Pre-Author's Note:
Just a little heads up, Ron is a bit of a jerk in this one-shot, and while I'm not trying to make it directly Ron-bashing, I'm going off of what I think his reaction would be to the events that take place considering how he reacted when she came in with Viktor. So just an FYI, but I hope y'all still enjoy! :)
It was meant to be a spectacular evening.
The entire Great Hall had been transformed into a winter wonderland. Sparkling silver and frost hung from the walls, a ginormous Christmas tree was strung with hundreds of gold and silver decorations, snow fell from the enchanted ceiling and disappeared before it could ever touch anyone's head.
Ivy, mistletoe, and every other thing Hermione could think of that reminded her of the Christmas holiday had been packed into the decor of the Yule Ball. Below it all, the students spread out before her smiled, laughed, and seemed to dance the night away. There was no doubt it was meant to be a spectacular evening.
On the contrary, Hermione felt her insides boil and her cheeks flush. Seated beside her two best friends, both of whom were being sulky and uncharacteristically frustrating, she had originally come over with the intention to invite them along to grab a few refreshments with her and Viktor, seeing as it was simply the polite thing to do. Instead, she quickly realized their plan for the evening was not to be polite.
"What's got your wand in a knot?" Hermione asked, confused and slightly taken aback at Ron's mood. Harry had yet to say anything, but it was clear he wasn't in the mood to contradict it.
"He's a Durmstrang," Ron shrugged before his expression turned cold. "You're fraternizing with the enemy, that's what you're doing."
"The enemy?" Hermione snapped, taken aback at the term he had used. "Who was it wanting his autograph? Who was it wanting to meet with him face to face, and actually talk with Viktor Krum? Who was so excited to see him here the first day, and has a model of him back in his dorm room?"
When Ron only slouched further back in his seat, Hermione continued. "Besides , the entire point of the Triwizard Tournament is international magical cooperation. As a chance to make friends - "
"Huh, I think he's got a bit more than friendship on his mind," Ron muttered under his breath. As fate would have it, it wasn't quite low enough for Hermione not to hear.
Her mouth fell open with a moment of shock. Stunned at his implication, Hermione didn't know what to say and tried to get an explanation out. At the very least, a means to scold him for brushing her words aside like they didn't matter in the least.
Not ready to let her red-headed friend ruin her evening, she snapped her mouth shut and made a move to rise from her seat, not at all interested in continuing the conversation with either of them if it meant they were only going to scrutinize her for wanting to enjoy her evening as she wished with whoever that may be.
"Oh, Miss Granger, just a moment," a voice called ahead of her. All three of the trio's heads swiveled around to see Professor McGonagall standing a few paces away, her hands folded in front of her with a stern expression. "I'd like to speak with all three of you."
Her brow furrowing in confusion, Hermione slowly sat back down in her seat and watched as her head of house released a slow sigh. She couldn't tell if McGonagall's look of impatience was from excitement or the feeling of getting it over and done with already.
"As you all know, the Triwizard Tournament was originally established to hold a friendly competition between schools," McGonagall began, briefly glancing up at the now empty dance floor. Hermione's frown deepened as she saw a few other members of the Hogwarts faculty making their rounds around the Great Hall. Madame Maxime's face was pinched with a bit of discomfort, and Karkaroff looked…well, like Karkaroff.
"That being said, some of the staff have brought forward the idea of using the Yule Ball, for example, as a means of not only showing civility between the schools, but also to show reformed unity from the students," their professor continued. "In other words, before the rest of the festivities continue, we'd like to host a final dance - with a minor exception."
McGonagall's pointed look in the direction of Professor Dumbledore, who was conversing with an older group of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, made it clear whose idea it originally was.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Ron asked, his confusion evident as he scrunched his nose. Harry looked ready to bolt if it meant he had to endure another round of dancing.
"It means, Mr. Weasley, that you'll need to find another dance partner," McGonagall replied, her voice leaving no room for argument. "One that you didn't attend the ball with tonight, and one from another house."
"I'm sorry Professor McGonagall, but what's that supposed to prove about…er…?" Harry's voice trailed off as he tried to find the right word for it.
