A/N: What with the charmed mistletoe stories popping up everywhere, I wondered how they got the plants up there...also haven't been any good DMRW slashies lately. Also i am going to have no internet access for a week and I wanted to crank something out for you all to tide you over until I get back.
Speaking of which, I have to get up in less than four hours to catch the plane...I ought to get some sleep...night night, sweet dreams!
WARNING: Slash, swearing, Christmas themes. :P
"Honestly, boys! Can't you tell he's just saying that to get at you?" Hermione hissed, a restraining grip on either boy's arm. The trio glared at Draco Malfoy's retreating back and at the small gaggle of curious onlookers. Ignoring the gawkers, she gave Harry's sleeve a tug. "Run back to the Tower and get your essay, Harry. He's not worth detention for fighting and late homework."
With great reluctance, Harry turned and stormed back to Gryffindor Tower as Hermione had instructed. Hermione inhaled deeply and let it out in a huff. Now to keep Ron from doing anything rash.
"Ron," she started calmly, "we'd better get to Herbology. You know Sprout's got the Christmas project planned; we don't want to miss that, right?" she finished brightly.
Ron glowered at her.
"How can you act like everything's bloody fine! Did you not hear what he just said about me and Harry?!" he snarled.
"Yes, Ron, I did hear what he said, and I know it's absurd and so do you and so does Harry, but," she said out of the corner of her mouth, "you're rather making a scene and that isn't helping your position at all."
"But—" he began, furious.
"Let's get off to Herbology, Ron," Hermione said firmly. She grabbed his arm and all but dragged him down the corridor.
"My goodness!" Hannah Abbot exclaimed as soon as Ron and Hermione were out of hearing range. "Ernie, d'you think Malfoy was telling the truth? That Harry Potter and that Weasley boy are together?"
"You know, I'm not actually sure…they are both on the Quidditch team, though," Ernie pointed out. Several others nodded.
"We all know what they say about Quidditch players," proclaimed a seventh year Ravenclaw.
"Malfoy plays Quidditch too, though," Hannah added.
"What exactly d'you think he meant when he said that about last week?"
"What, that Ron ought to have better taste than Potter, since Ron's pureblood?"
"No, no, when he was talking about the garlic—"
"Yes, his phrasing was quite odd, wasn't it…"
"Oh, I thought you were talking about when Ron told Malfoy he'd rather date Malfoy than Potter…"
"Ooh, yeah, I'd forgotten about that, Justin! And then Malfoy got that look on his face—"
"Yes, and Ron looked so embarrassed, like he wanted to crawl under a rock and die—"
"And then Harry didn't notice at all and said—"
Professor Argyle stuck his head into the hallway.
"Are you lot coming to class today, or should you rather skip this lesson which will most certainly be on the massive test I am giving before you go off for the holidays this week?"
The Semi-Ancient Runes class blanched and hurried in.
"This especial specimen of mistletoe / Can cause uncareful scholars Christmas woe…"
"Professor Sprout is going rather heavy on the alliterative rhymed verse," Hermione noted.
Ron blushed furiously.
"Look, I said I was sorry about trying to hex Malfoy before class. I didn't think Sprout would come out of the back storeroom just then."
"All I will say is that for once I'm glad you mixed up your hexes. You're very lucky she's only making you write an essay. Now shut up. I think she's saying something important."
"What spell were you trying to do?" Harry whispered, leaning behind Hermione to talk with Ron.
"FrednGeorge told me it's supposed to…er…actually, I don't remember what it does. They said something about Shakespeare or something. Maybe it was supposed to make Rosaline fall on you or something." Ron shrugged. "Whatever. Ow! Bloody hell, woman, what was that for? OW! Hermione, stop elbowing me! That bloody hurts!"
"Listen, you'll miss what she's saying! And Ron, don't call me 'woman' if you value your wand."
"I'm listening, I'm listening! I can't understand a damn thing she's saying!" Ron sulked.
"Your own fault," Hermione stated primly. "She's been saying that these are special kinds of mistletoe. They try to grab people and if they catch you they won't let you go until you kiss the other person. Now she's listing rhymed precautions so you and your partner don't get grabbed while you're hanging these up around the school."
"Why do we have to do this?" Harry demanded. "Why not get the house elves to?"
Hermione gritted her teeth.
"Well," she ground out, "aside from the fact that slave labor is disgusting, unjust, and against the holiday spirit, I think it's mainly Sprout taking her well-earned revenge on our class for the Blue-Eyed Garlic incident last week."
"Ahh." The boys nodded wisely.
The trio shared a look as they remembered the class in which the magical garlic had been let loose. Blue-Eyed Garlic was one of the principle ingredients in love potions and concoctions of that ilk. Unless planted in iron- and lead-laced soil, the garlic levitated. It had a pervasive scent and one whiff caused a person to fall into a deep and angsty infatuation (lasting about twenty minutes) with the next person they saw.
The day the garlic had gotten loose, all the windows in the castle were open; it had been an unusually warm day for so late in November. Thus had the levitating garlic been distributed throughout the entire castle by the fine breeze wafting through the halls.
Much poorly-metered, depressing poetry had been written. The house elves were still finding some scattered in corners of the library.
With more rhymed verse, Professor Sprout tripled people up. Ron raised a hand.
"Er, Professor? Why can't we just be paired up?"
