A Bewitched Shrub
"...and then he swerved, right? He missed the Quaffle by inches – the Cannons only lost the bloody match by ten points. Ten points, Harry! If only he'd caught it, they would have had a chance. The Cannons have had the worst luck ever since, finishing bottom of the league every year, and for the love of Merlin, can't you shut that bloody thing up?"
"I'm trying," Harry said exasperatedly, struggling to close his bag around the small green thing that was now wailing loudly, trying to be heard over the chatter of the Great Hall during lunchtime.
"Well, couldn't you just leave it upstairs in your trunk?" Ron asked, watching with some amusement as Harry nearly zipped his finger in his bag, still fighting against the plant.
"I've tried," Harry growled. "It just keeps wailing and following me around somehow." After a moment, however, he pulled the zip shut, then held up his arms in triumph.
"Have a holly jolly Christmas..." the mistletoe screeched, still clearly audible from inside Harry's bag. Harry lowered his arms to place his head in his hands. The mistletoe continued to shriek off-key holiday tunes at him as he gave a low growl of annoyance. Ron, however, looking thoroughly entertained, sniggered loudly. Without looking, Harry threw a buttered roll at him. It missed by an inch, smacking into a small first year girl, who, upon seeing Ron now shamelessly roaring with laughter, began to sniff loudly, clearly on the verge of tears.
"No!" Harry called as she stood up and began to walk away, "I didn't mean to –"
"–kiss her once for me!" the mistletoe wailed, louder than ever, effectively drowning out Harry's attempted apologies as the girl left the Great Hall as quickly as possible, wiping her tears away as she went.
Harry turned to glare at Ron, who was, like the girl, wiping away tears from his eyes. Harry shoved him, perhaps a little harder than necessary.
"Come on," he sighed resignedly, standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder. "We've got to get to class."
"Harry, have you tried Silencing charms?" asked Hermione irritably, crossing out another line on her Transfiguration homework and glaring at the spot above Harry's head where the mistletoe hung lazily.
"Of course I have," Harry replied defensively. "That was the first thing I tried." Despite his answer, Hermione pointed her wand at the plant, a determined look on her face.
"Silencio!" she said firmly. The mistletoe was quiet for a split-second before –
"I'll be home for Christmas," the mistletoe crooned mournfully. It had, as if out of defiance, become even louder.
"Why is the blasted thing even following you around?" Ron asked. He had, thankfully, stopped laughing. Harry was pleased to see the annoyed expression on his best friend's face – it had, after all, not been funny after the first ten minutes.
"It's obvious, isn't it?" Hermione snapped, her bad mood growing worse. She crumpled up the parchment she had been writing on and threw it into the fire. "It's all thanks to your brothers. It's their Enchanted Mistletoe; they no doubt think it's funny to have a distraction in the middle of all of our classes."
"When will it wear off?" Harry demanded, groaning as the mistletoe sang the first few notes of Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow.
Hermione shrugged. "I have no idea," she said, standing and gathering her things. Harry figured she was going to the girls' dormitory, where she would be able to do her homework in peace.
"Great," said Harry angrily. "Just great. I'm going to bed."
When he entered the dormitory, however, irritated voices met his ears. "Harry," Dean complained, at the same time as Seamus threw a pillow at Harry's head and shouted, "Oi, Potter! We're trying to sleep here!"
Harry stormed back down the stairs to the sound of Jingle Bells being shouted into his ears. "Clear off," he snarled at two third years on the couch. Their eyes widened in alarm and they scurried away to sit on the opposite side of the common room. Harry fell face-first onto the couch and, trying desperately to ignore the singing, fell asleep.
By the next day, Harry's eye had begun to twitch. Most of the Gryffindors recognized this as a warning sign and they stayed a good distance from him at all times. The Slytherins, however, seemed to think the charmed plant was absolutely hilarious, as well as the effect it was having on Harry. They guffawed and giggled all through Care of Magical Creatures, and they made rude jokes during Defense Against the Dark Arts. The only Slytherin who didn't seem to be enjoying himself was Draco Malfoy – on the contrary, he looked just as annoyed by the holiday songs as Harry felt.
