The second Hermione's foot hit the first step, she realized she had made a grave mistake.
Hundreds of eyes stared at her, drinking her in, but the identities of the students who owned those eyes were hidden from her. Her identity, however, was no secret to them. She had forgotten her mask in the dormitory, she realized as the inwardly cursed herself. Her mask had been Gryffindor gold and carved with and intricate, yet delicate, design that she had fallen absolutely in love with when her eyes had spotted it in the shop at Hogsmeade. Of course it had also complimented her gown, which was scarlet with a sweetheart neckline that enhanced certain feminine aspects of her that Ron and Harry forgot existed. The skirt was enhanced with hand-placed flowers and beautiful crystals; Ginny had nearly cried when Hermione tried it on, and even she had to admit her beauty to herself.
Seventh Year had started a mere two months ago and yet it already seemed as though it would soon have to close its doors. Professor McGonagall had allowed the students this dance, despite many arguments against it from both staff and parents, reasoning their youth and what was to come in their near futures would take any ideas of fun and frivolity out of their heads. The students needed this, she had said, and Hermione had to agree with her. Getting ready for this dance had stripped Voldemort and the impending war from her mind—if only every once in a while.
Taking a deep breath, Hermione continued her descent into the Great Hall, which had been transformed into a gorgeous outdoor setting. In the corners of the room were white, wooden gazebos lifted off of the floor (accessible by a pair of floating stairs, of course) that were adorned with fairy lights—the Muggle kind, Hermione noted, no doubt an effort on McGonagall's part to make the Muggle-affiliated population of Hogwarts feel a little more at home. Up above her was the night sky and through the room floated bubbles and fireflies. Green vines wrapped themselves up the walls of the room. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest. Everything was so romantic and beautiful. Hermione only wished she had someone to share it with.
She and Ron had tried to make a go of it, as everyone had expected them to, and while Hermione loved him very deeply she had also found that there was simply no chemistry there beyond friendship. He hadn't challenged her in any way, aside from some very pigheaded remarks that weren't even worth a debate. Tonight he was here with Lavender Brown (really, they were great for one another she had decided) and she spotted the pair near one of the gazebos looking up at her with smiles on their faces. Even with masks, you couldn't mistake a Weasley.
By the time she had reached the bottom step, the room had erupted into a true ball. Bodies swirled around her, smiles on their faces and laughter escaping from their throats. Her own body buzzed with excitement, but somewhere within her was also fear. Some masks were not very unlike those the Death Eaters wore and Hermione recognized the fact that people who wished for her death were masked and dancing beside her as well. For a second the room seemed to change. Faces sneered at her from beneath their masks. Laughs sounded cruel and bitter. She felt trapped among the crowd.
Pushing through, she decided to look for her friends. Her curls caressed her back as she looked from side to side, searching the room. Had she gotten here late? Were her classmates already drunk on the butterbeer and firewhiskey that was always sneaked in? Those around her moved in ways that made the chaste Hermione feel uncomfortable. Bodies were grinding against one another. Hands were in places that were unacceptable for public display. She could feel the heat of the situation in the room, thick and tense.
After lifting her gaze from those around her to one of the gazebos, her eyes landed on a pair of gray ones staring directly at her. For a moment it felt as though her heart had stopped. Her eyes were wide and her mouth open, both frightened and intrigued by the figure who was sharing this moment with her. But immediately she realized that something was different about him. His hair, normally coiffed into a smooth and sophisticated style, has grown a bit darker that it's signature platinum and looked as though he had merely run his fingers through it in preparation for the night. No, she thought, that wasn't the only thing that was different. His black-on-black style had been swapped for something Hermione would have never expected. A dark scarlet jacket laid upon his blackberry-coloured button up; a slightly plum tie rested on his chest. Now she could feel her heart beating—though it was doing so harder than she had anticipated.
His mask was fitting. A long, slender handle held up the faux face which was made from a black wood and embellished with horns. Oh, how he looked evil, Hermione thought. But she could not find it in her to be scared of him—intrigued and wary, perhaps, but not frightened now that she had explored his eyes. They did not look menacing as they explored her, but determined and even a bit softer than she would have liked.
Suddenly their connection was broken as bodies began to swirl around her once again. She attempted to meet his stare for a second time but found that he had moved from his perch. Her eyes scanned the room for him, she wasn't sure why, but he had disappeared. A strange sensation resided in her and she confused even herself as she recognized it as disappointment. Her confusion tripled as her feet started moving, her own body forcing its way through the crowd in a desperate attempt to find him.
She was halted by to figures looming in front of her, a cane in the guise of a snake in the hand of the one on her right. As she turned to escape she felt a hand grasp her upper arm and turn her around. She couldn't break away from the second man, who was shorter and chubbier than his cohort. The first took his cane and ran it slowly down her right arm before trailing it across her stomach daring to drag it even lower.
The pair of gray eyes watched from across the room, a look of worry and anger showing in them. He had nearly gone to her side in that moment, but as his right foot had made the move forward she had jerked her arm from the grasp of his former friend and they disappeared into the crowd behind her.
Hermione hadn't caught even the slightest glimpse of a friend since she her foot had touched the ballroom floor and she longed to find Harry or Ron. Even Ginny or Luna would provide her with a feeling of comfort at the moment. Something in the back of her mind told her that they were no longer here, that they had exited this room of debauchery for something lighthearted and fun. Her mind told her to go towards the exit herself, but her intuition argued that she wouldn't make it there easily if at all. Her heart—her bones—told her she needed to find him.