"House unity?" Hermione finished for him. Harry nodded as McGonagall's eyes seemed to soften and harden.
"This tournament is meant to show that, despite the differences you may see among some other students, that doesn't change the fact that you are all still witches and wizards," McGonagall exclaimed quietly, her voice softer than before. "And just as that is meant to show how you work with foreign students, it should also apply to how you treat your fellow classmates. Miss Granger put it into a simple perspective: house unity. While it may not be something you think much about, or hardly care about, that doesn't excuse anyone from not giving it a try at the very least."
Professor McGonagall fixed each of them with a stern look as she turned away from them. Before completely walking away, she turned and looked over her shoulder and said, "I suggest you find your partners sooner rather than later. The dance will begin here shortly, and sore feet will not be an excuse out of this one."
At her final words, she fixed both Harry and Ron with a firm glare. Both boys ducked their heads to the side and Ron mumbled something indistinguishable under his breath. By the sour look on his face, Hermione assumed it was better she hadn't heard to begin with.
"Can you believe them?" Ron scowled. "Talking about house unity and a bunch of other rubbish."
"To be fair, it does make a little bit of sense," Hermione snapped in reply. Her previous frustration of his poor attitude hadn't disappeared. "You can't exactly have a 'friendly competition' among the other schools if everyone is already going at one another."
"Yeah, I'm sure the Slytherins would love to hear that," he drawled. Lowering his voice, Ron slackened his jaw and tried an imitation. "'Hey, I know we've been absolute prats and tossers for the last three years, but the professors make a pretty fair point. Let's all be jolly-good friends now, right?'"
"McGonagall never said you had to dance with a Slytherin if you don't want to," Hermione hissed back at him. "But at the very least you could be civil to whoever you end up dancing with, if not only for the sake of - "
"Why, are you afraid Vicky might find you off snogging someone else?"
Hermione's eyes nearly bugged out of her head as she physically flinched back. Even Harry, who had refrained from interfering, turned and gave Ron a hard glare. "Ron, come on now…"
Around them, students were reluctantly leaving their organized groups and dates in search of another partner. While the Beauxbatons quickly latched themselves onto the nearest Durmstrang boys (some looking rather eager, others holding onto their partners with a finger with disgust written across their face), many of the Hogwarts students were floating around the room in search of someone that would be willing to dance with them.
"You are pathetic, Ronald Weasley," Hermione bit out between clenched teeth. She was doing everything in her power not to let the lump rising in the back of her throat to spill over. "I don't know what's got your wand in a twist tonight, but you have no right to take it out on me and criticize the person I chose to come with this evening. He asked me because he wanted to, not keeping me there as some last resort. So next time there is a ball, then you pluck up the courage and ask me before somebody else does!"
She didn't give either of them a moment to respond. Standing from her seat, Hermione furiously bit back on the tears threatening to spill over. Eyes scanning over the students left on the outskirts of the room, she took a steady breath to regain her composure. Her focus was on a partner, not on the red-head that was keen on making her night as miserable as his was already going.
Ron was being jealous, and crude, and a down-right git.
If that was his play for the evening, then so be it.
Pausing beside one of the dozens of tables laid out across the room, Hermione sorted out the rest of her bearings as she looked out over the sea of students hesitantly making their way onto the dance floor. Her eyes drifted over to Neville, who had a dreamy blonde on his arm. From the distance she was at, she couldn't tell if the earrings hanging from the girls' ears were just large red beads or…radishes?
Shaking her head, Hermione saw Ginny in the arms of a Ravenclaw who looked to be around the same age as her, shaggy brown hair falling slightly in front of his face. Fred and George had both taken up a few Hufflepuffs, along with Dean and Seamus (both looking less than thrilled to have had to spontaneously switch partners).
Her eyes finally found their way over to Harry who she immediately was able to pick out of the crowd by his stiff and awkward posture alone. Standing on the edge of the floor, he grinned nervously at the Ravenclaw witch standing beside him - Cho Chang, she recognized.
