The Equinox Festival (Love This Way)
(songfic to Love This Way, by Eden's Crush)
A/N: All right, I thought I'd try something a little less epic this time around... so instead, I'm doing a songfic. One thing that really gets on my nerves is when authors write fics about really obscure songs, and you're sitting there like, "What??" I think songfics are much more enjoyable when you can actually sort of hum the song in your head. So I'm doing one that I think may be familiar to some of you... it's 'Love This Way' by Eden's Crush (you know, the Popstars group), and it's on some of the WB commercials. Read the lyrics, and it might come to you.
Just a side note: this is really, really fluffy, and has slight improbabilities- for example, Draco asking Hermione to dance at all- but, I think, is a nice break (for me at least) from drama and mystery and suspense. So, please, don't flame (even constructively) for it being very plotless. Thanks! *bows and runs away because people are yelling at her to just get on with the story*
It was fifth year, and Hermione Granger felt like the least lucky girl in the whole school. Here she was, in the midst of all this lovey-dovey dancing and singing, outside under the stars, and she had nothing better to do than sit against a tree by the edge of the lake, reading a book. Typical, she thought. Looking in the mirror earlier that day, she'd thought she was actually pretty- in a muted sort of way- but realized that either everyone else was blind or she was delusional, because otherwise why wouldn't anyone have asked her to the dance?
On the night before the Equinox Festival, Professor McGonagall had transfigured an entire section of the grounds near the lake into a flat patio, flagged with sparkling stones. Nearby sat a silvery tent Hagrid had erected, its reflective fabric catching the moonlight and starlight all at once and mixing them together on its surface.
All these beautiful thoughts, all this lovely scenery, and- once again- I'm left out of it all. Hermione suddenly felt an intense anger towards the popular girls- Pansy Parkinson (who knows why?), Blaise Zabini, Hannah Abbot, Padma Patil, Parvati, Lavender- who were pressed up close against their dance partners, whispering those secret romantic things in their ears, slender(except in Pansy's case), bared arms wrapped around their necks. Something slow and romantic was playing, but Hermione thought it was depressing.
I
wanna run into someone's arms
Lie
on a bed of roses
I
wanna feel just like Juliet
Hermione suddenly realized something, as she watched Lavender glide by with Seamus and Pansy with (*ugh*) Crabbe.
She wanted that. Not to have a partner, but to have someone she could dance with too. Not for the support, not for the popularity, but for that thrill, that rush that she'd read about in books, seen in pictures, heard of in Parvati and Lavender's dormitory gossip. What had they called it? Oh, yes- love.
I wanna fall in love
I got a feeling
Looking around, she spotted no one but Draco Malfoy (she gave an involuntary shudder) sitting in a chair at the edge of the patio. With a self-righteous smirk upon his face, he looked as though he had chosen to observe rather than participate in the dancing.
Hermione quickly looked away, for Malfoy must have sensed her gazing at him; he turned and looked back at her, eyebrows raised. She raised her eyes to his and glared to the best of her ability.
For some strange reason, Malfoy got up out of his chair and strode over to her, holding out a pale hand. "Charity, you know," he said at Hermione's quizzical look. She gritted her teeth and placed her hand in his, pulling herself up. "Oh, really?" she asked, her expression as cool as his. "I didn't know that word was in your vocabulary."
Now even Malfoy's false smile was starting to falter. "Shut it, Mudblood," he said warningly, "or I might reconsider."
"Reconsider what?" she asked, tilting her head. "Losing your mind?"
"Over you? Right, Granger."
Hermione's eyes widened; somehow, they had wandered into the middle of the dance floor. "What do you think you're doing?" she asked anxiously.
Malfoy rolled his eyes and let out an impatient breath. "What the hell does it look like?" he said, keeping his voice low so the blissful couples around them wouldn't hear. Meanwhile, a new song started playing, and the majority of the dancers moved off the floor, taking a break from the extremely strenuous act of turning in a small circle with your head on someone's shoulder.
