Disclaimer: Is there really anything to not disclaim? I say no names, and such. Oh well. I don't anything except the silly little plot.

Summary: Just a silly one-shotwith the song "Beauty and the Beast" (Celine Dion version featuring Peabo Bryson, without all the "Oh's," and such).

Rating: PG, 'cause there is nothing really bad - that I think. It's my judgement. Hehe.

Author's Note: In the shower the other night, while this song was playing, I started thinking it up. Haha. Hermione, who is the girl, is a beauty (if you think of it in a way), and duh, Draco, of course, is the beast (the evil rotten thing.) It's lame, to me, but you know, I love the plot.

Beauty and the Beast

Her fingers slipped into his hand, and she recoiled. The hand felt wrong, even through the gloves. "Anything wrong?" he asked, she shook her head. With that, he looked away from her, over the top of her head.

It was a masquerade dance they were attending. He had come as a Prince – 'How queer,' she had thought, as she had come as a Princess. They had somehow stumbled across another and danced. This was their second song to dance too; the first was a more moving piece – while this was a ballad. The girl's ears pricked at the sound of it – she knew it, she had seen a play of it this passed summer.

As the two danced, closer together than she thought they had begun with, she hummed along to the music until the words started in, and she sang softly.

"Tale as old as time, true as it can be, barely even friends, than somebody bends – unexpectedly," and this immediately caught the attention of the boy dancing with this girl.

"You… know this song?" he interrupted. He, too, had seen a play of this the passed summer. Such a Muggle thing to do, but he needed cultural things. She nodded in response. And he smiled, freed his hand from her side, and held a finger to her lips.

"Just a little change, small to say the least, both a little scared, neither one prepared," he whispered in her ear. She smiled and tightened her hold onto his hand and shoulder. "Beauty and the Beast," they whispered together.

And they continued together, "Ever just the same, ever a surprise, ever as before, ever just as sure, as the sun will rise."

A pause and they danced, smiling to one another behind their masks.

"Ever just the same,"

And he, "Ever a surprise,"

"Ever as before," she joined.

And she, "Ever just as sure."

And he joined, "As the sun will rise."

He laced their fingers together, and underneath her mask, she blushed. She had no idea of who this boy was, because of the enchanted masks, but right now she didn't care. She was pulled closer to him, and she thought he was being quite risky. His hand around her tightened, and caressed the small of her back.

"Tale as old as time, tune as old as song," she whispered.

And again, he joined her, "Bitter sweet and strange, finding you can change. Learning you were wrong."

As he sang, his breath warmed her face, but she listened instead of thinking of other things, "Certain as the sun," and she echoed him, "Rising in the east," he relaxed to a whisper. And she whispered back, "Tale as old as time," and he joined with her, "Song as old as rhyme, Beauty and the Beast."

They repeated the last three lines, but differently. First, she sang, "Tale as old as time," and he sang, "Song as old as rhyme," and they sang harmoniously, "Beauty and the Beast."

Their bodies were touching by the end of the last phrase, and they could feel each other's breath upon each other's face. And if her face could any more rosy, she would look like her face was on fire. The dancing pause lasted several minutes, and they swayed back and forth together.

"Beauty and the Beast…" they whispered as one. For a moment, they stood with one another, before he pulled away.

"Thank you for the dance, Princess," he bowed respectively, and she curtseyed in reply.

"Don't leave," she whispered, clutching for his hand.

"I must," he said, loosening his hand from hers, and parted away from her. Her chest rose, and she grasped for him – only to find she was out of reach. She started to take a step nearer to him, not wanting to part, but people moved in front of her, and she was whisked away in a dance with someone else.

She searched all night for the Prince dressed in silver and black, with the chain around his neck, with a dragon pendant on the end, beautiful in words and figure. But she never found him. And she doubted she ever would.

Finally, she excused herself from her newest dancing partner, and stood on the sides near to the tables. Scanning the crowd, she saw no glint of silveror anything. Leaving the Great Hall, she stood around in the entrance hall – waiting for the night to end.

