Forget Me Not -

This was written for the Granger Enchanted Christmas Challenge - I have a Christmas Secret edition! This is just a little one shot that popped into my head after reading the prompt: "I've enchanted the mistletoe," He whispered and leaned in to kiss her... (He had kept his feelings a secret for almost a decade). Anyway, any all intellectual property that you might recognize is copyright of JK Rowling and Warner Brothers.

Summary: After a nasty breakup, Hermione is spending Christmas alone. She'd like to avoid running in to her ex at the Ministry for Magic's Christmas party, but her boss has made it clear that she is expected to go - or else. Upon entering the ballroom, something comes over her and she can't shake the feeling that she's forgotten something. Before she can work it out, a handsome stranger claims to have been waiting for her and asks her dance.

To say that she was uncomfortable was an understatement. She was standing in the spacious, open foyer of the Ministry of Magic in a stunning cream-colored satin dress with brown hoop decorated straps that showed off her mostly bare, slender shoulders. Around her shoulders there was a matching shawl that curled about her arms and fell a few inches more towards the floor. Her face was done up in subtle, but pretty colors and her hair was pulled into a messy bun that let wisps of hair tickle her ears and neck. Despite the finery and the undeniably beautiful figure she struck, Hermione had never felt more awkward or uncomfortable since the Christmas party her sixth year which had been spent failing to make Ron jealous and only slightly succeeding in avoiding the wandering hands of one Cormac McLaggen. For the first time since that very party, Hermione Jean Granger was dateless and alone.

When she first received her formal invitation to the annual Yule Ball as held by the Ministry of Magic, it had been her every intention to feign illness, book a flight home for the holidays the day before, or find any other perfectly legitimate excuse to lock herself in her flat all night. Six months, fourteen days, and seven hours ago (give or take a minute or two; who was keeping track?) Hermione had had the indescribable pleasure of catching one Ronald Billius Weasley romping about beneath the sheets of their bed with none other than Lavender Brown. Apparently, as Ron so eloquently put it once he'd been caught like a cat licking cream (a mental image which, now that she thought on it, made her tremble with disgust when applied to Ron and Lavender), Hermione was a cold, workaholic, shrew who understood neither the needs nor the complexities of a man of his "caliber." Several stunning, Babbling, and Leg Locker jinxes later and she was quite happily drowning herself in chocolate ice cream and firewhiskey, alone in her one-bedroom flat.

The moment word had spread of the breakup, Ginny had come flying in like a bat from Hell, demanding the brunette witch stop wallowing and accompany her to lunch. With a hung-over groan, Hermione had acquiesced, gotten dressed, and dragged herself out into the damning sunlight to eat lunch with her best friend (which consisted of much recounting of the tale of Ron's fall from grace). At the end of the day, with an embarrassing amount of shopping bags on her arm, including the gown she wore now, the brightest witch of her age had to admit that she did, in fact, feel better thanks to Ginny's encouragement and enough new things to assume a completely new identity (an idea which had crossed her mind more than once). She spent the ensuing months redecorating her flat, replacing the majority of her old wardrobe, and taking on every difficult case the Ministry had to offer her as an employee of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She was adamant about filling her time with as much distraction as possible and she had succeeded, quite thankfully (for both herself and anyone else that would have the misfortune of being witness) in completely avoiding any and all accidental run-ins with Ron. At a Christmas party hosted by their shared employer, however, it would likely be next to impossible to avoid the sodding prat any longer. So, being the mature adult that she was, she took it upon herself to bow out of the affair altogether rather than expect Ron to have the social awareness to do so instead.

Fate, alas, had other plans for her.
Twelve days before the party was to be held, Hermione had been cornered by the director of her Department. Cassandra was a sweet witch of dark hair, light eyes, and all of about 115 pounds soaking wet and carrying her cat. So when the older witch had stopped by her office to affirm Hermione's RSVP to the party, the brains of the Golden Trio felt only slightly guilty and not at all intimidated when she answered in the negative. It was at this moment that Cassandra became suddenly very serious, telling Hermione that it was in her best interest to attend this party. After all, the Minister and the decorating committee were working very hard, very long hours to put it all together. (Truth.) And, really, Hermione had been working herself to the bone lately and it would be such a pity if she didn't take a break and enjoy herself once in a while. (Probably true.) Especially since there might not be as much work when Hermione got back from whatever vacation she was pretending to take. (Lie.) And it all had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Cassandra herself was part of the people responsible for putting the party together (lie) or that everyone else Cassandra had asked had turned her down (truth) and, oh? What's that? You'll come? Marvelous! Thank you so much, Hermione. I'll see you there!

With a groan, Hermione tried to forget how utterly terrifying her boss could be when she decided to be. She tried to focus on the idea that she didn't need someone on her arm to enjoy herself. She was a powerful, independent witch of no little renown and could handle something as laughably simple as a Yule Ball without ruining her evening by wallowing in what couldn't be helped. Trying to shake off the awkwardness she felt, she swore to herself that she would have a good time, dance with friends and handsome blokes alike, have a glass of wine or two, and forget the fact that she would be alone on Christmas this year. Hermione took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and forced her feet to carry her to the ballroom.

Normally, on any given day, this space was actually a fair number of empty offices once occupied by the Death Eaters and Pureblood supremacists who'd taken up positions newly created for the dark work they would be doing. When the war had ended some four years, nine months, twenty-three days ago (again, who was keeping track?), the offices had been vacated and the Ministry had yet to find a definite purpose for them. The planning and decorating committee had done a fabulous job of clearing away the cobwebs and dust and transfiguring the place into a spacious, warm, inviting reception hall. In one corner of the room was a traditional Christmas tree, armed to the teeth with bulbs of red, green, gold, and silver (the sight of which conjured up memories of Gryffindor and Slytherin houses), shining tinsel, popcorn garland, and at the very top a beautiful angel large enough to rival a House-Elf. The tree took up its entire corner and Hermione couldn't help thinking it might actually beat the Hogwarts Christmas trees of her memories.