A small smile curled the corner of her lips up as she watched him clumsily ask if she wanted to take the floor. Cho seemed pleased with the offer and wrapped her hand into the crook of his elbow. She wasn't sure whether or not Harry was actually going to pop with excitement or glee.
When there was no sign of Ron among the crowd of students making their way onto the dance floor again, Hermione released a sigh and set out once again to find a partner. A small part of her worried that she wouldn't be able to find anyone and would be left to awkwardly stand on the sidelines as she watched the rest of her peers dance the night away.
The other part of her worried she would be left with a partner that would have been harder to handle than a batch of Devil's Snare.
Or someone like Crabbe and Goyle, both of whom she noticed were identically dressed as mossy boulders. She shuddered at the mere thought of having to dance with either of them.
Lost in thought over her own dancing partner, Hermione maneuvered her way through a group of Slytherins heading out onto the floor. Momentarily glancing their way, she didn't catch sight of the blonde wizard standing on the edge of it until she ran face first into him.
Stumbling back with a small yelp, Hermione quickly held up her hands in a sign of apology. "Oh, I'm so sorry, I - "
Her apology was quickly cut short as the wizard righted himself again and glanced back at her. Her gaze met with a pair of steely, silver eyes; ones that felt like they would have run her through without any hesitation.
"I would tell you to watch where you're walking, Granger," Malfoy sneered, his eyes flicking down her figure and back up to her face just as quick. "But with that head of bushy hair, I'm honestly surprised you're even able to make it through the doorway."
Hermione scoffed and rolled her eyes. Crossing her arms defensively over her chest, she fixed him with a glare as she replied, "Says the one with an ego the size of Hogwarts."
The blonde only smirked and ran a hand through his hair, loosening the blonde strands to fall into a casual style. She had grown so familiar with his head of slicked back hair it was almost odd to see it so loose and, dare she even allow herself to think, soft.
"I do try," he said. "After all, I wasn't the one who paraded myself in on the arm of a famed quidditch player. Do tell, where did Krum run off to without you?"
"To find another dance partner," Hermione found herself replying. Before she had a chance to continue that it was only for the sake that they had to find another dance partner, Malfoy raised one pale brow at her and his smirk widened.
"You're really that bad of a dancer, Granger?"
"It's only for - "
"Ah, Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy," a gentle voice exclaimed from beside them. Hermione immediately straightened her posture and dropped her arms from across her chest at the sight of their Headmaster. "If you wouldn't mind taking the floor, the music will begin momentarily."
"Wait what?" Hermione sputtered, her eyes growing wide at Dumbledore's misunderstanding.
"Well, it seems you both have found a partner," Dumbledore smiled, a mysterious twinkle in his eyes behind his half-moon spectacles.
"Oh, no Professor Dumbledore, we're not - "
"She ran into me, and we - "
"If I may have your attention!"
Before Hermione or Malfoy could even finish their sentences to explain to their Headmaster that it was a simple misunderstanding, and that she was starting to really consider how awful it would have been to dance with Crabbe or Goyle instead of the blonde wizard in front of her, McGonagall's voice rang out across the hall dimming the quiet chatter to a muttered silence.
"This will be the conclusion of our final formal dance for the night," McGonagall exclaimed with a tight smile. "After which you may all return to your evening as you were. I wish you all a Happy Christmas, and Professor Flitwick…if you please."
With a slight bow of her head in his direction, Professor Flitwick proudly puffed out his chest and turned to the orchestra before him, gathering the band's attention in preparation for the final song of the evening.
Hermione physically held her jaw back from falling agape. Swiveling back to try and contradict her professor again that she couldn't possibly dance with Draco Malfoy, she stopped herself short at the kind smile returning to his face.
"As I said, if you wouldn't mind taking the floor, you'll both be able to return to your evenings as soon as the dance is finished," Dumbledore exclaimed before Malfoy could say anything. The blonde closed his mouth again and appeared to be holding back some sort of snarky remark. "It is, after all, just one song."
Without waiting for a response, their Headmaster tipped his head towards them and whisked away, cupping his hands behind his back in obvious merriment.
Hermione felt a pit growing in her stomach as she kept her eyes trained on the back of their retreating professor. She didn't even want to look at the blonde, much less spend an entire song in his arms.
