Summary: One night Draco's roamings find him following the sound of a haunting voice. What happens when he finds its owner? 6th year, DMHG, one-shot

I had the original idea for this one-shot approximately…two years ago. Holy crap. Well, I finally finished it today, so here you are. Hermione's very OOC, but TOO DAMN BAD, I like her. She's like, me, except more mysterious and awesome. Since this is a song-based fic (though NOT a songfic) I'd definitely recommend hopping over to youtube to open up and play the songs in this story. It definitely increases the effectiveness of the fic, and the last scene makes a lot less sense if you're not listening to it.

So, lets' get this party started, hmmm?

Draco roamed through the corridors on one of his usual prefect patrols. He had already caught two students out of bed (they were together, as a matter of fact). They had been Slytherin, though, so he let them off with a warning. Who was he to punish those of his own house?

Draco pushed another door open into another dark hallway. If it weren't for his now well-cemented knowledge of the school, he would have been absolutely lost. A few months ago, he had been. But that was beside the point. It was April already. He knew this castle backwards and forwards.

Turning into another corridor, Draco opened a door and a strange noise hit his ears. It was...singing. The melody was haunting, rising and falling in slow intervals, and was accompanied by a piano which was equally loud, though Draco had heard the voice first.

(*La Valse d'Amelie by Yann Tiersen*)

For a moment, Draco stood motionless. The music washed over him, and he found himself complimenting the woman—because it was a woman, he could hear—before catching himself and forcing himself to think she's going to be in so much trouble.

Draco began walking forward, following the voice. It pulled him down a short flight of stairs, and into a long hallway that he had honestly never seen before.

Finally pinpointing the exact location of the music, Draco quickened his pace and strode toward the door. Whoever this girl was she had a beautiful, heavenly, spectacular, astounding, breathtaking—

Draco almost gasped audibly when he opened the door slightly and caught sight of the profile of Granger—Hermione Granger—sitting at a dusty old piano, fingers dancing over the keys. Her mouth opened and closed, and Draco realized that she was singing. It was her voice that swam in his ears, dancing over his skin like silk.

But this was Granger...how could she do something so beautiful? She was the know-it-all mudblood, remember?

Draco stood in the doorway, unnoticed as her song continued. There were no words. She simply played, and 'ooh'ed her way through the piece. The pace rose and fell. Upon watching her, Draco was impressed with her playing. The notes that came out of the piano were extremely complex. He could barely keep up with the movements of her hands.

Finally, the last note echoed around the small room, and she sighed deeply, tucking her feet under the piano bench in a much more vulnerable position than the straight-backed one she'd just exhibited.

Draco chose this moment to make his appearance. Opening the door wider as the last note faded into oblivion, he leaned against the doorway and applauded quietly.

Hermione jumped. Her hair flew as her head turned sharply to meet his eyes. Draco had plastered a slight smirk on his face. Now that she wasn't playing anymore, Draco was finding it easier to remember who she was, and more importantly, who he was.

"Draco?" she all but whispered.

His eyebrows shot up at her use of his first name. "Well hello there."

"How...you...why...I...what...what are you doing here?" she spluttered out.

"Why, enjoying the show."

Regaining some of her composure, Hermione fired back, "and how did you like it?"

Remembering the music that had just been coming from this room, he found himself unable to lie to her. Instead he fumbled on his words, trying to insult her and failing. "It was...you couldn't sing like...I was just passing..."

She chuckled at his incoherency, asking, "would you like to come in?"

Not trusting his own voice, Draco eyed her warily, but took a step into the room and closed the door behind him. He noticed dimly that there were only two lights—one from the lone candle placed on the piano, and the other from the moonlight outside of the stained glass window across from the door.

"You come here often?"

Hermione laughed. "Is that the best pick up line you can think of?"

"Well, I've got better, but it was an honest question. I am a prefect after all. I could get you in loads of trouble."

Hermione's eyebrows furrowed and she seemed to consider him before saying, "but you won't"

"How do you know that?" She was right of course. He wasn't going to rat on her, though for the life of him, Draco couldn't figure out why.

"Hmm, I guess I don't."

Draco's eyebrows shot up again as she ignored him completely and turned back to the piano. Before she started playing again, Draco asked "so do you come here often? You never answered the question."

She turned back to him. "All the time. I guess I forgot to place a silencing charm tonight."

"Why?"

Hermione's mouth opened, but then she snapped it shut and turned from him again. Without looking at Draco, she said, "sit?"

