A/N: Hello, hello, everyone! It's been a week, yes, but here I am again. And with a story featuring The Pair (high-pitched scream of adoration here) of all pairs. Hermione and Draco. I hope you enjoy it! I wrote it on my way back to Portugal after a seven days trip around France, so I humbly apologize should there be any mistakes in here.

Enjoy!

Febya

Disclaimer: My younger brother says that the fact that I write them doesn't necessarily mean they belong to me. I guess he's right…

Her amused, condescending, and yet somewhat embarrassed smile vanished from her features, the ghost of Harry's words taunting her heart, wounded beyond any merciful repair. A betrayed frown smothered the usual glint from her eyes. The loud clapping of childish, immature hands and the screeches of pathetic acceptance and eagerness to witness some more idiocies, pestering every inch of her frail, trembling body, impelled her to make a silent, furtive retreat, for she began strolling backwards at a disoriented pace, ending the saunter the moment the exceedingly bright light adorning the Common Room no longer bothered her eyes.

She glanced around, finding her surroundings to be intimidating, what with the castle's shadow following her own, thus seeking refuge in a nearby set of stairs appearing murky enough to suit her mood. Hermione stumbled down the first couple of steps, deciding upon the cleanest among the ones belonging to the dirty stairwell. Her back leant against the cold, rough stony wall, she took off her shoes, massaging her sore feet afterwards. The whirlwind of strenuous sensations that had overpowered her sensibility were now in control of her entire emotional system, and the tears she had been so adamant to retain escaped from her already watery eyes. Her chest quivered violently with the intensity of the first few sobs, magnified by the pain of biting her bottom lip with inadequate strength.

"Taking your shoes off in public, Granger? How… unladylike of you."

A voice, unexpected for itself, invaded her shelter, sneering its way past the weak defenses her mind had built up. She was forced to look up from her misery. Her eyes regained a shimmer, only it hardened the moment they landed roughly on two silver orbs.

"Since you'd never actually… seen me as a girl… before, I see no re… reason for your shocked tone." She managed, never withdrawing from the battle between both their stares.

"True. And yet… here I am, shocked. What about that?" Draco Malfoy furrowed his eyebrows in ridicule bewilderment, and Hermione inhaled heavily not to succumb to the tempting idea of slapping him out of her temporary safe haven. He embraced her stillness as her being favorable to his stay, and swiftly climbed up the stairwell, settling with the step above hers. He stretched his legs to their maximum length, and she shoved them off with a grunt of annoyance when they touched her toes.

"I don't remember inviting you to sit with me." Hermione huffed, dangerously close to losing the last shred of secure politeness.

"Funny. Neither do I." Draco caressed his chin with his fingers, smirking. "I wonder why's that."

"Let me take a wild guess." Hermione requested, a threateningly warm smile flourishing on her lips.

"Be my guest." He allowed, the pleasant smirk provoking her.

"Because I didn't!" She yelled up at him, her face inches from his nose. His mouth was ready to retort, but somehow he decided against it. The odd sparkle his eyes dropped a notch, and ever so subtly, he flinched at her gaze.

"Weasel's a git, anyway." He mumbled, defiantly, but his words failed to carry the same venom they used to.

"Excuse me?" Her tiny voice left her mouth and her eyes filled with tears at the sudden change of atmosphere. She choked on them, and glanced expectedly at him.

"I hear things." He explained, his voice suddenly soft as it had never been. "I heard the pink chick… you know, the one who's always bouncing and giggling to get Weasel's attention… I heard she snogged his brains out."

Hermione closed her eyes at the mention of the couple, pursing her lips together.

"And who… who told you that?" She whispered, a tear of defeat rolling down her cheek.

"Fat Lady." He said simply, finding a sudden interest in a scratch on the floor.

She raised an eyebrow at that, but formulated a doubt merely in her mind. The silence settled in.

