The gentle sounds of the slow ballad playing in the great hall drifted and echoed along the dark corridor. The Yule Ball was nearing its final hour and the tempo of the evening had started to mellow as people had started to drift sleepily to the beds.
Sitting in the solace of her hiding place, on a cold, stone window seat, Hermione Granger was crying. The moonlight streaming in made the tracks of her teardrops shine in tiny rivers down her cheeks. Goodness, how she hated that she cried when she was angry! She could not contain her disappointment that what she had hoped would be a wonderful evening could turn out so miserably.
Her evening with Viktor had been going reasonably well enough, but she had found that she had quickly found the language barrier between them rather tiresome. The loud music had made it even more difficult to understand what he was saying through his thick, Bulgarian accent and broken English. But it was her altercation with a certain Ronald Weasley that had truly ruined her night. She was totally bewildered that anyone purporting to be her best friend would say and act in such a cruel way towards her and leave her feeling so worthless!
Hermione sighed heavily and rested her elbows on her knees, covering her face with her hands, the sounds of her loud sniffs echoing along the corridor to mingle with the drifting music. It was then that she heard a third sound. The sound of footsteps coming from a darkened alcove along the passageway. The figure that emerged was unmistakable as the shaft of moonlight hit the white blond hair and illuminated the familiar face.
"Oh perfect! As if my evening couldn't get any better!" Hermione exclaimed, rolling her eyes. "Come to throw yet another, tiresome mudblood insult at me have we, Malfoy?"
Malfoy proceeded to stalk towards her. He had his hands in his pockets and his usually perfectly coiffed hair was looking rather disheveled after the evening's revelries.
"Well?" She continued. "You may as well get it over with, Malfoy. But really, you needn't bother. You can't possibly make me feel any worse than I already do!"
Hermione glared at him in a challenging fashion as his eyes looked her up and down. She noticed his hand reaching inside his jacket pocket and instinctively jumped to her feet, warily stepping back. Was he really going to draw his wand on her, now? She instantly started to regret not altering her periwinkle gown to accommodate her wand, and now she was left feeling particularly vulnerable to whatever vindictive little hex her unexpected visitor was about to send her way.
"Oh – that's really nice Malfoy, hexing me when…" she began, but then stopped abruptly in surprise. Malfoy's hand presented her not with his wand, but a silk handkerchief, embroidered (so typically, she thought) with an ornate letter 'M' monogram in deep, emerald thread.
"Was going to offer you this, actually" he remarked with a raise of his eyebrows. "Dry your eyes, Granger. You don't look very pretty all red and puffy."
Hermione stared incredulously at the hankie for a few seconds and then searched his face for clues that it was some sort of cruel trick, but ultimately found none. She tentatively reached out and grasped the soft fabric. In return, Malfoy kept hold of it for a second and their eyes locked on each other. Hermione couldn't remember a time that she had been close enough to truly look into his eyes before. Even during third year, when she had slapped him, it had all happened so quickly and she had been so furious that she hadn't really been looking at him when it happened. Hermione discovered with a sudden fluttering of her heart that the effect his careful regard had on her was quite disconcerting.
He eventually released the handkerchief and she quietly offered a whispered "Thank you', before turning her back to dab her tears away. She didn't want to let Malfoy see her wiping her nose in case he thought it repulsive, but then she quickly felt cross with herself for caring what the like of Draco Malfoy should think.
Turning assertively back to face him, Hermione startled to see that he had since sat down in her place in the window seat and was now gazing sullenly at the floor. Her first instinct was to leave but then the prospect of returning to the Yule Ball made her stomach churn.
"Well, I was here first, why should I have to leave?" she thought obstinately to herself. She took a deep breath and sat bravely down beside the Slytherin, eyeing him carefully from the corner of her eye.
Hermione turned to face him directly. "You know Malfoy, for a moment there it sounded as though you were implying that I look pretty this evening. If it wasn't for all the crying, I mean?" She was hoping that if she goaded him enough he would leave. She awaited his smart comeback, but to her complete amazement, he offered her nothing more than a weak shrug of his shoulders in acknowledgement, along with one of his trademark smirks.
Malfoy's eyes then slowly drifted upwards, taking in her legs, her waist and the curve of her chest until they rose to meet her own eyes. There was that smirk again and a quirk of his eyebrows in a suggestive manner. There was that feeling again when their eyes connected and Hermione felt a flush of heat and colour rising to her chest and cheeks. She looked away quickly, fidgeting nervously with the lock of curly hair that fell over her shoulder.
"I overheard you and Krum talking earlier." Malfoy stated. "Although I don't think you could actually call it talking on his part. He can't even say your name, for Merlin's sake!" he laughed.
Hermione huffed crossly. "Well, we don't do much taking actually!" she snapped out defensively, before quickly realising to her horror, what she had implied. Malfoy's face instantly lit up with amusement.
"Oh really Granger?" he quirked again, suggestively flashing his eyebrows and ginning widely. "So what exactly do you two get up to then? Do tell!"
Malfoy had now turned to face her fully, clearly enjoying her embarrassment.
