A/N: Ok, I must admit that I'm typing this before I've even updated chapter 6, because I am very bored and I have a cold. Thus, I have nothing else to do. Please don't laugh. Anyway, this chapter is long. I think it's longer than the last one! Oh, and I must brag about reaching 150 reviews. That's just too cool!

Warning: As I said the last chapter, I know nothing about dancing, so my descriptions kind of suck. Sorry! And also, most writers would have taken more time to describe Hermione's dress, but I find clothing descriptions annoying and I didn't want to slow the story down.

Disclaimer: Lucius Malfoy is nice, Vincent Crabbe is dead sexy, Ron has a pet spider, Harry thinks of Ginny as a friend, Hermione hates to read, Voldemort just needs a hug, and I own Harry Potter. Get the message?

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Chapter 7: Showing Off

As soon as Hermione crawled through the portrait hole, Lavender and Parvati appeared instantly by her side. One of them pulled on her sleeve, while the other circled her.

"Oh, she's all sweaty," Lavender remarked in her peppy tone. Hermione grimaced, looking around the room for Harry and Ron. They were by the fireplace with a cluster of older students, laughing raucously at something two tall red heads had said. My god, is that Fred and George?

"And her hair's all rumpled," squealed Parvati. Hermione fidgeted. "And her lips are swollen! My goodness Hermione, what did you and Malfoy get up to?" They giggled as she raised a hand to cover her lips.

"Go on, give us all the dirty details!" Lavender added. Fortunately before she could answer, George (or was it Fred?) stood up and yelled,

"Hey everyone! The Princess has arrived!" He grinned as she blushed, all eyes turning to look at her. "Come on Hermione, join us!" Happy to get away from the Barbie twins, she quickly rushed over to sit on the couch next to Ron. The Weasley twins mock bowed to her, before settling into armchairs across from her. "So word on the street is that you're a White?" She nodded, wondering where this was headed.

"Well, that makes you pureblood royalty," said Fred with a devious smile. Ron and Harry looked ready to crack up, their mouths turning to thin lines as they tried to restrain their impending laughter.

"I wouldn't say that," she said anxiously as Fred leant over to pull a box out from under his chair.

"Nonsense Hermione."

"You are a royal,"

"A Princess if you will,"

"And what is a Princess,"

"Without a crown?" they finished together, as Fred opened the box to reveal a gold crown with small peaks, that each had 'WWW' at the tip. Ron and Harry openly laughed at the stunned expression on her face, as George took the crown and lowered it onto her head so that she could no longer see it. The headpiece was small, no more than three inches tall including the spikes, but the small rhinestones inlaid in the border made it flashy, attracting the attention of most of the common room. She raised a hand to pull it off and get a closer look, but it didn't move. She used both hands to try and pry it off, but it seemed stuck to her head. The boys laughed harder as Fred and George beamed.

"Sticking charm, won't come off for a day," Fred told her as an explanation. Her eyes widened as he smugly leant onto the back legs of his chair, in unison with George.

"You have got to be kidding me," she exclaimed. They shook their heads. "I don't want to be your walking billboard for a day!" She groaned in frustration as George turned to face his twin.

"Should we announce our new product to the little Gryffies, Fred?" They both stood up and dragged her out of her chair.

"Oh no you don't," she growled, trying to escape from their grasp, but it was too late.

"Hello everyone!" Fred bellowed, waving happily to the house. They waved back. "Weasley's Wizard Wheezes would like to let you lucky people be the first to see our new product! Nonremovable hats!" He gestured to the very pissed off Hermione as if she were a prize on a muggle game show, who had stopped struggling from George's grasp.

"They come in crowns, bonnets, ten gallon cowboy hats, top hats, spitting hats, and any color imaginable! Want to write a message on it? Personalization is available at no extra cost!" The students all got up and circled around hem, enjoying listening to their sales pitch. George picked up where Fred had left off.

