A Git For articcat621: Under the Mistletoe, (Hermione/Charlie)
Author: flipflop_diva
Recipient: articcat621
Title: Under the Mistletoe
Pairing: Hermione Granger/Charlie Weasley
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,931
Summary: There was a reason Hermione was reluctant to go to a Christmas party hosted by George and Angelina Weasley. And that was before she knew about the enchanted mistletoe.
Author's Notes: Thank you to A for all the help! Without you, this would not have come together at all. Thank you also to the mods for the extra time! This is such a wonderful fest, and I’m so happy to be a part of it. And finally, thank you to articcat621 for your inspiring prompts. Happy holidays and I hope you enjoy!
She should have known it was a bad idea to come to a Christmas party hosted by George and Angelina Weasley.
Actually, she had known, but Ron and Harry insisted it would be fine.
"What could go wrong?" Ron had said.
"Everything," she had replied haughtily.
"It's a Christmas party, Hermione," Harry said. "They're always on their best behavior for their Christmas party."
"Yeah," Ron had said. "The last two years have been loads of fun!"
So she had given in and agreed to go. And she’d even gone out to get a new red dress robe with white fur trim to wear for the occasion. But she hadn’t made it two steps into the party before George was grinning at her and touching her collar and asking her if Mrs. Claus had let her into her wardrobe.
“I should have stayed home,” she muttered to Ron, but he just frowned at her.
“Did you not wear it because it looks like Mrs. Claus?” he said.
“It’s holiday themed!” she hissed, and would have stomped off except she realized just in time that Charlie and Bill Weasley were behind Ron and they were both looking over at her.
And that was the second thing that had gone wrong in the span of five minutes.
It was most inconvenient really. She had known Charlie for ages and hadn’t given him a second thought, but then last summer, the one after her eighth year of Hogwarts, she spent three months at The Burrow, and it just so happened to be the same three months Charlie was spending at home, too, being in between jobs and wanting to spend more time with his family.
One thing had led to another and Hermione had found herself spending a lot of time just her and Charlie, talking and laughing and listening to him teach her everything he knew about dragons and other magical creatures, and then one night, she looked over at him sitting next to her in the moonlight and she realized to her horror that she desperately wanted to kiss him. And that she didn’t want to get to the end of the summer and not have him be there with her.
And that could not do, because Charlie was Ron’s brother and Ron was one of her best friends and it would just be awkward and also she was pretty sure Charlie only thought of her as his little brother’s little friend and not at all like a woman he wanted to kiss and then take to bed.
And oh no. There she was again, thinking about Charlie in ways she shouldn’t when he was standing in front of her at a Christmas party. So she excused herself to go find something to drink and half hoped maybe George and Angelina had poisoned it so she could have an excuse to leave the party and not have to avoid Charlie all night long.
But the butterbeer not only was not poisoned but the party proceeded to take its worse turn yet - and that was saying something.
She was just taking the first sip of her second glass and desperately searching to see where Ron and Harry had gotten off to when he called her name from behind her.
“Hello, Hermione.”
She whirled around with what she hoped was a smile - and not a grimace - on her face, but before she could get a word out, her eyes focused on something very strange above Charlie’s head. What looked like a stray piece of mistletoe was bobbing up in the air, and as she watched, the little plant began to spin - and then grow.
“Charlie,” she started, but it was too late. Tendrils, almost like arms, had shot out of the mistletoe, and even as she took a step back, away from Charlie, she felt the plant wrap itself forcefully around her waist and yank her forward, until her chest was squashed against the one person she didn’t want to be squashed against, and she found herself unable to catch her breath (but whether that was from the out-of-control mistletoe or being so close to Charlie, she wasn’t exactly sure).
“What is happening?” she finally managed, looking up to see Charlie’s face scowling at something behind her.
“I’m going to kill him,” he grumbled, then glanced down at her. “I’m really sorry about this.”
“You’re going to kill who?” she asked.
“Who else?” Charlie let out a short laugh. “George has been threatening to find me a date for the last two weeks so it seems he’s gone and hexed the mistletoe until I find someone I like.”
At the mention of its name, the mistletoe seemed to tighten the hold its branches had on the both of them.
“It’s been following me around all night,” Charlie continued. “I thought it was funny at first …”
Hermione felt her cheeks turn red as Charlie’s words sunk in. Of course it was funny - and probably fun - when he could kiss all the other women at the party, but now he was here with her …
“I’m really sorry,” he said again.
“Don’t be,” she said, trying to avoid looking at him, but the way the mistletoe was binding them together made that almost impossible. Instead, she willed herself not to cry in front of him. This whole thing was embarrassing enough.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the other party guests staring at them. There had been only a few people over by the drinks a couple minutes ago but now it seemed everyone there was coming to take a look at the two of them trapped together.