"Oh don't be so vulgar, Malfoy. We study together, that's all" she replied, but she couldn't help but smile at the playful expression on Malfoy's face. She puzzled over the boy in front her and his somewhat kind and spirited nature.
"Yeah? Sure you do Granger!"
Without thinking, Hermione slapped his leg playfully – a gesture she often reserved for Harry or Ron whenever they said something silly or suggestive. But in an instant, Malfoy took hold of the offending hand by the wrist and pulled her closer, whispering "Come on Granger. Play nicely. I'm not your Weasley now am I?"
The mention of Ron's name changed Hermione's mood like an icy bucket of water being thrown over her. She looked crossly down at the floor and he released her arm as though he sensed the change in her. Hermione sat and absently twisted the corner of Malfoy's ridiculous handkerchief that she was still holding onto.
The blond continued to regard Hermione thoughtfully. "It's Weasley who's left you in this state then?"
Hermione chose to ignore his comment, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge her incident with Ron.
"You know, Granger, Weasley seems to have really surpassed himself in the idiot stakes tonight."
Hermione couldn't help but look up at him now. She expected to see the usual look of distaste that Malfoy always carried whenever addressing Ron, but instead he had a curious look of earnest about him. Again Hermione puzzled over this 'new, improved Malfoy' sitting next to her, with suspicion.
"You know, Malfoy" she retorted, "You seem to have spent a lot of time watching me and my friends this evening."
"Well, I'm a Slytherin, Granger. I always observe those around me with great interest. I find it can provide invaluable information that can be used to my own benefit."
"And how on earth could watching Ron and I be of any benefit to you?" she challenged.
"Well that remains to be seen, Granger, doesn't it?" came his simple reply. It was clear to Hermione that he was completely unfazed by her comments, and her original plan to get him to leave her alone in her hiding place had failed miserably.
"You know what Weasley's problem is don't you?"
Hermione huffed out: "Jealousy?" before realising that it actually sounded a little vain.
"Well yes, of course he's jealous!" came Malfoy's assertive response.
Hermione now couldn't help but stare incredulously at this, trying desperately to see a glimmer of sarcasm, and waiting for the long-overdue blood-purity laced insults to begin. But they didn't come. And there was no sign that anything he was saying was in anything but total honesty. He looked away as though it was now hard for him to meet her eyes as he spoke.
"Weasley's realised that he's spent the last three and a half years seeing you as something that you're not. He's had to watch you with that meathead Krum, seen him putting his hands on you, watched you leaning in to Krum's lips as you try to understand him, his mind racing as to what might happen next if you were to lean in any closer. He's seen you walk in that hall, in that dress, looking… well… like that."
Draco nodded his head towards her and his eyes roved over her quickly and then back to lock on her own, wide eyes.
"He's finally seen you Granger. Seen you for what you really are."
Hermione knew she must have had a look of a gaping codfish on her face. She could also feel that she was blushing furiously again and let out the breath that she had been holding during Malfoy's bewildering speech. She swallowed thickly, and in the briefest moment as she parted her lips to draw in breath – her chest rising and falling heavily, Malfoy's silver eyes fell intensely to her mouth.
"And… and what exactly is this thing that I really am, Malfoy?" she whispered, not entirely sure that she wanted to hear his answer.
Unexpectedly, the sound of echoing voices nearby shook the pair from their shared proximity and they both stood abruptly, turning to face the direction of the noise. Hermione found her feet frozen to the floor, terrified to make a sound that might draw attention their way.
She started to panic – her mind racing. What if it was Ron? Or Harry? How would it look to find her here with Malfoy of all people? How could she explain it away? What if they started to accuse Malfoy of wrongdoing, when she'd actually found comfort in his company? Would she then have to start sticking up for him?
The voices and laughter of merrymaking died away and the hidden couple were left again in silence. She let out a sigh of relief, but then just as suddenly froze again, as she felt the sensation of Malfoy's body move in closely behind her. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her neck and a ripple of electricity shot through her.
One of his hands curled around her waist while the other gently swept her cascade of curls to the side and over her shoulder. She looked down at his hand on her waist and moved her own on top as though the pull it away, but he only gripped her more strongly and she knew that she didn't really want him to let go.
He leaned in even more closely and Hermione couldn't help but close her eyes as he began to speak quietly, just behind her ear.
"What you really are, Hermione" he stated, pointedly articulating her given name with a hot breath, "is an intelligent, gifted and beautiful witch."
The feeling of his words prickled down her spine. "Anyone who failed to see it until now has been a fool."
And with a determined finality, Draco Malfoy walked around her, keeping hold of her hand that was still clutching his at her waist, before lifting it and kissing it softly. He took a few steps backwards as they both locked their eyes on each other, turned, and disappeared with his usual, confident stride, back into the darkness and away into the Great Hall - wide, amber eyes following his form every step of the way. The damp, silken handkerchief now lying on the floor was the only evidence that he had ever been there in the first place. Hermione gathered it up and stared at it momentarily, before tucking it carefully inside her gown and heading slowly away into the darkness.