"They won't come off until they reach the time you decide, the perfect prank for anyone stupid to put them on in the first place!" The crowd laughed as Hermione glared furiously at the twins simultaneously. "Wouldn't you all like to see McGonagall in a pink, glitter-spitting hat?" They all cheered. "These hats will be available for purchasing at the price of four galleons each at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes stores, coming soon to Hogsmeade." He finished up as Ron and Harry patted her on the back.

"Cheer up Mione, it's really cool!" Ron said, raising a hand to finger one of the spikes. She slapped it away.

"Cool Ron? People are going to think I chose to wear this, that I think I'm royalty because of my parents." Harry shook his head, though he was still smirking.

"No they won't, you're not Malfoy or anything." At the mention of the blond she raised her hand to cover her swollen lips.

"No, I'm not a Malferret," she answered curtly. Ron suddenly burst out laughing, and both her and Harry turned to face him. "What is it now Ron?"

"Ha ha, funny, ha, image. Malfoy, ha, in a skirt!" She rolled her eyes.

"What would it be like if Ronald was the Minister of Magic?" she asked Harry with a small smile. Harry cleared his throat.

"Um, Ron? Why don't you go catch up with your brothers? I need to speak to Hermione." Ron, who was still laughing, stumbled over to the twins, who were trying to talk Ginny into wearing a baby bonnet. Hermione looked at Harry expectantly to see he was staring at his exgirlfriend. She poked him on the shoulder, chuckling at the look of longing on his face.

"Harry?" He was jerked out of his stupor and looked at her as if confused by her presence. "You wanted to speak to me?"

"Oh right." He looked down at his shoes, his rumpled hair falling into his eyes. She waited patiently. "I wanted to ask you a favor."

"Ask away," she encouraged. The boy began to fidget uneasily.

"Well, I was wondering if you would be my date to Slughorn's party? It would be purely platonic, I just don't want to show up alone, what with Ginny going and all." He stared over her shoulder at Ginny, obviously wishing he were still with her. Hermione laid a hand on his shoulder and said,

"Of course I'll go with you, but you know how I feel about you and Ginny." He shook his head morosely.

"Don't start Hermione. Anyway, hopefully Slughorn won't try to monopolize us the entire party if we're together." And hopefully Malfoy will back off as well, thought Hermione. "I'd better start that charms essay," he admitted, and she gave him a scandalized look.

"Harry, it's ten thirty! That's due tomorrow!" He shrugged.

"Yeah well, what can you do? Good night Hermione." She nodded and he ventured back to the Weasleys, keeping both twins between him and Ginny. Sighing, she turned and walked back up the steps to her dorm room.

She had nothing to look forward to. Slughorn's party would be awful, because the pompous host would no doubt push her to Malfoy the whole night. Harry would be miserable without Ginny, and Ron would be pissed that he was being left out. Not to mention, she was struck wearing a bloody crown. And that she had just made out with her enemy. Or that her parents kicked her out. So much for royalty.

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Malfoy was in a foul mood. He stayed as far away from Hermione as possible and did his best not to look in her direction once. Of course, the shiny crown glittering on her head certainly made it hard. The story of the Weasley twin's prank had been discussed during breakfast at the Slytherin table the following morning, and he had managed to over hear the story. There really was no other way Hermione would wear a crown willingly, that Malfoy knew as fact, and it was inevitable that she would ask all of her teachers for help getting it off. However, it remained perched atop her head the entire day.

She didn't look at him once either. During classes she made sure that he was on the opposite side of the room, and in both lunch and breakfast she made sure she was on the far side of the hall. During potions he watched her, waiting for her to cave and look up at him, but she didn't. Hermione sat chattering with Potter and Weasley, every once and a while glaring up at her crown, but not once did she so much as glance in his direction. Malfoy worked on his blood-replenishing solution alone, ignoring Professor Slughorn's not so subtle glances in his direction.

