A Dramione Christmas
Mistletoe. It was the thing that Draco loved most about the holidays. Every time he would come near the stuff, there would always be at least one giggling girl hovering beneath it, hoping to get lucky and grab a peck from the blond-haired Slytherin. Of course, Draco would willingly oblige for the worthy maidens, always rolling his eyes as if he were doing them a favor. Which he was. Draco Malfoy, age sixteen, was in high demand of the ladies. He was the obvious heartthrob among Slytherins, not just because of his dashing looks, but also because he was their obvious leader. Amongst the other houses he was still widely gazed at, more of an out-of-bounds crush than anything else. But things were not so chummy betwixt Draco and the Gryffindors. Girls who looked his way from his rival House usually did so with scorn, turning to cast their loving globes at messy-haired, four-eyed Harry Potter.
It made sense, really. Potter was their natural-born leader, just as Draco was to Slytherin. And since when did Gryffindors and Slytherins ever see eye to eye? Never. It was as simple, as clear-cut, as obvious as that. Still, Draco couldn't help but loathe Potter even more for that fact, especially since Potter was self-righteous enough to duck out of every mistletoe-infested hallway there was. The only hallway the Chosen One would let himself travel was the one to Snape's dungeon room, for if there were girls under that mistletoe, they were Slytherin and were more likely to curse him than kiss him. That, and the fact that the hallway was nearly always deserted.
So it was under this exact mistletoe that Draco was walking one day, when, to his surprise, he found a Gryffindor girl, dressed in her House sweater with uniform skirt and stockings, dawdling beneath it. Actually, upon closer inspection, the girl had apparently ripped her bag open, and was now scrambling to pick up not only quills and books soaked with freshly-spilled ink, but also the contents of her Potions kit, including a dozen bullfrog eyes and a gaggle of hornets' tails. Draco was just about to walk on by, cool, calm, collected, and sneering as ever when he heard her swear.
"Oh, fuck it all."
Draco's smirk lit up his face, his heart accelerating. He had never heard a righteous Gryffindor swear before. This was rich. Extremely rich. Why? Because this was not just any Gryffindor. Upon hearing her voice and taking a better look at the hunched figure, Draco realized that it was none other than Hermione Granger on her knees in spilled ink and bullfrog eyes. He absolutely could not pass up this opportunity for ridicule. Ignoring his roiling innards, Draco came to a stop right next to the frazzled Gryffindor.
"Are you always this clumsy Granger, or are you dawdling under the mistletoe on purpose?"
The brown-eyed girl looked up, first at the mistletoe then, shooting daggers his way, at Malfoy.
"Funny, Malfoy, to think I spilled my entire store of Potions supplies just to get a messy snog from you."
Draco smirked again.
"Messy? I believe you're much more of a mess than I am. Just look at you. Sopping wet with ink and- what is that?" He sniffed the air. "Dirty blood?"
"Oh shut it, Malfoy," she said tiredly. "I can't deal with you on top of all this right now."
"I've always preferred top," Malfoy smirked, pulling out his wand, loving the fact that it made Granger flinch. Too bad he didn't care about cursing her anymore, because she wasn't even armed. "Hippotnos."
With the wave of his wand, all of the ink was siphoned from Hermione's robes and poured by some invisible hand back into its bottle, stoppered and all. Hermione stood up, checking her robes in awe, not quite believing that this kind of magic existed. Draco, meanwhile, Magnitatem-ed the tip of his wand, collecting all of the hornets tails with a sweep over them.
"Sorry I can't get the filth out of your blood too, but I don't think Potter will mind," Draco drawled, smirking wildly. "Is that who you were waiting for in this hallway, Granger?"
Hermione simply raised her brow at him. "And why would a girl like me choose to wait under the mistletoe for any bloke, even if it were Harry Potter?"
Draco's brow lifted in amusement. "You're right, you aren't the desperate type, are you?" he asked rhetorically.
"No, but apparently you are," she spoke under her breath as she knelt once again to try and salvage her bag before hefting its shreds and contents onto one arm.
"Excuse me!" Draco protested. "And what's your aim with that, O Soiled One?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Malfoy, everyone knows that mistletoe is your lifeblood. You can't seem to walk down a single hallway without being magnetically attracted to the plant."
Draco simply smirked. "What can I say? A man's got to do what a man's got to do. I am in high demand with the ladies, in case you haven't noticed. I simply enjoy spreading Christmas cheer like the rest." He wiggled his brows at her before performing aloofness.
Hermione had slowly pulled her free hand into a fist at her hip as Draco spoke. "Right, well. If you could kindly just give me back my bullfrog eyes I'll be going then."
"Scared you off that quickly, have I?" Draco smirked, tossing the vile she requested end-over-end in his hand, enticing the Gryffindor. "Doesn't even take a hex anymore," he spoke as if to himself.
Hermione just stuck out her hand. "Give it here, Malfoy."
"And what if I say no?"
"You prat, you didn't have to stop and help, and now you're holding my bullfrog eyes ransom…!"
"Oh dear, does the great Hermione Granger not know what 'ransom' means?" Draco, feeling pleased with himself at this turn in conversation, tucking the vial into the front pocket of his silver dress shirt before turning on his heel about to make his exit. Since she had given him the idea, he might as well hold her Potions supplies hostage. He smirked at how angry it would make her.
"Oh no you don't," Hermione muttered, running her hands across the band of her skirt in search of her wand. Not finding it there, for it was probably in that wretchedly ripped bag of hers, she ran at Malfoy, yanking him by the arm and turning him around so she could snag the vial from his pocket with her attack.
What she was not expecting was Draco's lips to crash onto hers after she'd spun him around. Which is what they continued to do. And continued to do.
She forgot about the vial completely.
After the first shocked moments of indignation, Hermione was finding the kiss... good. Almost exactly at the same time that Malfoy pulled away. She was glad, relieved maybe, and pushed herself off his chest as if she had been the one to end it, not wanting him to think that she had started to enjoy... Wait, what was she thinking?! This was Draco Malfoy. Draco. Malfoy. The boy who tortured her and her friends for years? Who she'd punched in the face three years back? She could not kiss him, or at least couldn't enjoy it. But what if she did...? And she was a little breathless to boot.
"What-? Why did you...?" she finally brought herself to sputter. Malfoy simply raised his eyebrows at her. Accompanied by the lopsided smile curling upon his lips, Hermione was having a hard time responding sufficiently to what just happened.
She let out an annoyed jet of air and stared at him critically, waiting for some kind of answer.
Malfoy looked at Hermione, then looked up. He was so unnerving! She was just about to follow his gaze out of sheer annoyance when he finally spoke up. He pointed above her head and said, "Mistletoe."
Giving an exasperated, "Ugh!", Hermione turned and stormed away from Draco and down the darkening hallway.
Draco grinned. He had certainly gotten to her. He turned to watch her storm off in a swish of black pleats, a torn satchel hanging off her shoulder.
He was still holding her vial of bullfrog eyes.