Disclaimer: I do not, in any way, shape, or form, own Harry Potter and any of its brilliant characters. I am just here to have fun with a plot bunny. If I had it my way, Hermione would've smelt Draco in her Amorentia back in sixth year, but of course J.K. Rowling is the magnificent creator, so what she says, goes.

xxx

Hermione tried to duck under Ron's long arm, again, but her heels prevented safe and quick maneuvering. He caught her before she could tumble to the floor. She swore under her breath, and straightened, plastering a smile on her face.

"Where you off to Mione?" He asked with a dopey grin. She really hated Drunk Ron. He was clingy, and annoying, and his breath smelt awful.

"Well, I was… off to the loo," She informed him quickly. Hermione had never been so out of her element, but it was hard to be when her boyfriend was being completely daft and making a fool out of himself.

"I can join you if you want," he slurred, leaning so heavily against her that she had to support his weight. She was disgusted.

All of the seventh years had finished up the last of their schooling after the War. On the last day of their education at Hogwarts, which was Christmas, a Celebration Ball was being thrown. Everyone knew it wasn't just because they had finished school, but because of the War as well. And here Hermione stood, at the ball, in a slinky silver dress, her hair out of place; all because Ron had drank enough that he couldn't even function without a babysitter. He'd already puked twice.

"No thank you. I'll be back okay? Just sit here, and don't go bothering Harry and Ginny. Leave them be," she ordered. No need to shove her own burden onto Harry, he was the hero of the War, and this was his night. He deserved not to have it ruined. Ron slumped down in the chair she directed him to, grabbed the nearest drink, took a swig, and slammed his face on the table. Hermione grit her teeth irritably and pushed in his chair so no one could bump into him.

Harry and Ginny caught her eye before she could leave, but she just shook her head before they could come investigate the problem.

Hermione quickly dashed out of the Great Hall, swiping her hair away from her face. She just needed to go somewhere and calm down before she could tolerate Ron again. Her feet seemed to know where they were taking her without her consent, and she let them.

She couldn't believe he was doing this to her, again. Ron had developed a habit of drinking his sorrows away ever since his brother Fred had died in the war, (his favorite drink being Hog's Head Brew), and this was no secret to anyone. Every time he turned into his alternate, drunk persona he either completely humiliated her or made her feel like she wasn't worth it. Hell, she couldn't even remember the last time they did anything as a couple, or he gave her a nice, very boyfriend-like, compliment of some sort. She'd spent more time than she normally would have trying to look special and he hadn't commented on it at all. Hermione just wished he would be her boyfriend again. She understood his loss, but at the same time she thought he shouldn't be wasting his life away, and shutting out everyone in it.

Out of breath, she stopped for a moment, using the cool wall behind her for support.

Movement caught her eye, and she blinked to make sure what she was staring at was actually there. The Room of Requirement had shown itself. Hermione had thought it had been incinerated, but here it stood, beckoning her to walk through its doors.

She wondered what she had been thinking of to make it appear, she'd thought she'd been concentrating on catching her breath.

Casting a look up and down the corridor, she stepped through with a shrug. She'd wanted to escape after all.

xxx

Hermione stopped in her tracks. She entered a suddenly comfortable setting. A hearth sat in the middle of the room with a love seat in front of it, which was accompanied by a coffee table.

This was not what stopped her. What stopped her was the patch of pale blond hair peeking over the sofa. Why oh why had the Room of Requirement stuck her in a room with him of all people? She'd rather it had been Luna. At least she could tolerate her antics about nonexistent creatures.

He must have heard the door close behind her, because he turned around to see who had disrupted his obviously private moment.

"Oh, Hermione, it's just you."

Hermione stared at him, dumbstruck. Had he… had he just called her Hermione? Not Mudblood or Granger? The War must have changed him, but this didn't stop the jolt of blazing warmth she felt shoot through her body. It was like adrenaline. What the hell did that mean?