"Talk to me when you can be realistic," she'd told him, straight faced and narrowed eyed. He was always realistic. Yet ever since she'd kissed him, he didn't want to be realistic. He wanted to jump on the tabled and beg for forgiveness, he wanted to yell and scream and kiss her even more passionately than he had before. Parents be damned, obligations be screwed, he didn't want reality. Look at her, all smug, he thought as he stirred his potion. Carrying on without a care in the world. He'd get his revenge; no one messes with the mind of a Malfoy and gets away with it.

The class bell rang, and he slowly ladled a portion of the deep green liquid from his cauldron and into a flask. Hermione walked past him without a second glance as he sorted his books and stoppered his bottle. Her cloak swirled around her feet as she was forced to double back and help Weasley with his potion, which had cemented into a rock at the bottom of his cauldron. Malfoy dillydallied, fumbling with the clasp of his book-bag, so as to watch her. He could still remember the feeling of delirium she had given him as he whirled her around on the dance floor, aware of every step she took and ever time the edge of her robe fanned against his legs. It had never seemed logical to Malfoy that one could get such emotions from dancing, as a boy he had never believed his mother's fairy tales of closeness and coordination. Yet Hermione White was teaching him things whether she knew it or not.

The male portion of the trip glared at him as they stalked past, but she only looked forward, her face stoic. He closed his bag and moved to follow them out the door but-

"Mr. Malfoy, may I speak to you for a moment?" Blast, he was the only student left in the classroom. He slowly turned to face Professor Slughorn, not saying a word. The man stood up from behind his desk, his enormous belly pushing the desk forward as he came out from behind it. "I was wondering if you could give me an update on how things are going with Ms. White." Malfoy got a sick sense of satisfaction from watching Slughorn wait for him to speak. Instead of saying anything, the teenager merely shrugged, choosing not to confide his kiss to his least favorite teacher. "Well, is she going as your date to my celebration tomorrow night?" Slowly he shook his head no, keeping his face blank. Slughorn struggled to harness a scowl.

Ha ha, keep your nose out of my business, Malfoy thought bitterly.

"Did you ask her?" Malfoy blinked, staring disinterested at the ceiling. "Very well Mr. Malfoy, you may go." As Malfoy left the room silently smirking, Slughorn let out a very undignified profanity.

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The Room of Requirement didn't fail Hermione. When she opened the door cautiously, wanting the perfect dress for Slughorn's party, she was greeted by a closet, in which hung a single black dress. It was excellent, with short cap sleeves, and a simple circle skirt. It was understated but sophisticated, and when she put it on back in her bedroom, she found it was already fitted perfectly to her body. Like a thrilled little girl, she spun around and the skirt fanned out around her. Hermione appreciated simple things and didn't go for attention. She preferred to draw attention without trying, and was sure this dress would do just the thing.

Friday classes flew by in that special way time does, and she found each second slip through her hands like a grain of sand. It wasn't as though Slughorn's party would be torture; it was only that she didn't want to face Malfoy. She skirted around his name in conversation, trying no to remember the heat of their dance, the sizzle she felt with every spin he led her into, and the friction between them as they had finished. No doubt he would ask her for another dance and guilt her into it so she couldn't refuse. It was something he would do.

She found Harry standing morose in the corner of the common room, watching as Ginny greeted her date, Colin Creevy, by the portrait hole. Ginny looked exquisite as usual in ornate dress robes of light blue that had spirals stitched into the seems. Her hair fell gracefully around her face, making Harry burn with jealousy for the sixth year boy. Hermione leant against the wall beside him and looked on as Ginny left. It was obvious that he missed her.

"You're miserable Harry," she said quietly, nudging him with her shoulder. He scoffed and looked down at the floor, his hair falling into his eyes.

"I'm perfectly fine, Mione," he responded, but she shook her head.

"She misses you too, Harry. Just tell her you still have feelings fore her." He offered her the crook of his arm, which she slid hers through.

"Don't start. Just- just don't." She sighed but let him drop the subject. There really was no point arguing with him. But all the same, she really felt sorry for him. He never got to choose his path, everything was preset for him. Plus he had to go through with it all on his own.