Everybody wants someone to love
Somebody they can trust
Somebody they can touch
Everybody wants to give their heart away
"What is wrong with you?" hissed Hermione. "I don't want to dance with you, and you don't want to dance with me. And now we're up here, practically alone, everyone can see us and..." she broke off, her forehead wrinkling. "I can't believe I'm dancing with Draco Malfoy."
Hermione thought she saw a flicker of hurt in Malfoy's eyes, but it was quickly gone and replaced with the usual cold sneer. "Really, Granger? Can't believe your luck?"
Hermione let out a disgusted "Ugh" and tried to walk away, but his hands, quickly snaking out towards her, were like iron on her wrists and waist. "Let me go!" she said in disbelief, looking around to make sure no one was watching. Unfortunately, although the few couples still on the patio were lost to the world, the front section of the people under the tent were looking at them interestedly.
"Why?" he asked amusedly, pulling her comically closer and making her bend backwards so that her head wouldn't be forced against his chest.
"I don't want people to- to see us dancing, and it'll make you look bad to all your ugly Slytherins if you make a-" she inhaled shakily and looked down. "-filthy Mudblood dance with you."
Hermione had expected Malfoy to at least consider this fact, but he didn't hesitate to move her even closer to the tent, where they now had a full-blown audience. Her ears caught a few catcalls from Ginny and Harry, and she glimpsed Ron standing against the far left tent-pole with a look of combined disgust and anger on his face. But her attention was drawn back to the cold greyish eyes above her- Why did I have to be born so short? - as he spoke.
Everybody needs a little tenderness
To feel understood
To feel passionate
Everybody wants to be in love this way
"You see that ugly bitch in the vomit-colored dress robes over there?"
Hermione knitted her eyebrows and searched the crowd, finally spotting Pansy Parkinson with her pug-like face partly hidden by a high, flowing golden collar. "You mean Parkinson?"
She felt his fingers go stiffer with impatience. "Yes, I mean Parkinson. The only way she'll stop throwing herself all over me so horribly is if I get a girlfriend. Then, at least, she'll hex the girl instead of me."
Hermione felt her heart sink slightly. As strange and repulsive as it seemed to her logical mind, she had hoped that maybe- just maybe- someone felt something for her, or someone actually wanted to dance with her, out of their own free will. But no, even the most awful personality at Hogwarts was just using her to make his not-so-secret admirers back off. And now she'd probably have to suffer at the mercy of Pansy's wand; it wasn't that the girl could even do magic very well, but Slytherins were reputed to know more about hexes and illegal potions than any other house. She shuddered and grimaced at the thought of herself covered in un-poppable pimples, or being forced to spill all her secrets to the fifth-year Slytherins via Veritaserum.
She figured that since he was being such an awful bastard about the situation, she deserved to be a bit cruel as well. Tightening her grip around his neck and hand, Hermione willed her fingers to be warm- not cold, like the breeze that carried the strains of the music- and turned her eyes, which she hoped were the color of the last trails of the sunset reflecting in the lake... a bright, dark-tinged gold.
I know I do (I do)
What about you?
"So that's it?" she inquired huskily, attempting to lean closer to his ear. "I'm just here to get Pansy off your back?" Saying it out loud made her even more determined that, if that was the truth, Draco Malfoy had another thing coming.
It might have been the first time Hermione had ever seen Malfoy without a smirk or an equally chilly sneer maligning his pretty-boy features, but it was gone now, replaced by a (rather steamy, she thought, smiling inwardly) look of intention. "No," he answered simply. She noticed that his grip was less iron-like now; more posessive.
I
want to be somebody's baby
Cry
until I feel beautiful
And baby I
really just want to be myself
Somehow, the entire dance floor had become silent save for the occasional crescendo in the music. The dance floor had been emptied, and it seemed as though the entire school was gazing at them from the inside of the pavilion: the snake and the lioness, locked together in what felt like an endless embrace, swaying only slightly to the vocal piece that sang over the quiet of the starlit patio.
Am I the only one?