Against the far left wall of the pentagonal-shaped room was a long bar manned by witches and wizards in serving robes and Muggle Santa hats. With a grin, Hermione knew it was Arthur Weasley's doing when she saw him wearing the very same hat and a matching set of red robes with fluffy white trimming and a thick black belt with a golden buckle. She stifled a giggle and made her way towards him instinctively. As she crossed the threshold of the room, a shiver ran down her spine. The sensation gave her pause and she found herself suddenly under the impression that she'd forgotten something. She frowned, uncomfortable with the thought that there was something suddenly missing from her memories. When she could find nothing of importance having slipped her mind, she stood there a minute, trying to convince herself there was nothing wrong.

She forced her thoughts away from the strange, persistent feeling and continued on towards the Weasleys standing near the dance floor at one end of the bar. Halfway through the crowd of dancing couples and children, she stopped when she saw Ron talking with Molly only a few feet from where Arthur was dancing happily with his granddaughter, Roxanne. Hermione hesitated a moment, uncertain whether or not she should just suck it up and go say hello, ignoring Ron completely, or if she should stand back a while. Deciding that Christmas drama was the last thing she wanted to dump on Molly and Arthur, she made a line for the back corner with the Christmas tree.

Despite her earlier resolve not to let Ron's memory ruin her night (why couldn't THAT particular memory be the one she still felt she was missing?), Hermione felt angry tears fighting to brim her eyes. An indignant huff came over her and she turned away from the crowd, staring hard into her reflection in one of the golden ornaments on the tree. The skin around her eyes was ever so slightly red from the effort of keeping her tears back and she frowned again (which did absolute wonders for her reddening complexion), trying her hardest not to wandlessly hex the offending bauble.

After a moment to collect herself, she decided it was probably better to just leave. She had gotten dressed up, made an appearance (not that anyone had greeted her to show they knew she was here), and stayed for a decent five minutes. Wasn't that enough? Would Cassandra be satisfied with that? She'd seen enough of the party to appreciate all the work that had gone into putting it together and could even recite the layout for her superior later to prove that she was, in fact, here tonight. But with the sneaking suspicion that her memory had somehow been tampered with and her utter unpreparedness to see Ron, Hermione couldn't help but think that perhaps these were all signs that it was time to go.

Firmly convinced that she could make the same clean slip through the crowd without being noticed that she'd made coming in, the former Gryffindor princess turned on her heels to leave.

"Hermione!"

Oh. Great.

"Cassandra, hello. It's nice to see you."

"You, too! Happy Christmas, Hermione!"

"Happy Christmas to you."

"Are you enjoying yourself?"

"It's a lovely party, really. You outdid yourself this year. I'm glad I stopped by."

"Stopped by? You don't mean you're leaving already, do you?"

Oops.

"Well, I'm feeling a little under the weather at the moment and I wouldn't want to get anyone else sick at the holidays. You know how it is."

"You look fine, Hermione, and you've only just arrived. Are you sure you won't stay?"

"I get a choice this time?"

The dark-haired witch grinned shamelessly.

"Well, you did show up and see everything we put together. I guess I can't make you stay any longer than you intend to. But it's such a shame to see you go already. Have you even seen anyone else besides me?"

"I saw Arthur and Molly Weasley earlier."

"Did you stop and say hello?"

"Erm, no, I... well, I didn't want to bother them."

Cassandra took a peek over in the direction Hermione had gestured when first mentioning the Weasleys. At the sight of Ron, realization dawned on the older witch. She settled her employee with a sympathetic expression and gently gripped her shoulder.

"Oh, Hermione. You can't let that prat dictate whether or not you stay and have fun. You're bound to run into him eventually. You shouldn't run and hide. You're better than that."

Hermione blinked, uncertain how to respond to these words of confidence from her boss, a witch to whom she'd never really considered herself close.

"I... er, thanks, Cass. That means a lot."

"Do us both a favor. Go down to the bar, have a taste of champagne, find some gorgeous, single wizard and dance with him. Just once. Then decide whether or not you're ready to go home, okay? Who knows? You might make Ron regret his mistakes when he gets a look at you. You're absolutely stunning tonight, Hermione. Don't waste it."

Again Hermione found herself uncertain of what to say or how to react. She managed a genuinely grateful smile, a graceless nod, and turned away. Before she could realize she was again facing the exit, she felt Cassandra's hands on her shoulders and she was turned the rest of the way towards the bar, given a gentle, but firm push in that direction, and released. The brunette witch felt very much like her employer had, once more, pawned a decision off on her despite being led to believe that she had a choice. Still, Hermione HAD promised herself she would try and have a good time. Now that she'd seen Ron, had her minute "episode," and moved forward, she felt better, more prepared to handle seeing him again. Imperceptibly, she nodded to herself and set off for the open bar.

She greeted the first bartender to make his way over to her. He was a handsome young wizard of barely legal adult years with a sly grin and an appreciative gaze when she leaned against the bar, trying to clear her head. The feeling of forgetfulness had returned now that Cassandra had ceased to be a distraction and it was growing more and more irritating as it persisted. When the bartender cleared his throat for the third time, asking if she'd like a drink, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"Firewhiskey, please."

She cringed at his surprised (or was it impressed?) whistle, realizing that she'd had nothing to drink yet tonight and already she was aiming for the heavy stuff. She straightened up, much to the visible dismay of the wizard behind the counter, and exhaled. An apologetic, embarrassed smile took hold of her features.

"Sorry, uhm... I think I'll take just a bit of champagne. Start the evening off light."

The bartender gave her a knowing smile and nodded then headed down the bar for one of the tall flutes of pink, fizzy champagne magically charmed to stay perfectly chilled and fresh as long as was needed. He returned, handed her the glass, and lingered longer than was necessary given that his co-workers were less than thrilled at his dawdling. Oblivious to her "audience," Hermione began to sip at her drink, enjoying the calming effect the cold had on her.

"I get off my shift in about thirty minutes. Care for some... company afterwards?"

The suddenness and candidness of his suggestion made her nearly spit her drink down the front of her. She stammered ungracefully for a minute, slowly putting her drink down to prevent dropping it, and gave the younger wizard a sheepish smile.

"As much as I'm sure I would enjoy that, I'm not for certain I'll still be here in thirty minutes."

"I can sneak off a little early for a pretty thing like you. What do you say?"