She was beginning to relate, but at least she wasn't alone in her prophecy, Malfoy was involved too. But was that a good thing or a bad thing? She wasn't sure. He was such a puzzle, a mute to most except for her, an amazing dancer, and a –cough cough- brilliant kisser. What an enigma. Hermione wanted answers.

Lost in thought, she didn't notice that they had reached the door to Slughorn's office until Harry stopped to take a last deep breath. He hated parties and had been antisocial for a good year since Sirius had died. It didn't help that Slughorn displayed him like a show dog to his friends.

"You okay?" she asked quietly, squeezing his arm. He nodded, bracing himself for the unwanted attention. She schooled her expression into that of pleasant politeness before pushing open the door.

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The youngest Malfoy had been to many formal gatherings in his life. Even as little as four he'd been expected to attend his father's cocktail parties and stand quietly along the wall. So now as a teenager he did the same, staying in a corner opposite the door so he could watch the guests arrive. Rising his goblet to his lips, he stared around uninterested at the decorations for the party. The tent-like canopy hanging from the ceiling and attached loosely to the walls was back, magicked a shiny blue and brown to replace the Christmas colors. Scattered among the guests were the normal house elves and their trays. They seemed to be avoiding him, as were the guests. He honestly didn't care. Neither did he care about the somewhat famous attendants, including an annoyed looking Rufus Scrimagore, whom Slughorn seemed to have dragged there. The reason why became obvious as the door opened to reveal Potter and White, both dressed in black.

Malfoy came very close to dropping his goblet upon seeing Hermione, looking stunning in a most flattering and yet classy muggle dress. Regaining his composure, he watched as the professor, who had toed the minister along with him, immediately attacked them. Curious as to what would follow, and eager to gawk at Hermione, he slunk through the crowd and found a new corner closer to them to inhabit.

"Minister, you remember Mr. Potter, don't you?" Slughorn asked with a proud grin, signifying he had just won the lottery. Apparently Scrimagore did, though he shook Harry's had reluctantly, wearing the same scowl as the teenager.

"Yes I do. Tell me, Mr. Potter, what have you been doing lately to help the war effort as the Chosen One, if I may ask?" the minister asked shamelessly, effectively hijacking the conversation from Slughorn. Malfoy's jaw dropped, but Potter seemed to be anticipating the question.

"I've been doing research upon a subject I'm not allowed to disclose, sir. There are other ways to help than just being a poster boy for the ministry and giving the public false hope," he bit back, as Malfoy's jaw sunk even further to the floor. Slughorn pouted, then attempted to regain control of the conversation.

"Minister, this is the young la-," he started, but Scrimagore jumped back in, thinking of a comeback.

"You would think false hope is better than none." Harry opened his mouth to retort, but Hermione laid a hand on his arm, silencing him effectively. Of courser, she joined in the conversation and took his place.

"If you give the public false hope, that only increases the chance of inducing mass hysteria. Already we have parents pulling their kids out of school and moving to America. Muggles still don't know a thing. The public has a right to know exactly what is going on," she said calmly with a bit of a cold edge to her voice. Scrimagore turned his attention to her as Malfoy admired her calm response.

"What would you know about politics, miss?" he hissed, raising his eyebrows as if to say, 'Give me your best shot. Go on, I dare you.'

"I've fought along side Harry on multiple occasions, including at the Ministry of Magic last year. As for politics, I believe my parents used to be very involved before they disappeared over a decade ago." Slughorn, seeing the conversation was starting to turn in the direction he'd wanted to in the first place, jumped in, mustache quivering with pleasure.

"Yes, the White's were very influential. Rufus Scrimagore, meet Hermione White." Hermione extended a hand politely, still holding a stern expression. He shook it politely. "Ms. White is the best student in her year." The minister looked her over appraisingly as Hermione stiffened. Malfoy could relate to her nerves.

