a/n: Just a little Christmas one-shot for everyone! Hope you enjoy! Drop a review if you're so inclined!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Period.


If Hermione Granger saw another sprig of mistletoe between now and Christmas, she was going to light it on fire. The Muggle way. Because the satisfaction would just be that much better. Especially if it was this particular troublemaker; it had been following her around for three days, trying to trap her with her one time worst enemy: Draco Malfoy.

She didn't understand why. Her only theory was that it was someone's (a fairly powerful someone, as she'd been unable to break or alter the charms that forced it to follow her) idea of a joke. Well, she thought with a huff, it wasn't funny. It was irritating. And not in the correct spirit of Christmas.

Quite simply, she was at her wit's end and had only one logical course of action left to try. She had to talk to Draco. Once upon a time, the very thought would have given her a full body rash, but things had changed after the war had ended. He wasn't the spoiled child that he once had been. He was now a well rounded man, helping to make the Malfoy name something to be proud of again.

He'd long ago made his peace with her and apologized multiple times for his previous behavior. And she had been able to tell that he'd meant it. So they'd buried the hatchet, something that ended up being crucial to both of them as they were soon partnered together in the Auror office.

So seeking him out for advice wasn't nearly as strange as it might have been years ago. Besides, he was the only logical choice as the mistletoe had clearly chosen him as well. It involved both of them.

Decision made, she nodded sharply, hissed at the floating piece of Christmas and took off.

Draco had been enjoying the last few weeks leading up to Christmas, but he was getting tired of waiting. After working closely with her for the last several years, he thought he knew how long her patience would last. It turned out that he had underestimated her. Again. He had thought she'd be charging into their shared office space days ago.

But today was as good of a day as any for the fireworks he was expecting.

"Do you have any idea- no! Do not come over here!"

"What are you on about now, Granger?" He has stopped halfway to her at her shout.

"This... this fucking mistletoe! Surely you've noticed that it's been following us about?"

He shrugged. "I suppose. What's the big deal? It's just some enchanted mistletoe. Common enough this time of year. Harmless."

He watched as she prepared to explode. He'd seen it enough times by now to recognize the warning signs; sputtering (Hermione Granger did not sputter), the trembling, the growls that followed the sputtering, and finally the way her entire body seemed to flush with anger. It was truly something to behold.

"Harmless?! Are you out of your fucking mind?! I haven't been able to get a single thing done in weeks! All it does is poke and prod me in your direction! And then it just disappears! As if nothing ever happened!"

"Calm down, Granger. I'm sure it's just a harmless prank," he assured her, fighting hard to keep a straight face.

"There's that word again. Harmless. Maybe it's harmless for you, but it's actually following me home and forcing me to stand outside your door at night before it'll leave me alone!" Her honeyed eyes narrowed into slits. "And why aren't you concerned that it's also targeted you?"

He sighed. For someone so smart, she was ridiculously stupid sometimes. "Did you ever think that if you gave it what it is wants, it would leave you be?"

"And what might it want? It seems to be satisfied with watching me make an ass out of myself in front of you!"

That was when Draco decided that perhaps actions really did speak louder than words. Before she could say anything else, he closed the distance between them in three sweeping steps and pulled her into his body. She protested for approximately three seconds; the time in which it took for Draco to cover her lips with his own. And then there was blissful silence.

And then it wasn't so silent as she buried her hands in his hair, a small mewl falling from her now occupied lips. His hair was so soft between her fingers. Whatever she had expected his hair to feel like, it wasn't this. And then he tipped her head back and deepened the kiss. After that, there was no thinking.

With one hand holding her hips and the other tugging on the chestnut strands at the nape of her neck, he barely registered the small pop that signaled the disappearance of the mistletoe. If he wasn't so otherwise (and happily) engaged, he would have smirked in triumph.

Sometimes, you just have to outsmart your target to make them see things your way.