A/N: Ah, a new fanfic… -sweat drop- I'm actually really, really, very, really stuck on the others, and I had this idea and I wanted to write it before it got away. So yes. Please stick with me on the others… :D
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Hermione looked at the big clock on the library wall. It was nearly nine o'clock and light outside was fading fast. Madam Pince was busy writing at her desk. Sighing, Hermione stood up and shoved her books into her bag. She had finished all her homework, read up on all of her subjects and written a few extra essays for extra credit. Now, she was totally and completely out of work. She slouched towards the library doors, mumbling a "good bye" to Madam Pince, who merely nodded in response, and made her way along the corridors towards the Gryffindor common room. Two Hufflepuff first years pushed past her, making her stumble, talking excitedly about something. Hermione managed to catch a few words.
"They're really planning a masquerade ball?" one asked the other.
"That's what Annie told me, but you know how Annie is," the other replied.
"Are we allowed to take dates?" the first asked.
"I think so," the second said before adding, "I really want to ask Jason, but…
They had scurried away before Hermione had a chance to find out why it was a bad idea to ask Jason to the ball.
The ball…
Was there really going to be a masquerade ball? Hermione was sure Ginny would know. She headed to the Gryffindor common room and told the portrait the password before hurrying through the portrait hole and looked around for Ginny. She was sitting by the fire, entwined with and kissing the life out of Harry.
"I take it Ron's not around, then?" Hermione asked, sitting down on the sofa next to Ginny and Harry.
Ginny came up for air and shook her head at Hermione, grinning. Harry turned to Hermione, annoyed that he'd been interrupted. Hermione ignored his glare and shook her hair out of her face before turning to Ginny.
"Are they planning a masquerade ball?" she asked and Ginny's eyes widened.
"Apparently they are," Harry said, rolling his eyes as Ginny grinned eagerly.
"Well, that's what I've been told, anyway," she said, nodding enthusiastically. "I'm so excited! Harry and I are going to tell each other what our masks will look like so we can find each other."
"Sounds like fun," Hermione said, dreading to see them together at the ball. She was about to add something but Ginny was already chatting away.
"… and that way, Ron won't murder us because he won't know its Harry and me! It's ideal, really. I mean, everyone knows except Ron and I don't like keeping secrets from him and…"
Hermione let her mind wander, Ginny's voice mumbling in the background. What would she wear to the ball? She'd have to buy a new dress, but she knew she had a mask somewhere. And then there was the make up and hair… Maybe she could get Ginny to help her. She glanced back at Ginny and she was still talking animatedly, not noticing that Hermione had stopped listening.
"… and your mask has to be the colour of your house, but other than that, you can wear whatever you want —"
"What was that?" Hermione interrupted.
"Your mask has to be the colour of your house, like Gryffindor is red and Ravenclaw is blue, but that's the only dress code. I've seen a red velvet one with white feathers on, it looks amazing…" Ginny was off again.
Hermione sighed, not wanting to wear a mask that showed her house colours. She already had a plain black sequin mask and was planning on wearing it. She decided she could find something red to decorate it with. She was tugged back to reality by Ginny shouting her name.
"Hermione! Were you even listening to a thing I've said?" Ginny asked, scowling.
"Of course," Hermione replied, rolling her eyes. She caught Harry's eye and he grinned, knowing she hadn't really been listening.
Suddenly, Ginny and Harry sprang apart. Ginny slid to the floor and pulled a stray textbook onto her lap, pretending to be reading it. Hermione looked behind her and saw Ron coming through the portrait hole.
"You're past curfew," Hermione accused as he sat down next to Harry.
Ron shrugged, a crooked grin creeping over his face. He looked to his sister.
"Ginny, why are you reading a Herbology textbook? You don't take Herbology," he said, looking over her shoulder. Ginny's cheeks flushed momentarily.
"I thought it might come in useful," she said quickly. "You never know when you need a bit of plant knowledge."
Ron furrowed his forehead, looking perplexed but he sat back and left the subject alone.
"Well," Hermione said, standing up and stretching. "It's been fun, but I have to go back to my dorm now."
"We'll see you at breakfast, 'Mione," Harry replied, bidding her good bye.
She quickly hugged them all and went back out of the portrait hole. She hurried to the Head dorms and slipped inside when the portrait let her in.
Hermione had been sent her letter telling her she was Head Girl over the summer. Her parents were delighted but she was far from. Draco Malfoy – Prince of Slytherin and Hogwarts' Sex God – was Head Boy. She groaned inwardly at the thought, collapsing onto the plush sofa infront of the fire. They had to share a common room and that meant dealing with him every single day. Hermione didn't know what had made Dumbledore to give Malfoy the job as Head Boy, but she suspected the old fool was finally loosing it. She looked into the crackling fire in the hearth. She hadn't argued with him properly yet, but they had had a few short fights over nothing that important. They tended to stay out of each other's way. Hermione's attention was captured by the notice board on the wall next to the portrait hole. It was glowing gold and a parchment was slowly appearing on it. This was how teachers communicated with the Head Boy and Girl and they were usually first to know about upcoming events.
