat.

"You never told me how you managed to cast it on all of the bottles," he said after a moment's peace, leaning in close so she could hear without needing to yell.

"When I was taking them out of the fridge," she replied with a shine in her eyes.

Blaise joined them moments later, leaning on the back of the couch to look down on them, and fiddled playfully with Draco's hair.

"Oy, no snogging," he said, keeping his voice low enough so that the others wouldn't hear. "I've had enough of finding you two in weird positions as it is."

Hermione blushed brightly, focusing intently on her punch, while Draco grinned broadly.

"It's not my fault that you have horrible timing," the blond replied.

"I'm not the one who took off my shirt in order to get into the Gryffindor Common Room," Blaise pointed out, unable to hide his grin.

"Oh, sod off," Draco snapped. "Hermione told me to do it."

The man's grin widened and he looked almost scary as he stared at Hermione, who was trying her hardest to think about the punch and will the scary-looking Slytherin away.

"Oh, Hermione! I'm so proud of you!" Blaise cried, lifting an arm for emphasis. "You are becoming more and more like a Slytherin! How wonderful! Now tell me, what exactly did you say so that the prat took off his shirt?"

"I believe you already told me I'm growing more and more like a Slytherin," she replied, still staring at the punch, her cheeks as red as a Weasley family member's hair.

"Quite right," Blaise replied, leaning closer. "But, please, tell me how you got him to take off his shirt; it might come in handy."

Sighing softly, she took a drink, hoping that the cool beverage would lower the temperature of her flaming face. "I told him that it would distract the Fat Lady."

"Brilliant!" Blaise cried as Draco shoved his face into his palm. "And it worked wonderfully! Oh, Draco has some delicious, rippling abs, does he not? I suppose that's what made those lovely ladies so excited."

"Oy, Blaise, sod off or I'll remind the others of our initiation," Draco threatened as the clock shouted that it was ten-to midnight.

As opposed to sobering, Blaise's expression remained the exact same. "They've already reminded me," he replied, gesturing to where Dean sat, most definitely flirting with a Ravenclaw sixth year named Elyssa. "Dean told me that we would be initiated after midnight."

"I'm looking forward to it," Draco said sarcastically, getting up. "I'm hungry."

Hermione would have snapped at him if it weren't for the fact that her stomach was grumbling rather loudly and uncomfortably. Nodding, as though to state that she, too, was hungry, she got to her feet and followed him out of the maze of couches and students.

Blaise trailed behind, watching the students around them, enjoying the party atmosphere.

"I suppose it's safe to assume," he began as they reached the refreshment table, "that you two will not be kissing at midnight."

"Not unless there is some situation that we can't get out of unless we kiss," Hermione replied, placing several pieces of cheese on a plate.

Draco nodded, his mouth too full to speak coherently.

"Well then," Blaise said, grabbing a chip and munching on it, "I suppose, just to spite you, my dearest Drakey, I might steal a kiss from Miss Granger."

"No!"

"What?"

"WHY?!"

He laughed at their comical reactions, watching as Hermione's face reddened with embarrassment and Draco's flooded with obvious envy and irritation. He continued to laugh as their reactions slowly changed from annoyance to perplexity.

"What's the matter with you, mate?" Draco asked, food forgotten about.

"I just wanted to see how you would react," Blaise laughed. "So wonderful…I thought you would kill me!"

"ONE MINUTE!"

"Already?" Hermione asked, pushing her plate aside, watching as a tray magically appeared on an open spot, several empty glasses popping into place on top of it, as other trays of the same sort appeared beside it.

Draco eyed her as she stared at the two bottles of champagne that appeared in the air and began filling every glass on the table. "It's tradition, Hermione," he said before she could glare. "One glass will not hurt anyone; parents, Muggle and wizard alike, always give out champagne on New Year's."

Blaise looked closer at the label and grimaced. "Ugh, it's not even elf made, and it's recent. It's not going to be as good as the ones mum has in the stores."

"It's from the school, what do you expect?" Draco replied, putting his plate down as they neared the thirty second mark.

Blaise suddenly grinned and reached over to pull Hermione to him. "Oh, mi cara, please, give me a delicious little kiss when that clock strikes midnight."

Just as she was bracing herself to pull back against his hold, she found an invisible barrier keeping her held in place. Blaise let out a quiet curse and tried to tug her over again, disappointment clearly written on his face when he discovered he could not pull her any closer. Turning his gaze to Draco, he arched a brow and asked; "Are you performing some shield spell on her?"

Clearly confused, both at the question and the fact that Hermione could not move more than two feet away from him, he shook his head. "No, I didn't do anything; I was just going to yank her back."