Draco stood there for a second, the ridiculousness of the situation hitting him head-on. He was being asked to sit next to Hermione Granger in a musty old music room at close to midnight while she serenaded him with that haunting voice again. What on earth was he doing?

But then she started another tune, and his feet seemed to move of their own accord. Before Draco knew it, he was sitting on the long piano bench to her right. She played a few chords, one note at a time, before jumping into a catchy, fast-paced melody that made Draco want to bob his head.

"Are there any words to this one?"

"No, I don't have any yet. I figured this much out, but now I just have to write some lyrics." She didn't stop playing, even as she spoke.

Draco's mouth dropped open. "You wrote this?"

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, looking flattered and amused. "Yes," she said simply.

After a short while of repeating the same sequence, Hermione stopped playing and looked at him.

"Why are you here?"

"I heard you singing. I followed it."

"What did you think of it?"

Draco paused, then said in a haughty voice, "well, Granger, if I—"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I mean, what did you think of it before you knew it was me?" When he didn't speak, she added, "objectively."

Draco looked away from her piercing stare and brought a hand up to finger the upper keys. How could he lie to her?

"It wasn't half bad, if I do say so myself."

Draco glanced up at her, and saw Hermione grinning. "I guess that's about the highest compliment I could expect from a Malfoy. Thank you."

He couldn't help it—Draco smiled back. She again focused on her piano and played more chords, lower down on the keyboard.

After a total of eight, she turned her head back to him. "Recognize it yet?" Draco shook his head. "No?" she asked. "What if I tried it this way?" She faced her hands and Draco saw her head bop to a beat she counted out under her breath before she began playing again.

(*Love Song by Sara Bareilles*)

It was the same chords, but different. And then she sang.

Again, Draco was taken aback by that voice. It was so resonant and pure and grounded and strong and all he could do was stare.

I'm not gonna write you a love song
'Cause you asked for it, 'cause you need one
You see, I'm not gonna write you a love song
'Cause you tell me it's make or breaking this
If you're on your way
I'm not gonna write you to stay

While she sang, Draco got the chance to admire her. In the dim light, her hair looked darker, a deep void of brown, moving and dancing with each motion of her head. Her profile was smooth and soft, and he noticed with shock that her eyes were closed. How could one play without looking?

It was disturbingly mesmerizing, the way she put so much passion into each note resounding on the keys, into every sound that came out of that lovely, full mouth of hers.

Draco almost slapped himself. Excuse me? This is mudblood Granger, remember?! She does not sing well, or do anything well. And she certainly isn't attractive.

But only half of his head was saying it, and as the second song ended, he continued to stare at her, her hair shining in the moonlight and her face reflecting the glow of the lone candle.

She opened her eyes for the first time since beginning the song and turned her head to look at him. Draco quickly closed his mouth when he realized he was gaping slightly. Coughing in an attempt to buy some time, Draco asked, "er, how do you play with your eyes closed?"

She laughed. "After years of practice, it becomes so natural, you don't have to think about it anymore." There was a pause. "You're not really a piano person, are you?"

Draco shook his head. "My mother tried to teach me when I was young, but I just never could get used to the chords and trebles and all that," he found himself saying. "That doesn't mean I can't recognize good music when I hear it."

She nodded, seeming content, and began to play again. This melody seemed eerily familiar, but Draco couldn't place it.

(*Canon in D by Pachobel*)

"Good, everyone should at least have an appreciation and respect for the art of music," she said without taking her eyes off the keys. "So, Draco Malfoy, what is your passion?"

"Sorry, what?"

"You, what are you passionate about? What fascinates you? What do you look at or hear or do that makes you think: this is beautiful?"

Draco thought long and hard about this. He had never really examined himself in such a way before.

"Dueling" he said at long last. Draco saw the corner of her lip twitch. "But not in the way you're thinking. It's more than just fighting. There's a grace in a duel that fascinates me. You have to be fast, strong, forceful, and intelligent. But at the same time you have to keep your poise and balance, move your arm and body in just this way. In its own twisted way, I find that beautiful."

"So he's a romantic after all," she murmured so softly Draco barely heard her.

"Excuse me?"

The melody continued, and she kept playing, but she conversed freely with him as she did so. "In my opinion, there are two kinds of people in the world: Classics and Romantics. Classics look at a process and see the possibilities and opportunities of the end result. Romantics look at the same process and see a journey that should be cherished. There is nothing wrong with either, but I always perceived you as a Classic, someone straightforward and direct. But you aren't. There's hope for you yet." She was acting so strange, so different, so...Lovegood-ish, actually.