"If you'd been listening," Hermione hissed, elbowing him again, "it's so that if two of you get trapped the third person can cast the counter-charm to get you out so you won't have to kiss. The mistletoe only captures two people at a time."
"Counter-charm?" Harry blinked.
"Why do we have this mad mistletoe in the first place?" Ron groaned.
"Dumbledore, most likely."
Professor Sprout continued tripling people up. Ron and Harry heard their names called and high-fived.
"Good thing we're with you, eh, Hermione?" Harry grinned. "Now we'll have someone who actually knows the counter-charm!"
"Harry, you and Ron are with Draco. I'm with Pansy and Lavender," Hermione said patiently. "Please try to make it through this one class without having one of you three sent to the Hospital Wing."
"Malfoy, get us OUT!" Harry roared, struggling in vain against the mistletoe. Ron was swearing like an Auror as he tried to work an arm free to get at his wand.
Draco Malfoy was on the floor laughing so hard his pale cheeks were flushed a festive red. His hysterics subsided and he chanced another look at the two irate Gryffindors.
Draco clutched his aching sides as his laughter redoubled.
Ron and Harry were not quite as amused.
"I hate to say it, mate, but…" Ron trailed off.
"Doesn't look as though we'll be getting any help from him," Ron continued.
"It's just to get us out of the mistletoe, though."
"Ron, you don't think he actually believes that we're…you know…" Harry grimaced, leaving his sentence unfinished.
"Of course not!" Ron scoffed. "He couldn't possibly."
"I mean, just the thought…ew." Harry made a face.
"I know. It'd be like kissing Charlie or something."
"Well, I suppose we'd better get this over with…"
"This will never, ever be spoken of again. Ever."
When Draco finally ceased laughing and was able to risk a glance up, the two boys were still trapped by the mistletoe.
"What, you two like the excuse for kissing so much you got yourselves caught again?"
"We didn't," Harry growled.
"We're still stuck from the first time," Ron muttered darkly. Draco raised an eyebrow.
"You mean…you won't kiss, even to get out of this?" he asked skeptically.
"STOP SAYING THAT!" They both yelled, shuddering in disgust.
"Now cast the damn counter-charm," Ron snarled.
"Only for you, Weasel." Draco flicked his wand at the pair. A red-and-green jet of light show out and a moment later Ron and Harry were freed.
"Wha—you're just letting us go…?" Harry asked, incredulous.
"Yes, Pothead. 'Tis the season, is it not?" Draco responded. He clasped his hands and fluttered his lashes angelically at them. Ron snorted.
"Right. Whatever. Let's finish hanging this one before class finishes," he grumbled.
"We have a double Herbology period, don't we?" Harry said doubtfully.
"Yes, O Observant Wonder Boy, we do. Weasel just wants to see the Semi-Ancient Runes snobs get some mortifying Christmas cheer. I say we hit the Divination Tower next," Draco suggested.
"Do you always have to be such a prick?" Ron snapped. "Why can't you just leave us alone?"
"Aw, defending your boyfriend. How adorable."
"We're not dating! Stop saying stuff like that!" Ron shouted.
"You might as well be. You trail Potter around like a lovesick puppy."
"NO, I DON'T!"
"Yes, Weasel, I'm afraid you do. I'm quite surprised it's taken this long for you two to realize it."
"Harry's been dating Chang! He's straight!"
"He got dumped last year, Weasel. You of all people should know that. So it's a one-way thing, is it?"
"You like Pothead but he doesn't like you back? You'll get over him in time, I'm sure. Really, Ronniekins. You can do so much better. I had thought you had slightly better taste."
"I swear, Malfoy, you are going to be in the Hospital Wing until Easter!" Ron surged forward.
"Ron, don't--!" Harry called…too late. Ron was once again caught by the mistletoe.
Draco strutted up to Ron.
"Eager, aren't you? Should I push Potter in so you two can snog with a good excuse?" Draco snickered. He made to go up to Harry, but found he was trapped as well.
"BLOODY, BUGGERY HELL! WHAT DID YOU HAE TO GO AND DO THAT FOR?!" Ron bellowed. "DAMNATION AND SODOMY! YOU UTTER WANKER!"
"Why, thank you for the offer, Weasley, but I think we should get away from this damned mistletoe and out of the public corridor first. You, Potter, stop giggling like a first year and make yourself useful."
"I don't know the counter-charm."
"Idiot. Just say 'Amor non fidelis' and flick your wand like you're casting a levitating charm."
"What do you mean you've not got your wand, Potter?!" Malfoy wailed. "You're joking, right?"
"I think it's up in the T-tower. I must've left it there when I was getting my—my essay. I could run and g-get it--" Harry stammered, trying very hard to keep from laughing.
"Well, run!" Ron shouted. "I don't want to be seen like this when all the classes get out!"
"Oh good god, I hadn't thought of that…" Malfoy groaned
Giggling uncontrollably, Harry turned and stumbled in the direction of Gryffindor Tower.
Harry made it back with two minutes to spare before classes were let out. To his utter amazement, he rounded the corner to see his best friend and second-worst enemy heatedly snogging as if Christmas depended upon it.
The most interesting thing, his shell-shocked brain noted, was that with the way Draco was shoved up against the wall, the boys were well out of range of the mistletoe…
The Semi-Ancient Runes class had their noses shoved up against the window in the door.
"You owe me three Sickles," the seventh year Ravenclaw informed Justin smugly.