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Chapter Twelve

A Cinderella Halloween

A month of harmony passed. It was so nice that Hermione felt no need to read Draco's journal. Now that they were what they were, she couldn't bring herself to accio it to her.

Halloween was now among them, and Hermione, and Draco shopped for decorations. They stringed pumpkin lights around the walls of the sitting room, and purple lights twinkled on the ceiling. For their entertainment Dumbledore had sent a tap dancing skeleton that would last an hour, and a huge feast of turkey, pumpkin pasties, pudding, steak and kidney pie, and more that stuffed them. The dinner talk was certainly entertaining, almost better than the dancing skeleton.

"So, Muggle children dress up in costumes? For what?" Draco drinked deeply from his golden goblet.

"It's a tradition. See, back in Ireland -"

He held up a hand, "please, don't repeat word-for-word of the textbook. Give me the short version of whatever book you got it from."

"It's to scare off evil spirits. Now-a-days it's for fun."

The conversation went on longer than the dinner itself, and they laughed a lot. Hermione supposed that laughing that much burned of all the calories from the biscuits she helped herself to.

There weren't any trick-or-treaters due to the secrecy spell that had been placed on the house. This only made Hermione a little sad, and she stood by the window for a few long minutes watching the children go door-to-door, not glancing once in their direction. Then the streets emptied, and Hermione glanced at her watch. "Halloween's over."

"Is it," Draco asked beside her.

"Yeah, it's twelve o' one to be exact."

"I don't think so."

"It's right here, Draco!"

"I think it's wrong. Why don't you go upstairs, and check the clock in your room?"
"It's not wrong," she argued.

"Just to be sure..."

"Fine," she snapped, and went up the stairs. He was being very unagreeable. Maybe he was tired. She fumed until she reached her room, and she stopped in the doorway when she saw an outline of something on her bed. Glancing behind her to the empty hallway, she went closer to the inanimate object.

It was an old Victorian styled dress. White, with intricate designs of flowers, and vines. There was a note beside it: Try it on. She ran the tips of her fingers over it. With her wand she shut the door, and took off her jeans, and halter.

The dress was a perfect fit, hugging her curves, sweeping the floor. She gathered her hair into an elegant bun, and remembered her grandmother's necklace. She wasn't one to wear a lot of jewelry, or any at all for that matter, so her jewelry box on her dresser was quite empty aside from the necklace. It was designs of connecting flowers, and vines, and was ideal for the dress. She put it on, and checked herself in the mirror above the dresser. She looked high class.

Quietly Hermione walked down the stairs. She thought of Cinderella. Ironic that she was meeting her Slytherin Prince, but in this story she wouldn't run away, and she wouldn't lose her shoe.

The sitting room took her breath away. All the decorations were gone. Candles were scattered everywhere, the fireplace burning lively, it was the only light making the room visible. Soft music was emitting from the walls. Draco stood in the center in a black tux, his hair slicked back. He was grinning smugly, but when he saw her it slid, replaced by a look of awe.

"Y-you're beautiful."

She laughed, she wasn't sure if she heard Draco stutter before. "You think so?"

"I know." He held out his hand when she closed the distance between them. "May I have this dance?"

Hermione took his hand, and he brought her close resting his hands on her hips, her hands on his shoulders. Slowly, they danced, and she couldn't stop smiling. "So, Draco Malfoy, how did you pull this off?"

He faked modesty. "Oh, it was nothing. A lot of spell work."

"A spell can't tell you my dress size."

He blushed then. "I guess you could say I broke the first two rules of our previous agreement."

"You went into my room, and looked through my clothes!"

He searched her face. "Depends on how angry you are..."

Hermione blushed as she thought of him seeing her under things. "I- I'm surprised is all... An invasion of privacy, but... Thank you. This dress is... Amazing."

"It looks amazing on you." Draco brought his lips to hers for a mere second waiting for her to pull away, and when she didn't they kissed deeply, stopping their dance in the middle of the floor, arms around each other. His hand came to her hair, and it fell from its bun. Their breathing became labored, and he held himself against her biting on her bottom lip tugging gently.

Hermione came to her senses, and placing her hands on his chest she pushed him away. His lips were wet, red, and he was clearly disappointed.

"Sorry, I - I just can't."

He nodded, running his hand through his hair. "I understand... I didn't do all this for... You know..."

She smiled. It was nice to know, because she was starting to wonder if what Harry, and Ron said was true, if he was up to something.

"I would never do that," he said seriously.

"Have you ever...?" She asked, afraid of the answer.

"Yes." He appeared to be more than a little uncomfortable about telling her that.

Her own disappointment settled in. "Oh..."

"It was a stupid thing I did. Wasn't out of love, or respect."

Hermione couldn't look at him. She stared at her sneakers... Sneakers... With a dress? She started laughing, forgetting about their current conversation. She kept laughing, unable to stop.

Draco stared at her worriedly. "Hermione, are you okay?"

She nodded, and pointed to her feet. He chuckled, "shoes! I knew I forgot something!"

There they stood, a sight to be seen, laughing in the middle of a romantic set, a girl with a Victorian dress, and sneakers, and a boy with his arm around her. No one would ever guessed that the two had been the worst enemies.