Welcome to my very first Dramione oneshot. I have not read the books nor watched the entire series, but I can tell you that I've read enough fanfiction to know even the littlest of things. So, I apologize if anything is wrong. This is simply a short, meaningless idea that is rather rushed, in my opinion. But the evil that is the Scheming Plot Bunny would not rest. I bid you to enjoy!
This oneshot can take place anywhere between the fifth and second/third years. I do not own the Harry Potter Universe.
To Be a Gentleman
"Malfoy, you're supposed to be a gentleman, aren't you?"
The blond haired boy raised his head, raising a pale brow. "I wouldn't be a Malfoy if I weren't, now would I?"
Hermione resisted the strong urge to roll her eyes. "I beg to differ. You are insufferably rude and—"
He cut her off with a wave of his hand. "Blah blah blah, something about being a sexy, devilish git…can't you come up with something original, Granger? Creativity is always appreciated."
"Why you—"
He leaned back in his chair, a smug looking smirk appearing on his pointy face. "Is this the part where you call me an intolerable—"
"Stop interrupting me and putting words into my mouth before I say them!" Her small fist banged once on the table as she glared at him. "This is what I mean. You are obviously not a gentleman. Not a century's worth of lessons could teach you some proper manners."
A spark lit in his usually unemotional silver eyes as he crossed his arms. "And you think a poorly raised Mudblood like you could be any better than me, a Pureblood who was born with a gold, jewel encrusted spoon in his mouth and taught behavioral matters and politics since he could talk?"
"In politeness and intelligence, yes, I do believe so. And I was not poorly raised."
Now he leaned forward over the books and parchment he was working with, gripping his side of the table. "I've let you share a table and these books with me this entire evening."
"Only because I had a book you needed. Besides, you've been criticizing my handwriting, the way I breathe, and complaining about how I've written four more feet than required."
He growled, but asked exasperatedly, "What do you want, Mudblood?"
This time, Hermione rolled her eyes. "You."
Draco stared at her, disbelief carefully hidden. "Really now, do you think I'd let that happen?"
"A true gentleman would help a lady with her needs." He watched as she began stacking up the books overflowing their table, shoving as much as she could into her bag.
The corner of his mouth quirked as he entertained the idea of having the Gryffindor Princess in his bed. Yes, that was truly an attractive thought. And she was attractive enough. "Alright, Granger. I suppose I'll lower myself to help you, as long as no one finds out."
"Really? I'd thought that it would be nice to hear how bookworm Granger managed to subdue the cunning Malfoy." With her bag over her shoulder she walked around the table to stand before him, a stack of books in her hands.
"Never."
"Suit yourself." She shoved the books into his chest, forcing him to grab onto them so they wouldn't fall.
Startled, he clicked the pieces together in his head. "Wait; is this what you meant by needing me?"
Hermione frowned, picking up another set of books. "Of course, what did you think I was talking about?"
If he told her what he had thought, she'd probably hang it over his head for the rest of their days. "Nothing, I just wasn't paying attention."
He watched, mesmerized, by the way her lower lip got pulled between her teeth. The Fat Lady asked for the password to the Gryffindor dorm, but Hermione hesitated, and Draco became more frustrated with each passing moment.
"Come on now, Granger. I haven't got all night." If she had heard him, she didn't give an indication. Simply staring unseeingly at the portrait, she was. "Just say the password already!"
The bushy haired know it all jumped as if she were surprised by his presence. "Sorry, I'm just—" There she went biting her lip again, and the sudden desire to take it between his own teeth made him want to jump off the Astronomy Tower.
"What is wrong with you, Granger? Other than the obvious?"
She looked at him over her shoulder. "I heard some younger years talking about me earlier, and I'm afraid that they'll be in the Common Room."
The books felt like deadweight in his arms. "It is hours past curfew. We're the only ones still awake."
"You're right."
"As always."
"If you were always right, you would be the top of the class and not me."
He snarled, "Open the door!"
Hermione said the password quietly enough that he would swear she hasn't said anything at all, but the portrait swung open. He set the books down just inside the opening as to not risk being poisoned by the Gryffindor air.
Draco turned around, almost smacking into the short brunette. "Watch it, Mudblood."
She gazed up at him with an expression that sent a chill down his spine. "Do you think I'm repulsive?"
He snorted incredulously. "Of course I do, Mud—"
"If I were Pureblood, maybe even in your House, would you still consider me repulsive?"
"What does it matter? You aren't and thankfully never will be."
"Hypothetically speaking, then."
Silence filled the hall as they stared at each other, sincerity in her chocolate eyes. He had never thought about what could be if the barriers between blood and houses had not existed. Draco had always been a realist; logical and self-preserving. Things that were just were.
But when he looked a second time, with her glowing softly from the moonlight, making her radiate an unearthly luminosity, did he find himself saying, "Yes."
He stopped breathing once he realized he had spoken that devious and traitorous thought aloud. The surprise he felt was largely reflected in her wide eyes.
And then she smiled, her eyes expressing gratitude. It was the most positive emotion she had given him.
And, admittedly, he liked it.
Maybe if he tried to be on her good side, she'd smile at him more.
"I didn't think you cared so much about your appearance, Granger." He said quietly, accidently rephrasing the words he meant to say into something harsher, causing him to internally cringe.
She was glaring at him again. "I believe that it is a subconscious idea that anyone worries about. Besides, Malfoy, it isn't as if you don't fret over your own appearance."
"It isn't like I have a choice. I have to live up to standards."
She snorted; a sound that made him want to shake his head and chuckle. "Ah, yes, the cruel Malfoy family standards. Members are disowned should one strand of hair be out of place."
"Not family standards. My father's standards."
Hermione gave him a curious look, loosening her defensive stance slightly. "Why—"
Draco cut her off. "He threatens me with my mother if I don't make his image look good or if I tarnish his reputation."
Her crossed arms fell to her sides. "That's just…awful. What sort of parent does that?"
"Mine does," he replied coldly, tearing his gaze away from her. If his father caught him associating with Granger it wouldn't be just his mother that paid the consequences... he should leave, now, before soemthing teribble happened. He should...
Perhaps if he hadn't turned his head, he wouldn't have been stunned when her arms wrapped around his midsection, he wouldn't have turned back to, by chance, touch his lips to hers. He wouldn't have thrown sense and rationality out the window when he looked her in her chocolate eyes. He wouldn't have flicked the tip of his tongue against her lower lip and taken it between his teeth when she gasped. Perhaps he wouldn't have kissed her.
Perhaps she wouldn't have kissed back.