"This is the girl you were talking of?" Slughorn nodded, beaming with pride. "The White heiress? You could go far in the ministry with that name, girl." Malfoy rolled his eyes; he'd heard that line before.

"It's a pity that I don't intend on going into the ministry, then," she answered curtly, finding Harry's hand with her own for support. Scrimagore understood what the gesture showed without her voicing it. Slughorn snorted in protest.

"Ms. White, you could affect the world! Have huge power! Doesn't that interest you?" She shook her head.

"What interests me is helping Harry. You, the ministry that is, are not helping Harry, so why would I want to work there?" Slughorn floundered like a fish out of water while Scrimagore clenched his jaw. Harry turned to stare at his date in amazement and awe, for it wasn't often that Hermione was so brutally honest. Malfoy smirked, that was his Hermione. Wait, his Hermione? "Now if you will excuse me, I would like to dance with my date." With that she dragged Harry onto the make shift dance floor. Harry obediently placed one hand on her waist and his other laced into hers as she waited for the next song to start, yet to notice a certain blonde's constant unwavering stare. As the music started in a slow waltz she moved expertly, leading Harry. Needless to say, he still couldn't dance.

"You just made yourself number one on his hit list, Hermione," Harry told her softly as they danced slowly. She shrugged nonchalantly.

"I already have power just because of my lineage, I don't need anymore. I don't care about the ministry." She set him up so he could spin her, but he didn't twirl her. She sighed as she felt eyes on the back of her head finally.

"I suppose I can't tell you to stop making enemies, seeing as he hates me too," Harry advised as he stepped on her foot. As she winced he added, "Sorry." Hermione nudged him into the pattern.

"No problem." It wasn't like he was a terrible dancer; he just wasn't as good as Malfoy. And once you have the best, you can't settle for less, was that the saying? Well anyway. At least Malfoy had concentrated on the dance. Harry was staring over her shoulder at Ginny. Hermione pivoted slowly so that he could dip her over his knee, but he didn't notice, just continued to stepping from foot to foot. As she grumbled in frustration, it came back.

He could have dipped you there, Malfoy whispered into her mind, even though he wasn't within ten feet of her. She tried to ignore him, but when Harry fumbled another spin, he added, and shouldn't he have turned you there? She didn't respond, focusing on her feet. Look up from her feet. She snapped her head back up, almost hitting Harry's chin. He stepped on her foot again. That must have hurt. As the song wound down Malfoy continued to make quiet comments inside her head. She was grateful when it ended.

"Do you think I could go ask Ginny for a dance?" Harry asked, his voice racked with nerves.

"Yes Harry, don't be so afraid." He glared at her weakly before giving her a quick kiss on the cheek and bounding over to ask the red head to dance. Grateful for the downtime away from Harry and his two left feet, Hermione skimmed through the groups of people to a house elf, who offered her a glad of cider in a goblet. She took it with a bob of her head in thanks, before leaning against the wall. Not many people were dancing; it was mainly the students of the Slug Club and their dates on the floor, so there was no one remarkably skilled to watch. She began to zone out and idly watch Ginny awkwardly dance with Harry.

"Ironic color," someone observed from her left. She looked to see Malfoy leaning his back against the wall beside her, his shoulder a few inches from hers. He was also watching the party, not looking at her.

"What do you mean?" she responded, her voice gentle. He shrugged, taking a sip of wine.

"You're a White and yet you wear black. It's not what most would expect." She saw his point but didn't agree.

"I don't want to flaunt my name, and I don't want to be what others expect."

"I didn't expect that you would want to be." She laughed slightly, swirling her drink around in her cup. He leant his head against the wall and closed her eyes as she noticed how tired he looked.

"You aren't eating," she remarked softly. He nodded, his face looking gaunt in the shadows of the corner and the tent canopy. "Why aren't you eating? You'll get sick!"

"I'm simply not hungry anymore," he answered briskly.

"And you don't talk!"

