Author's Note: This fic was written for a challenge at the dhr_valentine community.

Making the Right Mistakes

The noise level in the Great Hall seemed much louder than usual to Draco Malfoy. He had the distinct impression that the amount of noise was not a normal fluctuation, as one experienced at feasts and whatnot, but the sound that comes with a particularly intriguing piece of gossip.

Glancing at his tablemates, he saw Pansy Parkinson doing her best to whisper in Millicent Bullstrode's ear, meaning shrill squeaks emitted from her mouth intermittently with small flecks of spit. Millicent winced often, but still leaned in to hear whatever Pansy had to say.

Draco's eyes widened. It must be something remarkable if someone would be willing to withstand Pansy's aggravating exclamations and horrendous breath.

He turned his head from the unnerving sight and saw two Ravenclaws discussing something rapidly with intense, serious expressions on their faces.

Then again, Ravenclaws always had to do everything intensely and seriously, except maybe for that Chang girl who'd left school the year before. There was one heap of waterworks that should have been sorted into Hufflepuff.

Speaking of, he looked further down the room and saw three yellow-clad heads abruptly jerk away. Suspicion arose in Draco like a cobra about to strike. If you could depend on anyone to get information out of with minimal torture, it would be a Hufflepuff. That house screamed "heart on our collective sleeves."

Draco was now aware of three things: one, there was some sort of juicy blather he was not privy to; two, as he made it a point to be clued-in to all information within Hogwarts halls, it most likely had to do with his most enigmatic self, and three, Dumbledore had just turned his twinkling gaze upon him and winked twice.

A wave of nervousness crashed over him and he felt sweat begin to gather in his always-dry pores. He was glued to his seat and unaware that he held a fork suspended mid-air with a bit of pudding on it, so distant and yet actively involved did he feel with his situation, as Dumbledore stood up and silence fell naturally over the school.

Draco Malfoy, in a completely uncharacteristic show of rattled disposition, was unaware of the students who shot quick looks at him, then did double-takes as they saw a frozen, pale, anxiety-ridden person in the stead of the cool and suave Slytherin. Some later described it as almost ferret-like.

It was really of no coincidence that the "some" were one Harry Potter and one Ron Weasley.

As Dumbledore spoke Draco only faintly heard a muffled fog of words, finally lowering the fork and leaving the pudding unattended.

Draco Malfoy had done a very stupid thing.

Somewhere between his fifth and seventh years – that would be your sixth, his brain provided helpfully – he had become observant. Of course he'd already been very attentive in class, there was no way he could be second in his class without being so; but this sort of attention was different. Subtle details began to have a strange affect on him. Perhaps it had been the way he'd seen his father tell his prostrated mother to stand up and then had bodily lifted her when he'd stumbled upon them in the his father's private library. Or maybe it was how he'd seen one of his father's cohorts, of the name of Wormtail, change from a sniveling, sycophantic mouse for the Dark Lord to a pompous, self-important commander of a house-elf. Or it could have been how Granger scrunched her nose when she was in deep concentration over a complex arithmancy problem.

That last one had to be the biggest reason he found himself about to make the second largest mistake of his life.

Draco had suddenly been alert and responsive to thousands of tiny nuances of his life he'd never given a second thought to. Somehow he arrived at the conclusion that he'd been going about things the wrong way.

Draco betrayed both Voldemort and his father in the final battle, fighting for the side he had scorned most of his life for its self-righteousness and myriad of gushy feelings.

Draco nearly laughed aloud at the hypocrisy of that thought.

Dumbledore, having finished giving whatever speech to the students – he'd told Draco it would consist of a brief introduction to the school populous about a special presentation, as it were – cast an expectant eye at Draco and smiled kindly.

Draco stood, and the eyes of a thousand of his peers snapped to him, almost as if they'd been waiting for him to do so, and strode with as much of his old confidence and swagger he could muster to the raised dais the staff table habitually stood on. He began to recognize that the students had somehow found out he was doing something incredibly stupid. How was it a person could keep a dark secret, like being a Death Eater, from society, but nothing was private in this school?