"I wonder…" Hermione said, standing up and going to retrieve the new notice. She smiled to herself as her eyes flitted over it. "Just as I thought."
It was a notice about the masquerade ball from Professor Dumbledore, informing the Heads that they needed to plan it. Hermione jumped at the chance – it was the first ball they'd had to plan this year and she was excited about pulling everything together. She rolled it up neatly as the portrait hole opened. Malfoy stepped in, looking ruffled. Hermione glanced up at him and her top lip pulled to one side in disgust. His lips were swollen and his gelled hair had been messed up – he'd been with Pansy.
"You're past curfew, Malfoy," she said conversationally as he flung himself down on the sofa.
"Does it look like I care, Mudblood?" he sneered. "I'm Head Boy, I can do whatever I want and the likes of you can't stop me."
"If you'd remove yourself from your own arse, you'd realise we have a new notice," Hermione said, holding the rolled up parchment out to him. He took it and read it quickly.
"Why do I have to plan the ball?" he whined, flinging the notice on the rug. "I have better things to do."
"Like slobbering over that Slytherin whore," Hermione muttered before raising her voice so he could hear her. "It said we both have to do it."
"Well you can do it," Malfoy concluded, standing up and heading to his room. "I'm not getting involved."
"Grow up, you slimy ferret," Hermione scoffed to his retreating back.
She picked the notice it up from the floor and pinned it back on the board before going to her own room. She liked her bedroom; it was one of the few good things that came with being Head Girl with a git for a partner. Her bed was king-size with a deep red canopy and curtains around it. Her sheets were a pale gold with a lion stitched into it. Her pillow smelled exactly like her pillow back at home. She had a desk with bookshelves either side against one wall and a big mirror above a dressing table against another. The door to the shared bathroom was next to the dressing table, and a wardrobe was on the other side of the door. Hermione's nose wrinkled at the door to the bathroom. She didn't like having to share, as she'd usually have to wait for Malfoy to preen infront of the mirror for hours before she got to go in. Once one door was locked, both locked. It was a charm to stop them walking in on each other, but Malfoy preferred not to use the lock and she had seen more of him than she had intended a fair few times. She sat down on her bed and delved into her beside table to find her journal. She didn't write in it very often, but every now and then, usually while she was waiting for Malfoy to get out of the bathroom, she'd add something. Today she was going to write about the ball.
Dear diary,
Dumbledore sent us a notice about an upcoming masquerade ball. I'm so excited! I love getting dressed up and I love it when Ginny does my hair and make up. I can't remember the last time we had a ball… But this year, I get to plan it! Well, I'm supposed to work on it with Malfoy but the git doesn't want to help, so I'll have to do it on my own. I —
She looked up, distracted by Malfoy barging into her room from the bathroom. She snapped the journal shut and glared at him.
"What the hell are you doing in here?" she demanded, trying desperately to ignore that he was half naked with nothing but a towel around his waist.
"You Mudblood bitch, you've stolen my dye!" he shouted, pulling the drawers out from her dressing table and rummaging through them.
"Your dye? Why would I want bleach blonde hair dye?" she asked, scowling at him.
"It's not for my hair," he muttered, pulling her clothes out of her wardrobe now.
"Then why do you need dye if it's not for your hair?" Hermione asked, confused.
Malfoy turned to face her, his eyes still searching around the room for anywhere that he'd missed, and pulled his towel open. Hermione's eyes widened. So that's what he needed it for…
"Put it away, slime ball," she said, averting her eyes.
He was smirking at her, his silver eyes fixed upon her reddening face. She rolled her eyes at his trademark smirk as he pulled his towel around him again.
"Get a good look, did you Mudblood? Because that's a close as you're going to get to the real thing," he sneered. "Now tell me where you hid my dye."
"I didn't hide it, I didn't even know you dyed down there," she said, gesturing to the towel.
"Well, I'm a natural blonde, so why can't my p —"
"Shut up, I don't want to know. Now get out," Hermione snapped.
Malfoy stormed out the way he had stormed in, slamming the door in his wake. Hermione sighed. Working with him was going to take all her strength and willpower. She collapsed back on her bed, clutching her journal to her chest. She couldn't be bothered to write any more in it tonight and so she put it back in her bedside table. Listening to Malfoy slam around the bathroom looking for his precious dye, she drifted off to sleep.
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A/N: First chapter and she's already seen his… Little Draco… heh… So review me and tell me how I've done. XD
