Disclaimer: Yes, I am secretly J.K. Rowling, surprise! Not.
As you may have guessed, I don't like Ron. Sorry Ron-Lovers. But this is Dramione! What are you even doing here?!
Hermione angrily dragged the floaty fabric of her sleeve over her face, only succeeding in smearing black mascara across the material and her cheek. "Stupid ginger idiot." She muttered to herself, trying to stop the steady stream of tears but failing miserably. The reason she was crying her eyes out on the steps? Her so-called best friends, currently upstairs - probably laughing about her - well, not really Harry, but Ron!
Hermione balled her shaking hands into fists and almost screamed in frustration. What was the git's problem?! Why couldn't he leave her alone when she let her hair down and had fun for once; instead of being the ugly bookworm, she could be the beautiful princess, just this once! But oh no, he had to go and ruin it for her, didn't he?! "I hate him so much!" She yelled aloud, before realising and abruptly stuffing her fist over her mouth.
"I feel like that sometimes." She whipped around, letting her hand drop from her face. A boy was standing in the shadows behind her, face and hair hidden in the dark, all in black. "Why are you spying on me?" Hermione demanded, fury flooding back into her voice. "And who are you?" He chuckled. For some reason, that was familiar. "Someone who hates Weasley, too. And I wasn't spying, just escaping from Pa- I mean, taking a break from dancing." Hermione rubbed the tears and the smeared make-up off her face, ruining her other sleeve. "Do I know you?" The smile she could just about see in the shadows cloaking him dropped. "Perhaps." Hermione snorted. "Huh, a Man of Mystery, then? I don't need anymore boy trouble. Go away." She turned her back on him with a huff, glaring intently at the stone stairs, imagining impaling this faceless, nameless boy and Ron with their own wands.
"No! That's not what I meant, I just... " He paused. She heard him swallow quietly. "I just wanted to talk to you, because I saw how Weasley hurt you, and you might not want to talk to me if you knew who I am." She froze for a second and thought. Then she laughed wryly and said, "Well, as long as you're not Voldemort or Moron Weasley, I don't care." He took a sharp intake of breath. "You really shouldn't say the Dark Lord's name..." She grinned. "A Slytherin, then?" "What makes you think that?" "Only Death Eaters call Voldemort 'The Dark Lord'. I'm guessing you're either Zabini or... Well, you seem nice enough, so I doubt you're Malfoy. Zabini seems like the only alright Slytherin, except for Davis, but I don't think you're a girl." He stayed silent.
She heard him walking towards her, and still she didn't turn to see him, even when he sat down beside her on the cold step. "I'm sorry." He said. She looked up. "Oh..." Draco Malfoy smiled sadly at her. Somehow, this simple change from the usual arrogant smirk made her Gryffindor heart flutter with pity for him - the bully, the spoilt brat, the victim. Then finally... "Don't be sorry." She said. He looked surprised, ashamed - the Ice Prince, ashamed? - and almost embarrassed.
As if he couldn't stop himself, he continued the unexpected apology. "You... Uh, you just looked so... So... beautiful... and I-I... I needed to apologise, because of Weasley, you know?" Hermione had been listening in silence, but now she surprised even herself by closing the gap between them by tentatively placing her lips upon his. Her brain shrieked "What are you doing?! He won't want to kiss a mudblood like you!" And as she moved back and prepared herself for a hail of abuse, or all the Slytherins leaping out from behind the pillars screaming, "Fooled you!", all he did was sigh, like he had been waiting for something like that for a while. She opened her eyes slowly, and was met with his grey eyes staring straight into hers. There was something unfathomably intelligent and beautiful about the storm of his irises. She almost expected them to start swirling and suck her into the silver grey depths. She bit her lip anxiously, and stared defiantly at him, waiting for his final reaction. And it was worth waiting for. He smiled. The first real happy smile she had ever seen trace his lips. And it was better than the kiss. Better than how she had felt at the start of the Yule Ball with Viktor... Better than when Viktor had kissed her hand, his mouth a little too wet, too lingering.
She grinned back at him, and as he offered her his hand, she curled her own fingers around his, marvelling at the contrast of his pallid complexion against her own warm skin tone and the warmth of his skin. She would have expected icy hands and freezing clouds as he breathed from the way he carried himself normally. Then she looked back into his eyes, and he bent his face down to kiss her again. She leaned into the touch of her sworn enemy's lips and revelled at their warmth. Then she smiled as new tears sprang from her eyes, trickling down her cheeks. Immediately, he drew back. He looked at her, worried. "Did I hurt you?" She smiled at him, so brightly he wondered how he'd missed this before. Hermione Granger squeezed Draco Malfoy's hand and kissed his cheek. "No... I'm happy, Draco." He smiled so hard he thought his face would burst. "That's good."
And as the snake and the lion kissed, blissfully unaware, two Gryffindor boys, dragged by a flame-haired girl, stopped still in the corridor. Both paled, the girl grinned and then the dark haired boy dragged a fuming red headed boy back up the corridor to the Common Room. When the boys had gone, Ginny Weasley was left watching, smiling and shaking her head. "Bloody hell, Hermione..." She whispered.
A.N. Should I continue this?