Title: Break My Heart Not My Face Author: Leopard Print and Diamonds
Notes: DracoxHermione. 7th Year. Meh to HBP (let's pretend it didn't happen). Hermione is Head Girl. Draco is up to no good. Sassy happenings and couture ensue. Rock on.
Chapter One: Put on Your Designer Dancing Shoes
"Welcome to Cherry Bomb, Miss Granger. We hope your evening is filled with fun, friends, and sexy dancing." Ginny Weasley's angelic face was stern. There was a twinkle in her eyes as she spoke. "We here at the club would like to congratulate you for being chosen as Head Girl of Hogwarts. And for being able to put up with Harry and Ron for soooo many years." Her serious facade melted into giggles. "You've earned it, kiddo."
"Uh, can I escort you in?" Ron stammered a bit and blushed. He jerked his shoulder and offered Hermione a rigidly bent arm. Hermione curled her fingers into the crook of his elbow. She couldn't help but smile at his earnest attempt to be gentleman. He'd probably blush bright red and choke in surprise if she tried to hold his hand. It's what she really wanted, but she didn't want to make him uncomfortable. Ron's skull was as dense as granite. He had no idea that she had a crush on him and had been trying to give him subtle hints. Hermione was now frustrated enough to consider just hitting him in the face and screaming, "I like you!". But even that might be too subtle for Ron to grasp.
"Lead the way." She chose to smile at him rather than punch him.
Cherry Bomb was the club that Ginny had chosen for a night out celebration in Hermione's honor. The club was popular because of its retro glam theme. Everyone who wanted to get in had to dress the part--only people wearing vintage-style clothes were allowed past the red velvet ropes that guarded the entrance. It made the place more classy and exclusive than the usual hump-and-bump clubs most young people went to. And only classy and exclusive would do, since Hermione was a lady.
"Pick a good table, Ron." Harry called from behind. He and Ginny were holding hands and talking softly to themselves in a very couple-y way. Hopefully Ron would get the hint that he was technically Hermione's date and should act couple-y, too. Ginny had gone all-out to help Hermione look especially pretty for this evening. She had used three obnoxious-smelling potions to transform Hermione's monster poof of hair into silky waist-length tresses. It had been amazing how long her hair was when the tangles of curls were finally tamed. But pretty hair wasn't enough to catch Ron's fleeting attention. Ginny also had helped Hermione to pick out and put on flattering makeup. Her eyelashes were curled and her lips glossed cherry red in honor of the club.
"Bombshell" was the word Ginny had used to describe her.
Hermione repeated the word in her head like a mantra for confidence. She squeezed Ron's arm playfully and gave him a saucy over-the-shoulder look when he glanced down at her. He coughed and stopped without warning at the first empty table he saw. Hermione, still moving, nearly tripped over his foot, but regained her balance by hanging on to his arm like a cat clinging to a high branch. She had faltered, but her confidence took a bigger stumble.
Hermione chose to slink gracefully into her seat at the small round table before Ron could try to pull out her chair. Ron gawked at her, trying to figure out why she was suddenly so cold with him. Hermione pretended to be too focused on looking around the large, noisy club. The tables were all draped in flowing red fabric that had a slight shimmer in the dim lighting. Black ruched curtains covered the walls, giving the place a luxurious feel. The only bright light came from the ball-room-sized dance floor. It highlighted the energetic movement of the dancers and the polished brass instruments of the big band. Hermione's anxiety melted into pure, fluttering excitement. She felt young, alive, and vibrant. It was wonderful.
A dark-haired waiter came and only bothered to check Hermione's id. He flirted and winked at her the entire time he took everyone's drink orders. When he brought their drinks, Ron noticed that Hermione's signature Cherry Bomb was as large as his rum and coke.
"What an arrogant git! Probably thinks he can win you over with a wink and a drink." Ron grumbled. Anger wrinkled his mouth into a boyish pout. Was he jealous?
"Ah well. His loss." She smiled and stirred the ice in her tall glass. Ron was not satisfied with her response. He grumbled under his breath until Hermione placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Trust me, Ron."
He sulked into his drink.
Harry, watching the exchange, made a show of turning the table's attention to Ginny.
"Gin? Wanna dance? I can say, with confidence, I should only step on your toes... oh, twenty times. I practiced all week. Interested?" Harry waggled his dark eyebrows at Ginny. His green eyes shone with mischief.
"Don't you dare step on these shoes! I borrowed them from Hermione. They're designer couture."
"Couture? I've never heard of that brand." Harry snorted. Ginny sighed and rolled her eyes.
"It's not a brand. It's name for high fashion, doofus.." She put her hand in Harry's, allowing him to help her stand.
Harry looked at Ron and coughed. He cleared his throat. He tilted his head toward the dance floor. He coughed again. Ron just stared at the condensation gathering on the side of his tall glass. Hermione hid a smile behind a prim hand.
"Oi, Ron! Why don't you and Hermione come with us?" Ginny barked as if they were playing a game of Quidditch. It was the only way to get Ron to listen.
