CHAPTER 10

Beginning of March 1998

"You had to stoop that low?"

"How did that even happen? You had to be seeking out an opportunity for that to start."

"Do your parents know?" Blaise cackled.

"No, and you weren't supposed to know either, asshats." Pansy scowled, crossing her arms and leaning them on the table. "If you could keep it down, that'd be great."

"How does it feel to be dating a Gryffindor?"

Draco noticed that Blaise was staring right at him for the second half of this sentence. He gave a discreet, pointed look back, then returned his attention to his classmates roasting the absolute hell out of Parkinson.

Tuning out the insults, Draco went back to his meal. Not that he was that hungry.

He was still furious with Pansy. And that fuckhead Weasel. And evil, disgusting Justin Long. There was still this lingering confusion on how someone could do that. To anyone, but especially to Hermione Granger. And Draco still wanted to know just exactly what Long did to her…

It made his blood boil.

So when Blaise interrupted Draco's quiet raging with a question about his "conquest," Draco exploded.

"Why the fuck are you talking about this? Is there nothing else going on in your life to care about?"

"Yikes," Zabini said, recoiling. "Someone's touchy."

"There are so many other things to be thinking about right now. I have a job to do."

Zabini was actually quiet for a moment. "Are you pissed about Pansy?"

"No," Draco snapped.

"I mean, I'm kind of pissed, and I didn't date her."

"I really don't care about who Pansy is shagging, even if it's the absolute worst Gryffindor."

Zabini smirked, connecting the dots. "You're upset about Granger."

Draco looked up. "Yeah, I'm upset that my coworker was violently attacked within the walls of this school, and I had to deal with it."

"Your coworker," Zabini prodded, "is that really all she is to you?"

No, Draco thought. Granger was so much more, even if he didn't know what exactly she was.

"Yeah," he lied brashly. "My coworker you're trying to get me to fuck."

"Speaking of, I'm thinking of setting a deadline on this bet."

"Can we not talk about this now?" Draco growled.

"I'm getting bored and this is going on way too long. It's been, like, the whole school year. Midnight on the night of the dance. That's all."

"Fine," Draco agreed, if not just to get Zabini off his back. Then he stood up and left the Dining Hall.

.*.*.*.

That evening, their normally scheduled work time moved from the office to the living room. Granger had initiated it, noting how the couch would be much comfier than their stiff office chairs. Draco ageed, pleased by how much she had warmed up to him in the moments between their fits of… passion?

Her hand brushed his as she tossed another sheet down on the coffee table, and she didn't even recoil or comment on it. "There's the bands we've booked in the past. I'm not familiar with the names. Who played last time?"

"I don't know," Draco said. He picked up the sheet. "I don't really listen to this shit music."

Hermione sighed, leaning back. "Sometimes, I miss plain old Muggle music."

"What's so great about Muggle music?"

"It doesn't always bring up trolls or goblins or whatever," mused Hermione distantly. "Usually it just talks about life. Love. The experience of… being."

"I also get sick of hearing songs about trolls," Draco ceded.

Hermione took a deep breath in, then let it out. "What if we had a Muggle prom?

Draco frowned. "A what?"

"So there's this traditional dance called a promenade, or prom for short," explained Hermione, sitting up again. "It's this big cultural phenomenon. It's supposed to be the best night of your life, before you graduate. It's one where you go with a date. You get all dressed up, and you go eat food with your friends, and you dance."

"... Just a normal dance."

"But it's so much more," Hermione countered. "Like, that's the closest thing Muggles get to magic. It's a magical night without all the actual magic stuff. I just… That's something I've wanted to experience… I don't know."

"Let's do it," Draco said.

As if not expecting him to agree, she looked at him. "Huh?"

"It could be a blast. Also, I have no other theme ideas. I'm kind of sick of dances and parties."

"Oh, right." Hermione rolled her eyes. "You have socialite in your blood."

"We can consider it cultural exploration."

"But not appropriation," Hermione added. "We should have a committee-of all blood mixes, to ensure that this is fun and educational for everyone. And not racist."

"We can ask the Prefects who's interested at the next meeting."

"Are you serious?" Hermione said, turning towards Draco.

He returned the look. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I just-"

"Because I used to call you names."

She chewed on her lip, ever so slightly. His eyes were drawn down for a split second before he pulled himself together.

