JK Rowling owns Harry Potter.

The Slytherin Prince and the Gryffindor Princess

"Draco, people are staring." He was leading her with one hand at the small of her back, past the onlookers and whisperers of the party. It wasn't a big celebration, but the Slytherin common room was crowded enough that everyone they passed, they passed within a short distance (brooking no argument that indeed this was Hermione Granger walking closely with Draco Malfoy).

He gave Hermione a grin, irritating her by how offhandedly he handled the blatant attention.

"As long as they're invited, they're free to stare." He punctuated that statement by nodding towards his friend, Theodore Nott, who raised his glass with a wink before resuming an otherwise tedious conversation with Daphne Greengrass.

They were nearing the stairs to the dormitories, which would surely end everyone's speculation as to exactly how close Draco and Hermione had gotten over their seventh year at school. Hermione felt her face burn with the impending implication. She tugged backwards, which did nothing to delay his strides.

"But don't you think you should stay here a bit longer? It's not even ten yet, and Harry hasn't arrived, what about your present? You're the host, shouldn't you be—"

He twirled her in front of him, cutting off her argument with a gasp. He took hold of both her shoulders, taking delight in the way her brown eyes widened. "First of all, this is a graduation party; I won't be getting a present." He grinned. "Well, unless it's from you, of course."

She tried to scowl, but her nervousness wouldn't let her. Off to the side, Parvati and Padma were whispering, giggling about her. She could tell.

"Secondly," his amused voice brought her back to him, "if you're feeling scared, just say so."

"I'm not scared," she said. Pure instinct.

"Your eyes tell me otherwise."

An 'ahem' sort of cough behind her ended the moment. It was Harry, who looked at the two in confusion.

"Hermione? Everything all right?" He gave Draco a raised eyebrow when all she did was nod. "Malfoy?"

"We were just talking, Potter. Nothing to worry about." He had let go of her shoulders, and for the first time, Hermione saw signs of hesitance on his face. She decided to focus on Harry instead.

"Yes, Harry. How are you? And what happened to your tie?"

Harry's tie was knotted in an impossible pattern, almost as if it was done recklessly on purpose. She grappled with it a bit but the bloody thing was tangled so tightly. Harry put his hand on top of hers to stop her, and it confused Hermione when she saw him blushing red.

"Leave it, Hermione. It's fine, really. I'll fix it later."

"If you say so."

"Yeah. I have to go anyway."

"What?" She looked at Draco, who gave no signs of leaving the two a moment alone. "But you just got here! What do you mean leave? Where's Ron?"

"Trying to strike a conversation with Daphne, I reckon." He gestured to where Nott was still standing with Daphne. This time, their friend was trying to butt in the conversation. Ron, blushing like a tomato, was offering the girl a drink, to which she only responded with a smirk before turning back to Nott.

"Going well I see," commented Draco.

Harry looked at the clock. "Yes. I guess I'll get going then." Hermione grabbed his arm.

"Why?"

"It's nothing." The blush was back. He was hiding something. "I'm just... not in the mood."

"Do you want me to come with you? Do you want to talk about it?"

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "No. You and, uh, Malfoy just keep chatting. I'm just going to bed. Bye, Hermione. Malfoy." With an insisting tug, he was out of there.

Hermione and Draco shared a look. Odd.

"Right. Well, I'm sure there's a boring story to that."

This time she really did scowl. "Sometimes I really wonder why I put up with you."

He sighed a long, heavy sigh. "You know I don't mean it like that."

"It's just.."

"What?"

"How will I tell Harry and Ron? Honestly, I can't keep this from them for long," mumbled Hermione. She couldn't picture herself telling her two best friends how she had fallen for Draco Malfoy. Sure, there was no more bad blood between them, but for the life of her she could not see how they were going to take it. It was more than their history—it was simple insecurity. It was ridiculous and she'd never felt more like a teenager than she did at that moment.

This gave him pause.

"You won't have to tell them anything," he said softly, surprising her.

"What do you mean?"

He placed a hand on her cheek. The other one slid around her waist and pushed against her back, pulling her closer.

He took his time examining her, surmising the looks they were surely getting. Slowly closing his eyes, he went for it. He kissed her and Hermione swore she heard someone squeal.