"Sure! Do you want to, Hermione?" Ron turned his attention to his maybe-almost-date. Hermione nodded and let him guide her to the dance floor. A nice slow song was playing, so Ron didn't have to try any fancy footwork. He could simply hold Hermione close to him and sway back and forth to the mellow music. But even swaying seemed to fluster poor Ron. His shoulders hunched with tension and he held her nearly an arms' length away. It was a pathetic sight, in comparison to the sweet way Ginny and Harry held each other and seemed to snuggle instead of dance. Ron's embarrassment had been cute at the beginning of the evening, but it was quickly grating away at Hermione's patience. She didn't want to make eye contact and risk letting him see the annoyance in her face, so she stared at one of the buttons on the front of his navy blue dress shirt. After several long-drawn minutes, the band swung full-force into a jive. An expression of total confusion turned Ron's cheeks bright red. He stood like a stone statue on a dance floor full of dancing couples. There were a few who danced like it was their job, but most people at the club were here just to have a good time and try out some fun steps.
At least they were trying. Hermione hmphed.
"I didn't come here to stand around! Let me help you!" Her voice barely carried above the loud brass. She'd taken ballet and jazz lessons since she was 3, so she could hold her own in the crowd. Holding Ron's hand, Hermione did a set of simple steps. "Spin me!" She cried, motioning for him to raise his arm. They managed a less-than-awkward spin. Relief washed over Ron's tense face. He actually managed to smile and appear like he was enjoying himself. Hermione beamed. She was happy, even though dancing with Ron wasn't the fancy spectacle she'd daydreamed about all week.
"Spin!" She laughed again, twirling her finger in the air so Ron understood what she wanted. He was eager to please her. Too eager. He didn't go for a simple spin. Instead, he jerked Hermione toward him as if her arm were an emergency ripcord. Wide-eyed and surprised, she stumbled forward and fell into him. Ron, luckily, had a talent for standing like a statue. He caught Hermione by her elbows, but couldn't avoid taking a step back to keep his balance. His shoulder jostled a nearby couple.
"Oi! Watch yourself, you horse's ass!" The man turned to yell over his shoulder. Hermione saw his face in profile.
The snarl, the blonde hair, and aristocratic face hit Hermione like a jelly-leg jinx. Malfoy. Slytherin brat, evil git, and her most-hated enemy from school. Hermione knew the night would go from 'awkward' to 'bloody disaster' in seconds if she didn't drag Ron away before Malfoy recognized them.
"Forget him! Let's find Ginny and Harry!" She stood on tiptoe to speak into his ear. Grabbing his hand, she led him through the busy dance floor. Her bare back burned with what she imagined was Draco Malfoy's hateful gaze. She prayed he was too busy showing off to his date to notice their presence at the club. Where were Ginny and Harry? Her neck strained as she searched through the crowd for Ginny's bright red hair.
Back at the table, Hermione told her friends what had happened.
"What? That prat was Malfoy? You should have let me wallop him, 'Mione. The wand George and Fred gave me is probably ten times better than his bloody piece of work. I'd like to see him just try to say anything to me tonight." Ron's hands clenched around his glass as if he were strangling someone.
"Hey! This is Hermione's night. I don't want you boys dueling it out on the dance floor. Let's go someplace else. There's some punk club a few streets over. You like that kind of music, Hermione? Don't you?"
"You bet." Her cheeks turned pink. She took a demure sip of her drink and avoided Ron's questioning eyes. "It sounds like a fun place."
"Great. Let's get the hell out of here." Harry draped his suit coat over his arm. He held Ginny firmly against his side. They were about the leave when a mocking whistle sounded nearby.
"Well well. So, it was you, Weasley. I could smell you from the dance floor." The nostrils of Malfoy's haughty nose flared. Pansy, latched to his arm, giggled on cue as usual. Hermione's eye twitched. She didn't like the way his cold eyes roamed over every inch of her body. He devoured her with a sexual stare that made her stomach drop into her shoes. Her hand instantly sought Ron's for comfort and protection. Ron snorted at Malfoy's blatant disrespect. He flushed hot red from his neck to the tips of his ears. Harry stood Ginny behind him. One hand balled into a fist while the other clasped around the wand in his jacket pocket. Malfoy's lips twisted into a dry smirk.
"Malfoy! I'm going to--!" Ron exploded without a stammer. He was about to take a step forward, no doubt, intent on pummeling Malfoy without thinking through his actions, when Hermione stopped him. She stepped between Ron and Malfoy. Both guys stood over six feet tall, so it was a pretty daring thing for her to do. The little spitfire kept her stance.
"Ron, don't! He's not worth it. He's nothing. Filth." Her hair brushed her back as she shook her head for emphasis. "We're what matter right now. Don't let him spoil it." She took his face in her hands as she spoke. Her lips met his in a sweet, gentle kiss that she hoped made him forget about wanting to murder Malfoy.
"Hermione..." He whispered, his blue eyes widening with a happy kind of surprise. She simply smiled back.
"C'mon. Let's go." Her eyes pleaded. He nodded.
"Yeah! That's right!" Ron loosened his tie and squared his shoulders. "You're lucky there are ladies present... … And Pansy." He quipped. Hermione's laugh burst out as an unlady-like guffaw. She placed a hand over her mouth to hide her amusement. Malfoy sniffed in outrage and made a grab for his pocket.
"RUN before he gets his wand!" Ginny squealed.
Hermione skittered away as fast as her high heeled wedges could carry her. Ron held onto her arm as extra form of support, helping her keep the fast getaway pace. The last glimpse Draco Malfoy saw of the group was Mudblood's face. She glanced back for a moment, her face glowing with laugher. Draco narrowed his eyes in warning. Meeting his gaze, she narrowed her eyes in challenge.