Disclaimer: Do I have to? I mean, I think it's obvious I don't own the HP universe, otherwise I wouldn't have bothered with any other character besides Draco and Hermione. Must I admit it? Anyway~~

AN: This is only my second time publishing, and I've got something nice for you (if a bit cringe-y, teehee). Consider this an extremely late or early Christmas present. Enjoy!

Inspiration is all thanks to Ariana Grande's song with the same title. I'm starting to realize, too, how much of an audiophile I am, what with having two published works inspired by songs.

Imagine

What a pickle she was in!

She huffed at an errant strand of curly hair that had audaciously come loose from her tight ponytail and had fallen over her face. She returned her attention to the Transfiguration tome she was reading as she sat on the cold stone floor in the middle of a deserted corridor.

What's wrong, you ask? Aside from having hair fall into your face,(which is annoying at most) reading in the middle of a corridor doesn't seem so bad, even if it is deserted. If you're one who enjoys the peace and quiet that solitude brings, it sounds heavenly; the less people around, the better!

As it was, the chill of winter seemed to flow from each stone surrounding her, the ungodly hour amplifying it to glacial degrees. Had she not thought ahead before leaving her rooms to bundle up, she would have likely gone numb and frozen her fingers and toes off.

Then why not leave? There obviously wasn't anything pleasant about her situation, why make it a predicament?

Well, that's the thing isn't it?

Hermione huffed out another vexed breath as she looked up at the god-forsaken enchanted mistletoe floating above her. She was doing her nightly rounds, a tome in hand to ward off boredom, as well as read about the spell she was to introduce to her 4th year Transfiguration classes. She had just passed the dungeons and had gone down a rarely used corridor where many older students have been known to get caught messing about in the alcoves, when she found herself unable to move farther.

Looking once more at the source of her dilemma, she mentally cursed the headmistress for keeping to the tradition of using the decoration.

The only good she could think up in her situation was that it was her who got caught in the enchantment, and not a student who would likely have frozen to death had they been unlucky to stumble under the plant... But then again, they'd probably been headed into this hallway to snog, so the plant might have only justified their plans of tongue-tango.

"This is fine, just a few more hours, so it's fine... There are early risers and ghosts who could help. This can't possibly get worse. Someone's coming around the corner any minute now. Hopefully another professor doing rounds, maybe even Mr. Fil—Mrs. Norris. a kiss to a familiar would count, wouldn't it?" Hermione mumbled to herself, mentally running through a list of professors who might have the dungeons part of their rounds that she could satisfy the enchantment with, and even considering the caretaker who she could send for help if it came to that. "This can't get worse. After all, when down, there's no other way but up," she continued when vestiges of panic started to creep up her spine, shaking away her thoughts when she suddenly recalled Murphy's Law.

As she pushed the thought from her mind and refocused on the paragraph she kept failing to finish, the most welcome sound distracted her once again as it echoed from the corner at the other end of the hallway. Sauntering footsteps, as though the person would rather be anywhere else but had little choice in the matter, reverberated around the passageway to where she sat.

"Hey, uhh, I need a hand," She called. It surprised her at how hoarse she sounded. It seemed the chill in the air as well as the hours of disuse had affected her more than she thought. She cleared her throat and tried again, this time relieved as her voice seemed to carry over when she heard the footsteps stutter and then quicken.

Hermione closed her book and tucked it under her arm before slowly pushing herself off the floor, letting her chilled bones and joints warm up for movement. She was nearly upright, a hand resting on her knee while the other brushed at her shins, when she heard her name.

Her surname, to be precise.

"Granger?"

Murphy's Law, amirite?

Her head shot up and her eyes instantly fell to the shock of impeccably coiffed white blonde hair she was certain the unmistakable velvety voice belonged to.

"Why, in good Godric's name, must he be the one to find me in this embarrassing mess?" she mentally swore as the man who had starred in her dreams since the start of term hurried towards her. She couldn't believe her eyes so there she remained, bent over and gaping at Draco Malfoy like a deer in headlights as he near ran (because Malfoy's don't run) over to her.

