Chestnuts Roasting Over The Open Firewhiskey: A Hogwarts Christmas Tale

Hermione's Christmas Morning

Hermione still hadn't fallen asleep when the sun rose on Christmas Day. Instead of slumbering with visions of sugar plums dancing in her head, she had worn the carpet in her room thin with her continuous pacing over the last few hours, reviewing the night repeatedly. Her brain, simply put, was in overdrive, a setting usually reserved for dark wizards and saving Harry Potter's life. No matter how many times she revisited it, she could not work out how last night had played out as it did. And, more importantly, why. Why would someone give Draco Malfoy a love potion? Who dosed Draco? Was it their aim for her to be the target of his affections or a potion gone awry? Past the potion, Draco Malfoy also posed another mystery that Hermione was eager to crack. He all but admitted he was involved in something nefarious, and Hermione intended to find out what. Unlike Harry's suspicions from earlier in the term, Hermione didn't think Draco was a major player. Instead, she wanted to save the friend she made last night from whatever gave him the panic attack - if that friend was truly lurking under the cold exterior of Malfoy.

At random intervals the memory of their kiss would overwhelm her careful analysis. She actively tried to block it from her mind, but it wormed its way back in with alarming persistence. Thoughts of previous kisses never stuck in her brain like gum that wouldn't dislodge from your shoe. Hermione had kissed three boys prior to last night.

Her first kiss was with her neighbor, Colin Jones. They had been best friends throughout primary school and he was devastated that she'd be leaving to go to a faraway boarding school. The day before she boarded the Hogwarts Express for the first time, they'd sat in a tree in the park down the lane from their homes, talking until the sunset. Just before they left, the chubby boy grabbed her shoulders without warning and reached up to kiss the taller girl quickly. While just a chaste peck, it had left 11 year old Hermione reeling for weeks. In a new school with no friends, Hermione thought back to the moment often in the first few months at Hogwarts, when she was at her loneliest. He moved away before she returned, but the memory of her first kiss would crop up every one in awhile, making her smile with fond nostalgia for that innocent time.

Her next kiss didn't come until fourth year when a romance with Viktor Krum had blossomed over a mutual love of literature. The famous quidditch player stole his first kiss the night of the Yule Ball after walking her back to the portrait entrance to Gryffindor Tower. When she moved to hug him goodbye, Victor leaned in, brushing her lips with his. While almost as pure as her first kiss, it light a fire in her chest. For the next few months, he didn't have to steal any kisses from her; she readily gave them. They shared gentle kisses goodnight after study sessions together and more passionate kisses between reading next to the Great Lake. Though he couldn't pronounce her name and they were now just friends, Hermione held a special place in her heart for the respectful and gallant boy who gave her her real first kiss.

Then there had been Josh, the English muggle boy she met while her extended family went skiing in France last year before she returned to help Harry. Her much older cousins dragged her to a party in the lodge, where she and Josh started talking over red solo cups full of beer. Having a hard time hearing each other over the noise of their fellow party goers, Hermione suggested they take a walk around the ski lodge. Josh held her hand as they talked about muggle politics and dredged through the snow. When partygoers' fireworks sprung into the sky to welcome the new year, Josh grabbed her other hand and captured her with a hard kiss. She welcomed it, unsure of herself at first, before leaning further in. Once the fireworks subsided, she stepped back and thanked him before scurrying back to her parents' suite.

Last night's kiss was different than any kiss she had experienced before. Firstly, because she hated the kisser in question until just a few hours before the kiss. Or possibly still hated him, should the boy she enjoyed spending time with not really exist within Draco Malfoy. She had yet to determine that. But besides the person she kissed, the kiss itself was more intense than any she'd previously partook in. From soft to desperate in a span of a few minutes, she'd wanted to keep kissing him for hours. That desire made her more ashamed of her actions because he had been under the influence and not acting right. Even if he had instigated their kiss, he couldn't consent to it like that, not really. Each time she'd reach these thoughts, she'd groan and actively think of the mysteries at hand instead.