By the time the afternoon break finally rolled around, Harry was incredibly grateful to get away from the Slytherins. Ron, however, dampened his spirits by reminding him that they still had Potions in an hour and they would have to see the Slytherins again. Harry began feeling anxious for a different reason now.
"Snape's going to kill me," he moaned, dropping his head into his hands again.
"Do you hear what I hear‽" the mistletoe bellowed.
"I doubt he'd do something as drastic as -"
"Really, Ron?" Harry said skeptically. "You think Snape's going to be happy about a singing plant interrupting his lesson, do you?"
"Good point," said Ron, looking perfectly cheerful. "You're right; he's going to murder you."
Feeling quite annoyed by all the stares and jeering, Harry headed for Potions class a few moments early, determined to find an empty corridor and stay there for as long as he possibly could. He found one and sat himself next to a suit of armour, listening to the echoing cries of "Sleigh bells ring, are you listening?" in the empty hall. The noise was so deafening, Harry didn't hear the footsteps until it was too late to hide himself. However, he realized miserably, hiding wouldn't have done any good, anyway. He was quite easy to find, what with the shrieking plant hovering over his head. He stood up, peering around the suit of armour to see who was approaching.
His hand went immediately to his robe pocket, clenching around the handle of his wand, but not drawing it out. The blond boy was coming nearer, clearly heading straight for Harry. Malfoy didn't stop until he was directly in front of him. It was silent for a moment as they looked at each other.
"Malfoy," Harry said warily, after the silence had dragged on for an uncomfortable amount of time.
"Potter," Malfoy replied, looking thoroughly irritated about something. "Your plant is still singing."
"I'm well aware," said Harry, unable to prevent the faint note of misery in his voice.
"Right. We've got Potions next," Malfoy said, eyes narrowed, again pointing out the obvious, but not letting Harry reply this time, "and I absolutely refuse to do badly in another class because of a bewitched shrub."
Malfoy stepped forward as he said this, a determined look on his face. Harry's eyes went wide and he knew what Malfoy was going to do a split-second before he did it, but it didn't stop Malfoy from surging forward and pressing his lips firmly against Harry's, just as the mistletoe shrieked, "'Tis the season –"
Malfoy pulled back after a moment, corner of his mouth twitched upward in a faint smirk, and he dropped his hand from the back of Harry's neck, making the Gryffindor wonder dimly when he had put it there. "That seems to have done it," he said in a business-like way as the enchanted mistletoe fell to the ground with a feeble, fading cry of 'to be... jolly...' and then fell completely silent, unmoving. "See you in Potions then, Potter." He headed back down the corridor without another word, leaving Harry feeling quite dazed.
"I... yeah... thanks?" Harry called weakly, and he could have sworn he heard Malfoy snigger in response.
Six and a half minutes later, Harry took his seat in Potions class, directly in between Ron and Hermione. It took Ron another full minute to realize something was different.
"Hey!" he said in an excited whisper. "Your mistletoe – it's gone! How did you get rid of it?"
Harry felt his face heat up and he coughed nervously, determinedly not looking over to the other side of the room, where Draco Malfoy sat, looking quite pleased with himself as he conversed with the Slytherins around him. Harry turned instead to look at Hermione, who, he was unnerved to see, had a knowing sort of look on her face.
"I'm sure he had someone get rid of it for him," she said airily, corners of her mouth twitching in her attempts not to smile, "didn't you, Harry?"
In response, Harry simply dropped his head to his desk and absolutely did not think about Draco Malfoy.
Not on purpose, anyway.
End note: This is, quite possibly, the most bizarre thing I've ever written. In just a few short hours, it's gotten more views than my other story has in months, and I have to wonder how many people now think I'm absolutely bonkers for writing about an enchanted mistletoe. This is my first Drarry fic and probably won't be my last. If you enjoyed it, or even didn't enjoy it, I would appreciate it if you wrote a little (or big!) review telling me why. It's always nice to know your hard work is appreciated by someone.
Thanks for reading!