In a sudden movement that startled Hermione and rippled in shock through her veins, all the other thoughts and layers of her mind were dulled by the incredible light of one. It was so simple, and before she'd had time to methodically think it through, she felt herself- and Draco with her- acting it out. His hands slid up her backside- partially bared by the halter-topped dress she had borrowed from Penelope the summer before - and hers lost themselves in his platinum-gold hair; the crowd stiffened in amazement, and every pair of eyes was centered on them.
I've got a feeling
Hermione's and Draco's faces were angled towards each other, and silver eyes stared into amber. Both minds were thinking the same thoughts; it was as though a link had opened between them, and Hermione felt shock again as his eyes probed hers, searching for an answer.
Everybody wants someone to love
Somebody they can trust
Somebody they can touch
Then it was happening. In a flash of movement, their lips touched, and each felt slight hesitation before delving deeper, into the sort of kiss that Hermione had read about in books and had seen in empty classrooms but never experienced. Their mouths melded together, lightning and heat crackling in the connection as someone set off fireworks above them, which exploded in the sky like a rainstorm of emeralds and rubies.
Everybody wants to give their heart away
Somewhere in the untouched depths of her mind, Hermione thought How appropriate- red and green fireworks, before she was totally lost in the kiss. Although she had certainly been kissed before- Viktor Krum, that thickheaded Quidditch player who had broken up with her because of 'difficulties' the summer previous to this- it felt like her first, this implosion of colorful passion shared with someone else. People started cheering in the audience; her friends, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs. She knew that Pansy and the Slytherins weren't, though, and had a sneaking suspicion that Ron wasn't either.
Everybody needs a little tenderness
To feel understood
To feel passionate
Everybody wants to be in love this way
I know I do (I do)
What about you?
You see, I do (I do)
Doesn't everybody want to give their heart away (I do, I do)
Doesn't everybody want to love this way?
Gradually, as the couples who had exited earlier filed back onto the patio (apparently inspired by this turn of events), she and Draco pulled apart, and Hermione's head was filled with a thousand confusing emotions; the flood of thoughts was joined by senses beyond touch, now that the kiss was over. Her arms, bared by the gown, were chilled by the night air; she noticed that everyone except the Slytherins and a few others had joined them on the dance floor. Draco led her off of the patio, over to a stone bench at the edge of the lake, and draped his cloak over her.
Everybody wants someone to love
Somebody they can trust
Somebody they can touch
Everybody wants to be in love this way
Everybody needs a little tenderness (a little tenderness)
To feel understood, to feel passionate
Everybody wants to be in love this way
Hermione looked confusedly up at him from her position sitting on the bench. "Malfoy-" she said, watching as he looked slightly put out by her use of his last name. "- Draco, if this is just going to be a stupid little fling that you..." Hermione choked on her words and had to look down at the grass. "... that you just throw away when you get tired of it in a few days, I need to know now, all right?"
A curt, very Malfoy-esque answer sprang to his mind. He could imagine the conversation:
Draco: Who said this was going to be anything?
Hermione(forlornly): What?
Draco(nonchalantly): It was just a kiss.
Hermione(springing to her feet): You call- (pause) that 'just a kiss?!'
Draco (smirking): Well, yeah. It wasn't that great, after all.
Hermione (slaps him tearfully): You bastard!
He smirked to himself, but avoided going that way. "It won't be, I swear," he said, taking her cold, small hands in his, and crouching down so that he was at eye level with her. "I promise."
I
want to feel like an angel
I want to fly
until I feel alive
Hermione let one corner of her mouth be tugged upwards. "Can I get that in writing?"
Draco leaned forward, one knee touching the ground. "I don't have a quill on me, but how's this?"
For the second time that night, Hermione found herself kissing Draco Malfoy; but this time it was sweeter, gentler, more savory.
I
want to see heaven from the inside
I want to be in love
this way
Just as she and Draco were about to enter the pavilion, Hermione felt a hand on her shoulder. Turning around, she saw a Crabbe-less Pansy Parkinson, her face tinged with purple rage. "What are you doing with my date?"
Draco looked a bit taken aback by this and stifled a laugh. "Well, I'm carrying her off into the shrubbery to kiss her again, for one."