Draco grinned. "And you, Hermione Granger, turn out to be no Classic either, even with your thirst for knowledge and bookish qualities. You have...this," and he swept his hand across, motioning to the piano in front of them. "I think, though, you have more than an appreciation for it, don't you?"

Her eyes glowing, Granger looked up at him and, still playing, said softly but meaningfully, "I do."

Later Draco would blame it on the moonlight and the early hour. Later, Draco might imagine it had all been a dream, or that she had cast a spell on him. Later Draco would probably beat his head against a wall until he convinced himself that it meant nothing...nothing.

But as Draco leaned over and placed his lips lightly on Hermione's, as the music clashed and then faded when Hermione kissed back, as Draco's hand found the small of her back and she moved closer to him on the piano bench, before and after didn't matter. What mattered was that at this moment they were outside of time and space and all there was on earth was this piano and the candle and the moonlight and each other.

Slowly but surely the kiss deepened, and gods she tasted so good, until Hermione had somehow been transferred to Draco's lap and Draco's hands were beneath her shirt, sliding across the smooth skin on her lower back.

As his lips broke away from hers and transferred to her pale neck, she sighed and his name escaped her lips.

"Draco"

And suddenly the reality of what was going on hit him full force and he pulled back so quickly they both almost tumbled off the bench.

There was a moment where their eyes met and he tried to explain without words how they couldn't do this, how it wasn't right, how it would complicate everything infinitely.

Silently, eyes lidded, she nodded almost imperceptibly and got off of his lap to sit next to him again.

"I'm s—" he started, but she interrupted.

"Don't apologize. What happened happened, and there's nothing wrong with it. You and I..." she sighed, running a hand through her mussed hair. "You and I are defined by the people we spend time with and the sides we choose in this war." She lifted her head and turned to study him again. "But here, those things do not apply. The night exposes our natural state. Mine is here, with my music. Yours is, well...without your exoskeleton, I might say."

Draco laughed at the comparison. "So I'm a bug now, am I?"

"Better than being a snake."

Draco searched her face for any amount of hostility, but found none.

"Better than being a snake," he conceded.

For a while neither of them spoke. Granger played and Draco sat and listened and thought about life—his life, hers, everyone's. Sometime much later, Draco suddenly remembered the way her mouth had snapped shut when he'd asked...

"So, Granger, why did you forget your useful little silencing charm this evening?"

It had been many minutes since either of them, or the piano, had made a sound, and it was a good while later before she answered.

"Damn Lavender Brown…" When he did not prompt her, she continued. "Ron's been a real arse lately. He's spending all his time with prissy little Lavender Brown, almost totally ignoring Harry, and especially ignoring me. He acts all high and mighty now that he's got a girlfriend, but it's really not that big of a deal. He needs to get off his bloody horse, you know?"

"Jealous much?" Draco smirked.

He probably imagined the color that rose to her cheeks. Or not. "Not jealous—I'm not interested in Ron or Lavender, thanks very much, it just pisses me off that Ron's been being such a prick about all of this. We had a huge fight this evening. I was pretty upset."

"Hence, your forgetfulness." She nodded. No one spoke for a while. "Well then teach him a lesson."

"How so?"

"You say he's acting as if having a girlfriend is a huge deal when it's not. Show him how it's supposed to be. Get your own significant other, be relaxed about it, and show him how ridiculous he's acting."

"As if" she scoffed. "First of all, he would just get more pissy, and second, no one would want to date me."

Draco raised his eyebrows, turning to look at her. "No one?"

"Not a one," she stated.

"Well I—"

"Don't even go there, Draco." She cut him off. "It would be a bad idea for everyone. And I really mean everyone."

"How do you even know what I was going to say?"

She gave him an incredulous look. "Don't take me for a fool. You think you'd be a great test subject to prove Ronald wrong. Do you deny it?" He didn't, though he didn't accede either. "And what do you think Professor Snape would think of that? How about Crabbe and Goyle? Your parents? Even Lord Voldemort?"

Draco's teeth clenched. "Don't say that."

She shrugged, brushing off his discomfort. "Do I make my point? Like I said…don't go there."

Draco hadn't actually been going to say that, but it had crossed his mind. Silently admitting to himself that she was right, she spoke again. "I was going to say that I think you ought to try a little harder—you're not exactly ugly, Granger. I'm sure someone would want to go on a date with you."

Granger had no response to that. She began to play the piano again. It was an interesting tune—always changing. "Words?" he asked.

"Well…it's a duet. I can't sing it by myself."

Draco smirked. "I could sing it."

She considered him. "Can you sing?"

"Everyone can sing."