"Granger? Tell me what happened. Did you fall? Are you hurt? Did someone do this?" He asked when he reached her. Draco held her by her shoulders and gently lifted her upright, demonstrating the stark height difference between them. As if looking up wasn't bad enough, (which it wasn't, not really, because what girl didn't secretly fantasize their man to be taller) he just had to be able to lift her onto her toes and still be a head taller.

She coughed to call his attention, which went unnoticed as he turned her this way and that looking for things she was sure he wouldn't find. She cleared her throat louder and finally caught his attention. She parted her lips and he saw it. She watched as his eyes briefly passed over her lips, his tongue darting out to wet his own, (had she imagined that?) before flicking his icy blue gaze back to her eyes in anticipation of what she had to say. Only, she suddenly found her throat bone-dry. No sound came and she remained silent as he stared at her anxiously.

"What the hell's wrong? Did you hit your head?" He demanded, taking her face into his hands and turning it none too gently, again looking for something she was sure he wouldn't find.

Well, could you blame her?

She had never seen him look or sound so concerned, and over her safety no less! Could she be dreaming? Had she dozed off? Worse yet, had hypothermia set in? Was this actually the delusions of the dying?

"Sweet Salazar! You're freezing! Come on, Granger! How long have you been here? What the fucking hell happened?" He asked insistently

"Is this all for me? Over me? Surely not! Aside from our first few months working together, as well as those odd 'flirteasing' moments, he's only ever been indifferent, never concerned, and most certainly not of this intensity," Hermione contemplated as she watched him continue his examination of her person, reminding her that she should really tell him she was really fine. Before she could speak though, he stunned her when he set her on her feet, promptly making her squeak when he bent over and scooped her into his arms.

"Right, I'm taking you to Pomfrey. We'll get you to rights," He expressed as he straightened and secured her in his arms, flashing her a reassuring smile before setting his sight on the path he needed to take.

"You can't" Hermione blurted when she felt him tense to leave. In his arms, she made sure to keep as minimal contact as possible. Her hands held her skirt to her knees, while her arms were front and center along her body.

Yes, she knew the end of the Wizarding War was years ago, and the boy she knew (Or so she thought. Come on, he was a kid trying to survive in the only way he knew how) had clearly changed, but she didn't know exactly how deep that change ran. However friendly they had become in the years they've worked together, she knows better than to assume whatever's going on in his mind. Moreover, purebloods were known to be an old-fashioned bunch, this situation must be scandalous to some of them. He was likely only being professional, duty-bound to make sure she got help since he was possibly assuming the worst (which, again, she really must clarify soon). She could only guess at where he draws the proverbial line. Draping her arm over his shoulder and permitting her hand to trail into his baby fine hair would undoubtedly be hurtling over and beyond any line (or, maybe, HOPEFULLY, not. What were the odds, though?) Her hand twitched forlornly at that.

"You're back! Good. Keep talking. Let me know how you're doing." Draco commented with a relieved sigh, now about to move in the direction of the infirmary.

"I'm alright, but we're trapped under mistletoe, so we're not going anywhere," Hermione explained in the exact same moment Draco moved and realized he cannot go any farther. Hermione watched him as he looked above them and spotted the seemingly harmless but truly infernal plant, witnessing the instant the information she'd shared sink in. She saw his brows knit, as if he couldn't believe he hadn't noticed the mistletoe. However, she was taken aback when at the next moment his eyes widened, and a wide mischievous grin stretched across his lips. He turned to her, a devilish spark in his eyes as it flickered briefly onto her lips again before staring back deeply into her eyes.

"If you wanted a kiss, you could've just said so," Draco whispered teasingly. Hermione blinked in disbelief; once, twice, then a couple more times. Had she heard him right? "Is that why you haven't spoken? You were actually speechless that your wish to snog me will come to pass?" he queried with amusedly, chuckling lightly when he noticed the blush that had crept onto her face as she sputtered.