Pansy scowled at this blow to her sexual orientation and pulled out her wand, then noticed McGonagall's watchful eye on her and returned it to her pocket. She proceeded to stomp off into the crowd of dancers, looking like an enraged bulldog in gold dress robes.
I
want to feel just like Juliet
ah, Juliet
Draco swept Hermione into his arms, one hidden beneath her white-skirted knees and the other supporting her back. She looked at him haughtily. "Were you serious about the shrubbery bit? Because I don't make a habit of going there with Slytherins."
Draco matched her gaze. "Watch your mouth, Gryffindor," he said in an unpleasantly familiar, colder tone. "Or you might find it-" he cleared his throat- "-ah... indisposed?" He kissed her again, and she grinned, thinking that she felt as happy as Ginny must be, although their situations were not quite the same.
Everybody wants someone to love
Somebody they can trust, somebody they can touch (oh, oh)
Everybody wants to give their heart away
Everybody needs a little tenderness
To feel understood, to feel passionate
Everybody wants to be in love this way
~fini~
(songfic to Love This Way, by Eden's Crush)
A/N: All right, I thought I'd try something a little less epic this time around... so instead, I'm doing a songfic. One thing that really gets on my nerves is when authors write fics about really obscure songs, and you're sitting there like, "What??" I think songfics are much more enjoyable when you can actually sort of hum the song in your head. So I'm doing one that I think may be familiar to some of you... it's 'Love This Way' by Eden's Crush (you know, the Popstars group), and it's on some of the WB commercials. Read the lyrics, and it might come to you.
Just a side note: this is really, really fluffy, and has slight improbabilities- for example, Draco asking Hermione to dance at all- but, I think, is a nice break (for me at least) from drama and mystery and suspense. So, please, don't flame (even constructively) for it being very plotless. Thanks! *bows and runs away because people are yelling at her to just get on with the story*
It was fifth year, and Hermione Granger felt like the least lucky girl in the whole school. Here she was, in the midst of all this lovey-dovey dancing and singing, outside under the stars, and she had nothing better to do than sit against a tree by the edge of the lake, reading a book. Typical, she thought. Looking in the mirror earlier that day, she'd thought she was actually pretty- in a muted sort of way- but realized that either everyone else was blind or she was delusional, because otherwise why wouldn't anyone have asked her to the dance?
On the night before the Equinox Festival, Professor McGonagall had transfigured an entire section of the grounds near the lake into a flat patio, flagged with sparkling stones. Nearby sat a silvery tent Hagrid had erected, its reflective fabric catching the moonlight and starlight all at once and mixing them together on its surface.
All these beautiful thoughts, all this lovely scenery, and- once again- I'm left out of it all. Hermione suddenly felt an intense anger towards the popular girls- Pansy Parkinson (who knows why?), Blaise Zabini, Hannah Abbot, Padma Patil, Parvati, Lavender- who were pressed up close against their dance partners, whispering those secret romantic things in their ears, slender(except in Pansy's case), bared arms wrapped around their necks. Something slow and romantic was playing, but Hermione thought it was depressing.
wanna run into someone's arms
Lie
on a bed of roses
I
wanna feel just like Juliet
Hermione suddenly realized something, as she watched Lavender glide by with Seamus and Pansy with (*ugh*) Crabbe.
She wanted that. Not to have a partner, but to have someone she could dance with too. Not for the support, not for the popularity, but for that thrill, that rush that she'd read about in books, seen in pictures, heard of in Parvati and Lavender's dormitory gossip. What had they called it? Oh, yes- love.
I got a feeling
Looking around, she spotted no one but Draco Malfoy (she gave an involuntary shudder) sitting in a chair at the edge of the patio. With a self-righteous smirk upon his face, he looked as though he had chosen to observe rather than participate in the dancing.
Hermione quickly looked away, for Malfoy must have sensed her gazing at him; he turned and looked back at her, eyebrows raised. She raised her eyes to his and glared to the best of her ability.