She wished desperately that she had her wand in reach and could Apparate herself home. Maybe after obliviating everyone’s memory of this before she went.
Through the crowd she spotted a familiar face.
George.
“Oh, thank goodness.” She sighed, lifting a hand to wave at him. “George, you need to undo us!”
George made his way over to them, eyeing them with an expression she couldn’t quite discern - something akin to curiosity mixed with surprise mixed with amusement.
“Oh, no,” George said, but he wasn’t talking to her. He seemed to be talking only to Charlie. “Kiss her and the mistletoe will unhook itself.”
“George,” Charlie said, his voice low.
“No, no, no,” Hermione said, suddenly feeling desperate. She did not need Charlie kissing her in front of all these people. She’d had too many dreams, too many fantasies …
“It’s the only way,” George said. He crossed his arms and stepped back, looking most definitely more amused than anything now. So did the others in the crowd. There was a lot of catcalling and hooting and Hermione was pretty sure she was as red as Charlie’s hair.
“I’m so sorry about this,” she heard Charlie whisper in her ear, and she turned her head so she was looking at only him. “I don’t think he’s going to let us go. Maybe we could just do it quick?”
Hermione felt like her face was on fire as she nodded. “Yes,” she said. “Do it quick.”
They leaned toward each other then - she swore the voices of the crowd swelled like a wave reaching its crest - and their lips met. It was over before it had really started, and the cheers of the crown turned quickly to boos.
The mistletoe, however, did not unleash them.
“George!” Charlie said.
“You have to kiss her, mate,” George said. “You kiss Mum with more feeling than that.”
The crowd snickered. Charlie glared. “I will murder you in your sleep.”
“Will you really?” George said, and again there was something to his tone Hermione could not quite put her finger on.
“George.” Angelina was talking now. She had appeared by her husband’s side and was looking at the two guests ensnared in her living room. “Let him be.”
“Oh, no, no,” George said. “There is no way. He has been talking about snogging Hermione for six months. Let him have his chance.”
“What?” Hermione blinked up at Charlie. She must have heard something wrong. There was no way George had just said what she thought he said.
But Charlie’s face was turning pink and he was avoiding her eyes and …
“Oh, Merlin,” she whispered, more to herself than anyone. And then, slightly louder, but still quiet enough that only Charlie could hear. “Do you really want to snog me?”
He looked at her now. His face was as red as she felt hers was.
“I did not plan this,” he said. “Please just know …”
“Because I want to snog you too.”
The words were out of her mouth before she could really think them through, but as soon as they hit the air, she was glad she had said them.
She watched as his mouth parted slightly and his eyes widened just so.
“You’re pulling my leg,” he said.
She shook her head. “No,” she said. “I’m not. Try me.”
He did.
He bent in and she tilted her head to meet him. Their lips met, first a bit tentatively, softly pecking until her arms wrapped around his waist and his hands took hold of her hips. Then he deepened the kiss, and Hermione went with it, closing her eyes and concentrating only on the feel of his lips finally on hers, his arms firmly around her.
She didn’t know how long they had kissed or why they had stopped. She only knew she was breathing deeply, a broad smile on her face as they broke apart.
In the back of her mind, she was aware of the crowd hooting and the fact that nothing was binding them together any longer, but Charlie was leaning in again to meet her, his arms sliding around her back, and she was wrapping hers around his neck, kissing him like her life depended on it, and anything anyone else was doing was the last thing she was going to think about.
•••
“What did we tell you?” Ron said later that night. He, Hermione and Harry were standing in front of the door to her flat. “The party wasn’t so bad, right?” He could barely contain his grin.
She rolled her eyes. “Did you know about this, Ronald Weasley?”
Ron’s eyes widened and he stared at her with the fakest shocked expression she had ever seen.
“Of course not!” he said, a little too hotly. “I knew nothing, right, Harry?”
Harry nodded. “’Course not.”
Hermione shook her head at them. “You two are the worst liars.”
“Well, you’re welcome then.” Ron leaned in to kiss her cheek, then pulled back with a real grin this time. “Just don’t go shagging my brother, will you?”
Harry laughed, before leaning in to also kiss her cheek. “Just have fun,” he said.
“Night, you two,” she said, opening her front door.
“Night, ‘Mione!” they chorused.
She let herself into her flat, closing the door behind her with a soft smile. About thirty seconds later, she heard the distinctive pops of her two friends Apparating back home. Her smile grew wider. About thirty seconds after that, she heard another distinctive pop.
She turned around and opened her front door, almost throwing herself into the arms of the person on the other side.
“So,” Charlie whispered into her ear. “Should we continue where we left off?”
“Merlin, yes,” Hermione muttered, and she grabbed Charlie by his cloak, tugging him inside and closing the door firmly behind them, before leading him down the hall to her bedroom.
