Chapter Text
Mistletoe was officially the worst holiday tradition, and Hermione made a solemn pledge to find the descendants of the Norwegian families that had deemed the parasitic plant a "romantic thing" and torture them. Slowly.
Hermione bumped her hip into the corner of the dessert table, bit back a groan at the spike of pain, and smiled politely at the couple standing nearby.
She looked up, and there it was again. Unholy little berries dangling like genitalia, leafy branches that would be better seen on a plate, and stem tied off with a merry little ribbon. Like it was a gift to her. She scowled. This particular branch had been following her around for the past half hour, dancing above her while she laughed with Harry, tickling her ear while she chatted with the Minister.
The Ministry's Christmas Masquerade was usually a huge success, and this year at an investor's mansion with lightly falling indoor snow and twinkling lights (and open bar) was no exception. But the exception was the mistletoe.
One of the decorators had decided that enchanting fifteen mistletoe branches to float about the grand ballroom encouraging couples and non-couples to share a holiday kiss was going to be "festive" and "enchanting."
It was not. It was taxing. Because the branches did not leave you alone until you kissed someone. In fact, they created quite a scene if you refused: descending and growing closer to you, poking at your temple, ribbon unwinding and tickling your ear. She actually watched one of the ribbons slither slowly around Neville's throat until he quickly kissed his supervisor, much to everyone's shock.
Hermione had now kissed thirteen of her coworkers, six men and seven women. She had four different colors of lipstick on her mouth now.
The upside was that she got to watch as Harry and Ron experienced their first cold, tight-lipped kiss. It was hilarious. But it also meant that no one really hung around each other for too often.
Except Draco Malfoy. Who had no shortage of young witches hovering around, waiting for the dead leaves to float over to them.
She glared in his direction, rubbing her hip where there was sure to be a bruise. Even with his black mask settled over the bridge of his nose and eyes, he glowed with his platinum hair. Like a beacon for desperate, randy young witches.
Of which… Hermione had been one.
She cringed at the memory… and ignored the heat in her stomach.
It had been the Ministry's Halloween party, and after the seventh person had asked her how Viktor was (and would he be coming later? and isn't this the off-season?), she had consumed her seventh martini and found herself tucked into a corner with a blonde vampire with grey eyes and warm hands. She had been dressed as an Angel. A costume that would have perfectly complemented her boyfriend's Devil costume… had he not broken up with her the day before.
So now, Hermione sipped slowly from her champagne glass, wincing at the memory of how she hadn't had the sense to stop Draco Malfoy's hand as it wound its way under her dress and onto the back of her thigh. It wasn't until he brushed the seam of her knickers, ghosting right over the place she wanted him most that she'd come back to herself. She had jumped, pulled her mouth from his, released the shoulder of his costume cape, retrieved her fingers from his hair, and excused herself to the restroom. She ran past the lavatory doors and out into the night, flagging the Knight Bus and heading home, Angel wings a bit worse for wear.
She didn't remember much of how they'd gotten to that point, only that he'd told her he liked her costume. He hadn't mentioned Viktor, like everyone else had. And when she stumbled a bit, he'd caught her elbow, asking if she wanted him to Apparate her home.
She bit her lip, tearing her eyes off a strawberry-blonde girl that giggled as she pointed up to a mistletoe branch above Malfoy's head. Hermione searched the room for her friends, finding Harry and Ginny standing quite a distance away from Ron and Lavender. About an hour ago, Ginny had to watch Harry kiss Lavender when one of the mistletoes poked him in the eye after ten minutes of being ignored. Hermione chuckled at the scowling between the couples. Hermione had escaped after kissing Harry and Ginny at separate occasions, but she wasn't sure her tentative friendship with Lavender would survive a mistletoe kiss with Ron.
So now she hovered by the dessert table, picking at the sweets bowl, ignoring the mistletoe bumping her temple and zapping it with a freezing spell whenever it got a bit too rowdy with her. A sandy-haired bloke with a red mask grabbed a biscuit next to her, and paused when he saw the mistletoe. He smiled down at her.
"Keep walking," she snarled.
He gaped at her, and then shuffled off.
She huffed. She had been successfully ignoring this branch for half an hour now, and it stood to reason that she could ignore it until the party ended. Or until she left. Which might be quite soon.
Her eyes drifted over to Malfoy again. He dipped his head, fingers resting lightly on the jaw of full-chested brunette as he pressed his lips against hers. She slid her hand up his chest, opening her lips. He indulged her before pulling away, with a smug grin.