"There's no one else to talk to." They stood in silence until a new song came on, with a fast beat, perfect for them. She knew he would ask even before he did. "I doubt Slughorn will let me leave until I dance with you." An unasked offer.

"I don't know, Malfoy," she said, uncertain. Part of her really wanted to dance with the one person who was as good as she was, if not better. The other part was reciting what he'd said to her in the Room of Requirement, nothing. Nothing. Nothing. He raised an eyebrow as if listening to her inner monologue.

"That dress you're wearing deserves a dance with a worthy partner, White. Don't you want to show our dear minister that you're more than just an opinionated, know it all heiress?" She stiffened as he began to smirk. "Nothing's holding you back except fear." That convinced her.

"I'm not afraid of anything." Then he said the only thing he could have:

"Prove it." Annoyed and determined, she grabbed his glass and put it on a passing tray before reaching for his hand. The guests watched, amused, as Hermione pulled the blond through them, parting them like the Red Sea. Malfoy's face remained blank as she stopped along the edge of the dance floor, waiting for him to start.

Fast and overdone of slow and precise? He asked her mentally, his eyes boring into hers as he stood with his hands at his sides. Her lips quirked upward as she responded, stepping closer to him.

Let's give Slughorn something to brag about, she voiced simply. He understood and closed the gap between them, placing his left hand on her lower back as his right rose to meet hers once again. With a wink that no one other than Hermione noticed, he began their dance, stepping backward in unison with her. Malfoy noticed every subtle hint Hermione provided that Harry had missed, spinning her when she slightly raised her hand, dipping her if she backed away on one side. Their dance wasn't as sweaty and intense as it had been the first time, seeing as soon the floor emptied and people began to watch them twirl around the room, but it was impressive nonetheless. Slughorn began to beam at a job well done as Malfoy's hand moved to her hip during one step. Ginny marveled at Hermione's hidden talent, gasping as the couple's eyes closed and yet they remained perfectly coordinated.

Nothing, nothing, nothing, Malfoy repeated to himself as he spun her yet again and the tips of her skirt fanned out and brushed his knees. Nothing, nothing, nothing! AS the boy pulled her back in and they returned to their original position, his eyes opened to see her staring up at him, a tiny droplet of sweat on her forehead. Their eyes met and he began to think, something, something, something. He pulled her closer with more vigor, not noticing that now every single person, elf, and decorative fairy was now tracking their every movement. Something, something, oh Merlin something!

She was getting tired, her breathing ragged as the song began to get faster. They cut across the side of the floor, both of them spinning in circles as the climax approached. Expertly he moved his hands to her thin waist and picked her up, rotating in a circle before setting her down on her feet and spinning her out again. With a final note from the piano he tugged her back in, her back crushing into his chest and his arm wrapped around her front. His cheek pressed against hers, his mouth slightly open as he panted into her ear. They stayed that way, regaining their breath as their audience clapped enthusiastically. Something, something, something.

"I'd say I'm presentable," she whispered quietly as she slowly turned, still holding his hand. She was smirking slightly, looking completely beautiful. Malfoy struggled to keep his face blank as she laughed at her own joke. Not trusting himself to speak, mental or otherwise, he stared unwaveringly into her eyes as he raised her hand to brush it against his lips. Then he slowly released it, before winking and turning to disappear through the whirl of robes and blurred colors.

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A/N: Yes, that is my longest chapter ever and I hope you loved it as much as I did. The next one isn't as long, but it's still cool. Then the 9th chapter is about the prophecy coming true. –Insert smug smirk- Teaser?

Knowing what to do without thinking, Malfoy pulled her hand free of the sheets where it had become tangled to see her W was like his own, a brilliant vibrant red.

That teaser should keep you guessing for a while. Believe me. I'd better go start my social studies homework that I've blown off for a month. Oh well, say goodbye to the rest of my vacation, right? Toodles!

Final Word Count: 1913 (OMFG! That's huge! 14 Word Pages!)