Again Hermione had to fight the urge to choke. She gave a nervous chuckle, trying not to look as out of sorts as she felt. Had it really been that long since some guy had hit on her? Merlin she felt old all of a sudden.

"Ah, well, that's lovely of you, but I-"

"Hermione Jean Granger, you dirty little slag you!"

As if on instinct, Hermione ducked at the shouting voice of Ginny Weasley. The redheaded girl came marching up to her friend's side, an expression on her face that told Hermione she was in very deep trouble. When she reached the bar, she scrunched up her face and pinched the older witch's bare upper arm. Hermione winced.

"Ow! Ginny! What was that for?"

"How come you didn't tell me you had a date?!"

"What?"

Hermione glanced uneasily at the bartender who only offered a cheeky grin.

"Oh, him? No, no, he's not... we're not... it isn't..."

"Not him, you loon, I know /that./ I'm talking about that gorgeous guy standing over by the Christmas tree! And here I thought I was your best friend. Someone you'd tell when you've lined up a hunk of perfect male specimen to take you to the Ministry's Christmas party six months after you broke up with my useless brother. But no. I had to find out from HIM, only /after/ making an utter fool of myself by asking him to dance, that he's your date!"

There was mock hurt in Ginny's tone and if Hermione didn't know her so well, she would honestly be worried the Weasley girl was upset. While her best mate continued her tirade of wounded girl gush, the older witch tried to locate the man in question. After all, Hermione was absolutely certain no one had asked her to the party, nor had she even let anyone know (aside from Cassandra and Ginny, of course) that she even planned to attend. So, if there was someone here convinced that she was his date, she'd like to know who it was so she could set him straight. After a few moments of blatantly ignoring Ginny, craning her neck as far up as she could get it, and peeking over top of the head's of other guests, Hermione caught sight of an unbelievably dashing wizard standing solo by the Christmas tree. Shocked and in absolute denial that he would possibly want her of all witches as his date, she turned to Ginny.

"Y'know, if you keep ignoring me like that, I really will get upset."

"I'm sorry, Ginny. But... this guy, the one you think is my date..."

"I don't think he's your date. /He's/ the one who says he's been waiting for you."

"Right. You don't... that's not the guy you're talking about, is it?"

The redhead turned and followed Hermione's guiding finger.

"Yes! That's him! He's the one. Don't tell me you don't know."

"Sorry, but... I have no idea who he is."

"So he's just deluded himself into thinking he's your date, then?"

"Seems so."

"Well, I'll tell you one thing for sure. There are a lot worse-looking guys who could have dreamed that up. Why don't you go talk to him?"

"What? Are you serious?"

"Yes, I'm serious! Look at him! He's gorgeous! And he's turned down at least two other witches besides me who've asked him to dance. I think even one wizard."

"Do you know who he is, Ginny? I feel like I should know him, but I can't place from where."

"He does have that face. Y'know, where you think you've seen him before but you can't be sure?"

"Yeah... I don't know, Ginny. What if he's a raving lunatic? Or what if he's telling people I'm his date because he wants to be left alone and didn't think I'd hear about it?"

"There's only one way to find out. Go on. Talk to him. The worst that could happen is he turns you down and so what? You weren't expecting a date in the first place. You're a competent witch. If he winds up being a complete nutter, you can totally handle yourself, no problem."

Hermione didn't look so certain. She wasn't exactly keen on embarrassing herself tonight, nor was she looking for some poor sap to start following her around because she'd been nice to him. Catching another glance of the lone wizard looking more than his fair share of strapping, she found herself easier and easier to convince that just talking to him couldn't be all that bad. As if sensing her presence, he turned in her direction as she got within polite conversation range. He gave a boyish grin that lit up his face at the sight of her.

"Hermione! There you are. I've been waiting for you."

Well, that was one possibility off the checklist. Hopefully that didn't make the "he could be a complete loon" option more likely. Despite her slight uneasiness, it wasn't difficult to conjure up a genuine smile.

"Yes, I erm... heard you'd mentioned my name or once or twice."

"Hah. It was Ginny, wasn't it? I knew the moment I turned her down you'd catch wind of it. Can't complain, I guess. I wasn't sure you'd come tonight and it was hell trying to find you in this crowd. She did me a favor."

"And why did you turn her down exactly?"

"She told you, didn't she? I was waiting for you. I didn't want to be distracted from finding you by dancing with another witch. Or er... wizard, if you catch my meaning."

Hermione chuckled to herself. He had the looks to fill more than a single issue of Witch Weekly and yet he looked more nervous than even she felt. He seemed to radiate some confidence, though. After all, he'd turned away at least two other offers to dance and rarely did fidgety wallflowers entice the likes of Ginny Weasley. She caught herself staring at him a moment. Ginny was right. There was something... so very familiar about him that she felt a pang of guilt for not being able to place him. She wondered if she could get away with pretending she recognized him long enough for him to let slip his identity.

"Why were you waiting for me, though?"

"Well, because. I wanted to talk to you. Maybe, uhm... dance with you. If you'll let me."

His boyish grin turned briefly sheepish and she could have sworn she'd seen his ears turn red in a blush. Feeling oddly comfortable and trusting of this stranger with the familiar face (and, quite frankly, hard pressed to think of anyone else she'd rather dance with), Hermione gave him a winning smile of her own.

"I'd be delighted."

Her "date" looked fit to shout in triumph and it made the flesh of her face heat up in embarrassment. He took notice and a confident air settled about him all of a sudden. As if all his worry and nervousness had been nothing more than a coat to shrug off when it got too hot.

The music turned from holiday hop and carols to something a little lighter on the ears and feet and the handsome male extended his arm to her as a Lord would his Lady. Again Hermione's face became a flattered shade of red, but her eyes lit up in delight as she took his arm and let him lead her out onto the dance floor. The floor seemed to empty some as the younger party goers separated to get drinks and take a break while the older couples took this chance to enjoy the gentle waltz. Warmth spread across Hermione's lower back as her partner rested his free hand there after pulling her to face him. As she slipped her hand into his, he gave her a wink.

"Hopefully I remember how to do this. It's only been seven years. I'll apologize now in case I step on your toes."