***

Harry Potter scanned the crowd, frenetically looking for the weepy girl. The yells of delight and cheering on the multitude's behalf offered no help on that matter, for he eventually conceded defeat and left through the Portrait.

"If you're looking for her, she went that way." The Fat Lady kindly informed him, pointing the direction with an umbrella.

Harry muttered a quick thank you and stormed past her and onto the set of stairs. He spotted two silhouettes and walked forward, as quietly as he could given the circumstances, almost screaming in fury as he became conscious of who the distraught girl's company was. Kept in his place by mere chance, his brain yelling at him for doing nothing, he felt a hand on his shoulder. And the familiar scent of vanilla and peach. He gently grabbed the hand and turned to face its owner. Ginny Weasley smiled at him.

"Don't go in there. Just wait." She asked him, a pleading grin spreading on her lips.

"But… it's Malfoy." He stuttered, confused and slightly taken aback by the effect she had on his will power.

"I know. And I like it as much as you do. However…" Her secretive smile deepened and Harry fought the urge to grin back. "I've seen it. Something's… different."

"What… what do you mean?" He gulped, unexpectedly not as much concerned for his friend as he was for himself. No kissing allowed.

"Look. See for yourself." She offered.

And he did. He glanced around, and then focused on the pair.

***

"Can I ask you something?" Draco finally spoke, breaking not only the silence but also her chain of thought.

Hermione was startled. Not at the question itself, but at the fact he asked. "Hum… sure?" She had long given up trying to make him leave, choosing to be content with figuring out why he was being relatively civil.

Finding more astonishment, if possible, in her non-denial than she had in his demonstration of politeness, he cleared his throat. Several times. "Why… why settle with Weasel?"

She sighed profoundly. The subject was still sore in her heart, and she felt everything but up to discuss it aloud. Nonetheless, she murmured. "I didn't settle. Had I settled with him… I would be with him. I am not."

"Obviously." He agreed, matter-of-factly.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at that and crossed her arms.

"And now you're pouting." He stated, amused. "Like a mature Perfect would."

"What… the Bloody Hell… do you want?" She exploded, the sentence leaving her mouth without previous warning. Her voice came out low, steady, focused, and tears stained with the whirlwind of emotions that had been bothering her from the beginning cascaded down her face. The frustration over not getting him weighed on her shoulders. His mood swings were finally disturbing her, and she screamed inwardly loud enough to have her headache double its damage to her brain.

"I want to… show you." He started, placing a hand on her chin. She fought him at first, outraged, but his strength took the best of her. His grip was gentle, yet firm, and his eyes locked themselves on hers. He pulled her face towards his until she was a second away from it. "I will show you that… you don't have to settle with him. Ron Weasley is not who you deserve. You deserve someone better…" Gravity did the rest of the work. Their lips touched, and he wiped the remaining tears from her cheek. The kiss was tender, soft, innocent. And she wanted but to end it. But as Gravity had started it, the need for air ended it. With a soft moan of melancholy, she watched him stay behind as she straightened herself up. He wore a Smile. "You deserve someone better than him."

"Like whom…?" There was a pregnant pause, and as she saw no intention of answering her in his eyes, she surprised herself. "You?" She wanted to erase the hopeful tone to her voice, but somehow she failed. Her sense chose to ignore, or at least mask it with a vivid memory of the kiss, her wanting a Death Eater to be her lover.

"Oh, no, not me." Her smile dropped, hurt, and he was quick to dismiss her assumptions. He caressed her cheek once more, taking his time. "No, I don't deserve you either." Sadness flooded his eyes as he pronounced his words of farewell. He got up, gently unwrapping her hand from his wrist. She watched him fade away as he hesitated down the stairs and inside a dark corridor.

***

"No way." Harry managed.

"Way." Ginny whispered

A/N: So, your choice. Should I turn this into a two-or-more-shot? Or should I keep this as a one-shot? Review, tell me what you think, people. I need lots and lots of encouragement :P

Kisses,

Febya