Heaving a sigh, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, she turned back to Malfoy and found him watching the other couples gather on the edge of the floor; they were one of the last people still waiting to enter the crowd.
"It's just one song," she mumbled to herself, low enough she hoped he wouldn't have heard.
"Let's get this over with," Malfoy grumbled, gesturing with his hand to one of the available spots towards the middle of the group. Hermione held back a scoff and walked beside him as they headed for the center. Even when she had walked in with Viktor earlier that very same evening, she hadn't felt like there were this many eyes watching her every move.
Maybe it had been because she was with someone that actually wanted to dance with her and wasn't afraid of getting "Muggle-born germs".
Finally turning to face him, the feeling of dread that had built up every step of the way felt like it was weighing on her shoulders to the point she thought it would push her straight through the floor. Despite keeping a relatively cool composure, especially with the starting glances in their direction, Hermione swore she saw a glimmer in his eyes of the very same discomfort curling her stomach in.
Silence overcame the Hall, and Hermione held her breath as the tap of Flitwick's baton echoed across the crowd. There were a few giggles, a few groans, and even quiet hints of light chatter as partners got into position for the coming dance.
She placed her hand on Malfoy's shoulder with much reluctance, seeing as they were already almost arm's length apart. She refrained from pulling back when she felt his hand brush against her waist, not quite touching the fabric of her periwinkle dress.
If there was an award for the most uncomfortable and awkward situation either of them could have been in, both she and Malfoy would have been taking home trophies bigger than three of the Triwizard Cups.
Hermione was the first to bring her hand out to the side and waited for Malfoy to take it. At first, he glanced at it out of the corner of his eye. For a moment, she thought he was going to completely pull away and storm off the floor, causing a scene only for the sake that he was touching a disgusting Mudblood, and skin to skin contact would have infected his poor, pure blood.
Instead, he slowly raised his hand to hers and paused a hair's-breadth away from their fingers touching. Hermione frowned at him, wondering if he was seriously about to go through with the entire dance without touching her once, even though there were parts he physically had to lift her off the ground - much to both of their dismay.
"I'm waiting on you, Granger," he whispered, loud enough for only her to hear. There were already too many people glancing at them with prying eyes.
Meeting his gaze and mimicking his cocked eyebrow, Hermione took his hand in hers and held back her momentary surprise. She hadn't known what to expect - maybe calloused and cold hands that felt like death.
Instead, warm and slender fingers wrapped around hers and kept them in a respectable hold. It didn't feel like he was trying to barely brush skin to skin, but he also didn't give her any clear sign that he was about to snap each of her fingers off.
So lost in her own thoughts, Hermione blinked back to the present just in time to hear the music start up again.
The beautiful melody of strings and woodwinds suddenly burst throughout the Hall, overtaking the silence like a crashing wave. Her feet were suddenly moving on their own accord, and within the first few seconds, she could already tell it was going to be a battle of the leads.
Hermione hated to admit it, but he was a natural. Malfoy's gaze never left hers as they moved in perfect harmony. With the first few spins, it was clear he knew exactly what he was doing, and he didn't stray once with his steps or with his movements. They were fluid and smooth as she switched hands, her left coming up to wrap around his again as he switched to her opposite hip.
The musical ballad was similar to the first opening number that had welcomed the rest of the couples onto the floor after the four Champions had taken their turn about the room. It was elegant, graceful, and everything she had expected a ball to be.
The only problem with the one the professors had seemingly chosen was the ending.
Hermione had taken note of everything Professor McGonagall had taught them in their brief dance lessons, including a few tips of the proper etiquette of certain dances. There were plenty of ways to politely accept or decline, but some of the most important aspects of the dance came with the closing. More often than not, the two partners would bow or curtsy to one another and go about finding another partner to dance with.
That being said, Hermione knew exactly what her professor had done in setting up this particular dance for last.
An internal war waged within her as she tried to decide whether she wanted the dance to continue on forever or come to the closing as soon as possible to simply get it over with.