"That was the third year. I learned a lot when you slapped me."

"You better have," Hermione said. She shifted, turning her body away, as if just now realizing the tension that was there.

"So we'll have Muggle music?"

Hermione nodded. "That would be amazing. I'll have to find a cover band that does Muggle tunes."

"And Muggle food?"

"Some good old appetizers. Nothing with dragon's egg or whatnot."

"What about Muggle dancing?"

Hermione scoffed.

"I'll have to learn how Muggles dance."

"It's not that different. They're not a completely different species."

"But I've only been to Wizarding functions. I'm sure I won't know what I'm doing."

"You probably know how to dance better than I do," Hermione said, rifling through another stack of papers.

"You know the basics," Draco argued. "Yule Ball."

"Oh, Merlin," Hermione groaned. "Wait, you were watching me?"

"I was watching Viktor Krum," griped Draco. "And it was just a glance. At least, it seemed you knew what you were doing. I could very well be wrong."

"I've only really seen Muggles dance in movies. At proms."

"There's movies about this prom thing?"

"I told you, it's supposed to be magical."

Draco knew he was pushing the matter, but there was a part of him that was driven crazy by their distance on the couch. "Well, show me."

"Now?"

"Sure." He stood, offering his hand. "Show me what we're supposed to do. The student body will want to have examples, anyways."

Hermione had the faintest touch of color on her face as she stood, moving out from behind the coffee table. "I feel silly," she said, starting to sway. "Like I said, it's not much different. You just move your body to the music." She started to bop along to an imaginary tune, moving her hands to the imaginary beat. She took one of Draco's hands and lifted it up, twirling herself underneath it. Draco imitated her bad dancing. She laughed, then grabbed his hand, giving him an awkward twirl.

After a clumsy turn (she was short, it was hard to turn under her arm), he smirked. Keeping her hand in his, he pulled her closer and set his other hand on her back, in a messy waltz position. Hermione laughed again, this time just a bit more uncomfortably.

"Um, and for slow dancing, it's not very formal," she explained, moving his hand from hers to her back as well. She moved her hands to his shoulders, keeping them there, in a half-embrace. "And you just… stay here."

"Hmm," Draco commented, their imaginary tune turning soft and slow. "Not very technique-heavy. It's kind of boring." They swayed back and forth, and he watched the original mirth on Hermione's face change to something else, something pensive, something halting, something soft. Something he had seen before.

"It's silly," she said, slightly pulling back. But Draco kept his hands on her back where she had placed them, letting himself look into her eyes.

Slowly, hesitantly, he moved his hands to the curve of her waist and brought her closer. Sliding into each other, they danced. Hermione pressed her cheek into his shoulder while Draco caressed her side. Her eyelashes fluttered against his collar as they continued to rock back and forth, lost in the instance they had fallen into.

He had never experienced the feeling of her so softly, so quietly. He thought back to the dance at Slughorn's dinner, where they were both so detached and it felt wrong. He was struck by the presentness of this moment now, the way he could feel her heartbeat, the way he could pick up the scent of her hair. The way there wasn't a second thought in sight about them being this close.

He lightly dragged his fingers across her side, gently traced her spine. He felt her shiver with the feathery touches. He smirked to himself. She took in a breath, turning her face to meet his.

The softness and heat was delicious. For a brief second, Draco thought about the ending of their evening with Slughorn. He had told her he would make love to her in a heartbeat. That's what he was thinking about now: not having sex, not fucking, but making love. Her chocolatey eyes seemed to be asking a question.

He answered it with a kiss on her temple. He moved a hand from her back to tilt up her jaw to plant his next kiss on the soft part of her neck. She shuddered again, a pleasant shudder, but she slowly retracted herself from his hold and looked at him. She placed a hand over the one still on her waist and held it.

"It's been a long week," she whispered.

He understood. The attack was fresh. The tenderness was sudden. It was still hard to watch her slip away into her room, leaving Draco standing all alone in the middle of the dormitory, wondering when he had started to care so much and when she had started to actually trust him.

.*.*.

End of March 1998

With the dance happening in a month, there was lots of planning to do on top of normal paperwork. Hermione and Malfoy found themselves working separately, in their minimal free time, and coming together only to clear recent ideas or draft messages to the dance committee.