Recipient: articcat621
Title: Under the Mistletoe
Pairing: Hermione Granger/Charlie Weasley
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,931
Summary: There was a reason Hermione was reluctant to go to a Christmas party hosted by George and Angelina Weasley. And that was before she knew about the enchanted mistletoe.
Author's Notes: Thank you to A for all the help! Without you, this would not have come together at all. Thank you also to the mods for the extra time! This is such a wonderful fest, and I’m so happy to be a part of it. And finally, thank you to articcat621 for your inspiring prompts. Happy holidays and I hope you enjoy!
She should have known it was a bad idea to come to a Christmas party hosted by George and Angelina Weasley.
Actually, she had known, but Ron and Harry insisted it would be fine.
"What could go wrong?" Ron had said.
"Everything," she had replied haughtily.
"It's a Christmas party, Hermione," Harry said. "They're always on their best behavior for their Christmas party."
"Yeah," Ron had said. "The last two years have been loads of fun!"
So she had given in and agreed to go. And she’d even gone out to get a new red dress robe with white fur trim to wear for the occasion. But she hadn’t made it two steps into the party before George was grinning at her and touching her collar and asking her if Mrs. Claus had let her into her wardrobe.
“I should have stayed home,” she muttered to Ron, but he just frowned at her.
“Did you not wear it because it looks like Mrs. Claus?” he said.
“It’s holiday themed!” she hissed, and would have stomped off except she realized just in time that Charlie and Bill Weasley were behind Ron and they were both looking over at her.
And that was the second thing that had gone wrong in the span of five minutes.
It was most inconvenient really. She had known Charlie for ages and hadn’t given him a second thought, but then last summer, the one after her eighth year of Hogwarts, she spent three months at The Burrow, and it just so happened to be the same three months Charlie was spending at home, too, being in between jobs and wanting to spend more time with his family.
One thing had led to another and Hermione had found herself spending a lot of time just her and Charlie, talking and laughing and listening to him teach her everything he knew about dragons and other magical creatures, and then one night, she looked over at him sitting next to her in the moonlight and she realized to her horror that she desperately wanted to kiss him. And that she didn’t want to get to the end of the summer and not have him be there with her.
And that could not do, because Charlie was Ron’s brother and Ron was one of her best friends and it would just be awkward and also she was pretty sure Charlie only thought of her as his little brother’s little friend and not at all like a woman he wanted to kiss and then take to bed.
And oh no. There she was again, thinking about Charlie in ways she shouldn’t when he was standing in front of her at a Christmas party. So she excused herself to go find something to drink and half hoped maybe George and Angelina had poisoned it so she could have an excuse to leave the party and not have to avoid Charlie all night long.
But the butterbeer not only was not poisoned but the party proceeded to take its worse turn yet - and that was saying something.
She was just taking the first sip of her second glass and desperately searching to see where Ron and Harry had gotten off to when he called her name from behind her.
“Hello, Hermione.”
She whirled around with what she hoped was a smile - and not a grimace - on her face, but before she could get a word out, her eyes focused on something very strange above Charlie’s head. What looked like a stray piece of mistletoe was bobbing up in the air, and as she watched, the little plant began to spin - and then grow.
“Charlie,” she started, but it was too late. Tendrils, almost like arms, had shot out of the mistletoe, and even as she took a step back, away from Charlie, she felt the plant wrap itself forcefully around her waist and yank her forward, until her chest was squashed against the one person she didn’t want to be squashed against, and she found herself unable to catch her breath (but whether that was from the out-of-control mistletoe or being so close to Charlie, she wasn’t exactly sure).
“What is happening?” she finally managed, looking up to see Charlie’s face scowling at something behind her.
“I’m going to kill him,” he grumbled, then glanced down at her. “I’m really sorry about this.”
“You’re going to kill who?” she asked.
“Who else?” Charlie let out a short laugh. “George has been threatening to find me a date for the last two weeks so it seems he’s gone and hexed the mistletoe until I find someone I like.”
At the mention of its name, the mistletoe seemed to tighten the hold its branches had on the both of them.
“It’s been following me around all night,” Charlie continued. “I thought it was funny at first …”
Hermione felt her cheeks turn red as Charlie’s words sunk in. Of course it was funny - and probably fun - when he could kiss all the other women at the party, but now he was here with her …
“I’m really sorry,” he said again.
“Don’t be,” she said, trying to avoid looking at him, but the way the mistletoe was binding them together made that almost impossible. Instead, she willed herself not to cry in front of him. This whole thing was embarrassing enough.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the other party guests staring at them. There had been only a few people over by the drinks a couple minutes ago but now it seemed everyone there was coming to take a look at the two of them trapped together.