Over the past several months neither had spoken to each other since the day he tracked her down in the library.

"Granger," he greeted as he sat down across from her.

"What is it Malfoy?" She asked with caution, not bothering to glance away from the book in her lap. She wasn't sure why he was speaking to her at all, and she wasn't too sure that she trusted him either.

"I'm sorry." This made her head snap up, and she stared with suspicious eyes.

"For what?"

"Don't give me that. You know what I'm sorry for Granger." He said exasperatedly.

"I don't believe I do," she countered irritably.

"Merlin! Okay, I'm sorry I was a downright git to you all those years. I'm sorry I enlarged your teeth and I am sorry I called you a Mudblood. I'm sorry that I didn't do anything when Bellatrix was… I…" He couldn't choke out the last sentence, but she got the point.

"I forgive you," she whispered, placing her hand over his and silver eyes met her own.

She shook her head, and the memory faded.

"Er, yes. Sorry, I didn't realize this was… occupied. I'll leave you alone." She turned to leave before he could sneer at her rapidly reddening face.

He shook his head quickly in protest. "No, go ahead and sit down. I'm not bothered by company, and you look like you really need the peace."

She hesitated. Why was he being so nice? It was confusing, and Hermione Granger did not like to be confused. So she had a choice, and she weighed her options equally. She could go back and deal with Drunk Ron, find somewhere else to be alone, or join Malfoy, who seemed to be acting very civil.

She automatically ruled out going back to Ron. He could survive without her there as a crutch, and she wasn't sure she wanted to stumble into an empty classroom and find some couple going at it due to the nostalgic atmosphere, so she did something she never expected from herself, and something no one else would have imagined she'd do.

She crossed over to the sofa and sat next to him.

"So, what are you doing in here by yourself? Why aren't you at the Ball with a date?" Hermione asked as she kicked off her heels and folded her legs underneath her. Malfoy looked just as surprised as she felt with herself.

Malfoy, oh alright, Draco, gave a halfhearted laugh. "Are you joking? No one wants to see me there, not after all I've done. I'm glad this is all over with so I can escape everyone's piercing stares and judgmental eyes at this damned school, not that I don't deserve it. Oh, and I don't have a date. I might have been sought after before, but that's all changed." He gave a heavy sigh.

She stared at him for a moment, with completely new eyes. Draco Malfoy was here, opening up to her, with all of his walls down. He obviously trusted her; otherwise he would have let her leave. Or maybe he just didn't have a confident anymore. Whatever the case, she was still amazed.

He honestly looked like he hadn't been feeling too great the past few months. His hair laid disheveled in a disarray atop his head, but he had ditched the sleek gel. Hermione admitted to herself that it actually looked quite nice, nice enough to run her fingers through. His robes were tossed over the couch, so he was left in tuxedo pants, a button up white shirt, a tie hanging around his shoulders, and a bottle of Firewhisky in his hands. There were deep circles of no sleep under his eyes, and his trademark swaggering stance was gone. This was Draco Malfoy underneath.

She suddenly felt guilty. Who was she to complain about Ron's moping, drunk stupor when Draco was in the same place, and she yearned to comfort him? It was completely mental, and a past Hermione would have called herself barbaric. But somehow all of it didn't matter. Somehow all she could see was Draco, and she knew for some reason this was where she was supposed to be. Not babysitting Ron, not being a Heroine of War, but being here instead.

This all came as quite the shock to admit to herself, probably because up until this point she'd hated his guts, but now that was blown out of the water, and she didn't even care that it was crazy, she just felt that it was right.

"What happened with your tie?" She asked lightly, trying to shut out the protests that came from within her. It was a battle. A part of her thought this was ridiculous, but another part, quite a larger part of her didn't want to leave his side.

He glanced down at himself, and gave her a sheepish grin. She swore she felt her heart pound even harder.

"I'm not good with ties, I've always worn clip-ons," He admitted.