He was uncharacteristically being generous with himself tonight! First the concern, and then that flirtation (had he really blatantly flirted with her?), and now he was amused enough that it brought chuckles out of him! What's next?

It was quite embarrassing to have him so amused at her expense. But sharing a moment like this with him was indeed rare, and was consequently a precious consolation. Pair that sentiment with the deep timbre of his chuckles that sent vibrations she felt through her body made delicious butterflies flit and flutter all inside her.

"If it wasn't for the look on your face, I'd think you planned for all this to happen," he sniggered. Hermione frowned; no matter how priceless this was, perhaps enough was enough.

"Right, since we've cleared that up, maybe you could put me down now?" Hermione requested primly, assuredly looking at anything but Draco.

"Sure about that, Love?" Draco chimed, winking at her when she twisted her head to look at him incredulously.

Hermione swallowed heavily, letting a moment pass before putting on the expression she uses to make the most miscreant of students cower into a corner onto her face as she looked him boldly in the eye.

"Quite," she snapped, slightly disappointed when he did as she bid, partially hoping that his playful demeanor would persist. "Let's get out of this mess, shall we? What do you propose we do?" she was brushing at her skirt to make sure there wasn't a crease in sight. Her heart stuttered when she saw the smile that Draco directed at her.

"It's a mistletoe. It's quite straightforward, isn't it? Pucker up, Granger" Was it just her, or did he seem keen on kissing her? She blinked at him, but quickly followed it with a scoff.

"Don't be so smug. As if I would want to kiss someone so... so..."

"Dashing? Breathtaking? Perrrfect?" He purred the last word.

"Huffy!" Hermione spluttered in exasperation. Hopefully, he would think she was flushed from agitation, not from the thought of kissing his dashing, breathtaking, and perfect self.

"That's not a word!" Draco laughed

"It's what you are,"

"You're lucky I'm the one who found you... What would you have done had it been Filch instead?" He asked smugly, chuckling when Hermione became more flushed. She shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Mrs. Norris would surely be close by, I'd gladly give her a few pecks had that been the ca~"

"And if she wasn't? If Filch had been alone?"

"... I'd rather not imagine," she sniffed, looking away.

"I can't believe you'd rather kiss a cat than me," Draco laughed without humor, gradually growing sober. It wasn't true, but he didn't need one more thing to boost his ego. So she shrugged and kept silent. "Anyway, you know you could've just evanescoed the thing, right? You are a witch." Draco informed after a shake of his head. He took his wand from a holster around his forearm, but found it out of his hand even before he could lift and point it at the plant.

"Don't do that... The elves worked hard to put them around the castle. They aren't ideal and Minerva shouldn't have had them put them up; these are school children getting stuck under them for Godric's sake!" Hermione griped while she held his wand tightly to her chest."But they're already up, and the elves spent time and effort putting them there." She continued to reason, preparing for an argument since she did take his wand without warning. Her brows pulled together when seconds had passed and Draco had still not made any rebuttal.

She lifted her eyes from their perusal of the stone floor and saw Draco staring at her with an unreadable but oh-so familiar expression; familiar because it was similar to the look that started her fascination with him.

They have been co-workers for nearly three years. The first few months were, unsurprisingly, rife with conflict and confrontation, as to be expected from a former bully and their victim. But soon enough, they got into a system of avoidance, an 'I won't talk to you unless I have to' sort of thing, because between educating, counseling, and 'second parent'-ing, who had the time and energy for exacting childhood and schoolyard grudges?

By the end of the previous year, they were able to reach a level of professional friendship. A bit of laughs and teases (or were they really flirtations?) weren't uncommon – his earlier 'teasing' a perfect example. They were even comfortable enough to confide with the other about problematic pupils, stifling workload, and on occasion, bits of personal dilemma.

But that all changed at the start of term of the current school year. At the conclusion of the sorting feast, when it was time for the students to get to their dormitories, a first year sorted into Slytherin would not let go of her much older Ravenclaw brother. The girl was inconsolable; she had her face buried in her brother's robes as she wailed, her light blonde curls sparking with static, her apprehension so intense it looked about to be manifested in unintentional magic.

