Mistletoe and Forgiveness
Hermione slips out of the house, leaving the noise of drunken celebration behind her. She wants a cigarette, something her parents would kill her for– it discolors your teeth, and you have such nice teeth, dear– but she has none on her person so it hardly matters anyway.
Outside, the air is cold and sharp and tastes like ice and it feels good on her superheated skin. It’s a mess inside, a riot of goodwill and alcohol and false pretenses and Malfoy of all people had managed to get her to drink.
To a new year of forgiveness and new bridges, Granger, he had slurred shoving a glass tumbler of firewhiskey into her hands. Harry had whisked him away not a minute later, but the damage was done and Hermione could feel the drink worming its way through her veins. Hence the strong desire for a cigarette.
She sees smoke behind one of the ostentatious topiaries crowding around the Malfoy gardens before she smells the tobacco, and it’s like the heavens have read her mind. She totters over to peak around the bush and is surprised to see Luna blowing smoke rings from a long pipe.
“Oh hello, Hermione.” She doesn’t turn her head, just smiles and stares up at the sky, watching her rings morph and flutter into shapeless clouds. “Is the party too loud for you too?”
“Just a bit.“ Hermione moves to stand next to her friend, happy to share the warmth of her body.
"They’re so rowdy, those boys,” Luna hums, handing the pipe to Hermione without prompt. “It’s nice to see love in such unexpected places though. We need a bit of that in our lives, you know?" She turns wide blue eyes on Hermione and not for the first time, Hermione feels the Luna is wise beyond her years underneath her spacey, syrupy personality.
"We certainly do." Hermione doesn’t mention that she’s still uneasy with the idea of Harry and Malfoy together, that a lingering sense of wariness still colors her interactions with her school-days enemy. She inhales on the pipe and finds immediate relief in the nicotine.
"Your aura’s very pretty.”
“What?”
“Your aura. You have so much bright energy and so little tainting it." Luna’s smile widens, crinkling her eyes prettily. "It’s a wonder that it shines so gold after the war. Harry’s is so much darker, but ever since he and Malfoy started courting I can see the green again.”
Hermione doesn’t say anything, but the warmth spreading in her stomach has to be more than the whiskey. Luna looks up again and giggles. “Oh, would you look at that.”
Hermione looks up as well and feels her cheeks turn red. Suspended above them and glowing is a thick sprig of mistletoe. It hadn’t been there before, but she doesn’t think to wonder who or what had put it there while they weren’t looking because Luna has crowded close to her and pressed soft lips to Hermione’s chapped ones. They’re cold, but to Hermione they’re also safe and friendly and hold a deep sense of familiarity that causes her to open her mouth to Luna.
Luna swipes her tongue in, a gentle invader that tastes like tobacco and tea before she pulls away.
“Unexpected places,” she says before taking the pipe from Hermione and moving back to where she stood before. Hermione stays put and they enjoy each other’s silent company until Ginny wanders out to collect them.