Okay, so yeah, I don't own Harry Potter and all. I'm not sure if I've published this before and removed it or something, because I found it, finished, in my documents in Microsoft word, but I don't have it published online…well, whatever. Here is the mystery story that I wrote I-have-no-idea how long ago. ;)
Hermione sat on her bed, staring at her hands. There was exactly one month to the day until the end of her final year at Hogwarts. After Harry had finished off Lord Voldemort in the Final Battle, Hermione, Ron, and Harry had decided to return to school for the so-called 'Replacement year'. Many of the students from their year had missed their real seventh year, or they had gone, but the teaching was less than appropriate to pass.
Hermione stood slowly and walked from the dorm, stepping slowly down the stairs to the RY common room. It was empty. The RY dorms were made so that the 'adult' students would have a place to stay, and would not be separated by house any longer. Hermione pulled on a lock of her hair, something she had found a habit of herself to do since her hair calmed down a bit and transformed from bushy to gently curly. She was glad- after eighteen years, she deserved nice hair.
Adjusting her black skirt and her favorite green tank top, Hermione pushed open the portrait of a little girl having a tea party with stuffed bears and walked slowly down to the Great Hall for breakfast. She slid slowly into her spot at the small added table for the RYs and smiled at Harry, who was sitting quietly, cutting a piece of French toast. Ron, on the other hand, was forcing an entire slice of the same breakfast item into his mouth.
Hermione leaned forward, taking a pomegranate from a bowl of fruit at the center of the table. "Do you realize that we only have a month left here?" she asked, frowning as she began to eat the fruit.
"Really?" Harry asked. "Wow. The year's gone by fast."
Ron nodded, a little chunk of the sweet bread falling from his mouth.
"I think it's sad, honestly. I'll really miss Hogwarts when we leave."
"I'm not that sad. We'll finally have real lives." Ron said.
"Don't talk while you eat," Hermione said. "It's disgusti-"
Someone tapped on her shoulder then, so Hermione stopped talking and turned slightly. She sighed audibly as she realized that the person was Draco Malfoy. His face was currently rather blank, noticeably since his classic smirk was missing. Then he reached in the pocket of his black pants, his grey t-shirt stretching, caught on his hand. Pulling out a folded piece of paper, a real smile lit up his face as no one had seen the likes of before. Hermione felt a tiny flutter in the pit of her stomach and her eyes widened. His usual dourly sharp face changed to be much more handsome.
He placed the paper next to her plate, and then turned away. But then he turned back around slowly, taking a pomegranate from the fruit bowl. Then he strode from the hall, leaving several stunned RYs staring after him.
"Open it," Harry said. "Wait, no, check it for curses first."
Hermione frowned and picked up the paper, unfolding it slowly.
Your perfect hair, your perfect clothes, your perfect smile, your perfect nose, your perfect eyes, your perfect toes, you're perfect. You might have woes, but I have more- I was mean as mean goes, and although I love you, we are foes, so I regret, and I may weep, but it is my heart you keep. I love you.
Hermione's eyes widened and she folded it back up quickly, stuffing it into her pocket. She batted away Ron and Harry's hands trying to grab the note, ignoring their "Let me read it"s and "What'd it say?"s.
She turned back around; gazing with confusion at the doors Draco Malfoy had just walked through and shook her head. Picking up her half-eaten pomegranate, she spoke a "Bye" to her friends and went through those doors.
"Malfoy?" she asked to the empty hallway.
There was no answer to her call, so she headed towards the RY dorms. "Lancelot," she said to the little girl portrait.
The girl giggled and let her through, swinging open. "Malfoy, are you in here?" Hermione shouted.
"Yes," a voice came from a high-backed chair. A blonde head popped over the top. "Hello."
"What are you doing?" Hermione asked.
"Reading," Malfoy said, holding up a thick, darkly bound volume.
"No, with the inappropriate note!" Hermione cried, stamping her foot.
"I don't know what you mean. It wasn't inappropriate." Malfoy said, silver eyes almost innocent, his mouth tweaking up into a half smile.
"Yes, it was. You've been nothing but mean to me, so why are you passing me love notes at breakfast suddenly?"
"Didn't you read said note?" Malfoy's eyes widened even more.
"Yes," Hermione said. "It's weird."
Malfoy shrugged and opened the book again.
"Don't ignore me!" Hermione exclaimed.