Hermione tried to fill her thoughts with anything not involving the blonde wizard that had picked her off the floor like she was nothing and gently lowered her back down before picking up their movements again. It was rather difficult when he stared back down at her with an either blank expression or smirk worthy of the Slytherin name.
"I have to say, Granger, I'm surprised," Malfoy muttered, still keeping his voice low even as the sounds of quiet conversations rose around them. "I expected you to be as bad as Potter."
"Meaning?" Hermione snapped, her first instinct to protect her friend from whatever insult he was going to throw Harry's way.
Malfoy released an almost exasperated chuckle and finally looked away to a couple over her shoulder. At that moment, he spun her around with perfect timing, her angle now clear of who he had been momentarily watching.
"Meaning Potter may be The Wonder Boy Who Lived, but I'm sure he'd kill the feet of anyone who danced with him," the blonde replied. "I almost feel sorry for Chang. Almost."
He moved his shoulder ever so slightly to give her a clear view of a stumbling Harry and an embarrassed Cho. Between the twirling partners scattered across her line of sight, Hermione saw her best friend mumble a quick apology as he tried to get his footing right again. He switched hands like he was trading hostages, and she was mildly surprised Cho hadn't been flung out of his grip yet.
"Well - he just…he hasn't had much practice…" Hermione's voice trailed off as she tried to find a defense for Harry. Even so, she couldn't help but internally cringe at the uncomfortable position in his posture and the way he tried to save his partner from stumbling out of his grasp.
Malfoy snickered and muttered, "Whatever you say Granger."
"Well, don't think I take dancing with you as any sort of pleasure," Hermione snapped, hoping to throw him slightly off his rhythm. A pang of annoyance shot through her as his smirk returned full force and he seemed to even better their motions as he gave her a quick twirl. "I think Harry would be a much better partner."
"After seeing whatever that just was?" Malfoy checked, arching a brow down at her again. Extending his arms out and holding her at arms length, he bent one of them back in and rose it above her head. Hermione felt her fingers slip out of his for only a brief moment as she turned in a quick spin. The ruffles of her dress fanning out around her, they were soon right back to their original position. "And here I thought I was a decent dance partner."
"You're not…as terrible as I expected."
The words slipped out before Hermione could stop them, and she glanced away so as not to meet his eyes. She didn't need to look at him to know she had just given his ego a nice fluff of the feathers.
"Dare I say it, but did Hermione Granger just pay me a compliment?" Malfoy smirked. Once again, both his hands came down to her waist and both of hers came up to his shoulders. Her feet were lifted off the ground and set right back down, their glides becoming more together even as she tried to keep the lead above him. It seemed he had the same idea.
"I would say don't let it go to your head, but it's thick enough I doubt it would make much of a difference," Hermione replied.
"So the Golden Girl can give a tongue lashing?" the blonde gasped in mock surprise. "What would Potter and the Weasel think?"
"Frankly, it's none of their business what I say to who," Hermione conceded, her thoughts drifting back to the earlier argument she had with the red-head in question. "And don't call him that."
"Oh, so life isn't running smoothly with the perfect pair?" Malfoy drawled, his signature smirk curling up again as he ignored the last part of her statement entirely. Clucking his tongue, he continued. "Such a shame, Granger. What, are you upset that Potty didn't ask you for a dance? Or maybe the Weaselbee has got his wand up his arse - "
"What is it with everyone telling me off for who I choose to dance with tonight!" Hermione hissed, her voice raising an octave and coming out louder than she meant to. Malfoy's eyebrows shot up in mild surprise, and both teens ignored the glances in their direction.
Bringing his arm up and over her head again, Hermione stepped around him and spun. In the moment the world whizzed around her, she took a deep breath and got her bearings back under control. She wasn't going to let the blonde ferret rile her up, she wasn't going to let her best friends get under her skin, and she wasn't about to dwell on it. It was her evening, and she had every right to enjoy it how she saw fit.
"Care to finish?" Malfoy prodded when she sent him a firm glare.
"Not, not really," Hermione replied. "But for your information, Malfoy, I wasn't asked to the dance tonight by either of them."
"Ah, so I was right then."
"What?"