His tone was light and playful and it made Hermione's heart glow to hear it. Whoever this man was, she'd cared a great deal about him once, had been concerned for his happiness, his peace of mind. It frustrated her to be unable to place a name to his face. Surely if she cared enough to find unexpected comfort in his joy, she should have been able to figure out who he was! She huffed at herself mentally before smiling.

"Perhaps you should have had a practice dance with Ginny before sending her away. Get back in the swing of it; no pun intended."

"Nah. Then if I'd stepped on her toes, she'd have told you I was a rubbish dancer and you'd stay away. I think I'll take my chances."

He drew her closer to him with the arm around her back and she stifled a gasp at the warmth he seemed to radiate. The subtle scent of him washed over her and again she found herself positively certain that she knew this man. She was beginning to wonder if it would just be better to come forward and ask him before her curiosity drove her mad. Before she had the chance to ask, however, he was twirling with her gracefully along the dance floor. Her head swam a little before she grew accustomed to it and she fell into stride with his long legs which were, true to his word, staying safely away from her vulnerably exposed toes.

"How do you like the party so far, Hermione?"

"It's lovely. I'm glad Cassandra threatened me into coming."

"Cassandra, she's your boss, yeah?"

"That's right. How did you- er, I mean..."

Damnit, Hermione! If he's a wizard in your department, of COURSE he would know Cassandra. But then he wouldn't have had to ask and make sure, would he? No. He definitely wasn't another employee of her department. Of that much, she at least could be sure. But then, how...

"I met her while helping to get everything together for tonight."

"Oh. Oh! You helped decorate tonight?"

"A little, yeah. They called me when they wanted to put the tree together and secure a few things here and there. Of course, I couldn't resist adding a little personal touch."

"That seems reasonable. The tree is absolutely breathtaking. You did a wonderful job bringing it together."

"Oh the tree isn't my handiwork. That was all Cassandra, actually. I just brought a tree in that met her specifications. I put up very little myself."

"Then, if you didn't do the tree, what did you do?"

"You haven't figured it out yet? I would have thought it was obvious."

Suddenly the pair of dancers slowed at her lead's request. Hermione frowned slightly to show her confusion which only deepened at the mischievous glint in his eyes. He caught her gaze and held it a moment before he sent a quick glance towards the ceiling. Following his nonverbal direction, she tilted her head back to find they were standing directly beneath the archway that lead into the party space. There, dangling most inconspicuously was a medium-sized branch of beautifully blossoming mistletoe. The brightest witch of her age felt her face grow warm in embarrassment as she returned her gaze to her partner's. His smile was a strangely appealing blend of sheepish and sly.

"I have something of a secret to confess, Hermione, and I hope you won't be too cross with me when you hear it."

"And what's that?"

He leaned down as if to kiss her, but bypassed her mouth and made to rest his cheek against hers. She felt the bristle of his five o'clock shadow, a feature that was startlingly attractive on his sharp jaw line and cheekbones. His breath tickled her ear when he spoke.

"I enchanted the mistletoe..."

"You did? Whyever would you do that? It's tradition to share a kiss beneath it; what more could you want?"

"To be seen for who I am and not who I used to be."

Again confusion wrinkled her face and she drew back to look at him properly.

"What do you mean?"

"You felt it. I know you did. Or it worked anyway, even if you didn't feel it. I just can't imagine someone as strong as you not noticing something like that."

"I don't understand."

"Who am I, Hermione?"

"I, er... you're, ehm... Am I completely unforgivable if I tell you I can't remember?"

She winced as if expecting a harsh response.

"Of course not. Because -that's- what I'm talking about. When you walked in here tonight, did you feel anything strange? Like when you can't remember if you've left the kettle on at home or if you were supposed to have lunch at twelve or one-thirty?"

Feeling infinitely foolish for forgetting that nagging worry that her memory had been tampered with (but, really, who could blame her with a handsome "stranger" chatting her up and asking her to dance?), Hermione almost slapped her forehead in realization. Of course! It made perfect sense now! The feeling of losing a very important memory or several, the distinct feeling that she -knew- this man but being unable to place him, the warm sensation of magic washing over her as she crossed the threshold into the party hall. She felt even more simple now that he'd explained it. He was right; it should have been obvious. For someone like Hermione, it should have taken no time at all for her to figure it out. Perhaps the spell had taken more than just a few memories?

Looking at her date, however, Hermione felt guilty admitting to herself that it wasn't magic that had tampered with her usually logical, analytical mind. Perhaps it was the time of year, perhaps it was the harsh breakup with and then running into Ron, perhaps it was the selfish pleasure of having someone want her who'd turned down model extraordinaire Ginevra Weasley. Regardless of the real reason (if there WAS only one reason and not a goodly mix of the lot), Hermione Jean Granger was losing her head over a boy. Her face warmed over in embarrassment.

"Now that you mention it... yes, I remember feeling that way when I arrived."

Her gentleman partner gestured towards the mistletoe again.

"Enchanted mistletoe. It charms the memory of everyone who walks beneath it to forget completely who I am."

"Wait... so, it isn't just me?"

"Of course not. I'm good with Charms and Herbology, Hermione, but I'm not you. I couldn't make something advanced enough to target you specifically. Besides, I'd need something personal of yours and I felt weird enough going this far without reaching stalker levels, y'know?"

"Okay, so you've charmed the mistletoe to make everyone forget who you are. I follow you that far. What I don't understand is... why?"

Her date looked guilty when she asked him that and he stepped a few inches back. His hands slid down her arms, clasping gently to her palms when he reached them. His gaze fell to the floor and he became incapable of looking into her face as he spoke.

"I don't want you to remember me for who I was. I want you to spend tonight with me without associating this face or these memories with that little boy you knew. I just want a chance for you to see who I am now, without the image of my youth standing in the way."

Hermione glanced at him incredulously for a moment. Despite that her subconscious told her that she trusted this man, his words made her uneasy. Her weight shifted to her heels in a flight position that was so instinctive, she hardly noticed. It took everything in her not to reach defensively for her wand. He seemed to feel her tension, because he quickly looked up and squeezed her hands reassuringly.

"I promise, I'm not some prat who's trying to play a trick on you, Hermione. And I wasn't a supporter of You-Know-Who. I was just... well, mediocre would be a stretch on my best days. I was a mumbling idiot most of the time and well... I've changed. And I want you to see that without comparing me to what I was back then."

