Secret Santa Story for Farah! Happy Holidays dear, and I hope you like my (very rusty) writing!
Draco eyed the décor hanging from the ceiling with a frown. It's been three years since he's last seen these halls, and the memories that came to mind were not pleasant ones. The only reason why he even agreed to attend this treacherous ball was to earn a little more respect from other wizards. Retired Deatheaters, like his family, were not welcomed back with open arms to say the very least.
"Bloody decorations," he muttered angrily, pushing a handful of floating streamers out of his way.
"Draco, behave," his father scolded. Lucius Malfoy carried himself with subtle dignity despite the scornful looks occasionally cast his way. "We all agreed to attend this wretch – ," he paused to compose himself, "this reunion ball to prove to the Wizarding World we have changed."
"Pardon me, Father, but I beg to differ that you believe filthy Mudbloods are our equals now!" Draco harshly whispered before faking a smile at an on-looking witch.
"I don't!" Lucius retaliated. "But I pretend like it."
Draco dug his hands deep into his coat pocket in response, grumbling. He started off towards the refreshments table and grabbed a glass of Firewhisky.
Tonight was the third annual Golden Ball, an international event marking the anniversary the Dark Lord's fall. As always, and much to Draco's annoyance, it was held in the Great Hall. The Malfoys had not attended the last two years out of shame and disgust, but Narcissa Malfoy, sick of living like cockroach, had dragged her family out tonight.
"I'm sure you'll have fun dear," Narcissa had told her son earlier.
"Oh, I'm having the time of my life, Mother." Draco thought bitterly. He took a sip of his drink before heading out to the garden. And that's when he saw her.
She was dressed in a red and gold of course, and Draco tried to not roll his eyes. Her bushy hair was present as always, but tonight it was pinned back by some type of metal object. What did Muggles call that again? A barrette?
"Granger!" Draco called out, smiling at the astonished witch. "Well, don't you look lovely."
Hermione choked on her drink before looking back at him.
"Excuse me?" she exclaimed, dabbing at her lips.
"I'm merely complimenting you, Granger. Is that a crime?"
"It is coming from you. Since when do you compliment people anyways?" Hermione set down her glass and began to walk back inside, Draco trailing at her heels.
"What, you don't believe I can be nice?" he asked incredulously, grabbing her arm.
"Tell me, Draco, when have you ever been nice?" she coolly replied and yanked her arm out of Draco's grip.
Draco stood there rooted to the spot. Anger flushed through him. He's spent the last three years changing and trying to become a better person, and she was going to brush him off so easily?
"I'll have you know, Granger," he sneered, catching up to her, "that I'm no longer a Deatheater, nor is anyone in my family."
"I'm aware of that, Malfoy," Hermione hissed. "That doesn't mean you're any more decent than when I last saw you." With the click of her heels, she veered across the hall towards her friends with Draco trailing angrily behind her. Potter and Weasley gave him a strange look before greeting their best friend.
"'Mione! Blimey, you look…" Ron struggled to find the right word with a childish grin plastered on his face. "Nice," he finished lamely.
Draco scoffed at the embarrassed red-head before bursting into laughter. "Really, Weasley? Nice? Is that the best you can come up with?" he snorted. "Even those filthy slugs you threw up have more charm than that."
Ron's ears turned bright pink.
"What is it to you, Malfoy?" he asked, stepping in front of Hermione. "I didn't think scum like you were even invited."
"Honorary guests, Weasley," Draco lied. "Not that you would know anything about that."
"Both of you, cut it out! Try to act like mature adults, please!" Hermione exclaimed.
Draco rolled his eyes earning him a piercing glare from the witch before she stalked away from him for the third time that night.
"Right. Pick a fight with her best friend. Real smooth." Draco mentally smacked himself before picking up an unopened bottle of Firewhisky and chugging it down.
"Excuse me, sir!" A squeaky voice that might've belonged to small child sounded from his feet. Looking down, Draco came face to face with a ragged house-elf with food stains all down the front of her ripped clothing.
"You're not supposed to drink from the bottles!" the small creature chirped nervously, toying with the edges of its frayed…was that a dishtowel?
Draco gave the house-elf a crude look, but stopped when he caught sight of Hermione's disapproving look from across the room. Oh yeah. The bloody woman had an obsession with house-elves.