She wanted to rid of the deep red velvet Victorian dress she wore. To return her hair to the normal bush, instead of the curls down her back. It just felt different to get the weight off her shoulders – to have a free night in hiding - just one night. And, she had received that night, found a wonderful "Prince," but then it was taken all away. Yes, she was still there, able to enjoy the night – but it felt wrong.

Sometimes she saw a glint of silver, and she turned, only to be disappointed. So, in spite, she returned to her room, rid of the dress, the curls, the jewelry, everything – and slipped into her school outfit. The Princess no more. But, as she put away her dress, she could catch an unfamiliar scent. The scent of the Prince! If… if she could find this scent once more – no, she shook her head. It was hopeless. Just for the fun of it, she'd return as herself and maybe dance again – out of costume.

Moments later when she descended the grand marble staircase to the side, a boy was ascending it. She steered clear of this boy, knowing she'd be mocked.

But the boy stopped, and she tried slipping past. He smirked – his usual smirk. She wanted to smack him. "Did you enjoy your night?"

She stared at him out of the corner of her eye. "Indeed I did," she turned to look at him. "And did you?"

He chuckled, "Yes, in fact, I did. Do you know who you danced with?"

"We were in masks, enchanted ones – how on Earth could I be able to distinguish who was who?"

"Witty little wench, aren't we?"

"Of course," she smiled a tart smile at him.

She sighed, and turned away, starting to descend the steps again – when she saw a glint of silver. She turned her head only, and stared – the silver chain, with the dragon upon it. The boy had already started to walk away, as she gazed upon in amazement. Did he know? Dare she tell him?

"I know who one person I danced with," she announced, standing in the middle of the stairs.

He was already at the top of the stairs, before he turned around. "Do you? But I thought--…"

She interrupted, "Yes. I do. And I just figured it out."

He narrowed his eyes at the girl, "How?"

She lifted her head proudly, and whispered – but so he could hear, "Tale as old as time, true as it can be, barely even friends, than somebody bends – unexpectedly…"

His eyes widened as his mouth fell slightly. His chest and shoulders rose heavily.

"Finish it, just the next phrase."

He staggered backwards a step, and clenched his fists. "No," he whispered.

"Finish it."

He took another gulp of air, and started in a low whisper, barely audible, "Just… a little change…small, to say the least. Both… both a little scared, neither one prepared…" He froze, and looked down at the girl below her. She started to make her way up the stairs. And she slid her hand into his. "Get off me!" he yelped and parted from her.

She looked slyly at him, and walked around him. "Fine, be that way," and she turned sharply, "You stupid Slytherin Prince." Again, she turned sharply and made her way back to her common room; disgusted.

"At least… at least…" he couldn't think of an insult – rare. So, he spat out the only, and old, thing he could think of, "You stupid Mud blood!"

She froze in her spot; it was a few moments before she spoke as she relaxed her body. "That's never bothered me before," and her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat, and sniffed, "Do you think it would now?"

Walking slowly to her, he turned her around slowly. "Don't touch me! I'm dirty, remember?!" she cried and backed away from him – but he saw tears in her eyes. "If I hadn't of let you known, you would still think you had found a Princess! But now, since you know who she was, you don't give a care! You think I'm dirty, a fool! I know it. I'm stupid!"

Again, words failed him. That wasn't entirely true, "Wait, wait, damn it! You don't know my feelings. You can't read my mind. How do you know this?"

"You've always said so, in the past!"

"The past is the past; I'd thought someone with your intelligence would know this."

"You'll never change—…"

He interrupted, "Oh, but I have."

"Oh really?" she sneered, wiping a tear away.

"Yes," that was the only thing he said, before he tilted her head upwards by her chin, and left a silky kiss upon her lips. It was her time to become shocked – her eyes grew round, but she did not let her mouth drop. Instead, she set her jaw, and … became angry?

"Don't. You. Dare." But she couldn't bring herself to smack him – not this time.

He smirked, a sad smirk, and backed away from her, bowing the same bow he had given earlier. "As you wish," and he turned, and left her standing there, clueless to his feelings and angry.