"Why me, for Merlin's sake? Of all the people you could have chosen, why me?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

Her eyebrow lifted at his question and he blushed, actually blushed, and scratched nervously at the back of his neck.

"Right, er... I guess it wouldn't be, what with the uh... right. Silly question. You were my first friend, Hermione. That day, on the train, our first day of Hogwarts. You came right into my car and sat down without a second thought. You smiled this big, eager smile and shook my hand like there was nothing more natural in the world.

You were nervous. I could tell because I was, too. It made sense for you, though. You were a Muggleborn. You'd never set foot in the magical world before, whereas I was raised in it. We were complete strangers, but you didn't care. No one in my whole life up until then and not since has ever shown me that kind of unbiased, perfectly accepting attitude before."

"Then why are you afraid I would be different now?"

"Because you didn't know me then. You know me now. Everyone does. I bet Ginny and all the others who talked to me tonight wouldn't have bothered if they remembered who I was."

"Well, you got your wish. The spell worked. So how did the rest of the evening go when you were planning it all out?"

"Ah, uhm... right. To be honest, I didn't think we'd make it this far. I thought you'd just throw something at me or hex me for tampering with your memory and storm off..."

His smile was guilty, apologetic, and shy. Hers was surprisingly gentle, but nonetheless wry.

"I'd be lying if I said the thought hadn't crossed my mind..."

He winced slightly.

"But, despite all that, I'd also be lying if I said I wasn't interested. Curiosity and a need to solve riddles always were weaknesses of mine."

It was her turn to smile somewhat guiltily.

"Not to mention the most absurd notion that I absolutely trust you and have no reason to think otherwise."

He looked visibly relieved.

"You won't regret it, Hermione, I promise. And if at any time you want out or away from me, you can just go home and go to bed."

"Sleeping lifts the charm?"

She looked skeptical.

"No. The charm sort of... runs out by midnight. That way, come tomorrow morning, everyone will remember seeing me here tonight as if nothing were out of place. I needed a way to break the spell in case you didn't... uhm..."

"Didn't what?"

"Well, it IS mistletoe, Hermione..."

"So you're saying if I kiss you..."

"The spell is broken completely. But! It has to be under the mistletoe and it has to be your true desire to do so. You can't cheat just to find out who I am. You have to genuinely want to for the sake of it."

"You really thought this through."

"I wanted a chance to show you who I am, who I really am and how I really feel about you. To win your heart, if only for tonight, before going back to the way it was. That way, even if you change your mind after, at least I had you all to myself for one night."

Hermione stared at this familiar stranger with a thousand conflicting thoughts running through her head. In all seriousness, he'd tampered with her memory. Not just hers, but the memories of every person here. If something went awry, there would be no one to come looking for her if no one could remember who she'd been with tonight (assuming he was lying about the spell wearing off at midnight to lure her into a false sense of security). At the same time, as if retaining some spark of memory of this man, she felt perfectly safe here and was actually chiding herself for second-guessing him. Even if she did feel that he was trustworthy, she wasn't certain she could be attracted to someone who had to hide his identity to try and chat her up. Part of her wanted to demand he release her from this spell at once and face her like a man. But then...

Oh, bugger it all!

"So what do I call you, then? Surely there's something I can call you besides Stranger or Wizard-I-Know-But-Can't-Remember."

The way his eyes lit up with hope at that statement made her want to smack his arm for being so down on himself and always expecting the worst. Which was a terribly strange feeling to have for someone who, for all intents and purposes, she didn't know. That had to mean they had been friends at Hogwarts; good friends, even. She wondered if she could narrow him down by process of elimination based on which of her friends she could name and which she couldn't.

"Well, er... this'll sound odd, but it'll make sense later, I suppose. You can call me Frank."

"Well that name certainly doesn't ring any bells."

"No, it shouldn't, really. It's not my name anyway. It's my father's."

"Will telling me your name break the spell?"

"I don't know. I shouldn't think so, but I'd rather be safe than sorry, yeah?"

"I guess that makes sense."

His smile was, again, shameful and apologetic. At least he recognized the gravity of what he was doing and felt guilty enough to be respectful in accepting her uncertainty. She gave him a gentle smile of her own, devoid of accusation and irritation. Taking a deep breath, she let go of his hand and extended her own genially.

"Frank, it's lovely to meet you. I'm Hermione."

Again that look of unexpected triumph spread over his face as he took her hand and shook it.

"The pleasure is all mine, Hermione. Would you care to get a drink with me?"

He turned his side towards her and offered his arm. She wrapped one hand around it and fell into step beside him.

"I'd be delighted."

Together they walked towards the bar, both ignoring the surprised glances of some of the other guests who immediately recognized Hermione but not her date. Guiltily, Hermione felt her pride swell as she caught sight of more than one dirty look of other single Witches who had likely been turned down earlier in the evening. She was not normally a vain person, but there is something to be said for the "frigid shrew" when she suddenly finds herself the envy of all. As if completely forgetting her earlier discomfort, she curled her hand around her escort's arm a little more and held her head up a little higher. The bartender that had waited on her previously eyed the pair of them a little dejectedly and sauntered off to help another guest before either had a chance to ask for his attention. Frank waved over another server and turned his attention back to his date.

"So what have you been up to lately, Hermione? You're in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, yeah?"

"Mm'hm. I transferred there after a brief term in the Department for the Care and Regulation of Magical Creatures."

"You transferred out? Why?"

"Let's just say the Wizangemot and I butted heads on more than a few occasions. They refused to budge on some of the issues I brought up and when I refused to stop bringing them up, they requested I be transferred out of that department."

"They can do that?"

"I was furious and wanted to contest the move, but it let me work a more closely with Ron. At the time, we rarely saw each other, so there was pressure at home to take the transfer without a fuss. They offered a fairly decent bonus to sweeten the deal, which only made Ron that much more adamant that I go along quietly."

"Ah, so you did it for Ron, then."

"Mostly. I was unhappy with it back then, but my work is much more satisfying now given that I actually get somewhere with what I'm doing and am not met with constant roadblocks."

