DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING RELATED TO HARRY POTTER! JK ROWLING OWNS THESE CHARACTERS, LOCATIONS, AND THIS UNIVERSE.
Hermione fidgeted nervously in front of the mirror. She and Ginny had just spent the better part of an hour charming her hair into the smooth, perfectly curled chignon it now formed. Her gown was a periwinkle blue color that her mother had insisted brought out the green in her hazel eyes when she sent it back when Hermione had first written about the ball. It was a perfect fit, all silk and chiffon and lovely like that. But despite all that, despite her miraculously tame hair and the perfect fit of her dress and her impeccable makeup, she felt like something was off.
"Hermione?" Ginny peaked into the fourth year girls' dorm curiously. She spied her friend fretting in front of the mirror and scurried into the otherwise unoccupied room.
"Hey now, no nit picking allowed," Ginny giggled as she pulled the older girl away from the looking glass. Hermione sighed, giving her friend a nervous smile. Ginny looked lovely, Hermione noted happily, taking in her modified pink and green gown. It had been a second hand purchase, as most of her clothes were, but she and Luna Lovegood had charmed it to fit just so and it made her look beautiful. She was positively glowing with excitement. Hermione, on the other hand, felt like she might vomit.
"I wasn't nit picking." She reached for her wand and tucked it securely into her bodice. "I was just making sure I was presentable."
Ginny snorted, taking Hermione's hand and tugging her out of the room and down to the common room. "Trust me Hermione, you're more than just presentable. You're definitely gonna break some hearts tonight."
"I'm not so sure Gin, I feel sort of…off."
Ginny stopped just short of the portrait hole and turned to place her hands on Hermione's shoulders.
"Hermione," she smiled, "you're just overthinking things. Just take a deep breath and clear your head. You're going to the Yule Ball with Viktor Krum, a good-looking boy who thinks you're beautiful –which you are. Just quit thinking and have some fun, alright?"
Hermione let out a shuddering breath and smiled at Ginny. "You're right, Gin. Gosh," she chuckled, "when did you get so wise?"
Ginny laughed. Together, the girls climbed through the portrait hole to meet their waiting dates.
"You're fraternizing with the enemy!"
Hermione gaped at Ron, shocked by his outburst. He was being ridiculous, and she told him just as much.
"Hermione, use your big brain here," he scoffed, "Krum knows you're Harry's friend. He's probably just hoping you'll spill some of his secrets and help him win the next challenge."
"I'll have you know, Ronald, that Viktor hasn't asked me one thing about Harry or anything remotely relating to the tournament, in fact he –"
"Well maybe he's waiting 'til afterwards." Ron interrupted, "Who knows how careful you'll be when he's got a hand in your knick-"
Hermione's slap resonated through the sudden silence around them. She was furious. She was humiliated. She was heartbroken. For Ron to actually think that she, that she would actually…
Her head was reeling. She was barely aware of what was going on as she turned on her heel and fled. Ron's words echoed in her mind as she exited the Great Hall and mindlessly drifted through corridors, up and down stairs, all the way and finally wound up on one of the moving staircases on the west side of the castle.
Her hand was stinging.
"Granger?"
Hermione started at the sound of her name, or rather, her last name. There were very few people who addressed her by her last name. She kept her head down and picked at her pearly nail polish.
"What the hell are you doing here, Granger? Did Krum finally realize how annoying you are and ditch you for someone actually worthy of breathing?"
She sniffed, but remained quiet. A pair of shiny black dress shoes stopped right at the edge of her vison, a few steps bellow where she sat.
"Well, c'mon then. It's got to be bloody good to get you all the way down here at this hour."
"I'm sure you heard, Malfoy," she sighed. "Ron wasn't exactly quiet about it."
Draco scoffed loudly. "You're crying over Weasley? What'd he do, get mud on your pretty little dress?"
"I'm not crying," Hermione hiccupped. For once, Draco didn't make a snarky comeback. Instead he sat down on the step beside her and remained silent. Hermione sniffed again. "Why are you still here? Isn't this the part where you get bored and leave because I'm not giving you the response you want?"
"I don't know whether or not you've noticed this, Granger," Draco drawled, "but we're on a moving staircase that is currently leading into a wall."
Hermione lifted her head and looked over her shoulder to see that he was correct, going up the stairs would lead him straight into a wall. Going down would be like jumping off the Astronomy Tower, only bumpier. She blinked. Something cold and wet trickled down her cheek.
"You're crying."
She didn't even bother to wipe the traitorous tear away. "I know."
Hermione looked him over quietly. His black dress robes were tailored impeccably. Blond hair fell in his face, just long enough to infringe on his cutting green eyes –faintly shadowed green eyes. For a moment she found herself wondering what could shadow such a privileged boy's eyes, before she realized she'd been staring and turned her gaze back towards her chipping nail polish. She'd just applied it that morning.
"Why?" he asked.
She scoffed, another tear escaping. "What do you care, Malfoy?"
The boy shrugged, leaning back on his palms.
"I'm stuck on a flight of stairs leading to nowhere with only you for company, Granger. Humor me."
Hermione sighed and sat up. Her hair had fallen out of its intricately pinned up doo. A stray curl bounced on the edge of her vision. One of her floppy periwinkle cap sleeves had drifted off her shoulder. She reached up to move it back, but when she caught sight of her shaking hand she clasped her hands together in her lap.
"Theoretically," she mumbled, "Ron may or may not have implied that the only reason Krum asked me to the ball was to get ahead of Harry in the tournament. And possibly to get into my knickers."
After a brief moment of silence, Draco let out a loud laugh. Hermione felt her cheeks burn as she glared at him, smacking his arm for extra measure. He swatted her away and continued to laugh.
"Granger, that is one of the most ludicrous things I have ever heard. I mean, I knew you were daft but this just takes the cake."
"You're an arsehole, Malfoy."
"And you're a bloody idiot, Granger. Brightest witch of our age my arse."
"Thanks Malfoy, you're making me feel so much better," she snapped, curling back into her original pose of hunching over her lap. She stopped, however, when his hand came to rest on her expose shoulder. Hermione's head shot up and her eyes darted to his hand. Draco, realizing what he'd done, quickly removed his hand and pulled her sleeve back onto her shoulder.
"I didn't mean it like that, Granger," he shook his head.
She scoffed. "Sure you didn't."
"What I meant," he sighed, "is that you guard your secrets almost as well as Gringott's goblins guard their gold. Your knickers too, obviously."
"Oh?" she hiccupped dumbly.
"Oh, indeed."
Hermione gave him a curious look. "So why does that make me daft?"
"You're daft because you actually listened to Weasley and took him seriously," he explained.
She blinked. "Oh."
"You said that already, Granger."
The two sat in silence. A slight rumbling beneath them kept them from fleeing the uncomfortable silence that had settled between them as the stairs began to shift. As the steps aligned with a staircase that led to another part of the castle, Draco got to his feet.
"Well Granger as fun as this little pow-wow has been, I've got better things to do than spend my evening cheering you up. Pansy's waiting for me."
Hermione tucked a stray curl behind her ear and watched him go back down the stairs for a moment before she plucked up the courage to ask him one last question.
"Malfoy?"
He turned back to look at her, his green eyes slicing through her hesitance. "What?"
"Pansy's waiting for you in the dungeons." It was a statement.
"So?"
"So," she smirked, "why did you come upstairs?"
It was dark on the stairs, but Hermione was almost certain she saw a faint pink tinge on his pale cheeks.
"Don't be daft, Granger."