She laughed for a moment, and he laughed with her, before she fell quiet. Testing the waters, she extended a hand, pulling on one end of the silver and emerald tie.

"May I?"

He nodded.

Hermione slid closer and faced him. She slipped the tie from around his neck carefully and began looping it through his collar. She was fully aware that his face was a mere six inches from her's, but she felt quite confident. She wasn't sure if this was because his guard was down, or that her's was as well. It might have been both.

"You see, I used to do my father's ties for him before he went to work. He wasn't good at it either. He actually tied it in a bow once, "she laughed, "I always got him different ones with colorful patterns and designs for the holidays or his birthday. So I've had a lot of practice," She explained to him as she worked, though she wasn't sure why. She'd never told anyone that before, not that it was a heavy memory.

He stared at her with silver eyes, and it was all she could do to fight the flames in her heart, and the blush from creeping into her face.

"Hermione?"

"Yes Draco?"

"You're beautiful. Not just now, all dressed up, but you always have been. Inside and out. You might not believe it but I just thought you should know." He was being honest now, honest with her, and that came as a surprise to the both of them.

Hermione was so surprised she felt moisture swim through her eyes and blur her vision. She continued on with the tie anyways.

He brushed a lock of her hair out of her face with cool, light fingers. "Why are you crying?" he asked softly.

It was a long moment before she could answer.

"It makes me feel… so… good to hear that," She said weakly.

He brought her to her feet as she finished up the tie, and somewhere in the background a familiar song began to play.

"May I?" He asked, his palm waiting.

She let out a laugh, and though she felt a bit silly, she let him spin her around the couch to the open floor.

"Honestly Draco, it's all a bit cliché isn't it?" She asked. They danced in slow synchronization as the song played on.

"There's nothing cliché about you and I," He informed her with a smile that made the heat flush over her creamy skin. Yep, she was definetly blushing this time.

They glided gracefully across the floor. His gentle hands around her hips felt like they literally belonged there. It felt like they'd been doing it their whole lives, it was so natural.

It was during this carefree motion of dancing, with her head laid upon Draco's chest that Hermione came upon a realization. Ron had made her happy before, everything with him was as expected, and he was good to her. Until of course he let his life spiral out of his hands at the sip of a brew. But even though this was true, it was nothing against what she felt for her previous enemy now. Draco was more than something forbidden and exotic, he was exactly what she needed. She knew she'd been lying to herself when she claimed to hate him. For some reason she didn't despise him, not even a little bit, not even at all. Maybe she'd known it ever since she'd seen his face while Bellatrix tortured her. His broken expression was enough to let any hate go. She had no idea where this sudden desire for him came from but she didn't care anymore. She didn't care what this cost her, as long as he was there, and belonged to her.

She wasn't sure what had changed to make her see him in this new light, but then again, everything had changed. And suddenly, the consequences were lost in the logic, and she was shutting down whatever was logical about what she was doing, and she let herself go.

Her hands snaked up the back of his neck, and her fingers spread through his pale hair. It was softer than she could have imagined. She heard his content sigh. She heard her own heart match the rhythm of his deep breaths. She inhaled his scent, which was so lovely it made her head spin. Or maybe that was the dancing. He was so intoxicating, and she never wanted to leave his arms.

She felt the flame spread through her entire body like a blanket of warmth, and somehow she knew.

"Hermione," He murmured.

"Yes?"

His eyes cast upward, and she followed his example. Just above them, a branch of mistletoe had manifested itself. It was so completely ironic that Hermione laughed, a real laugh, the first she had in ages.

And he captured her lips to claim them as his own.

xxx

(A/N): Hope you enjoyed that, rather… interesting little moment between Draco and Hermione as much as I did. This was just a fun attempt at a one-shot as a Christmas present for my amazing sister and best friend. You can find her 'dreamonlovegutt' here on Fanfiction. Happy/Merry Christmas to you all!