"Are you still forced to work with Ron nowadays? I mean, not to pry, but I heard about the, uhm..."

"No, thankfully. I have been Ron-free for a couple of months now. Cassandra has been kind enough to find me cases that are important, interesting, and have little or no contact whatsoever with the Auror department."

"That's good. I'd hate to have to face someone after what he did. I wanted to pound his face in when word got round to me what had happened."

Hermione felt her cheeks darken and a flattered smile broke onto her face.

"It wouldn't have been worth it. As much as I'd have preferred it ended some other way, I should have known it was coming. It probably had been for some time, now that I look back. I'm glad it's over and I don't have to constantly worry about whether or not it would break his heart if I left."

A middle-aged witch in a Santa hat approached with two tall flutes of champagne and set them in front of the couple. Hermione reached for hers, but Frank took her hand before she could reach it. With the other hand, he tugged her face towards his and held her gaze intently for a moment.

"What he did is unforgivable. He doesn't deserve any girl after that and you didn't deserve to have it happen to you. I'd never hurt you, Hermione. I'd never let anyone hurt you."

Caught off-guard by the intimacy of the act and the sincerity in his voice and his gaze, she had to fight the urge to fidget girlishly. A blush painted her cheeks and ears red and she found it hard to hold his intense stare. A grateful smile finally took hold and she stroked her thumb against his hand.

"Thank you. Normally, I find it medieval for a man to pledge to protect a woman, but under the circumstances... I'm glad."

Her lashes fluttered and she smiled again. She reached up and kissed his cheek. His stance faltered and he looked genuinely shocked at her response. He struggled to find his voice again and cleared his throat once or twice before releasing her hand and reaching for his drink. She couldn't help a knowing grin and copied his act and collected her drink. When she turned back towards him, he was holding his glass tilted slightly towards her.

"To new beginnings."

Hermione took her glass and gently struck the side of his with it.

"And old friends."

He again seemed uncertain how to take her responses. His nervousness and self-consciousness was somehow sweet and endearing. That he would go to such lengths and risk rejection just to make her smile had her heart fluttering in a way she associated with Harry. Whoever Frank was, she had cherished him as a good, reliable friend. It was no mystery why she knew in her heart she could trust him, despite the suspicious situation she'd found herself in. With a deep breath and a sip of the sweet champagne, she turned her gaze out into the crowd in time to come face-to-face with a familiar mass of red hair and freckles.

"Ginny! There you are."

"Yes, here I am. Waiting forever for my best friend to introduce me to her date. Honestly, Hermione, I'm going to start putting out applications for a new best friend if this abuse continues."

The older witch couldn't help a slight snicker as she curled her arm around Frank's elbow again.

"Ginny, this is Frank. Frank, I think you're at least slightly acquainted with Ginny."

"Hello, Ginny. You aren't still mad about earlier, are you?"

"Seeing the two of you together has managed to abate some of the disbelief, yes. That and, well..."

Ginny's gaze wandered out into the crowd as a mop of dark brunette broke through it and settled in beside the slender witch. The final piece of the Golden Trio gave a winning grin to Hermione as he slipped an arm around Ginny's waist.

"Oh so you don't mind so much now that you've snagged my best friend, is that it?"

Ginny's face turned a shade to match her hair and she swatted at Hermione.

"Don't mind what, Gin?"

"Nothing, Harry, don't listen to her."

Hermione grinned and reached out to squeeze Harry's arm while gently kissing his cheek as he returned the gesture.

"Happy Christmas, Harry."

"Happy Christmas, Hermione. So who's this, then? Don't think you're getting away without at least introducing us."

"Harry, this is Frank. Be nice."

"Hey, I wasn't above bloodying my best mate's nose for the stunt he pulled. I'll be damned if I let anyone else try anything foolish."

Frank inched closer to Hermione and settled one hand at the small of her back while he reached the other out to shake Harry's hand.

"I promise, Harry, we're in the same boat on that subject. You don't have to worry about me."

Harry took the offered hand and gave it a squeeze.

"That doesn't mean I won't, but you seem all right to me. I suppose I can trust you with her tonight."

"I'm honored."

The boys shared a playful smile before Ginny tugged insistently on Harry's arm.

"C'mon, Harry! Dance with me."

"It looks like I haven't much choice. I'll see you at the Burrow Christmas day, yeah, Hermione?"

Hermione blanched, forgetting entirely the yearly Christmas gathering at the Weasley home. Again she realized she would be alone this year and it took physical effort to fight the vicelike grip of ice forming in her chest. She tried to smile, failed, and had to look away. As if on cue, Frank tugged her into his side and leaned his cheek against the side of her forehead.

"We wouldn't miss it. I'm looking forward to seeing everyone."

If Harry or Ginny noticed the near-miss of a panic attack rising within their best friend, they were respectfully quiet about it. Hearing Frank's voice seemed to jolt her from her thoughts and Hermione was suddenly able to force a smile onto her face.

"I'll be there. You two have a good night."

The pair nodded and Ginny dragged Harry along to an open space on the dance floor before throwing her arms around him a slow waltz. Hermione slumped somewhat and leaned back against the bar. Frank took a step away to give her room to breathe for which she was grateful. She closed her eyes and pressed her thumb and forefinger into the bridge of her nose. A sigh escaped her lips and she took a moment to reorder her thoughts.

"Don't let him get to you like that, Hermione. You deserve to spend Christmas with the people you love, whether he's going to be there or not. Let him be a major prat if it makes him feel better about himself. You're better no matter how he acts or what he says, alright?"

The brunette smiled softly, this more genuine if weaker than the last. Frank gave her upper arm a reassuring squeeze while she finished what remained of her drink. Setting the glass down, she returned her attention to Frank looking at least marginally better.

"I don't want to waste any more time thinking or talking about Ron tonight. I'm here to enjoy myself with excellent company and I'd like not to ruin it. What do you say?"

"I say that's more like the Hermione I know."