She wished desperately that she had her wand in reach and could Apparate herself home. Maybe after obliviating everyone’s memory of this before she went.
Through the crowd she spotted a familiar face.
George.
“Oh, thank goodness.” She sighed, lifting a hand to wave at him. “George, you need to undo us!”
George made his way over to them, eyeing them with an expression she couldn’t quite discern - something akin to curiosity mixed with surprise mixed with amusement.
“Oh, no,” George said, but he wasn’t talking to her. He seemed to be talking only to Charlie. “Kiss her and the mistletoe will unhook itself.”
“George,” Charlie said, his voice low.
“No, no, no,” Hermione said, suddenly feeling desperate. She did not need Charlie kissing her in front of all these people. She’d had too many dreams, too many fantasies …
“It’s the only way,” George said. He crossed his arms and stepped back, looking most definitely more amused than anything now. So did the others in the crowd. There was a lot of catcalling and hooting and Hermione was pretty sure she was as red as Charlie’s hair.
“I’m so sorry about this,” she heard Charlie whisper in her ear, and she turned her head so she was looking at only him. “I don’t think he’s going to let us go. Maybe we could just do it quick?”
Hermione felt like her face was on fire as she nodded. “Yes,” she said. “Do it quick.”
They leaned toward each other then - she swore the voices of the crowd swelled like a wave reaching its crest - and their lips met. It was over before it had really started, and the cheers of the crown turned quickly to boos.
The mistletoe, however, did not unleash them.
“George!” Charlie said.
“You have to kiss her, mate,” George said. “You kiss Mum with more feeling than that.”
The crowd snickered. Charlie glared. “I will murder you in your sleep.”
“Will you really?” George said, and again there was something to his tone Hermione could not quite put her finger on.
“George.” Angelina was talking now. She had appeared by her husband’s side and was looking at the two guests ensnared in her living room. “Let him be.”
“Oh, no, no,” George said. “There is no way. He has been talking about snogging Hermione for six months. Let him have his chance.”
“What?” Hermione blinked up at Charlie. She must have heard something wrong. There was no way George had just said what she thought he said.
But Charlie’s face was turning pink and he was avoiding her eyes and …
“Oh, Merlin,” she whispered, more to herself than anyone. And then, slightly louder, but still quiet enough that only Charlie could hear. “Do you really want to snog me?”
He looked at her now. His face was as red as she felt hers was.
“I did not plan this,” he said. “Please just know …”
“Because I want to snog you too.”
The words were out of her mouth before she could really think them through, but as soon as they hit the air, she was glad she had said them.
She watched as his mouth parted slightly and his eyes widened just so.
“You’re pulling my leg,” he said.
She shook her head. “No,” she said. “I’m not. Try me.”
He did.
He bent in and she tilted her head to meet him. Their lips met, first a bit tentatively, softly pecking until her arms wrapped around his waist and his hands took hold of her hips. Then he deepened the kiss, and Hermione went with it, closing her eyes and concentrating only on the feel of his lips finally on hers, his arms firmly around her.
She didn’t know how long they had kissed or why they had stopped. She only knew she was breathing deeply, a broad smile on her face as they broke apart.
In the back of her mind, she was aware of the crowd hooting and the fact that nothing was binding them together any longer, but Charlie was leaning in again to meet her, his arms sliding around her back, and she was wrapping hers around his neck, kissing him like her life depended on it, and anything anyone else was doing was the last thing she was going to think about.
•••
“What did we tell you?” Ron said later that night. He, Hermione and Harry were standing in front of the door to her flat. “The party wasn’t so bad, right?” He could barely contain his grin.
She rolled her eyes. “Did you know about this, Ronald Weasley?”
Ron’s eyes widened and he stared at her with the fakest shocked expression she had ever seen.
“Of course not!” he said, a little too hotly. “I knew nothing, right, Harry?”
Harry nodded. “’Course not.”
Hermione shook her head at them. “You two are the worst liars.”
“Well, you’re welcome then.” Ron leaned in to kiss her cheek, then pulled back with a real grin this time. “Just don’t go shagging my brother, will you?”
Harry laughed, before leaning in to also kiss her cheek. “Just have fun,” he said.
“Night, you two,” she said, opening her front door.
“Night, ‘Mione!” they chorused.
She let herself into her flat, closing the door behind her with a soft smile. About thirty seconds later, she heard the distinctive pops of her two friends Apparating back home. Her smile grew wider. About thirty seconds after that, she heard another distinctive pop.
She turned around and opened her front door, almost throwing herself into the arms of the person on the other side.
“So,” Charlie whispered into her ear. “Should we continue where we left off?”
“Merlin, yes,” Hermione muttered, and she grabbed Charlie by his cloak, tugging him inside and closing the door firmly behind them, before leading him down the hall to her bedroom.