"Having a volunteer committee was the best idea we've ever had," Hermione sighed at the end of one of their quick brush-by meetings.

She found herself feeling like meetings with Malfoy were less like being at work and more like being at home. Their meetings almost naturally happened now, their relationship easy and flowing.

She wondered when he had started to care so much. She wondered when she had started to actually trust him.

But before she could think about it too much, she dragged herself back to her paperwork. She couldn't spend any more time lingering on their slow dance in the living room. It was painful to think about. How she had wanted to let him kiss her, touch her, but there was a part of her that unwillingly pulled away.

She knew part of it was the attack. It was so recent, so fresh, and she was still trying to dissect what really happened. She had started seeing a counselor where she could talk about these things. But until she could work through the attack, she knew she wasn't ready for that. She wasn't ready for his hands, no matter how gentle or rough they could be.

Another part of it was mental in a completely different way. It seemed ridiculous, too ridiculous to say out loud, but it was really nagging her. It was the fact that they had so much filing to do. Paperwork everywhere, unsolved or unlabelled or unsorted. It had started to pile up in the wake of the Long incident and planning for the dance. Perhaps it was overdramatic, but she couldn't think about Malfoy without thinking about the paperwork.

The thing about filing is that it had to be done at some point. Whether that was before or after the dance was the question: if they did it before, it would conflict with planning and preparation. If they waited until after the dance… well, they'd be running into finals season and graduation. It was a nightmare of a choice.

But it wasn't just paperwork. It was the deal she had made with herself before the dance planning and before the Valentine's Day debacle and before she found herself being friends with Malfoy. Whatever kind of weird friendship it was. It was the fact that she decided she would let their relationship run its course, but only after their job was done.

The paperwork was a physical symbol for all that wasn't done in their job, and it was quite literally standing in between her and Malfoy.

"Hey, Granger," said Malfoy's familiar voice from the hallway. He popped his head into the office, where she was working. "I have a question for you. Are you busy?"

"Yes, I'm busy," she said, still ruminating over the paperwork question. She felt something hit her temple and she winced, witnessing an apple candy fall into her lap. "You got more?"

"Yeah, we ran out."

Hermione popped the candy in her mouth, letting it distract her from her predicament and the sheets she was going over. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

"Well, I was just talking to Cole, who is working with the kitchen on the menu. And it got me thinking, we're bound to be planning up until and perhaps even during this event."

"I wouldn't rule out that we'd be defusing crises and such during the dance."

"So I was thinking, we should both go stag so that we can keep on top of things."

Hermione crunched down on the apple candy. "Right."

"I mean, if you were set on having a date…"

"No, I think a date would be too much to handle on top of managing the dance and also getting this paperwork done," she argued, pulling back to the topic she was so stuck on. "We'll both go alone." Which really meant alone together. It was enough for her.

"Okay. Just wanted to run it by you."

"We really do need to get this paperwork done," she fretted, looking deeply at Malfoy. "You know. So we don't have to deal with it during finals."

Malfoy looked at the stacks of papers that had now piled up almost to the ceiling. From the look on his face, Hermione could tell that he didn't understand the issue. He didn't understand the urgency.

"We could just do it after the dance. We have a week before finals start."

"We'll be studying for finals," she insisted.

"We'll have time. I'm not worried about it."

"You're not worried about it."

"No. I'm not. And neither should you be." He strolled into the office, seemingly unbothered by Hermione's irritation. He perched himself on the edge of the desk and took a piece of candy for himself. He patted a loose sheet on the desk. "By the way, I haven't done the schedule yet. But I will tonight after practice."

Hermione blinked, a hot wave of frustration rushing over her like a tsunami. "You haven't done the schedule yet? That was supposed to be done yesterday."

He shrugged. "The prefects can wait. We always give it to them way too early and they have too much time to try and switch their shifts."

"They need that time. What if they have exams or something important?" Hermione felt the stress rising in her. This was not what she needed right now. And he just seemed so cool.

"They can handle it," he waved off.

"All right, at least tell me you submitted the decorations form."

Malfoy seemed to be thinking for a moment. "I gave it to the committee. Told them to handle it."

"I told you to handle it," Hermione said, exasperated.

"I did handle it. I just happened to handle it by delegating." He chuckled around the candy in his mouth.

Hermione stood up.