For some strange reason, Malfoy got up out of his chair and strode over to her, holding out a pale hand. "Charity, you know," he said at Hermione's quizzical look. She gritted her teeth and placed her hand in his, pulling herself up. "Oh, really?" she asked, her expression as cool as his. "I didn't know that word was in your vocabulary."
Now even Malfoy's false smile was starting to falter. "Shut it, Mudblood," he said warningly, "or I might reconsider."
"Reconsider what?" she asked, tilting her head. "Losing your mind?"
"Over you? Right, Granger."
Hermione's eyes widened; somehow, they had wandered into the middle of the dance floor. "What do you think you're doing?" she asked anxiously.
Malfoy rolled his eyes and let out an impatient breath. "What the hell does it look like?" he said, keeping his voice low so the blissful couples around them wouldn't hear. Meanwhile, a new song started playing, and the majority of the dancers moved off the floor, taking a break from the extremely strenuous act of turning in a small circle with your head on someone's shoulder.
Somebody they can trust
Somebody they can touch
Everybody wants to give their heart away
"What is wrong with you?" hissed Hermione. "I don't want to dance with you, and you don't want to dance with me. And now we're up here, practically alone, everyone can see us and..." she broke off, her forehead wrinkling. "I can't believe I'm dancing with Draco Malfoy."
Hermione thought she saw a flicker of hurt in Malfoy's eyes, but it was quickly gone and replaced with the usual cold sneer. "Really, Granger? Can't believe your luck?"
Hermione let out a disgusted "Ugh" and tried to walk away, but his hands, quickly snaking out towards her, were like iron on her wrists and waist. "Let me go!" she said in disbelief, looking around to make sure no one was watching. Unfortunately, although the few couples still on the patio were lost to the world, the front section of the people under the tent were looking at them interestedly.
"Why?" he asked amusedly, pulling her comically closer and making her bend backwards so that her head wouldn't be forced against his chest.
"I don't want people to- to see us dancing, and it'll make you look bad to all your ugly Slytherins if you make a-" she inhaled shakily and looked down. "-filthy Mudblood dance with you."
Hermione had expected Malfoy to at least consider this fact, but he didn't hesitate to move her even closer to the tent, where they now had a full-blown audience. Her ears caught a few catcalls from Ginny and Harry, and she glimpsed Ron standing against the far left tent-pole with a look of combined disgust and anger on his face. But her attention was drawn back to the cold greyish eyes above her- Why did I have to be born so short? - as he spoke.
To feel understood
To feel passionate
Everybody wants to be in love this way
"You see that ugly bitch in the vomit-colored dress robes over there?"
Hermione knitted her eyebrows and searched the crowd, finally spotting Pansy Parkinson with her pug-like face partly hidden by a high, flowing golden collar. "You mean Parkinson?"
She felt his fingers go stiffer with impatience. "Yes, I mean Parkinson. The only way she'll stop throwing herself all over me so horribly is if I get a girlfriend. Then, at least, she'll hex the girl instead of me."
Hermione felt her heart sink slightly. As strange and repulsive as it seemed to her logical mind, she had hoped that maybe- just maybe- someone felt something for her, or someone actually wanted to dance with her, out of their own free will. But no, even the most awful personality at Hogwarts was just using her to make his not-so-secret admirers back off. And now she'd probably have to suffer at the mercy of Pansy's wand; it wasn't that the girl could even do magic very well, but Slytherins were reputed to know more about hexes and illegal potions than any other house. She shuddered and grimaced at the thought of herself covered in un-poppable pimples, or being forced to spill all her secrets to the fifth-year Slytherins via Veritaserum.
She figured that since he was being such an awful bastard about the situation, she deserved to be a bit cruel as well. Tightening her grip around his neck and hand, Hermione willed her fingers to be warm- not cold, like the breeze that carried the strains of the music- and turned her eyes, which she hoped were the color of the last trails of the sunset reflecting in the lake... a bright, dark-tinged gold.
What about you?
