Please Don't Go, Granger
No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood. You're not telling me someone's asked that to the ball? Not the long-molared Mudblood?
The insults rang in Hermione's head like spells she'd learned by heart. And, just as much as spells,
insults have consequences too. Why would she trust him now? Hermione folded her arms tight across her chest to keep those pale grey eyes at bay. It must be a joke. Draco Malfoy being nice to her. She looked over his shoulder to find Crabbe and Goyle loitering by the Great Hall entrance. Any second now, they'd all start jeering. A flicker of rage glowed in her chest, scorching and shimmering like quicksilver. It rose into her throat and pressed against her lips.
The seconds ticked by, stretching to a minute, and still the jeers didn't come.
She stared up at him. Expecting the mouth sunk in a thin slit of Pure-blood disgust or the face covered in a thick glaze of Slytherin conceit. But those pale grey eyes reflected sincerity. Perhaps they had never allowed themselves to truly look at her before? Hermione bit back the taunts rushing into her head, almost choking her. It was not easy to control her tongue. No more than it had been to control her tears.
True, it was a memory of tears she had shed. In secret and a long time ago, but Draco Malfoy caused them. And tears, whether shed in secret or not, whether shed a decade or an instant ago, remain tears. He stood so close now the cool silk of his dress robes lingered against her arm. Hermione stepped away. There was no need to turn her words into weapons she knew that. Yet the fiery sting of possibility running through her head alarmed her.
'Granger.' His voice blended a simple balance of kindness, of intensity. And something else – a whisper of regret? If this was an elaborate pretence, Malfoy had put in a lot of effort to sound convincing.
'Granger,' He hesitated, taking a deep breath. 'Hermione, I… I…' He half-twisted towards Crabbe and Goyle. Were they about to give the game away? Would their fits of laughter soon echo the length of the entrance hall?
'Hermione, I want to say… ' Draco's gaze dropped to his feet; then, squeezing the Malfoy ring he wore until his finger was white, he dared to look at her again. 'I want to say I'm sorry - for how badly I've treated you.'
His cheeks flamed to match the rich pink of her gown. Hermione's eyes narrowed as she opened her mouth in reply.
'Please, not yet because if I don't tell you now, I'll never tell you. Hermione, I care for you. I have since the Sorting Ceremony. And,' He took another deep breath allowing the sentence to escape in the air like a forgotten patronus. 'Those feelings have… grown.'
A Dr Filibuster-sized box of contradictions exploded inside Hermione. It lit up dark corners of doubt in a blaze of red and blue what-ifs? But was it wishful thinking?
Only last year she'd punched Malfoy, why then did she want him to be telling the truth so much?
It was bizarre. If Karkaroff hadn't forbade Viktor from taking her to the Yule Ball. If she hadn't waited alone at the top of the marble steps, they wouldn't be having this conversation.
'Well, this is quite the change of heart.' Her arms stayed folded though the mocking tone in her head vanished. All the same, she wasn't going to make it straightforward for him.
Malfoy nodded.
'I don't know why it's taken me so long or even what's given me the courage to tell you… how beautiful I think you are.' In a state of emotional freefall, he lifted her hand and curled his own around it. 'I've lied to myself, Hermione, because of my family. This Purity Will Always Conquer rubbish, it's a sickness.'
A wave of shock widened Hermione's brown eyes till they resembled a pair of gobstones.
With his bombshell dropped, Draco appeared stricken. Guilt crushed his voice to silence and for a second, he peered at the green and silver ring flat against his skin. Perhaps fearing such an act of disloyalty would summon his father to punish him.
'I can see I'm being reckless. Too reckless, but I can't help it.' He said, guiding her down the marble steps.
At the bottom, he stopped and faced her.
'I don't suppose you'd like to go with me?' He gestured to the Great Hall. Ahead of them, beneath a ceiling of twinkling starlight and to The Weird Sisters' chants, a frenzy of pupils threw themselves round the dance floor.
'Really? You want to invite me?' A bubble of happiness popped in Hermione's stomach as they reached the doorway. The swell of music wrapped itself around her in a tight embrace and she swayed on the spot, leaning against Draco. For a moment, they clung together until Draco stiffened and pulled away. 'I'll be back.' He said, before striding from her and towards the crowd.
In the dim light, she saw him walk right over to Pansy Parkinson.
A terrible thought struck Hermione and anxiety hammered a warning in her chest. Here it was, the punchline. What a fool she'd been, believing Malfoy's fake act of 'betrayal' to the Death Eater cause. After four years as her chief tormentor, it was madness to imagine he'd cast off his Slytherin ties.
(A shape loomed close by, Hermione saw Dobby wink and bow to her before Disapparating. What on earth was going on?)
The jangle of guitars filled the room and Malfoy stooped to make himself heard by Pansy. Hermione's eyes stung and she blinked hard to stop a single tear from welling in them. Was Pansy already in on the plan or had Malfoy just told her? Either way, it took a special depth of cruelty to gloat at the sadness of others.
Relieved the darkness offered some protection, she decided to leave at the end of the song - with her head held high. But to Hermione's surprise, Pansy brushed by her as she fled the Great Hall, her face twisted by the venom of jealousy. No wonder the Slytherin emblem was a serpent…
'Do you know what the four most magical words I'd ever say are?' Draco asked, now at her side again.
'Err, Winguardium Leviosa? Cave Inimicum?' Hermione replied, somewhat confused.
'No.' He shook his head and smiled. 'Not even close. To be fair, you're probably not going to guess them. But I'm glad you did them.'
'Did what?' She asked as he drew her to him, his arm snug around her waist.
'Please don't go, Granger.'