"Do you just not think this job is important?" she asked lowly.

Malfoy blinked. "Okay, don't get your panties in a bunch, Granger."

She stepped over to his desk.

"Do you think what we're doing is a fucking joke? Because I don't."

Malfoy scanned her face. His expression changed. "Of course I think it's important."

"It stresses me out when things aren't done," she continued.

"I can see that," Malfoy said, amusement creeping back up into his expression. This drove Hermione over the wall. She grabbed his tie, pulling him closer to her so they were face to face. She was dead serious.

"I don't think you understand," she said slowly, watching Malfoy flounder. "Having this paperwork unfinished is stressful to me. I don't get to do what I want to do until this work is done."

She held on for a moment, pulled a little harder, then released him, hoping she made her point without giving too much away.

Malfoy stared at her, wide eyed, red-faced as she tossed his tie out of her hands, returning back to her seat.

"Yes, ma'am," he answered, nearly breathless.

"Get out. And do the schedule."

.*.*.*.

It was embarrassing to admit, but that moment stuck with Draco for longer than it should have.

See, she had always been a bit stick-up-the-arse when it came to neatness and correctness and that bothered the shit out of him, ever since the first year. But this was the first time it was kind of sexy.

Later that evening, he could barely compile the schedule cohesively. Why was Granger in his head, grabbing his tie? Why was she standing over him smirking? Why was she… okay, he couldn't let himself think about it too much.

Not only was it incredibly attractive that she had cracked the whip, but what she had said was a complete mystery and puzzle to him. She can't do what she wants until the work is done. What did that mean? Was she giving up time with the Gryffindors or the library to work on paperwork when he wasn't around? If so, it was her fault for being obsessive about it. They would get it done, eventually. He just didn't think it had to be an immediate thing.

But then he knew she was serious about making him listen. She made him listen.

This brought him to another point, the fact that the bet still did exist, and there was a deadline now, and it was getting to the point where it was just plain ridiculous that they hadn't shagged already. It was getting down to the wire, so he had to figure out a way to satisfy both his (and Blaise's) desires. Before the night of the dance…

These swirling thoughts were not helping for the boring work of making a schedule. He pushed aside the scheduling sheets and instead pulled out a quill and notebook. While the ideas were fresh, he had to put them down.

.*.*.*.

1) Aphrodisiacs

"Why is there a ton of food in the dorm?" Granger asked, coming into the office.

"Glad you asked. Cole sent us some samples, to make sure the food we picked is right for the ball."

"We could have gone down to the kitchen," she mumbled, setting down her book bag. "Should I try some now?"

"I was waiting for you," Draco said, following her into the common space. The coffee and end tables were filled with desserts and appetizers that Draco had selectively chosen from their foods list. Ones he had researched to be aphrodisiacs. He wondered how much specific foods could really get someone in the mood, but he knew a good high-quality meal and a glass of wine was seduction material, so he thought, why not give it a try in a way that Granger won't suspect?

Granger picked up a chocolate-covered strawberry and bit into it. "Mmm," she hummed when the juice bled out onto her fingers. "These are perfect."

"Here," Draco said, offering her a glass of apple wine. It had taken him ages to find a good apple wine, but he knew nothing else would be fitting. His conditioning scheme was still in play, anyways, even if it had fallen aside.

Granger took the glass, sitting on the end of the couch. She took a sip, savoring the flavor. Her face scrunched slightly in thought.

"It's got… the taste of apple," she figured out, looking up at Draco. He nodded. "Why apple?"

"... It's my favorite," he said.

"It's nice," she said. "Tastes like the candies."

Draco bit back a smirk. "Like I said. My favorite."

"It seems a bit… fancy for our occasion, though. I didn't think we planned for wine for our older students and faculty."

"We didn't," Draco admitted. "I just thought the tasting needed something more."

Hermione smiled as if she was amused at something. She picked up a honey-dripped fig and ate it, sucking the honey off of her sticky fingers afterwards. "Well, I approve. It seems quite lavish, but that's what we're going for, right?"

"Magical, without the magic."

"Exactly." Hermione took another sip of her wine. She stood up, holding up her glass. She clinked it against Draco's in a toast. "To lavishness," she said, drinking.

"To us," Draco added before his sip, "for planning this."

