a/n: this came to me out of nowhere. read and enjoy!

disclaimer: don't own harry potter.

summary: When the clock strikes twelve. – Draco/Hermione.


yuletide


How – just how could boys be so dense?

Hermione wiped away a tear not yet formed, most likely smudging her mascara in the process. How dare they accuse her – her – of…of fraternizing with the enemy.

Darkly, Hermione wondered if Ron knew exactly what he was accusing her of.

Viktor had left quickly – too quickly, if she had to be true. Harry hadn't spoken a word in her defense and had left with Ron, giving the impression of a frightened deer. Hermione's face twisted – this was where she was after all that primping: a lone girl sitting at a table, watching an almost deserted dance floor.

It just went to show what all that makeup and her pretty dress had done for her – absolutely nothing.

"Please don't tell me you're crying." Hermione froze – she'd know that drawl anywhere. It was only fitting that Draco Malfoy came to laugh at her failure.

"What do you want, ferret?" Hermione snarled, acerbic. She knew he wouldn't leave without a row and the sooner he was gone, the better.

"Oh, nothing," he said, the underlying anger in his tone showing that her ferret comment hit, "Just a chance to dance with the prettiest girl in the ball."

At this, Hermione's head shot straight up, to see him sitting opposite her, watching her reaction with amusement. Her head reeling in confusion, Hermione bit back, "Careful now, ferret, you wouldn't want anyone to see you associating with filth, would you?"

It wasn't as if there were many people left in the room – most had left at the first stroke of midnight, laughing and giggling and dizzy from dancing. Now, only two Ravenclaw couples remained dancing along with a few teachers – Dumbledore, McGonagall, Flitwick and Sprout.

"I said I wanted a chance to dance with the prettiest girl, Mudblood or not."

He wasn't looking at her, Hermione realized, and there was a slight tinge of pink on his cheeks. It was so rare a sight that Hermione wanted to laugh – an embarrassed Draco Malfoy.

"Very well," Hermione shrugged, what harm could one dance do? She glanced at her heels, then turned away, wincing at the memory of trying to dance in torture contraptions. Draco eyed her bare feet and followed her lead, slipping off his dress shoes and breathing in relief.

He offered his hand and Hermione accepted, drawn into the whirlwind of the dance as the music started.

Just one, she promised herself, just this one dance. But the music swelled and descended, its fluttering ribbon ensnaring her as she twirled and dipped and stepped left and right, following Draco's lead as he spun her around and around the floor.

It was exhilarating and Hermione found herself giggling, high on the forbidden joy of dancing with a Slytherin. She didn't miss Draco's answering smile as he clasped her hand in his, and began the steps for another dance.

They spun the night away, switching from step to step as the music changed – from a slow waltz to wild rock, Hermione breathed in clear air and happiness welled within her.

Sometimes, this was all a girl wanted – a dance with a partner who complemented her steps like he was made for her, a few dozen compliments, a bough of mistletoe for a perfect kiss.

All Hermione had wanted this Christmas was a night that she would never forget – and it looked like this wish, at least, had been fulfilled.


le fin


a/n: i've been wanting to do a dramione yule ball scene for quite some time. hope you liked it!