One-Shot: Under the Mistletoe

Neville Longbottom had never liked parties. Mostly because, even if he was lucky enough to be invited to them at all, he always went alone.

It was true now, at Slughorn's Christmas party, to which he had been invited as one of the Potions Master's hand-picked favorite students - the "Slug Club," as it was called. And it would have been true of the Yule Ball two years ago, had he not asked his last place choice, Ginny Weasley, at the last minute. She had just been thrilled to go, as third-years and under had not been allowed. Neville's real choice for that dance had already been chosen by someone else.

He watched her now, peeking out from behind the corner tapestry behind which he was hiding from a prowling Professor Snape. Hermione Granger had been snatched up by another bloke yet again - that swaggering Cormac McLaggen. They were dancing to some of the faint music in the air.

Neville thought he saw Snape heading his way, so he ducked behind the tapestry. A moment later, he felt the fabric move and lift, and he was just about to squeak in fright at Snape's foreboding long nose when -

It wasn't Snape at all. A flushed Hermione Granger dove behind the curtain, panting. She was wearing a cute little pink dress - not as fancy as her Yule Ball gown, certainly, but pretty nonetheless. Her hair was down in striking ringlets. She jumped a little when her eyes met Neville's, obviously surprised to find him there.

"Oh, hello, Neville."

"Hermione? What are you doing?"

"Oh, I just left Cormac... under the mistletoe..." She looked flustered, and her deep brown eyes darted about like she was a cornered animal. She seemed afraid that Cormac would track her down.

"He won't find you here," Neville assured her. "The tosser couldn't find his wand if it did a bloody tap dance in front of him and spit in his eye. Did he try to snog you without asking?"

Hermione chanced a glance at Neville, shocked but still comforted by his perceptiveness. She nodded.

"I hope you smacked him good and hard. No girl should be treated that way!"

Hermione smiled. She was surprised by this new, opinionated, protective Neville, and found that she liked it. "A considerate, feminist gentleman! Such a rare find these days!"

Encouraged, Neville smiled and went on ranting over McLaggen. "No girl should have their first kiss stolen from them!" He faltered at the confused look Hermione sent his way, and the implication sank in. "I'm sorry," he stammered. "I didn't mean to assume..."

Hermione chuckled, her pearly white teeth glistening and looking beautiful. "No. It's fine." Checking all around her, she finally whispered an admission. "I snogged Victor Krum two years ago. Only other person who knows besides you is Ginny."

Neville felt a jealous rage burn through him at the smooth Quidditch star, but he hid it well. He should have known. Hermione had grown very pretty in recent years; coupled with her intelligence, and she was a hot topic of discussion by the boys in the Gryffindor Common Room. As for him, he had secretly been in love with her for years - the way she always helped him in his studies, among other reasons.

"You?"

"What?" He was shaken from his thoughts.

"Have you ever been kissed?"

Neville barked out a self-deprecating laugh, in spite of himself. "Do I look like the kissing type to you?"

Even as he tried to pass it off as a joke, he looked sad. Hermione's heart went out to him. Neville had always been a sentimental favorite among his friends, a prime bully target for his enemies. A hapless wonder in most things, except Herbology. And here he was, behind a tapestry and having come presumably alone. She thought for a moment.

Pulling out her wand from behind her back, Hermione mouthed a simple spell when Neville wasn't looking. Above them, a sprig of green holly with red berries grew from nowhere. After a minute, when Neville still hadn't noticed the development, Hermione alerted him with a tug on his sleeve.

"Oh, look," she presented to observe, pointing up. "Mistletoe." Neville glanced from her to the twig, understanding dawning. Hermione slid closer to him, all at once feeling a little shy.

"Neville... I just want to make sure that the first person who kisses you... loves you. OK?"

He gazed at her, gulping, nodding. Slowly, Hermione draped her arms about Neville's neck and pulled him flush against her. Peering at him, her eyelids fluttered, drooped, as she slowly leaned in and kissed him softly on the mouth.

Neville closed his eyes instantly, and dared to kiss Hermione back just a little bit. When their lips sprang apart for just an instant with a tiny POP!, he whimpered at the loss of contact. "Hermione..."

Her finger settled gently on his lips. "Sssh..." she whispered, before replacing the finger with her lips again. At long last, she drew away, her eyes sincere.

"I love you, Neville," she murmured.

He was about to admit that he loved her too, pluck up the courage to confess his feelings, when a drunken voice from outside called above the crowd, growing closer:

"GRANGER! Where'd you run off to?"

Hermione jumped. "Oh no... here he comes..." She looked like she was about to make a break for it, so Neville took her hand before she had the chance.

"Kiss me again," he blurted out his idea without having fully explained.

"What?" Hermione gawped.

"Public displays of affection make onlookers very uncomfortable."

Hermione was about to reply, but Neville pulled her close and kissed her passionately on the lips. Selling it, he slipped his arms about Hermione's waist and swept her into a dip.

"Hmm?" Hermione gave a confused squeak into Neville's mouth, before catching on. Closing her eyes, she slung one arm over his neck and parted, opened her mouth for him. She moaned in pleasure, enjoying and even deepening the kiss. "Hmmm..."

And not a moment too soon. They had almost been out of time, but thankfully had just enough of it. The fabric of the tapestry rustled back to reveal McLaggen, his eyes struggling to focus on the couple heatedly snogging. Surprisingly, he did nothing to pull Neville and Hermione apart or deck the interloper, instead letting the curtain fall back and stumbling away.

Neville swung Hermione back onto her feet and broke the kiss at last. The beautiful witch slowly opened her eyes.

"Is he gone?" she glanced over her shoulder, just to be sure.

"Yup," Neville nodded. The pair stood awkwardly, regarding each other but refraining to address...

"Sorry. I would have checked with you more, but..."

"It's fine," she brushed off. "It was a bloody good snog. Nice quick thinking!" And Hermione was genuine in her praise.

Gathering his Gryffindor courage, Neville drifted closer. "Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"Can I please kiss you again?"

Hermione peered at him curiously, amused. Suddenly, in his eyes, she saw the bravery of a young boy who had once vowed to fight her and her friends - without a wand - for the sake of their House. She now quirked an eyebrow.

"May I please kiss you again?" she corrected his grammar. "Thank you so much for asking; at least someone did for once. Yes, Neville, you may."

Neville beamed. Cupping Hermione's cheeks in his palms, he tilted her face up to his and pressed his mouth against hers. She sighed in contentment into his lips; her eyes fluttered shut. Limbs wound about each other to hold each other tighter.

As Hermione and Neville embraced and kissed, the sprig of Mistletoe glimmered forgotten above their heads.