Part IV

Pacing back and forth on the terrace just beyond the door, Draco stopped, turned, and waited patiently for Hermione Granger to follow him. She did not disappoint him. He spied the dancers just inside as she was excusing herself to her next partner, then she walked with purpose toward the doors. He watched as Harry Potter watched his best friend leaving the ballroom. Potter called out to stop her but it was too late – she was already outside, and she was walking his way.

Draco leaned against a stone balustrade and tilted his head upwards. Above him the scattered stars were bright in the night sky. He laughed aloud; sure she could hear him, and not caring in the least. Was this insanity? Was this folly? What started as a quest for revenge swiftly turned to a game of seduction and desire. What started as a lie quickly turned into the most honest truth Draco could ever fathom.

He desired Hermione Granger.

He desired her and so much more.

She walked up to him as he was waiting in the shadows. Pulling her to him by grabbing her wrist, he kept his thumb on her pulse as they stared mutely at each other. He longed to pull her into his arms, and by the way her pulse was beating rapidly beneath his fingers, he would bet his entire fortune that she felt the same.

How long had he wanted this woman? A minute? A day? A lifetime? An eternity was more like it.

"What do you think you're about, Malfoy?" she hissed, pulling her wrist from his hand. He placed his hands around her waist, pulling her to him. She placed her hands upon his chest.

He felt a fire under his coat, on his skin, where her hands were resting idly. Instead of answering, he whispered, "I can't believe you came."

She ignored his observation and said, "That hardly answers my question. Are you mad? Why were you dancing with me? Why make all those remarks about my dress and things? What do you want?"

He laughed. "You ask me what I want. I would think that's crystal clear, Granger dear. I want you – just you." A rush of cold night air floated around them and she shivered. He moved his hands from around her waist up to her arms. He didn't do it to ward off the cold, although he doubted she shivered for that reason either. His reasons were more selfish than that. He merely wanted to hold her. With his hands drifting up and down her bare arms he added, "I thought that much was obvious."

"Nothing's obvious with you, although it should be," she retorted.

He pulled on a stray piece of hair that was resting on her shoulder. "And why is that?" he asked.

"You only danced with me to upset Harry. Every remark you made was for the same reasons, and I won't have it, do you hear?"

He wrapped the same strand of hair around one finger, leaned closer, and said tenderly in her ear, "I hear everything you're saying, with both your mouth and your body. Oh, and by the way, don't pretend that you know me, sweetheart, or what my feelings are. You'd be shocked and surprised by the depths of my feelings for you."

A look of annoyance crossed her face and she pushed him away from her, but remained within the circle of his embrace. "Is this a game to you? Is that it? Do you want to make Harry angry? Do you want to embarrass him on the night of his engagement ball?"

"Ah," he drew out, only to stop. "You give me too much credit. While I started this with Scarhead in mind, it now has nothing to do with him. It's all about you and me. It's about us being alone, on a terrace, with the hushed sounds of music from the ballroom whispering around us." His right index finger traced the neckline of her dress. "This is about you and me and no one else. I won't tell anyone. You won't tell anyone. We only have the stars as our witnesses."

An incredulous look crossed her face, her eyes looking weary and guarded. He was skeptic of his feelings as well, nevertheless, that didn't make it any less true. Giving her his most handsome smile, he moved his finger from the low neckline of her dress up to her face. Tilting her head up a fraction, he leaned close again, his lips a mere breath away from hers, and said, "Don't you feel it, Granger?"

She pushed out of his arms and started back toward the doors without answering.

But he was quicker. He reached for her, grabbed the flowing silk at the back of her dress. The sound of the fabric ripping mingled with the uneven breaths of her fury as she turned to face him. "You did not just rip my dress!"

"I believe I did," he responded glibly. "How does that make you feel?"

"The only thing I feel right now, Malfoy, is an unmistakable urge to hex you!"

"That's passion, darling," he said with a smile.

"No, it's anger, darling," she snapped in outrage, hands on hips. She craned her neck around to look at the back of her dress, which was hanging vicariously off her shoulders, a large rip down the middle. "It's almost ripped in two!"

He smiled. "It seriously was an accident, although I've thought of ripping it off you all evening." When she continued to glare at him, he continued to smile. Her eyes shined bright with anger (and perhaps something more.) "Let's forget your dress for a moment. Why did you follow me out here?"

She pointed her finger at him. "To tell you to stop playing games!"

He bunched a handful of the tattered green silk in one hand, pulled her back to him with the other, so she was back in the confines of his arms. She did nothing to stop him, which gave him hope. With his arms around her he said, "Playing games is the furthest thing on my mind."

With pleading eyes she said, "Stop lying!"

Arms still embracing her, he replied, "Nothing I've said or done tonight has been a lie. That statement surprises me as much as it does you, my dear. Everything I've done tonight has been steeped in truth. There's so much truth hanging off me that I don't even recognize myself. So believe me when I tell you that I'm not lying. I'm not playing games. I'm not seeking revenge. I'm… I'm…" and he stopped.

She placed her hands back on his chest and said in a passionate, dramatic voice, "You're what, Malfoy?"

He could detect an accusation of some sort in her question. She seemed weary and wounded, and that would never do. He needed to remedy that immediately. Therefore, he answered her.
"I'm going to kiss you, that's what I'm going to do."