"Can you sing well, then?"

"I'd say so, generally speaking."

She paused for a moment, playing a few more notes. "If you're willing to learn it, I'll teach it to you."

"Absolutely, coach."

She grinned. "Alright, stand up." He did so. "Now, the first few lines are spoken, ok? So it starts like this…"

The night wore on, and Draco had no thoughts of leaving. There was no reason to, really. It was Sunday tomorrow, he could sleep as late as he wanted. And something compelled him to stay here with her, suspended above reality, if only for a little while.

Some unknowable hour later, Draco had the piece memorized so well he could have sung it in his sleep.

"Think you're ready for your performance, Draco?"

"Whenever you are, Granger."

"Then go ahead."

(*Elephant Love Medley from Moulin Rouge*)

He began.

"Love is a many splendid thing, love lifts us up where we belong. All you need is love," he said to her.

She frowned. "Please don't start that again."

"All you need is love" he sang.

"A girl has got to eat," she replied.

"All you need is love."

"She'll end up on the streets" she continued.

"All you need is love."

She smirked. "Love is just a game."

The piano started. Draco sang, leaning in close to her. "I was made for loving you, baby, you were made for loving me."

She laughed. "The only way of loving me, baby, is to pay a lovely fee."

Draco paced behind the piano. "Just one night, give me just one night."

Granger rolled her eyes. "There's no way, 'cause you can't pay."

"In the name of love," he came to kneel at her side. "One night in the name of love."

"You crazy fool, I won't give into you." She turned her head away from him, the piano paused.

"Don't!—leave me this way. I can't survive without your sweet love, oh baby. Don't leave me this way."

She nodded as the key changed, her eyes closing. "You'd think that people would have had enough of silly love songs." Draco grinned and stood to lean against the piano.

"I look around me" he swept his arm forward, "and I see it isn't so, oh no."

"Some people want to fill the world with silly love songs."

They looked at each other. "Well what's wrong with that?" he continued. "I'd like to know…'cause here I go, girl." Draco jumped to sit on the edge of the piano. "Love lifts us up where we belong, where eagles fly on a mountain high."

She grinned. "Love makes us act like we are fools…throw our lives away for one happy day—"

"We could be heroes!" he cut in. "Just for one day." The key changed again. Draco jumped down and sat next to her.

"You…you will be mean."

"No, I won't" he said.

"And I…I'll drink all the time."

Draco looked at her, all curly brown hair and dancing fingers. "We should be lovers!"

She shook her head. "We can't do that."

"We should be lovers, and that's a fact."

"No nothing will keep us together…"

His voice joined hers. "We could steal time, just for one day." They faced each other as best they could. "We could be heroes, forever and ever. We could be heroes, forever and ever. We could be heroes…"

She dropped out. "Just because I," he went on, "will always love…you"

"I," she sang over him, "can't help loving…"

"You…" he serenaded her.

Granger's eyes fluttered briefly. "How wonderful life is," and he sang with her now, "now you're in the world."

There was more piano, but she didn't play it. She couldn't seem to move. Neither could Draco. He couldn't stop looking at her. It was so wrong, but at same time, it was the most natural thing he'd ever known.

Draco leaned forward. She did too. Draco had already kissed her tonight, but this was different from before. This was deeper. He wanted her in a way that was strange and wonderful and confusing and thrilling. Their breaths mingled. He could remember the taste of her so vividly it was as if their lips had only just parted. He wanted to kiss her, damn it.

Sunlight. One single streak of it flew across the room and lit up everything. The sudden brightness…both of them jerked back. Draco hadn't realized that the candle had gone out and dawn had been almost upon him. It was…jolting. The world seemed different. Maybe she was right, the night did change things. Something between them had just ended.

Her eyes swam with emotion: regret, melancholy, disappointment, even joy, like a secret she'd just unlocked. Me, he realized. She unlocked me.

The notion was unnerving to say the least. Everything had changed…he had to get out of there, now. Slowly, Draco stood and backed away, around the dusty old piano. She watched him leave, a sorrowful understanding written on her face. She knew. So did he. He couldn't. They couldn't. No.

The door closed behind him. A wall sconce lit the hallway. Yes, he remembered, this is the world. This is the real world and I have a job to do, a mission…

Draco's steps echoed off the walls. It was very quiet, now. The air was too still. It had become empty of something.

"How wonderful life is," Draco murmured to himself, "Now you're in the world."

I am so damn proud of myself. I think this stands well on its own, but I could definitely see a way of turning it into a story. Tell me what you think! And thanks for reading. ^_^

-Ginger