Mistletoe Changes Everything by Hermiones Twin

Rating: G
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 23/12/2004
Last Updated: 23/12/2004
Status: Completed

Christmas Eve was always a joyous time of year for any Gryffindor who remained at Hogwarts for
the holidays. Everyone in the castle was happy and laughing…everyone save one. See how a little
mistletoe can brighten Harry's Christmas.




1. Mistletoe Changes Everything
-------------------------------



**Disclaimer:** I own nothing that has any relation to Harry Potter. After all, if I did, I
would be able to come up with a much better plot and title. But yes, everything belongs to J.K.
Rowling.

**Author's Note:** Happy Holidays everyone! I hope you enjoy this little fic. It's a
gift for my good friend Kalie. Merry Christmas Kalie! Really big thanks to Courtney for betaing
this on such sort notice. I owe you (and I have already paid you back)!

*Mistletoe Changes Everything*

Christmas Eve was always a joyous time of year for any Gryffindor who remained at Hogwarts for
the holidays. Most of the students said that everyone ought to try it at least once to experience
how truly magical the old castle felt during the holidays. That year in particular was truly
spectacular. The decorations were wonderful. The Christmas trees in the Great Hall were trimmed to
perfection, the ornaments gleaming. Garland and holly hung nearly everywhere and fairies flew
around the castle, bright as can be. And for the unwary, mistletoe hung from the ceiling, waiting
for two people to walk under it, and then magically holding them until they pecked each other at
least on the cheek.

Everyone in the castle was happy and laughing…everyone save one. Harry Potter was not happy. He
was in his sixth year and during this remarkable time of year the only person Harry could think of
was his godfather, Sirius. Spending his last Christmas at Grimmauld Place with Sirius was the best
Christmas he had ever had, but now he would never be able to experience that again. Sirius was
gone. His family was gone.

He stared out of the window in his dormitory, a dormitory he was sharing with only Ron. The
Weasleys and Hermione had decided to stay and Harry didn't know why. He had told them to go
back to their families for the holidays and that he would be alright staying at Hogwarts by
himself.

“Harry, we can't leave you here,” Ron had protested. “Let me go owl Mum…I know she'll
let you come.”

But Harry had insisted that he did not want to leave Hogwarts and out of loyalty, Ron, Hermione,
and Ginny had remained to be with him. It pained Harry to know that he was taking them away from
their families. Two days prior to the students leaving, Harry actually had an argument with
Hermione on the subject.

“You should really go and see your Mum and Dad,” Harry had told her. “You don't get to see
them enough.”

“I get to see them all during the summer, Harry,” Hermione retorted.

“But it's Christmas,” Harry said, sighing.

“I've skipped Christmas with my parents before and you never said a word about it,” Hermione
reminded him.

“Yeah, but not this year! You should be with them! You're their daughter, after all! They
miss you! You should hang on to them for as long as possible! Remind them how much they mean to you
in case you—you—”

“Harry, they're fine—”

“How do you know that?” he shot back. “How do you know something's not wrong? When was the
last time you talked to them?”

“I sent them a letter last week,” Hermione told him calmly, “and I got their letter back
yesterday. Everything's fine. They don't need me right now, Harry—you do.”

Harry had stared at her, wide-eyed for a moment, before walking away. He had wanted to ask her
what she had meant, but instead he had decided to run away and stay away.

He sighed as he stared out of the window. He could see Ron and Ginny down on the grounds
building a snowman. Hermione was not with them. He had not spoken to her since their argument,
although Hermione had tried, but Harry had shut her out, walking away whenever she opened her mouth
to speak. He was treating her horribly, something she didn't deserve, and he felt like an arse
for doing so.

He turned and looked at the closed dormitory door. Perhaps it was time to go back and patch
things up with Hermione. It was Christmas Eve, after all. But if she wasn't with Ron and Ginny,
where was she? Harry thought for a moment. She was probably in the library, studying for her
N.E.W.T.s, even though they were still a year away. The girl certainly liked to be prepared.

He inhaled sharply, thinking about what Hermione had last said to him. *“They don't need
me right now, Harry—you do.”* What did she mean by that? How did he need her? How could she
possibly know if he needed her when he didn't know himself? Maybe seeing her wasn't such a
good idea.

*No*, his mind said sharply. *She's your friend and you must go talk to her. You
can't lose her. You* do *need her.*

Harry cursed softly. His mind—his conscience—was always speaking to him in Hermione's voice,
nagging him or making him think logically. It was Hermione's voice that was urging him to go
speak to the owner of that voice now.

Steeling his resolve, he pulled open the door and walked down the spiral stairs to the common
room, where he found Colin and Dennis Creevey playing Exploding Snap at one of the corner tables.
When Colin saw him, he jumped up and was in front of Harry so fast, Harry was sure that Colin had
broken some sort of record.

“Hiya Harry! How are you? Ready for Christmas tomorrow? Dennis and I are so happy to be staying
this year—everyone says you've got to do it at least once and as I've got O.W.L.s this year
I figured it would be a good excuse for Mum to let us stay and—” He stopped when Harry held up his
hand.

“Have you seen Hermione?” Harry asked him.

“I saw her leave with Ron and Ginny,” Colin replied. “She's not with them?”

“No, she's not,” Harry replied.

“I heard her say that she was going to the library,” Dennis piped in, jumping to Colin's
side.

*I know her too well*, Harry thought, amusement somehow working its way through his body.
“Thanks,” he murmured and brushed past them, heading towards the portrait hole.