He grinned widely and offered his arm to her once more. She took it without hesitation and followed his lead as he headed back out into the crowd. After another moment or so, Hermione found herself in a far better mood. Forcing herself to quit obsessing over what couldn't be helped was doing wonders for her health and having a gentleman like Frank on her arm certainly didn't make matters worse. She pondered briefly on the fact that he'd told Harry and Ginny he would be with her at Christmas, wondering if it was simply for her benefit or if he actually expected her to bring him along. The more she thought about it, the less it seemed like such a bad idea. Far be it from her to show up alone on Christmas when Ron was more than likely going to show up with some new slag on his arm.

However, before she could even consider inviting him, there was still the small problem of not having a clue who he was. The eternal realist (also known as the eternal pessimist) in her taunted her with the fact that he was probably some jerk from school and that when the night was over, she would regret the entire affair. If she were honest with herself, it was also the eternal realist that had nearly kept her from attending this party in the first place and if she'd listened to it then, she would have missed this chance to get to know someone who was genuinely interested in her. She realized somewhat belatedly that she'd grown pensively quiet and she turned to him some as he lead her across the dance floor.

"So what have you been doing since Hogwarts, Frank?"

"Actually, I went back to teach, if you can believe it. I spent a bit of time after graduating as an Auror to help clean up a bit of the mess You-Know-Who left behind, but… it just wasn't for me, I guess. Hogwarts was where I had my happiest memories. They were in need of a new Herbology professor and when Headmistress McGonagall asked, I couldn't refuse. I'm really glad I took the job. I see so many kids like me come into my class and knowing what they're going through really helps me reach out to them. There were probably a hundred others who were just as qualified or more for the position, but that Headmistress McGonagall asked me specifically… well, it's one of the few things in my life I'm really, truly proud of."

"I'd heard Professor Sprout was retiring. I didn't realize they'd had someone specific in mind to replace her. You must have made quite an impression."

Hermione couldn't stifle the smile when she saw his face redden.

"Ah, well. All of us that fought made an impression, I think. I'm not anyone spectacularly special. I'm honestly surprised they didn't try to tag you as one of the new professors."

"Who says they didn't?"

"Why didn't you take the job, then?"

"Well, it's… complicated."

"Ron?"

"Ron."

"Do you ever think of going back? Hogwarts has no shortage of brilliant professors, but they'll never be as good as they can be so long as you aren't there."

"Hah. I doubt that very much. I was an excellent student, but I don't think I would make a good teacher."

"Bollocks, Hermione. I'd never have passed some of my classes if it weren't for you. You'd make an amazing teacher. Blimey, you probably saved my life a few times over with what you taught me and the rest in Dumbledore's Army."

"You were in DA?"

"You're still convinced I was a Slytherin, aren't you?"

This time, it was Hermione's turn to redden in embarrassment.

"Am I positively awful?"

"Eh, given the circumstances. This whole thing… it is rather Slytherin, isn't it?"

"Well, if you're willing to come out and say it…"

The smile they shared bolstered both their confidences that neither was really as flustered about it all as they might lead on.

"Still, the fact of the matter is, Hermione, Hogwarts could always use another brilliant mind. Help to balance out all the mediocre professors they hire on because of their war heroics…"

The witch gave her date a gentle pinch on the arm and he was polite enough to act truly wounded. She gave a gentle shake of her head.

"No, not yet. Someday, maybe. Right now, I'm needed where I am and I actually enjoy what I'm doing. It's been so long since the war ended, but there are still so many people out there who try to cling to the Dark Lord's ideals of a perfect society. Even now there are Death Eaters still at large and if I'm able to save just one little Muggleborn from suffering at those hands, I'll stay where I am."

"That certainly sounds like you, Hermione. You always were more concerned about the wellbeing of others over yourself."

"You say that with such authority."

"Well, it's true, isn't it? You just said so yourself. Not to mention all the times you saved my useless arse in Potions…"

Hermione snickered softly.

"I saved a lot of useless arses in Potions. Professor Snape was a nightmare for most of his students."

"I don't care about them. I care about what you did for me. For the longest time, you were the only person I knew who didn't look at me like I was a disappointment, like I was a failure and always would be. Even my own Gran treated me little better growing up. It wasn't until after the last battle at Hogwarts that she finally looked at me like I mattered."

The witch winced slightly at the anecdote. Without realizing it, she slid her hand down the length of his arm and gently squeezed at his hand. Frank looked visibly shaken for a moment before simply threading his fingers between hers without a word. The gesture took Hermione aback at first, uncertain how to handle the sudden affection. Her heart fluttered slightly despite her uncertainty and she actually halted in her steps. Worried, Frank stopped and looked back. His voice took longer to work than he'd like, but before he could get a word out, she smiled at him.

"Frank…"

"Hermione, I…"

"What's this? The shriveled up old hag's got herself a date?"

Oh no.

"What a surprise! I'd have thought you'd be at home, drowning in ice cream and crying yourself to sleep."

"Ronald…"

The fingers entwined with hers tightened considerably and Hermione looked up at Frank with a slightly concerned expression.

"And who's this, eh? Did she pay you? Did she beg? Or are you doing this as a favor to my sister?"

The reek of firewhiskey on the redhead's breath was overwhelming. Typical. Hermione was suddenly reminded of how few holidays they got through without at least one drunken argument. She had hoped, in vain as it were, that perhaps with their breakup she'd be free of them. Perhaps Frank was right; Hogwarts would provide a decent salary and she would almost certainly be able to completely avoid the trashy mess in front of her.

"I don't think Hermione's in the mood to talk, Ron. I think it's best you take your leave."

"Oh-ho! It seems this one's got a spine, Hermione. Then that rules out begging and bribery. I bet Ginny put you up to this, didn't she? I can tell you this one wouldn't be able to get herself a mate if he wasn't desperate for someone else."

"Ronald!"

"What? I'm just speaking from personal experience here, Hermione. I'm sorry it had to come about the way it did, really I am. But a man's got certain obligations, y'know?"

"Obligations?"

"Yeah! Harry was head-over-heels for Ginny, so that meant he wasn't getting the girl and I'd be damned if I let my best mate shag my only sister without picking up the last piece of our little trio."

"Ron, that's enough. I think you've had a little too much to drink. Why don't you go outside and cool off?"

"Hey! Don't tell me what to do, mate! You have no idea how long I had to suffer the little miss know-it-all. Day-in and day-out, it was always, 'Ron you didn't do this,' or 'Ron why'd you do that?' It was bloody mind-numbing, I tell you! It's a wonder I didn't run off and leave her ages ago."