He moved forward, ever so slightly, to gauge her reaction. She smiled, sighed, and leaned back against the edge of the couch. "There's lots more still to do."

"I know, the paperwork," Draco said, trying to brush the thought away. "Don't worry, I'm on top of my portion."

Hermione picked up a strawberry. "Have you tried one yet?"

"I've had strawberries before."

She held it out for him to bite. He took her wrist, holding her fingers up to his mouth so he could bite the strawberry. He felt her pulse race in her wrist from the sudden motion. He looked at her as he sunk his teeth into the juicy fruit. She gazed back, lips twitching.

"It's good," he said, before letting go of her wrist. She pulled back, setting the leaves and stem on the edge of the table's plate.

"Cole was kind to send these," she said.

"Will we dance at the ball?" Draco asked, ignoring her change of subject.

"We'll both probably be very busy," she responded. "But perhaps."

"Like how we danced here that time?"

Granger looked at the floor, shrugged. "Maybe without the closeness. I'm not sure that would be appropriate for school settings."

"This isn't a school setting?" Draco joked, referring to their dormitory.

Granger narrowed her eyes. "I'm not sure it's a good idea we give the student body any ideas."

"What ideas?"

She rolled her eyes. "That we snog in our free time."

"It's not always in our free time, though… It's usually while we're working."

"I'm not sure a feelings-less physical relationship is the kind the Head Boy and Girl are supposed to be in."

"So it'd be okay if it had feelings?" he ventured, making a mock disgusted face. There were no feelings here-at least there weren't supposed to be. Things felt a little blurry after the night of Valentine's.

"First of all, gross," Granger deadpanned. "Second of all, no, either way."

"You're right," he said, raising his wine glass. "We're quite naughty."

Granger shook her head, grimacing. "You're such a Slytherin."

Draco frowned. "How so?"

"Wine? Really? It's a Tuesday evening."

"What, luxury can only happen on certain days?"

"I know what you're playing at," Granger said.

Draco's heart dropped.

"You've been pushing for it for a while now, and I just don't think you're going to get what you want. Sorry."

He just waited for her to reveal his hand, trying to think of something to say.

"But let's be practical. I really don't think it's going to swing by McGonagall if we try to get alcoholic beverages at a school function. No matter how much we charm it."

He thought she was going somewhere else with it, somewhere he didn't know how to work with, but this was okay, this was manageable.

"Then this bottle's just for us."

"You rich prick," she smirked, sipping the last of her wine, then grabbing her book bag. "I have plans. Tell Cole thank you."

"Off to your hot Tuesday night date?" he inquired, irritated.

Granger turned back to wink at him. "Yeah, with the library."

"You insufferable nerd," he muttered.

"Bye," she said, already out the door. There was no stopping her. She didn't fall for his well-laid, elaborate, delicious plan. Maybe next time.

2) The Man of Few Words

When Hermione came into the office on Friday night, Draco was deeply focused on citation sheets.

"Hi," she greeted, slipping off her cloak and folding it neatly behind her chair.

No response.

Rude, she thought to herself. He could at least acknowledge her presence. She went to pick up her stack of paperwork that she had left there that afternoon, but it was no longer present. Pausing for a moment, she checked around her desk again, then the drawers, then finally her book bag. Her book bag fit a lot into it, but there were definitely no citation papers in there.

"Malfoy," she said, concerned. "Where are my citation sheets? I had them here earlier."

The blond just shrugged, not even looking up.

"Did you lose your voice or something?" she asked, folding her arms. "Usually you won't shut up."

He glanced up at her, still silent, gave her a pointed look, then returned to his sheets.

Something strange twisted in Hermione's stomach. "Is something wrong?" arms still folded, she pinched at one of her sleeves nervously. Did something happen? Did she do something? Why was she getting the silent treatment?

"Malfoy, what's wrong?" she took a step closer, her eyes catching on the sheets. "Wait, I was supposed to do the latter half of the alphabet. Why do you have them?"

She leaned forward, noticing the amount of papers he had already gone through.

"Why are you halfway through my paperwork?"

Malfoy finally looked up to her, giving her a slow look-over.

"Because paperwork stresses you out."

They stared at each other for a moment. She grit her teeth.

"I didn't say you should do my paperwork for me, though."

"You didn't tell me to do anything," he said plainly. "I just decided to do it."

