Hidden behind his bookshelf, Draco ran his hand over his eyes. He couldn't believe it. After all that work (something which did not come naturally to him) she had rejected him and said yes to Krum. He'd somehow convinced himself she wasn't the sort to be beguiled by his fame, but when you thought about it, she had managed to attach herself to Potter first year. What a waste of effort – his time would have been better spent trying to make Pansy presentable (a modified Polyjuice perhaps). He'd been so sure that Hermione would respond to the gifts he'd made her, especially the flower, which was both a true work of art and (in his humble opinion) romantic enough to charm a Dementor. Draco waited until their voices faded before starting back to the dungeons, trying to convince himself that the painful disappointment rushing through him was only because it was too late now to ask anyone but Pansy.

Hermione didn't tell either of her best friends about her date to the Yule Ball. If they'd been girls it would have been easy to bring it up, but Harry had other things to think about and Ron didn't deserve to know. She told Ginny, because she had to tell someone and Ginny had promised to keep the secret. The younger girl was impressed by the romantic invitation, even more impressed than she was by the fact that it was Viktor Krum doing the inviting. And even after Ron finally half-asked Hermione to the ball (in the most ham-handed way imaginable), his sister held her peace. There was a reason she liked Ginny.

Ron wouldn't give it up, though. The boy might have had a head for strategy in chess, but in all other areas he was useless. Did he really think that just blurting out the question at random would somehow cause her to forget that she'd decided not to tell him? Ron's problem was that he judged everyone else by his own standards – the tactic most likely would have worked on him. She'd have to keep that in mind the next time he had a secret.

At last the day of the ball arrived. Ginny helped Hermione with her hair, bless her, and she was actually quite pleased with how she looked – elegant and pretty, but not too showy. She smiled happily at the mirror and went to meet Viktor, who'd invited her to take a look inside the Durmstrang ship before the ball. That actually worked out well: she preferred it to waiting for him to come collect her at Gryffindor Tower, and she'd have been mad to turn down an opportunity to see Durmstrang magic on a large scale.

They didn't stay long – Hermione got the impression that Professor Karkaroff was less than pleased to have her there. Krum was still quite shy with her so they didn't talk much. He showed her the common room, where the students also gathered for lessons. It was well done, just large enough and retaining a ship-like character, with smooth wooden seating built in around the sides and small round windows. A bit cold, though. It was obvious that the students wore their fur coats for practical reasons as well as traditional ones. When the tour was finished, Viktor offered her his arm for the short walk back to the castle, chivalrously maintaining a warming charm for her. She could do it herself of course, and had done so on the way down to the ship, but she enjoyed the novelty of a boy who behaved like a gentleman.

***

Once the being-stared-at part was over, the Yule Ball was a great deal of fun. To be honest the staring part was just a bit entertaining, especially the flummoxed look on everyone's faces. Hermione even flashed Malfoy her new smile as ironic thanks for his unintentional help with her appearance. It was satisfying when even he couldn't come up with anything cutting to say. He was either losing his touch or Professor Moody really was behind him this time. Or perhaps the combination of Christmas and dress robes could teach manners, even to a twitchy little ferret.

She enjoyed the feast for the most part, especially since Viktor seemed to have gotten over the bulk of his shyness and was describing the beauty of nature around his school. It sounded majestic but a bit austere, especially for someone who didn't particularly enjoy flying. Professor Karkaroff was the only sour note, and when the tables were cleared away Hermione was pleased to get away from him. The music began and Viktor made her a sharp bow, clicking his heels like a soldier. She put her hand in his and he pulled her into the dance, a strong lead but a surprisingly stiff one. She would have expected more grace from him, given how he flew, but he was skilled enough for her to enjoy the movement. She relaxed in his arms and they slipped naturally in to the dances that Professor McGonagall had taught them.

***

When Viktor found her again, after the row with Ron, he handed her one of the two glasses he was carrying. "Is everything all right?" he asked, taking note of her face, which she could feel was still a bit flushed with anger.

"Oh, it's just my friends," answered Hermione. "I don't agree with you, you know, that you're not on the same side as Harry. It's only a friendly competition. And I'm not really friends with Cedric anyway. But Ron was trying to make it out like I shouldn't have come with you."

Victor's face shifted from concerned to completely surprised. "But he is missing the whole point of the Tournament. Ve vill all do our best to vin, of course, but it gives us the chance to meet students from other schools. The magical vorld needs more connections, or ve vill be again vulnerable to vizards like Grindelvald. But who is this 'Ron'?" he continued, beginning to scowl.

"Oh, just a friend. I think he's mostly jealous I got to spend time with you," Hermione appeased, covering her surprise. "He's a huge fan of yours, actually."