"Try to move away from her," Blaise said suddenly.

Draco frowned at his friend but complied, turning around to try and walk a few feet away. He managed to move about a foot before his body was slammed into an invisible wall. "Bloody hell, what is that?"

When Hermione let out a rather loud squeak, blocking out the clock as it began to countdown the last twenty seconds of 2008, Draco spun around, expecting to find some prankster keeping a shield in place around the duo. Instead, he found Hermione's eyes fixed on the ceiling, all blood drained from her face as Blaise stood on the side, torn between fits of laughter and serious looks.

Following Hermione's gaze, his eyes fell on a green plant with bright red berries hanging from the ceiling, right above where they stood.

"Bloody hell! Where did they get mistletoe?"

"What are we going to do?" Hermione cried, clearly torn at the thought of possibly outing their relationship before she had a chance to tell her friends about it. "We can't snog in front of everyone."

"And we can't spend the rest of the night standing here," Draco pointed out, clearly torn between the giddy thought that he could kiss his Hermione and the idea that it just might ruin her friendships.

"Midnight," she thought quickly as the clock reached the final ten seconds, every student in the room stopping to shout down the numbers.

"We can kiss and make excuses," he added, mind working on overdrive for a possible solution that everyone would understand.

"No one will be the wiser," she said, moving closer to him, gently placing her hands on his chest.

"FIVE!"

"Besides, they will be too focused on other stuff to look at us," he added, lifting his hands to cup her face.

"FOUR!"

"I won't do any harm; we have no choice." Their breath mingled, mouths moving closer.

"THREE!"

"Are you sure about this?" He watched her eyes flutter shut, loving the way her lashes shadowed her cheeks.

"TWO!"

"If anyone complains, we just blame it on the mistletoe," she finished.

"ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

Their lips met, soft and perfect, like two puzzle pieces coming together as the New Year set in. They were surrounded by noise and cries, shouting and laughter, and the sounds in the room became mixed together, one loud noise that they were quickly able to push away as their lips moved against one another. The colours, the brilliant hues that filled the room, swirled in their vision, a rainbow vortex as his tongue dared to slip past her lips for just one little taste of heaven. Every smell was shoved out and they enveloped each other in their scents, drinking them in as they tasted the other, both a mixture of cheeses, Butterbeer, and gingerbread, each with their own personal flavour that only added to their hunger for one another. His was mint, a peppermint of sorts that made her think of Christmas festivities and his gum, and she always tasted like apples, soft and crisp that made his mouth water even more for a taste of her.

So it was, as the clock struck twelve and the oblivious students around screamed and kissed one another's cheeks, as Blaise went over and gave Dean and Seamus brotherly hugs, that apples met mint in a kiss that encompassed more love than anyone could ever understand.

She pulled away reluctantly, her heart hammering in her ribs, desire rearing its head as she fought back its pull, and she half-opened her eyes, watching the way his face flushed, the way his lips parted take in as much air as possible. She loved the way his lips looked so much softer, so much redder, after they kissed. She loved the way his eyes always stayed shut for a little bit longer, as though he wanted to remain in the moment for as long as possible before returning to reality.

Leaning up, she placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, moving closer to his ear to whisper softly, "Happy New Year."

His eyes slowly opened, and he grinned down at her, wanting to kiss for the rest of his life, and ran a hand through her unbelievably soft hair. "Happy New Year."

"Oy! Check this out!"

Their heads spun, narrowly missing one another's as a student shouted and pointed to them, hand moving from their bodies to the mistletoe and back, and they watched with horror as every student in the room turned to gawk.

Taking in deep breaths, the duo glanced at one another before setting their jaws. They would deal with everything when it was the time and both knew that now was not the time. Excuses ready, they pulled away, and began to say as many as possible to protect their love.

They knew, however, that when the time came, excuses would not be enough. For now, though, they would be more than sufficient.

There we go, done this one. Sorry it took a while, I sort of spent Sunday doing heroic dungeons on WoW and I've also been studying for midterms and writing essays. Why do I have something due every week?! Ugh, so lame.

I'm going to try and get the next chapter up as soon as possible. It may take a while, but I'll do my best.

Review overview:

Love/adoration = always, always, always appreciated. It makes me write faster!

Flames = blah, you suck. Go ahead and flame it you want, I will show them to Hermione and she will hex you and then go off and shag Draco senseless!!!

Critical criticism/editing = very much appreciate and encouraged. I always want to know what I could do to improve my writing, and it doesn't hurt to have another set of eyes point out little mistakes I've made.

Thank you for reading!