Part of her was furious, but part of her was secretly thrilled. Merlin's beard if she showed it, though.

"Well, if doing my paperwork is going to make you all silent and sulky, then I don't want you to do it. Give me that."

She reached towards his stack of papers, trying to take the rest off of his clipboard. He pulled away, though, causing her to fall forward. She caught herself on the desk with one hand, finding herself face to face with Malfoy.

"You could just say thank you," he said, crooking a finger under her chin.

"I don't want to say thank you," Hermione resisted childishly, even though she had no idea why she was doing so. Damn it, she thought. He never seemed affected by anything. They seemed to keep falling into these situations, this time quite literally. These situations that her brain took and ran with. She could seal the gap and kiss him right now. She was standing over him.

But was that warranted in this situation? Was she the only one thinking about that at the moment? Was she just being irrational? What in the world was she supposed to do?

Malfoy was frowning at her response. "How rude."

Hermione faltered, starting to stand up. "Rude? You're the one who's being rude, not even-"

With a huge eye roll, Malfoy grabbed her arm and pulled her back towards him, locking their lips together. Stunned, when it was over, she blinked, staring into Malfoy's still-bored-looking eyes.

"You could talk less sometimes, too."

Her cheeks burned.

3) Study Buddy

His other attempts failed, it looked like Draco would have to take a hint from his past victories.

"Granger," he called helplessly from the Common Room. Neutral territory. She might be quicker to bite in the shared area of their dorm, rather than the suggestive zone of his bed like last time. "Granger, I need you."

"What?" she asked bluntly, walking into the room with her book open in her hands. "Can it wait until the end of this section?"

"Sure," he said.

"Fine." He watched her stand in silence, reading. After a minute, she flipped the page and continued. Her eyes scanned the page like machinery. Finally, she placed in her bookmark and closed the book. "What do you want?"

"Your… your help," he mustered out, blanching at how painful it was to actually go through with carrying out the words.

"With what?" she asked confusedly, glancing back at the office.

"This equation."

Granger's eyebrows twisted into a confused look. "I thought you were always bragging about your talent in maths."

"Well, I am good, I just want to double-check myself on this one equation."

"Suit yourself," Granger said, casually flicking her wand out of her pocket and through the air to Accio her homework towards her. With Arithmancy sheet in hand, she came over to the other side of the couch. "Here."

Draco looked at it, noted the step he had purposefully gotten wrong. "Explain this here."

"I'm not great at explaining proofs, but you get this number from here. You have to divide out this variable. See?"

"Ah. I see."

"You already knew that. Dumb mistake," she said, turning to look at him quizzically.

"Maybe I did." She was getting too clever. Seeing through his displays. Had he really stooped this low?

"I think it's cute when you try and get my attention," she said. "But really, can we save it for a week when I don't have a huge exam?"

"I wasn't trying to get your attention," Draco scoffed, growing irritated. "I already have your attention and you know it. Plus, I'm not cute. I'm terrifying and cunning and I will eat you alive."

Granger stared back at him, no longer fazed by his Slytherin-ness. "Good luck with that." She stood up, patted him on the head, then picked up her book and continued back to her room. "I'll leave my worksheet there in case you actually want to peek at it."

Draco scowled.

For extra measure, he marked all the spots she had made mistakes on her worksheet, and slid it under her door.

4) Flat-out

It was true, Hermione did find the attention-seeking to be quite adorable. He wasn't even hiding it at this point. It was so against his nature, she was enjoying seeing him try and fail. At the same time, consistently turning him down was starting to eat away at the perfectly cultivated string of delicious tension between them. It was starting to get kind of sad.

She almost expected the plea that night.

"Granger. Come to bed with me."

Hermione just looked at him with sad eyes as both of them leaned on the hallways walls, clad in pajamas, exhausted from a long week.

She sighed, looking at the ground. After a moment, she stepped up to him, placing a hand on his cheek.

"No," she said plainly.

What he didn't understand was that it all came down to the paperwork at this point. She had made a deal with herself. Perhaps it was quite Syltherin of her that she would stop at nothing to see that deal through.

She let her hand fall down to his neck, down his chest, his abdomen. He was slim and toned.

"Not yet, anyways," she said, as matter-of-factly as possible.

He was smart. He would have to figure it out.