Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any associated characters.
This was written for a page liker who expressed a love for Dramione, and my imagination did a thing.
Hopefully you all like it.
~*Tears of Periwinkle Blue*~
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"W-Would you care for this dance?" a quiet voice said behind the young woman crying on the staircase, her beautiful periwinkle blue dress a little rumpled and eyes red. She sniffled, absent-mindedly searching within the deep recesses of her bag for a tissue or something of that nature to dry her eyes, perhaps fix the make-up smears across her tear-streaked cheeks.
"Y-You're very kind, but I- I-...my make-up's all ruined now I've cried so long... I must look ridiculous, sitting on the stairs like this, crying over some silly boy..." she huffed out a sad, strained laugh and wondered when it had all gone wrong; she'd been so excited when Viktor had asked her to come to the Yule Ball with him. Of course she knew he had fans, a lot of them female, all wanting to get his attention, to dance with him...
Though she had never imagined he would so callously abandon her after the Champion's opening dance to-... actually, she wasn't quite sure what he had gone to do, just a vague murmur about getting punch and then he'd disappeared. Hah, 'Smartest Witch of her Age' indeed...
She'd waited, so long, politely refusing all offers to dance except those from Harry, and yes... Ron too. Though only after he'd profusely apologised (in his own way) for the unfortunate 'You're a girl!' comment earlier, and seemed genuinely concerned that 'Vicky' hadn't returned for, what he'd stated as, 'the prettiest girl at the Ball'.
His own date had hit him with her purse when she'd heard him say that...
Still, Hermione could have lived with all of that and still left the dance with a grin of somewhat diminished happiness... if the last thing she saw as she went to exit the hall as a slow-song came on for the remaining couples, was Viktor Krum -seeker extraordinaire- jumped by one of his fangirls, and making no move to dislodge her lips from his for the entirety of the time she stood there and stared in abject disbelief.
If he had pushed her away at least... maybe she could have forgiven him but...
The stairs had been the closest place to run to for solace, to collapse and cry as all the strange, confused emotions and raging hormones within her were demanding. Neither Harry or Ron had noticed her exit, they were on the far side of the hall, and all else around her was filled with people she did not know consoling other friends in similar positions of disappointment and upset.
Some part of her whispered that she should have expected this, after all, he was a world-famous athlete... women and men probably threw themselves at him a hundred times a day; what made her so special?
Just because he'd asked her to the dance didn't mean he intended for the two of them to become a couple, had it? No, it was just a case of, he knew her, and knew she would say yes to accompanying him, right?
Her mind tried to rationalise it, make the situation into something cold, hard, logical; something that she could cope with.
And then, the soft voice from behind her.
Her hands were shaking so tremendously at this point that the purse fell from her lap and skittered down several stairs towards another group of heart-broken party-goers, crying and consoling one another.
A white square entered her field of vision from behind.
"Here, take my handkerchief... someone as pretty as you shouldn't be crying on a night like this." said the rapidly-becoming-familiar voice, as she half-turned to accept it, and startled at the sight of Draco Malfoy crouching behind her with sincere concern written across his features.
"I-... thank you, D-Draco." Hermione responded, confused considering their past together, but still thankful for the handkerchief and internally buzzing from the off-hand compliment he'd given her. She dabbed at where the tear-tracks were drying out and starting to feel odd, patting around her eyes so as not to ruin the fine white square kerchief with eyeliner or mascara; wondering all the while why the boy who'd called her 'mudblood' more times than she could count, was suddenly being so kind.
"He shouldn't have done that, you know," Draco said eventually, in an off-hand manner and still crouched behind her. "Running off with those others, it was plain rudeness... my father always says that it's the height of rudeness and impropriety to abandon your date for someone else. In fact, if it had been me, he would have me locked in my room reading 'Enterwerp's Guide to Proper Society Etiquette for PureBlood Youth' until my eyes bled from their sockets."
He shuddered dramatically.
"Hey, so... I know you probably don't feel like it but... would you like to dance with me? I was working up the nerve to ask you all night when... you disappeared." Draco said, tactfully skipping over the part of the story involving Viktor's misconduct. He rose, walked around past her and down several steps until he was eyeheight with her seated form.
Hermione laughed as he extended a hand, so formally, having long-since given up all pretence of making sense of the scenario; where her dream-date had gone all wrong, and now someone who had always caused animosity in her life was offering her kindness, and a dance.
"I-... but I've got to look like a mess right now, I've been crying Draco!" she emphasised, the strange sense of self-consciousness rising again in a way it had not since first-year.
His clear blue eyes met hers with startling sincerity as he said, "You have never looked more beautiful to me, Hermione Granger... now please, let's go dance and make this night a happy memory."
Hermione never could pinpoint the exact reason why a smile had broken across her face at those words, or indeed, why she had taken his hand and allowed him to lead her back to the Great Hall...
What she did remember of that night, though, was the way whispers ran up and down the hall as they danced together to every song until the Yule Ball wound down to it's conclusion; the way he gently guided them across the floor with expert precision, smiling into her hair like it was the happiest moment of his life.
The strange spike of delight that flittered through her as she saw Draco make eye-contact with Viktor Krum over her shoulder when he came to interject and take her for the next dance, how the Durmstrang student had backed away from the blatant challenge in her dance partner's eyes and made certain she was not forced to confront him, and end up making a scene in the middle of the semi-crowded dance floor.
Some dark part of her soul enjoyed seeing the forlorn look that always seemed aimed towards them, as he danced past with this fan or that, but they never acknowledged him again... nor did he try to approach a second time.
All in all, the night metamorphosed from potentially tragic, into a happy memory she would cherish for years to come...
And if Harry and Ron looked simultaneously pleased that she was enjoying herself, but scandalized that it was Malfoy's doing, well then... so be it, because neither of them were kissing Draco under the mistletoe that evening on a secluded balcony, that was a memory she chose to keep to herself.
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~*The End*~
Not really a huge fan of Dramione, so if it doesn't seem to accompany fanon, I apologise... it was written in a blur and I lost 40 minutes of Psychology study time by accidentally fic-ing this, darn it.
If you liked it, or hated it, let me know...
~*SailorSilvanesti/Phoenix Fire*~