            Hermione swallowed the rest of her drink, set it on an antique end table, and rose unsteadily to her feet. Thank Merlin for cushioning charms, or the heels would have come off ages ago. Would have been a shame. Ginny was right. She looked hot. The heels stayed on until she landed on her face. Shouldn’t there be a...balancing charm? There should be a balancing charm...Hermione froze at the threshold. She glanced up, cursing when she spotted the leafy sprig. Hermione tried to step forward, but the magic kept her feet locked into place. Fucking George and his fucking mistletoe. Through the open doorway to the other sitting room, she could see the party still raging on. No one was looking her way, though. Is George here? He should be here. Should kiss me for his fucking mistletoe.