"I'm not ignoring you, I'm reading."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Just don't do any more nonsense."
"I won't do any more nonsense. I promise." Malfoy grinned.
"Good," Hermione said, and with that, she went up to her room.
That night, Hermione stood in front of her mirror, getting ready for the spring dance that was about to begin in less than five minutes. She turned side to side, making her mid-thigh length emerald green dress swirl about her slightly tan legs. Her hair was down, and a black choker donned her neck.
She wore only black eyeliner and mascara as makeup. Touching her lip, Hermione turned from the mirror and slipped on her strappy black stilettos. Hermione strode down the stairs to the common room. In her hand she fingered the invitation to the dance she had received. It was a masquerade, so Hermione then put on a black mask covered in sparkling fake black diamonds. She read the invitation again and performed the spell it told her to do on her mask. It would prevent anyone from recognizing her.
Having finished all her preparation, Hermione left the room, heading for the Great Hall.
The doors were cracked open, so Hermione slipped inside. Unrecognizable couples danced all over the floor, save for one man standing by the food table. His back was turned from Hermione, but she went over to him anyway, since he was the only open person to dance with. Hermione stood next to him, the top of her head cresting at his chin.
"Dance?" she said, touching his tuxedo-clad arm.
He turned to her. His tie was plain black, against black, against black. Although it seemed plain, it flattered an obviously fit body and blonde hair. Hermione felt a tingle at the back of her mind that said she knew who it was, but the spell prevented her from placing exactly who it was.
Nodding, the man took her arm, leading her onto the dance floor. Sweeping her back into a dip, he launched into a dance that luckily Hermione could follow thanks to years of dance lessons. After a minute or two of dance, she realized that it was the 'Time of my life' dance from Dirty Dancing. The music was even playing.
She smiled. That was one of her favorite movies. She supposed the guy knew that Hermione had realized what the dance was, so he whispered "Ready?" as he moved back for a lift.
Nodding, Hermione ran towards him, launched into the air. The others around them gasped and clapped as Hermione was put back down. "Wow," Hermione whispered.
"I've always wanted to do that dance," the guy replied.
"Yeah…" Hermione gazed into the steely eyes of her dance partner. "Me, too."
They danced stunningly for the majority of the dance until he finally pulled from Hermione. "I'll be back in a few minutes," he said, walking to the front of the hall.
Standing by the pulpit-thing Dumbledore used, the guy applied Sonorous to himself, and then began to speak. "I'm going to sing something for my dance partner of the evening."
He gestured at the band, and they started playing quietly. Hermione recognized the song- it was one of her favorites.
It was Hallelujah, and as the boy's resonating voice sang the lyrics, Hermione discovered that she liked his version better than any other she'd heard. Hermione smiled and sang quietly along with the words.
At the end of the song, the hall rang with applause, and then hummed to silence as the boy cleared his throat. "I love you, Hermione," he said, slipping off his enchanted mask to reveal Draco Malfoy's near-perfect face.
"Oh, hell," Hermione whispered.
As Draco moved towards her, Hermione stayed perfectly still, one hand touching her stomach through green silk. "How did you know it was me?" Hermione asked quietly as she removed her mask.
Draco smiled at her face came into view. "You can't hide from me with just a mask."
Hermione's mouth tilted upwards. "You promised no nonsense."
"It's not nonsense," Draco said. "It's real."
Hermione's breath caught at his open honesty and a moment passed between them in silence until Hermione softened inside suddenly, and took a step forward. Draco's lips parted slightly, his eyes a soft milky silver as Hermione's eyelashes fluttered, her face inching closer until their lips met, softly, silently; and the soft skin of their mouths caressed each other's until sighs of pleasure licked into their souls, making them clutch each other tighter, Hermione's hands on Draco's back, his hands in her hair, pulling her mouth against his. Ignoring catcalls and gasps around them, Hermione pressed herself flush against him, opening her mouth and as their tongues touched, a shock buzzed through her, a tangible buzz. Draco pulled her even closer, his tongue tracing her heart-shaped lips. She moaned slightly, making Draco shudder. Hermione pushed slowly towards the door, taking steps to the entrance.
They pushed through the doors, gasping slightly before pressing their lips back together. Hermione found that although she knew that everyone was whispering of them in the hall, she did not want to let him go.
And so she did not ever let him go. She kept him for herself for eighty years. Of course, she did let go physically occasionally.