AUTHOR: Ali Cho (Hufflepuff)
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I wrote my first one-shot because I had an idea for a plot nagging at the back of my mind for quite a long time, and I finally acted on impulse and wrote it. Now, I am so glad I did. To the people who reviewed my first story, thank you for all your kind words and encouragement! It really helped boost my confidence in my writing ability.
So sorry for not updating for so long - I am very busy nowadays.
Two reviewers asked for two different stories - a companion piece to "Pansy's Observations", and a sequel. Well, I've decided to do both. This is the companion piece, told in Draco's POV. Hope you find it as enjoyable as the last. If it goes well, maybe I'll do another in Hermione's POV. Would you like that?
Again, this fic is not AU. Please keep reviewing!
DRACO'S YULE BALL, AND AFTERWARD
THE YULE BALL
Wait. Is that – is that Granger?
Draco Malfoy was so amazed that he couldn't do more than stare at his supposedly enemy. He always knew she was pretty, but tonight she looked gorgeous. She really outdid herself this time. She had on robes of a soft, baby blue, and her hair was neat and shiny. Goodness, had his heart ever thumped as fast as it was now? No, he didn't think so. Well, maybe except for that one time when he had to serve detention in the Forbidden Forest in first year. He'd nearly got a heart attack in there.
He didn't know why he had to fall for her. It started in third year, when she had slapped him. Odd, he knew. Who would go and have a crush on their enemy just after she slapped them? He was probably nuts.
He denied it, for a while. He tried to assure himself that the reason why his heart always beat a little faster when he saw her was because he hated her so much, that he always paid extra attention to her, always looked out for her was because - what's that phrase again? Know your enemy as well as yourself, or something like that. But he knew that was stupid. His heart never beat faster when he saw Potter or Weaslebee, and he hated them as much as he hated Hermione. And he certainly never – ugh - looked out for them. No, the only explanation he could come up with is (as painful as it is to admit it) that he fancied her. Imagine that. His father would have his head if he ever found out. And the Slytherins – what would they think?
So for the rest of third year he kept quiet about it, but he went out of his way to avoid bumping into Granger at all costs. She soon began to plague his dreams, and try as he might; he still had to see her in Potions, Care of Magical Creatures and during meals in the Great Hall. It was slowly driving him insane. He became snappy, irritable and sensitive, lashing out at others for the littlest things.
At the Quidditch World Cup, when his father explained to him that he had to stay hidden when the Death Eaters were rounding up muggles, his first thought was, "Granger". She was here with the Weasels and the old Pothead, and she might get caught. Draco couldn't think clearly, all he knew was that he had to somehow warn her away from the Death Eaters.
He was in luck that day. She, accompanied with her two goons, happened to stumble into his path during the raids. Weasley tripped over a tree root and he couldn't resist making a joke out of it. He and the Grffindork boys exchanged a few insults before Granger dragged them off. He was worried that she didn't get his meaning though, so he hastily added a warning for her (disguised as a taunt, of course) to "Keep her big bushy head down".
After that, he had no way of knowing whether she was safe or not, and was on tenterhooks all day, until his father later berated him for warning the Mudblood away from them. Which meant that she got away.He got a rather bad scolding from his father, but while his features showed regret, he felt exhilarated inside. A voice exclaiming, "She was safe! She was safe!" kept repeating over and over in his head, his heart was leaping with joy and relief.
He was no longer in denial. That night, he came to a decision. Who cares what the Slytherins think? They could all be Petrified for all he cared. His parents might be a problem, but they can't get angry over what they don't know, right? And besides, his father always said, "One of the privileges that come with the Malfoy name is that you can have anything, and anyone you want." Well, he wanted her. And because he was a Malfoy, he shouldn't be wallowing in want; he should be getting whatever he desired.
But he wanted to take it slow. He knew she would be a tough nut to crack. And he couldn't think a single way to endear himself to her. Not yet. So for the time being, he'll just have to act like his usual, taunting self. He hoped he would still be able to do that. Now the very thought of anyone bullying her, much less himself, made his insides squirm in anger.
All year long, he felt little bursts of anger whenever a fellow Slytherin made fun of Granger, but couldn't do anything about it, yet. When the Yule Ball was announced, he immediately pictured himself with her on his arm, and the image alone was enough to form a smirk on his face. But he knew that was impossible. For now.
Pansy Parkinson asked him to the ball soon after. He was always privately repulsed with her, the pug-faced little cow, and since this year he hated her more than ever. She had insulted Hermione the most, and led the other Slytherin girls to join her too. But his father would have something to say about it if he knew he had rejected her. The Malfoys and the Parkinsons enjoyed a strong allegiance and friendship, and his father specifically told him to be nice to Pansy, so as to uphold this bond between their families. So he didn't have much choice other than to accept her invitation, which he did.
Which brought him back to the present.
He quickly shook out of his daze as loud shouting sprang from one of the tables. Her table. The prettiest girl in the Hall, the one he had been watching all this time. She and Weasel were arguing. Again. He didn't think it was possible for two people to ever argue so much. They argued over practically everything.
He watched the two of them, bemused, not paying attention to what their shouting about at all. His amusement quickly faded, however, when he saw the tears.
Draco's chest seemed to burst into flame. He felt angry - anger that burned white-hot in his gut - at Weasley, for making her cry. He felt like punching the git right in his bloody face.
Draco forced himself to calm down when he saw Hermione run out of the Great Hall. He didn't know what compelled him to do it, but he followed her, simply following his instinct.
He followed her to an elegant passageway he never been in before. The floor was covered with a thick, smooth and soft red carpet. The walls were painted gold, and there were two huge, sparkling crystal chandeliers hanging overhead, and the passage way was completely bathed in its silvery, sparkly glow. She stood leaning sideways against one of the walls, sobbing freely.
He felt a horrible wrenching at his heart; he hated to see her in this state. Without consciously knowing what he was doing, he walked up to her and enveloped his arms around her, pulling her into his embrace. Surprisingly, she did not protest or pull away, or whip out her wand to hex him. He didn't even think she knew who was holding her; she just needed some comfort right now. She leaned into his embrace, resting her head sideways on his chest and crying. He didn't say anything, just rested his head on hers and tightened his arms around her.
After a while, she finally stopped crying and raised her head. When she recognised his face she gasped and pulled away. She whispered, in shock, "Malfoy?"
He simply smiled, an actual genuine smile, pulled her into his arms again, kissed her forehead, and turned to walk away. But before he stepped out of the passageway, he heard her whisper, "Thank you."
He smiled in his sleep that night.
THE NEXT DAY
Pug-faced Parkinson was at it again. Taunting his Hermione. Well, he wasn't going to stand for it anymore.
He glared at her as fiercely as he dared to in public. She caught his eye and broke off immediately. Good. She should know now that she wasn't to insult Hermione any longer.
Hermione caught his attention and smiled at him. She had guessed it was he who stopped Pansy. He couldn't help but grin back. He felt so exuberant. He finally got what he wanted after so long. And she was worth the wait, too. He didn't think a girl had ever made him that happy. If defending her was all it took to earn her sweet smile, then Merlin, he'd do it everyday.
And she might not know it yet, but that would be the start of their very secret relationship.
- THE END -