She was about to approach them, only someone had beat her to it. Not a moment later, Draco had tapped the girl's shoulder and knelt before her when she turned. He offered her his handkerchief and gently gathered her waist-length tresses over one shoulder, while the girl wiped at her face. He looked at her with such understanding and warmth; he smiled softly, slightly sheepish, one corner of his lips inclined. His eyes were imploring, as if silently asking her to let him speak. The girl had succumbed, unsurprisingly. She had let him come close enough to whisper what Hermione could only guess to be words of comfort and reassurance, because as he leaned away, the girl's tears had reduced to sniffles, and her frown had become a watery smile.

Never had anything invoked such a maternal response from her as much as that scene. She suddenly had the image of being a mother to a similar curly and blonde haired girl, with no one else as the father but Draco Malfoy. That heart-piercingly warm look making an appearance every time their daughter would need to be comforted and cheered up.

The look he directed at her now, though similar, was noticeably something else.

It was still full of understanding. But where it was soft and warm with the young girl, to her it was decidedly blistering. What was imploring with the girl, in its place now was confidence – as if he had predicted a solution to a problem correctly.

And then his smile, which was a whole other story, was breathtaking. He was amused, that much was clear. But it wasn't teasing, as it had been earlier. No, it was soft, more a smirk than a smile. It verged on the smirk she knew from their school days, but it only held a quarter of the intensity. Nevertheless, like his stare, it exuded certainty, of confidence -as if he knew something about her and he wasn't about to share it with her (the git!).

"Can you imagine it?" Draco broke through the silence, as well as her stroll through her thoughts.

"Imagine what?" She asked breathlessly, her throat once again having gone dry. She had imagined a lot, not even counting the ones she had during this encounter.

"If we were to kiss," he sighed, a faint blush creeping from his neck to his cheeks as he said it. He looked uncertain all of a sudden, averting his gaze from her and instead focusing on the hall behind her, looking so engaging one moment and then sneering in the next. "Look, I'm not waiting to freeze to death and have the whole castle witness it when there's a perfectly reasona- "

"Malfoy," she cut him off, refusing to let him build a wall at what could possibly be her chance at her imagined reality.

"Granger, you're overthinking this. It doesn't have to be more than it needs to be," At that, he actually looked pained. He was now intently scrutinizing the floor between them after sheathing his hands into his pockets.

She closed the distance, took his chin and gently turned his head her way. She got on the tips of her toes and saw his eyes widen in surprise just as she closed hers when their lips met. It was a chaste peck at first, until he moved closer and moulded their lips together. From there it only evolved, slowly but surely, until they were locked in an embrace, tongues tied and lips locked. They leaned against one another, eyes deep within the other's as they caught their breaths.

"Way better than how I imagined..." Draco murmured as his eyes dropped to her lips. Hermione giggled, her delight growing when his gaze shot back to her eyes. He apparently had not intended for her to hear, a blush staining his cheeks as proof.

"That's well and good... I'd rather not keep it in my imaginations anymore, though..."she whispered boldly, reassured when he presented her an absolutely stunning smile.

"Fantastic," was his reply as he twined his fingers with hers and gave her another smoldering kiss.

AN: RnR! I need to know if that was all over the place. I've been rereading it and I can't get rid of the feeling that something's off. Aside from them being cringe-ly OOC (yes, I am aware, but the muse is unyielding and extremely aware that I am but a puppet), reviews and thoughts would be greatly appreciated.

Also, if you're fans of Naruto, I just might be convinced to put up a fic I wrote way back when I was an 8th grader. I've rewritten it through the years, but, well, fair warning, it still sucks big time, sooooo, look forward to it!(?)

aaand, one last. my other work, Nevermind, Forget It, is nearly done, I've got all their dialogue down pat. It's just a matter of putting it all together, (maybe it's not so done... eheh) But I'm in the mood again, and hopefully I get the inspo to wrap it up.