He watched as she searched the room for him, a concoction of pride and fear mixing in his veins. She was looking for him, a thought that gave him an emotion akin to happiness. Any semblance of that feeling that he had felt in the past few months had been caused by her, though if you asked him the reason he would not be able to explain. How he wished he could get her out of this room, to protect her from some of his classmates who had decided that tonight was the night to humiliate the Gryffindor Princess.
She passed directly in front of him, her back to his front, close enough that he could smell her hair. His hand almost reached out for her, but in a moment of panic he retreated to the refreshments.
When her eyes finally found him again, he was standing amongst a throng of girls. Each attempted to get closer to him; however, his eyes remained rested on her. The dancing crowd seemed to break and she made her way to him easily. He stepped out from swarm of women and she gazed at him with curious, but frustrated, eyes. His throat jumped as a chuckle escaped him. But in an instant that chuckle had faded into the ether and his eyes were fixed on hers once again. Her breath hitched. His eyes were so focused, so intent, on her that the rest of the room seemed to vanish. Something was happening. Something big, she knew, but she didn't know what. And yet she welcomed it.
Yes, she welcomed this new rush of emotions through her body and to places she had yet to feel anything. There was a feeling in the pit of her stomach—even lower, perhaps—that made her feel womanly.
When his left hand started to reach for hers, she felt no hesitation in giving it to him. His other hand dropped the mask to the floor—they were the only two in the room revealing who they truly were. The other hand made its way around her waist, slowly and with purpose, to rest at the small of her back. A tingle crept up her spine and for a moment she had to shut her eyes.
Soon they were weaving amongst those on the dance floor, though she wasn't certain she was actually doing any of the dancing herself. Her own feet seemed to be floating above the floor, her body being led by his. All of her worry had vanished; her fear was nowhere to be found. The only thing Hermione Granger was sure of was that she didn't want this dance to end. She didn't want to let go of him. No, quite the opposite. She couldn't explain it, even to herself, but she felt something for Draco Malfoy.
As she rested her head on his shoulder, she thought. Maybe it all made sense—their animosity, the tension, the way they couldn't seem to avoid each other. Perhaps it was all subconscious. Perhaps, she thought, it was completely conscious and she had simply tried to deny it. He was a Slytherin, the son of a Death Eater and destined to become one his self. He was possibly Harry's worst enemy, aside from Voldemort, and of course he and Ron hated each other. Honestly, she wasn't allowed to like him. She wasn't allowed to see the good in him. But she had. She had always seen the possibility of light in him. Even at the young age of eleven she had known that there was more to him. He was misguided but he tried to be an alright guy—he just hadn't had to tools to know how exactly. And he obviously wasn't as tough as he wanted people to think. She had proven that their third year. Then, the summer before fourth year, he had somewhat saved her from harm when he told her friends to get her out of the path of the Death Eaters. She would never forget that.
Draco finally felt comfort. Was this what it felt like to not worry? Because, for a moment, he felt only good things. He smirked as he glanced down at the brunette resting against him. He couldn't explain what had always drawn him to her. For a while it had felt like jealousy, maybe even hate. But as he had gotten older, he had realized it wasn't any such thing. He admired the fact that she was so intelligent. Very few things could bring down her optimism. It didn't matter what challenge she faced, she persevered. Despite any differences his father may have pointed out in their blood, they were far more similar than they were different.
The song was starting to end. Hermione felt her stomach knot itself with indecisiveness. What would happen if this dance ended and that was it? Would they go their separate ways? Would they continue to fight and be enemies? Would they avoid each other and pretend it never happened? A lump formed in her throat at the last question. She couldn't let any of these things happen, especially not the last. The song was getting softer and softer. She had to make a decision. Where was her Gryffindor courage? Her bravery?
It was hiding behind nerves and appearances.
But it wasn't going to hide anymore.
Hermione could feel her feet on the floor now that they had stopped dancing. Suddenly she was shorter than she had remembered, or maybe he was taller. She looked down at the floor, biting her lip, until she felt a soft hand come to rest against her jaw line. Finally her courage was surging through her, as though it was awakened by this touch. She lifted herself up by her toes and placed her hand behind his neck, pulling him closer to her.
And then Hermione Granger kissed Draco Malfoy.
They could both feel it rushing through their systems. Excitement, happiness… Draco even felt a little giddy, he thought. And the room around them had returned. All eyes were on them, including those of their friends. Most stared in disbelief, but as Hermione glanced at Harry she could see the tiniest hint of a smile in his eyes.
"Are you ready?" Draco asked, his lips grazing her ear while he took her hand in his.
Her smile was evident in her eyes. Her face was nearly glowing. Fitting her hand with his, she gave him a nod and they exited the ballroom.
a/n: I was listening to a certain song (look to the title for the answer) and this popped into my head and I could not stop writing. Many points to you if you recognize what movie this was inspired by. Hope you enjoy! And please leave a contribution in the review box!
Disclaimer: I do not claim to have any intellectual rights to the works of J.K. Rowling, her ideas, or her characters. Nor do I have any rights to the other movie this was inspired by. I am merely a fan who loves all of the different worlds created in stories and movies.