Sighing, he bent down to eye level with the trembling creature who later introduced herself as Meeka.
"Meeka," Draco said in a forced soothing voice, "I'm sorry for disobeying the rules, but it's all gone already. Look." He dangled the empty bottle upside down to prove his point before gently shooing off the house-elf.
Sighing, Draco stood up and glanced around the room. The low hum of chatting reverberated throughout the room. It wouldn't be long until the music would begin, and he wanted to be as far from the dancing as possible. Resigning himself to what was surely going to be a terrible night, he slumped out to the garden. He leaned against the side of the castle, propping one leg on the wall. He was about to take a swig from another bottle of Firewhisky when a certain witch's voice broke the silence.
"That was really nice you know," Hermione stated, stepping into the shadows towards him.
"I thought I was never nice," Draco drawled without glancing her way. He brought the bottle to his lips again.
"I didn't expect you to treat that house-elf nicely," she admitted. "Or rather I should say, civilly."
"Yeah yeah, whatever," he mumbled.
Hermione studied him for a moment before speaking.
"I suppose you really have changed, haven't you?" she stated.
At this, Draco turned to face her.
"Excuse me?" he smirked. "And no, I'm not going to spit my bloody drink out," he tacked on as an afterthought.
"What?" Hermione asked, puzzled. She paused for a moment, trying to decipher what he was getting at before remembering their earlier encounter. "Oh."
"Brightest witch of her age, eh?" Draco teased, sipping the last of his drink.
Hermione blushed deep red before shaking her head.
"Stop that," she commanded.
"Stop what?"
"Stop being nice and teasing. It's…weird."
Draco raised an eyebrow at her.
"Me being nice is weird? How about you looking decent for once," he retorted. Pushing himself gracefully off the wall, Draco flung the empty bottle into a nearby garbage can and ignored Hermione's dumbfounded face.
"Trying to catch flies there, Granger?" he said.
Hermione quickly shut her mouth.
"Malfoy, did you just call me nice looking? How disgusting," she grimaced.
"Fuck, Granger, you know why do I even try," he sighed exasperatedly, running his hands through his hair. Hermione took silent note of the how attractive this disheveled appearance looked to him, and how nice his forearms were before frowning. This was Malfoy, a puny cockroach of a boy whom she loathed.
"I'm trying to be civil here, fuck I'm trying to be nice! Stop throwing it back in my face!" Draco stepped towards Hermione angrily, and she retreated against the cool marble of the castle walls.
"Well don't just spew out compliments because you can! Do it because you actually mean it!" Hermione pushed against his chest, wanting nothing more than to go back inside and find her friends. Draco grabbed her wrists in his hands to stop her movements.
"I do mean them! How low do you really think me to be?" he sneered.
Hermione stopped fighting for a moment to gaze back up at him in shock.
"What?" Draco asked. Her incessant gaze was starting to make him uncomfortable.
"Are you trying to tell me you think I'm pretty?" Hermione wondered aloud. She winced internally at how shallow that comment sounded.
"Something like that," Draco mumbled, letting go of her wrists. He kicked absentmindedly at the grass.
"Oh. Okay. Well…well then." For once, Hermione was at a loss of words. She was excellent at logic and critical thinking, but dealing with Draco's confessed emotions was unexpected.
"You just happen to look nice tonight," he said quickly before spinning around and heading back into the Great Hall. Hermione trotted at his heels.
"Hermione!" Harry called her name from behind her. Both Draco and Hermione turned, but as she was still walking as she did so, Draco crashed into her. The two of them went stumbling into the side of a table, knocking over flowers and numerous porcelain plates. Draco grabbed Hermione's waist with one hand and the table edge in another.
"Watch where you're going," he hissed at her, abruptly setting them straight. His hands brushed down the length of her spine before he let go and stalked away.
"What was that about?" Ron asked, glaring at Draco's retreating back.
"I have no idea," Hermione said casually. "Come on, the dancing's about to begin."
Ushering the two boys away from the mess, she pulled out her wand to clean it up. Before she could perform a simple cleaning spell, the dishes and vases magically repaired and placed themselves neatly on the table. Looking up, Hermione caught the silver eyes of Draco once more. His gaze lingered on her a moment too long to be considered coincidence before he tucked his wand away and gave her a nonchalant wave.
Damn that boy.