Ugh. Hermione grabbed a biscuit, tearing her teeth into it.
She reached up to scratch her nose, finding the stupid lace mask in her way.
She bit her tongue in her frustration, which frustrated her more.
Perhaps it was time to go.
Malfoy had another mistletoe branch above his head, and Hermione turned away before watching a witch in a feathery mask tilt her lips up.
Hermione pressed her lips together, shaking her head at their stupidity. Malfoy was the biggest flirt the Auror Department had ever seen, and flirting wasn't usually where it stopped. There were too many "Out of Order" signs placed suspiciously around the supply closets and bathrooms on Level 2. Too many witches smiling brightly at three in the afternoon, reapplying their lipstick. Too many whispers at the cafe counter of "how many times did you—?" and "never been twisted that way" and "need to do that again."
But as far as Hermione could tell, no one got a second ticket to ride. She always saw him in the Atrium with a new witch, in the Prophet with a different one, and none of them were ever repeated.
Well… not unless you counted...
Hermione shook her head, sipping at her glass as one of his witches gestured that he could follow her down this corridor right over here, and bring that thing in your trousers, won't you?
Hermione stopped herself. And put her glass down.
Her point was that these dim-witted girls all thought they could get a second date out of him, or perhaps a Malfoy diamond after enough time. She just laughed. The only thing they'd get was an evening of great sex.
Excellent sex, actually.
Reality-altering.
The mistletoe stem dipped into her ear canal and she bat it away. When she swept back her hair and rubbed her brow, she found her mask in the way again. Snarling, she ripped it off and stomped it into the floor.
Masks and mistletoes. What a fucking nightmare.
"Oops!" A merry voice next to her. "Keep your mask on. It's not quite midnight yet!"
The plump and cheery office secretary bent to pick it up for her. She stamped her foot on it.
"Leave it."
The woman glanced up at her, and straightened. "Oo! You have a little mistletoe on your shoulder! Should I find you fellow to kiss—?"
"Fuck off, Mary," Hermione hissed.
Mary gasped, and waddled away with a series of "well, I never!" and "whatever happened to the holiday spirit?"
Hermione glared after her, until she felt a warm hand brush the small of her back.
"Alright, Ebenezer?"
She looked up to find Malfoy grinning down at her. She hated that his mask brought out the bright spots in his eyes.
"Hello, Malfoy."
"What's got your knickers in a twist?" He sipped his glass and his eyes drifted down her neck.
"My mask was bothering me."
"Well, I'm glad it's gone now," he hummed.
"Couldn't recognize me?" she teased.
"Oh, of course. I know those clavicles anywhere."
She looked up at him. His eyes danced over her face, dropping low.
She wore high-collared blouses to the office, never one for flaunting anything. So, he could only be talking about…
She looked away, pressing a hand to her chest self-consciously.
It had been a week after Halloween. The Prophet had printed a picture of Viktor and his new girlfriend, and one of the many people who swung by her office was Malfoy. But unlike the others, he didn't mention it. He asked her a few questions about her latest cases, letting the conversation drift into other topics, non-work related, as their coworkers headed home.
Her eyes had landed on his mouth as he spoke, and she had to fight to keep her gaze off his long fingers. When the lights dimmed, indicating that it was eight o'clock and employees were to head home, he kissed her. She had gasped into his mouth, dragging him closer. When he began kissing her neck, she pulled back and in some fit of genius, said, "Viktor and I broke up."
He breathed hotly against her face and said, "I wouldn't have cared either way."
She climbed him after that. Fully wrapped herself around him like one of his randy witches, expecting him to bend her over her desk, flip up her skirt, and pummel her for a breathless six and a half minutes.
Instead, he set her down on the edge and dropped to his knees, prying her legs apart, running his hands up her thighs smoothly and slipping her skirt up around her waist. Later, she had been thankful they'd waited until after hours, because she had screamed when she came, completely lost to the world. She had still been coming back into her body when he opened his trousers and pressed into her slowly.
She had closed her eyes and held on tight as he rocked into her. When he connected their mouths again and she tasted herself on him, she wrapped her legs around him, beginning to wonder about the slow pace he set. He gasped into her mouth, and his hands threaded into her hair.
Maybe because they had time. Maybe because they weren't in a bathroom stall at 10:30 in the morning on a Tuesday. Maybe he had a routine for recently-cheated-on-witches where he gave them a pleasurable, almost-love-making experience.