"If you were so desperate to sleep around, that's all you had to say, Ronald. Far be it from me to keep you from collecting as much filth as you could stick your prick into."

"Hermione, don't. It's not worth the…"

"And what would you know, eh? The few times we were ever anything approaching intimate, all I got was earful after earful about how 'inadequate' I was. What's a bloke supposed to do, huh? Merlin forbid she ever tell me what I was doing wrong!"

Hermione's gaze darted around the room. Ron's boisterous complaints were starting to attract more attention than she was interested in entertaining. Somewhere in the crowd, Lavender was watching on with a smile to beat Malfoy at his most arrogant.

"Ronald, this is by far not the time or the place to be discussing our sex life."

"Oh, forgive me, Hermione. I'd hate to ruin your night with prince charming over here. I might run him off before you get a chance to!"

"That's it. You're done. Get out of here now or Merlin help me, I'll wipe that ugly look off your face."

It only took a single glance at Hermione's tear-filled, angry face for Frank to have decided they'd talked long enough. He released the shorter witch's hand and wrapped his fingers around the collar of Ron's dress robes. Without so much as a grunt of effort, he hauled the offending male backward and started half-dragging him across the dance floor towards the exit. The Weasley was genuinely startled by the action, but when his sense caught up to him, he wasted no time in launching one and then both fists at his 'assailant.'

Frank leaned back, easily avoiding the drunken attempt at his face. He gave his best effort to subdue the wildly swinging wizard. He was taller and at least slightly stronger because, for the most part, he was succeeding in holding Ron's arms down. He misjudged one particularly brutal throw and the on looking crowd gasped as an echoing smack resounded as fist met face. The taller wizard was startlingly calm as he straightened up after his head had stopped spinning enough to cause vertigo. With an unconcerned wipe of his thumb, he cleaned his mouth of the blood spilling from his split lip. He sighed and looked back at Hermione.

"I'm sorry, love. I might taste a little coppery now."

The comment caught Hermione so off-guard, she was unable to keep from laughing out loud. Her date gave her a playful wink, turned back towards the smug-looking Ron, and landed a harsh retaliatory blow across his jaw. The strike managed to knock Ron's legs out from under him in his surprise and he swayed in a daze as he tried to sit up after his head collided with the floor. A shriek tore the silence as Lavender came rushing through the crowd to Ron's side, kneeling beside him and cradling him like a child.

"You horrid monster! Can't you see he's drunk? He might have barely grazed you, but you didn't have to beat him so hard!"

"Oh, trust me. That one'll hurt much more in the morning once he remembers who just knocked him down."

Lavender's face scrunched up into a scowl and she gave the most indignant huff as she helped Ron to his feet, petting his face and fawning over him as she did. The redhead staggered more than once as he was lead out of the Ministry, a painful pout mixed with barely contained, drunken rage splitting his face. When he was out of sight, Frank turned back towards Hermione. Her expression was unreadable and suddenly the wizard felt guilty for losing his temper.

"Hermione, I'm so…"

Before he could finish, she was dragging him by the wrist away from the scene and the still awed crowd. The music had stopped when the shouting began but now it was slowly starting back up, despite the momentarily unresponsive dancers. For their part, Frank and Hermione hardly seemed to notice. Frank was too worried about whatever the witch was going to do to him once she'd finished hauling him out of sight. His heart sank as he became thoroughly convinced she was going to hex him to death once there were no witnesses. Each time he tried to speak and apologize, she gave him another yank that silenced him before the words could come out. Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks and turned around.

"I want to ask you something."

The suddenness of the statement surprised him and he winced slightly, as if expecting a right hook at any moment.

"Go for it."

The brightest witch of her age leaned up on the tips of her toes, her fingers losing themselves in the thick auburn of Frank's hair. Without another breath, she captured his lips with hers, shivering as magic washed over her. Frank was motionless, his brain needing a moment to catch up to what was happening to the rest of him. The shimmer of magic that he felt radiating off his date told him more than her kiss could and in an instant of clarity, he was wrapping his arms around her waist and hoisting her up off the floor. He barely registered that the music from before had stopped once more as he twirled the slender witch in his arms before setting her down again.

She was panting slightly when she pulled away at last, her eyes still dreamily shut as he rested his forehead against hers. His fingers danced lightly at the small of her back, delighting in the closeness they shared. A soft sound of content thrummed in Hermione's throat and she opened her eyes slowly, as if taking her time to unwrap a present. At the sight of him, her face turned a very appropriate shade of red.

"Neville…?"

That sheepish smile was back on his face and he had to resist the urge to itch nervously at his neck.

"Surprise."

"Then Frank is…"

"My father."

"Right."

"Are you… angry?"

"Not in the least. I should have guessed, really."

"If it was easy enough to guess, it would have been a pointless endeavor, Hermione."

She laughed at his playful tone and smiled, taking a step back to marvel at the figure he struck, all grown up and every inch a man rather than a boy. Her hands slid down and took him by both wrists, tugging them frontwards from behind her. She threaded their fingers together once again and leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his body radiate onto her.

"You, er… said you wanted to ask me something, yeah?"

She couldn't help a soft giggle and nodded.

"I did, yes. Tell me, Neville, what are your plans for Christmas?"

"Oh, er… visiting my parents, probably. Though that's usually a brief excursion and the rest of the day I'm free."

"Good. You can keep your promise to Harry and Ginny then."

"My promise?"

"To come to the Burrow with me."

"Is that to say you'll have me?"

"Nothing would make me happier. Besides, I want to see the look on Ron's face when you show up after tonight."

They shared a wide grin and Neville leaned down, nudging her nose with his. When she tilted her head back at his gesture, he pressed a chaste kiss to her mouth. After a moment, she leveled him a serious gaze that took him aback.

"Just do me a favor…"

"What's that?"

"Don't tamper with anyone's memory from now on."

He blanched slightly.

"Got it. I promise."

"Good."

"Hermione…?"

The brunette turned at the sound of Ginny's voice, who looked uncertain and amused all at once.

"Did Neville Longbottom just punch out my brother?"