“Oh, Harry, wait!” Colin called. Harry stopped and turned, casting a curious and slightly
annoyed glance at him. “I thought you'd like these,” Colin said, holding out an envelope for
Harry. “Consider it a Christmas present.”

Harry took the envelope and opened it up to reveal two photos, one of him, Ron, and Hermione
walking to class and then just one of him and Hermione sitting by the fireplace, talking softly. He
felt a small tug at his heart as he gazed down at the picture of himself and Hermione…as Hermione
leaned over with a smile on her face and placed her hand over his…

“Thanks, Colin,” he said quietly and tucked the photos away into a pocket in his robes.

“You're welcome,” Colin replied. “Now go find her.”

Harry nodded, staring at Colin for a moment longer before turning and heading out, hoping to
catch Hermione in the library before she decided to stop studying and join Ron and Ginny outside.
He really wanted to talk to her alone.

When he reached the library doors, he paused and inhaled deeply before pulling them open and
exhaling, glancing around the large room filled with books, tables, and shelves for any sign of his
bushy haired friend. He walked inside and made his way down the aisles, searching. Finally, he
found her at one of the tables at the back of the library, packing away her schoolbooks into her
bag. He stared at her for a moment before quietly clearing his throat.

She jumped, startled. “Harry!” she exclaimed and then cringing, obviously remembering that she
was in a library. “What are you doing here?” she asked, lowering her voice.

“I wanted to talk to you,” Harry murmured, frowning.

“Sure—sit down,” she said, gesturing to one of the chairs.

“No—er—can we take a walk?”

“Yes, if you'd like.”

“Thanks,” he murmured as Hermione hefted her bag over her shoulder and they took off, heading
down the corridor.

“What do you want to talk about?” Hermione asked him.

“I wanted to apologize for acting like a prat lately. I appreciate you, Ron, and Ginny staying
here with me, even though I don't understand why,” he said.

“You didn't want to go to the Burrow for the holidays and we weren't about to leave you
here all alone,” she said gently. “No one deserves to be alone during Christmas.”

“Sirius almost spent his last Christmas alone,” Harry said sharply. “If Mr. Weasley hadn't
been attacked, we wouldn't have gone.”

“But he didn't spend it alone,” she reminded him. “You were there and that meant the world
to him.”

“Is that why you're here? Because you think it will mean the world to me?”

Hermione halted and glared at him. “Do you think I pity you?” she countered. “I feel just as bad
about Sirius dying, so don't act like you're the only one. I'm here because I
*want* to. I don't want to go home and see my parents—I'll see them during the Easter
holiday. I need to be here, Harry, with you.”

“Why?”

“I—” she cut herself off, turning away from him. With a heavy sigh, she took a step forward to
continue walking, but found herself flung back, Harry catching her before she tumbled over. “What
on earth…” She looked up and groaned. “Oh no.”

Harry looked up and groaned too. Right above them was a small clump of mistletoe. He cursed
softly. “Alright, fine. All I have to do is kiss you on the cheek and we're on our way,” he
said, helping Hermione right herself.

“Er—yeah,” she murmured, glancing up at the mistletoe.

Harry grimaced and leaned forward slowly. Suddenly, he felt Hermione's hands reach up and
grab both sides of his face, pulling him down into a searing kiss. His brain fogged over and his
instincts took control. He placed his hands on her waist and pulled her closer, deepening the kiss.
Then, as quick as it began, it ended, Hermione pulling back, completely flushed.

Before Harry could speak a coherent sentence, Hermione stepped back and smiled. “We're
free,” she announced happily.

Harry stepped out from under it and looked at Hermione wildly. “What—what possessed you to do
that?”

At that, Hermione blushed. “Well, you had asked me why I needed to be with you here during the
holidays, right?” Her face went brighter still. “Well—er—I sort of…Ifancyyou,” she blurted.

Harry blinked. “Come again?”

She gulped. Harry had never seen her look so nervous. She inhaled sharply—“I fancy you,” she
repeated, “and I have since the end of fourth year, but I know you don't feel the same and
that's okay, but it's about time you knew and now I don't have to carry around this
burden of a secret anymore because you know and—” She stopped abruptly when Harry placed a gentle
finger on her lips.

“I didn't know you had feelings for me,” Harry said softly. When the words had escaped past
her lips he had felt something inside of him explode and a sudden surge of happiness and…something
else…fill him. He felt like kissing her again and he did, letting his new feelings envelop him.
What was this new feeling? It was strong, that was for certain, and it made him feel light on his
feet. His heart told him he would only get that feeling around Hermione. It was simply
incredible.

When they broke apart, he took her hand in his. “You were right when you said I needed you—I do.
Now I'd very much like to talk about us.”

“Us?”

Harry nodded and grinned. “Do you honestly think I'm going to let such a wonderful girl who
has just confessed that she fancies me go?”

She blushed again. “You don't have to act this way for my expense.”

Harry felt like he had been sucker punched. “Hermione, right now I feel that I should get my
eyes checked because only now do I see what I should have seen a long time ago, what has been in
front of me for six years. I feel like a fool for not seeing *you.*”

A ghost of a smile appeared on Hermione's face. “I wouldn't call you a fool. Daft,
maybe, but not a fool.”

He laughed, the first genuine laugh since that June. “Come on, let's go find some place more
comfortable to talk, and maybe snog.”


Hermione giggled as they turned and headed back towards Gryffindor Tower, Harry's arm around
her shoulder. “Snog? What happened to the brooding Harry of ten minutes ago?”

“The mistletoe killed him.”

“Thank God!” she said as they turned a corner, laughing.

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