It might have been the first time Hermione had ever seen Malfoy without a smirk or an equally chilly sneer maligning his pretty-boy features, but it was gone now, replaced by a (rather steamy, she thought, smiling inwardly) look of intention. "No," he answered simply. She noticed that his grip was less iron-like now; more posessive.
want to be somebody's baby
Cry
until I feel beautiful
And baby I
really just want to be myself
In a sudden movement that startled Hermione and rippled in shock through her veins, all the other thoughts and layers of her mind were dulled by the incredible light of one. It was so simple, and before she'd had time to methodically think it through, she felt herself- and Draco with her- acting it out. His hands slid up her backside- partially bared by the halter-topped dress she had borrowed from Penelope the summer before - and hers lost themselves in his platinum-gold hair; the crowd stiffened in amazement, and every pair of eyes was centered on them.
Hermione's and Draco's faces were angled towards each other, and silver eyes stared into amber. Both minds were thinking the same thoughts; it was as though a link had opened between them, and Hermione felt shock again as his eyes probed hers, searching for an answer.
Somebody they can trust
Somebody they can touch
Somewhere in the untouched depths of her mind, Hermione thought How appropriate- red and green fireworks, before she was totally lost in the kiss. Although she had certainly been kissed before- Viktor Krum, that thickheaded Quidditch player who had broken up with her because of 'difficulties' the summer previous to this- it felt like her first, this implosion of colorful passion shared with someone else. People started cheering in the audience; her friends, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs. She knew that Pansy and the Slytherins weren't, though, and had a sneaking suspicion that Ron wasn't either.
To feel understood
To feel passionate
Everybody wants to be in love this way
I know I do (I do)
What about you?
You see, I do (I do)
Doesn't everybody want to give their heart away (I do, I do)
Doesn't everybody want to love this way?
Somebody they can trust
Somebody they can touch
Everybody wants to be in love this way
Everybody needs a little tenderness (a little tenderness)
To feel understood, to feel passionate
Everybody wants to be in love this way
Hermione looked confusedly up at him from her position sitting on the bench. "Malfoy-" she said, watching as he looked slightly put out by her use of his last name. "- Draco, if this is just going to be a stupid little fling that you..." Hermione choked on her words and had to look down at the grass. "... that you just throw away when you get tired of it in a few days, I need to know now, all right?"
A curt, very Malfoy-esque answer sprang to his mind. He could imagine the conversation:
Draco: Who said this was going to be anything?
Hermione(forlornly): What?
Draco(nonchalantly): It was just a kiss.
Hermione(springing to her feet): You call- (pause) that 'just a kiss?!'
Draco (smirking): Well, yeah. It wasn't that great, after all.
Hermione (slaps him tearfully): You bastard!
He smirked to himself, but avoided going that way. "It won't be, I swear," he said, taking her cold, small hands in his, and crouching down so that he was at eye level with her. "I promise."
want to feel like an angel
I want to fly
until I feel alive
Draco leaned forward, one knee touching the ground. "I don't have a quill on me, but how's this?"
For the second time that night, Hermione found herself kissing Draco Malfoy; but this time it was sweeter, gentler, more savory.
I
want to see heaven from the inside
I want to be in love
this way
Just as she and Draco were about to enter the pavilion, Hermione felt a hand on her shoulder. Turning around, she saw a Crabbe-less Pansy Parkinson, her face tinged with purple rage. "What are you doing with my date?"
Draco looked a bit taken aback by this and stifled a laugh. "Well, I'm carrying her off into the shrubbery to kiss her again, for one."
Pansy scowled at this blow to her sexual orientation and pulled out her wand, then noticed McGonagall's watchful eye on her and returned it to her pocket. She proceeded to stomp off into the crowd of dancers, looking like an enraged bulldog in gold dress robes.
want to feel just like Juliet
ah, Juliet
Draco matched her gaze. "Watch your mouth, Gryffindor," he said in an unpleasantly familiar, colder tone. "Or you might find it-" he cleared his throat- "-ah... indisposed?" He kissed her again, and she grinned, thinking that she felt as happy as Ginny must be, although their situations were not quite the same.
Somebody they can trust, somebody they can touch (oh, oh)
Everybody wants to give their heart away
Everybody needs a little tenderness
To feel understood, to feel passionate
Everybody wants to be in love this way