Viktor seemed to accept this explanation and the two of them turned their attention to their drinks, but Hermione's brain was spinning. Krum didn't seem to know anything about the message on the window. He didn't even think like that at all. Could she have made such a mistake? And if he hadn't sent those messages, who had?

***

The ball was winding down, only a few couples left on the floor, and Viktor very politely walked her to the stairs and bid her good night. She kissed him on the cheek, thanked him for the evening, and started up toward the Tower. The whole night had been utterly incomprehensible. Tomorrow she'd have to go over the last few weeks carefully and think about everything, but right now she was tired and ready to take the pins out of her hair. Lost in these thoughts, Hermione didn't see Draco Malfoy standing in the shadows on the landing until she was right next to him.

Some of her thoughts must have showed on her face, because he greeted her with "Evening not everything you were expecting?"

Hermione practically leaped off the staircase in surprise. "Malfoy, what are you doing lurking about? Don't you have a dog in a frilly pink dress to walk?"

He gave her a mocking bow, graceful, and as he bent forward his platinum hair caught the light and flared like a candle flame. Something about the movement was incredibly familiar. As he straightened he smirked at her.

"I suppose I was wrong to hope that a pretty dress could do anything about your manners," he replied. He flung his arm to the side, gesturing her past him up the staircase, and with that movement she saw it all as clearly as rain-letters on glass.

"It was you!" she gasped, staring at him wide-eyed. "You left me those messages!"

Now it was Draco's turn to be surprised. Her shock caught him off guard, and he answered without calculating. "Well who did you think it was?" Her quick glance down the stairs told him everything. "You couldn't have thought it was Krum. The man has the romantic soul of a Blast-Ended Skrewt."

Hermione gave a horrified laugh, knowing this wasn't fair but too amazed to contradict him. "But why? Was it some kind of practical joke?" His expression shifted from mild amusement into something else, and she instantly knew that it hadn't been. So he'd intended... he'd meant to... the end of the last message flashed through her mind. I hope you will agree to be at mine.

"Were you planning to ask me to the ball?"

"It hardly matters now, does it?"

"Of course it does. That's what you meant, in the last message, isn't it? But I thought... Viktor came and asked me right after I'd read it. I had no way of knowing it was you."

Draco smiled sardonically. "I didn't think it was possible to overestimate your intelligence, but I'm proud to have accomplished it."

"That is the silliest... you prat, Salazar Slytherin himself wouldn't have figured it out! How could I possibly have imagined it would be you? You're horrible to me."

"That's mostly true," Draco replied, still smiling. "Although I did save your life once, and that should count for something. What would you have answered, if I had asked?"

Hermione shook her head. This evening had really been too much. "Malfoy, you're going to have to learn to ask a straight question if you want an answer from me."

His face sobered and he looked at her for a long moment, his expression unexpectedly vulnerable. Then he cocked his head down the stairs and held his arm out to her. "I think there's still time for a dance, if you'd care to join me." Hermione was shocked he'd had the courage to actually say it. He looked a bit disbelieving himself. She found herself laying her hand on his arm, surprised once again by the sweetness of the smile that flickered across his face at her touch.

When they reached the entry she started to turn into the Great Hall, but he pulled her gently the other way, toward the front doors. "The warming charm should still be in effect outside," he said in response to her startled look. "I can see the fairy lights."

Draco and Hermione walked together into the rose garden, and just as he'd said, it was still full of fairies. They'd been indulging heavily in wormwood nectar all evening, so most were passed out on top of the rose bushes and blinking irregularly. A scant few fluttered drunkenly overhead. They could faintly hear the music from the Great Hall, and Draco gave her that fluid bow once again then offered her his hand. Hermione stepped into his arms and they began to dance.

It was easier than it had been with Krum despite the surreal nature of the whole experience. Hermione supposed that Narcissa had insisted on lessons, because there was no stiffness in Draco at all. As they moved it began to snow, the crystals bright pinpricks of cold where they settled on her warm skin. Overwhelmed by the beauty of where she was and the strangeness of who she was with, Hermione could sense that two-edged feeling of Muggle-born awe creeping up within her, exhilarating and isolating. Wondering what Draco was thinking she glanced up at the pure-blood boy, finding him already looking down at her face.

"Sometimes the world is so magical I can't really believe I'm a part of it," she blurted, immediately flushing with embarrassment at her frankness. Of all the stupid, gauche things to say to a wizard with his family history.

Draco let one hand go and briefly brushed his fingers against her reddened cheek. He pulled her a little closer and continued to dance, and she'd almost managed to forget what she'd said when he finally answered.

"I know exactly what you mean."