Dumbledore made the head table disappear and the teachers made their way to the walls on either side of the hall, giving the floor entirely to Draco. Normally he would have thrived in such a situation, but as the moon in the enchanted ceiling somehow shone a spotlight on him, he scowled at Dumbledore, the floor, and then raised his turbulent eyes upon the students.

They all seemed to be a great blur except for one solitary figure who stood out, had always stood out, amidst her peers, gazing curiously at him. It gave his heart a bit of a lift to see no animosity in her visage. He deliberately looked directly at Hermione, who seemed taken aback by the strong emotion she felt in his gaze, and more surprised by the emotion within herself that answered it. Every nerve in her body positively thrummed with anticipation. Much as she scorned Divination, she had a prevalent feeling that something was about to change.

Draco lifted his wand, still keeping his eyes fixed on hers, and cast a Sonorous charm on himself. Then Draco Malfoy did the most surprising thing the students had ever witnessed during his attendance at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

He began to sing. And as the most honest words he had ever spoken, never mind sung, came forth from his mouth, the mass before him shared a collected look of shock.

"You're just too good to be true,
Can't take my eyes off of you…"

Several students gasped, a few Hufflepuffs fainted, and Pansy Parkinson had what could only be as closely described as an epileptic fit.

"You'd be like Heaven to touch,
I want to hold you so much…"

Hermione's sharp intake of breath went unnoticed by Harry and Ron, who were staring utterly gob-smacked at their former enemy.

"And at long last love has arrived,
And I thank God I'm alive…"

A few students had the audacity to whistle; the shrill catcalls reminded Hermione to breathe.

"You're just too good to be true,
I can't take my eyes off of you…"

The last note of the verse trailed off into a ringing silence that reigned throughout the hall (as Pansy had gone unconscious and no one had noticed). Draco hadn't moved from his spot on the platform, but his demeanor had changed as he remembered his reasoning for taking this foolish emotional leap in the first place.

The students were startled out of their slack-jawed stupor as instruments conjured by the staff began to play themselves in tune to the song. Snape looked distinctly disgruntled conjuring trumpets to accompany his favorite student.

Not caring about the consequences of his actions, Draco strode purposefully between the tables, faintly aware that the self-playing instruments were following him in a parade-type fashion as he sung the chorus.

"I love you baby!
And if it's quite all right,
I need you baby,
To warm a lonely night.
I love you baby…"

He had reached Hermione and pulled her away from the bench and the flailing arms that were trying to hold her back.

"Trust in me when I say…"

She waved her wand over her shoulder and muttered an incantation. Draco grinned as he saw she had effectively incapacitated those two loons.

"Oh pretty baby,
Don't bring me down, I pray,
Oh pretty baby,
Now that I found you, stay.
And let me love you-"

She abruptly interrupted his singing as the instruments played on with a fierce kiss. He regarded her somewhat dazedly and brushed a loose strand of hair over her ear.

"I've wanted to do that for a long time," he said, glad that the loud tune covered what he was saying from the raucous, cheering students.

She stared at him perplexedly. "Really?" she asked in a disbelieving tone and scrunched up her nose. He grinned and pulled her back to him, effectively stopping any more questions she might have had.

The students still cheered on, Harry and Ron struggled against invisible bounds, and Pansy awoke, gripping her head and using the table to right herself. Upon seeing the musical instruments circling the couple still engaged in a passionate kiss, she fell into fits again.


Professor McGonagall regarded the scene wryly. "A bit much, don't you think, Albus?" she said to the Headmaster standing next to her.

He turned to her and smiled widely. "Actually, this reminds me of a certain sable-haired witch who stormed into my classroom one day and told me in no uncertain terms that she wouldn't stand for me to ignore her."

Only Dumbledore could have noticed the faint blush that passed briefly across the face of the stern witch as she smiled back.