He sucked a bruise against her skin, and started opening her blouse, his hips pounding into her in a steady rhythm. He pushed all her files off the desk behind her, and laid her back. She arched her back and gripped the edges of her desk as he continued thrusting into her while undressing her with warm fingers, letting his thumbs slide over her nipples.
She came two more times. Once while he pushed her leg up to her chest with his mouth on her naked breasts, sucking painfully against her, and then, with his forehead pressed against hers as he laid over her on the desk, snapping his hips, fucking her against the wood. He'd whispered, "Hermione," and she'd opened her eyes, watching his grey ones as he heaved air against her face, and she'd come when he pressed hard on her clit. She'd screamed and scratched at him and he'd kissed her lips groaning into her mouth as he came inside of her.
They'd gotten dressed and he'd kissed her goodbye as they went home for the weekend. By Monday she'd come to terms with the idea that she'd had an excellent rebound with Draco Malfoy, and he would now be moving on to a different girl this week, as was his style. So, she'd nodded at him in the Atrium with Vanessa by his side, smiled at him across the office with Olivia's hand on his arm, and she'd chatted with him in the lifts as Maisie's eyes swallowed him whole.
She'd seen him exiting a supply closet with Eliza a week after that. And he was spotted at Muggle club with a German girl the following weekend.
And now he stood next to her at the Ministry Masquerade, reaching around her for a fudge piece, steadying himself on her waist. As if he needed the balance.
"I couldn't help but notice, Granger," he said, "that you have a mistletoe targeting you."
The mistletoe took the opportunity to jingle in front of her face at that exact moment, and began to wind its ribbon around Draco's shoulder. She could have sworn that one had teeth.
"I'm ignoring it. Stupid tradition."
"Ah." He popped the fudge between his lips.
"I'll be filing sexual harassment charges against the decorator. I've kissed far too many coworkers tonight."
"Any contenders?"
She looked up at him. He pulled his fingers between his lips, sucking off the melted fudge.
"No," she said, rolling her eyes. "Half of them are women anyway."
He cleared his throat. "Really?" he sang.
A second mistletoe branch floated towards the two of them. It stopped near the first.
"Oh, for fuck's sake," Hermione moaned. She turned her eyes back on him. "What about you, Malfoy? Which of your mistletoe kisses are you going home with?"
"Haven't quite decided," he hummed as a third mistletoe branch bobbed towards them. "Maybe I haven't kissed the right witch yet."
She scowled as three more branches danced in their direction. "How is that possible? You've snogged every witch here by now, I'm sure."
"Not every witch –"
"Are you doing this?" She spun on him, pointing to the seven or eight mistletoe hovering over them. "Are they here for you? This is your fault."
He raised his brows innocently. "Me? I'd say it's the decorator's fault, Granger. They're probably just looking for two people who haven't kissed yet."
She frowned up at the tree parasites. She turned to find him smirking at her, rolled her eyes, and stood up on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek, just below his mask. She looked up. None of the mistletoe moved.
She growled and repeated the action, kissing his lips this time. She pulled away before the kiss could turn into anything else and glared up at the branches to see one of them separate and float away. One.
"What?" Hermione squawked. Two more branches began to float towards them. "One kiss per mistletoe?! That's insane!"
Malfoy chuckled. "You know, Granger, if you don't take care of this soon, you're going to have a line of blokes forming."
She bit into another dessert and spoke around the crumbs. "Oh, please, Malfoy. No one's going to line up to kiss me."
"Not with jam tart in your mouth, no." He reached up and brushed a crumb away from her mouth. "And not while I'm here, first in line."
She blinked up at him, trying to find his meaning behind his masked eyes.
"Would you like to find a quiet corner where I can rid you of these mistletoes, Granger?" he whispered, his hand still on her jaw.
She swallowed. She thought of the stories she'd heard from the other girls about quick, rough fucks in small corners. She thought about the day she'd walked into the ladies' room to the sound of moaning and two pairs of feet in one stall, both pairs facing the same direction as Malfoy probably pressed the witch against the stall, hiked up her dress, kicked her ankles apart, and twisted her hair around his fingers as he pushed into her from behind. She thought of being bent over her desk, pinned against a supply closet door, groped in a lift.
She tried not to dwell on the idea of Malfoy wanting her a second time. Third? Did he count Halloween?
A sharp pinch to her ear. "OW!" She turned her face up to the demonic branch and thought for sure she could see fangs on that one. She frowned, and looked back to Malfoy, still waiting for her answer.
"Yeah, alright."
His eyes burned over her face, mouth pulling into a grin, and his tongue swiftly wet his lips.
"Come on."