"I told you that the Weasel had his wand up his arse tonight," he exclaimed with a roll of his eyes. "But since you so rudely interrupted me, I never got to finish - is he really that upset that his homework helper got asked as a date to the dance before he could work up the damn courage to instead?"
Hermione wasn't sure if he had scoffed or nearly snorted as he twirled her around again and she landed snuggly back in his arms. "And here I thought you Gryffindors were supposed to be the brave ones."
She rolled her eyes at his accusation but didn't retort on his previous claim. Ron hadn't tried to hide the fact in any way, shape, or form that he wasn't happy she had attended the ball tonight with Viktor. When no reply came from her that that wasn't the case, Malfoy's smug grin held firm.
"Well what about you then?" Hermione snapped, ready to take his poking and prodding at her issues and "love life" off the table.
"What about me?" the blonde smirked. "That I'm handsome, charming, cunning - "
"Hardly."
"If you wanted to admit something about my dashing good looks, Granger, there's nobody that's going to stop you," he remarked, glancing down at her with that mischievous Malfoy twinkle in his eye. "What exactly did - ow!"
With the most sickly-sweet smile Hermione could conjure up, she had stepped forward during his rant about himself and taken the opportunity to take a misstep in their dance - right on his foot. The heel of her shoe dug right into his toes, and if his quiet yelp and the burning glare he shot down at her was anything to go by, she admitted to herself she had succeeded quite well.
"Now that's just cold, Granger," Malfoy grit out, extending his arms back out as he grasped both of her hands in his. Pulling out to the side so one of her arms was bent and the other extended, Malfoy mimicked his position on the other side before taking one step back again and another one in.
"I doubt it's much warmer than your soul," Hermione replied, her mocking grin still curling the corner of her lips up.
"Touché," he smirked. Returning one hand to her hip while the other swept her arm back up into their original position, a moment of silence passed between them.
Despite neither of them saying anything snappish or witty to the other, Hermione found her smile dipping back only a little. Malfoy's smug grin still curled the corner of his lips back, but it had softened in a way she couldn't quite place.
Though she swore the words would never leave her mouth, a small voice in the back of her mind told her the overbearing truth she had been trying to ignore - Malfoy certainly looked dashing tonight, and dancing with him hadn't been her worst experience of the evening.
In an almost full-black ensemble, the blonde's dress robes were cut and fitted to the point, no doubt with the help of a few extra galleons on his side. The slicked back hair had been thrown out the window, now replaced by soft looking strands that she scolded herself for enticing so quickly. When he wasn't sneering, or looking down on her, or wearing that infuriating smirk that made her insides boil, a part of her had to admit that he didn't look awful. Near handsome.
"What I was going to say was ask if you had an entire line of witches falling to your feet," Hermione muttered, her voice growing quiet as a duo near them took a rather large turn and nearly crashed into them. "Although I thought I saw Parkinson hanging onto your arm earlier."
"Why so curious about my love life now?" Malfoy asked, his grin returning to its smirk.
"Yours wasn't the one published in a bloody paper," she mumbled, hoping he hadn't heard her response. His short chuckle told her she was mistaken.
"I actually wanted to bring Pansy along as friends more than anything, but she seems to have a different idea of what going as 'friends' means," Malfoy exclaimed, his hands going to her hips again as he lifted her off the ground once more. "But I will say, I was a little surprised when I read that article. First of all, I didn't know Potter could even get his hands on a girl, much less someone like you."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
He shot her an incredulous look, almost like he was asking if it was a genuine question. Hermione internally cringed as she waited for the comment to be thrown back in her face about Harry going out on a date with a Mudblood.
"Granger, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you are out of his league," he scowled, rolling his eyes at what seemed to be the mere thought of her and Harry going out together, much less being a couple.
A feeling she had never considered much before sank down into her stomach, pulling her gaze away from his and towards the couples around them. She had never thought of the idea that, should she have even considered starting a romantic relationship with Harry (which sounded entirely weird in her ears), that she would have been below him on some level. He would be settling for his bookish best friend, instead of having some flare of adventure.
"You really think you'd want to be with someone as dull as Potter?"
His question snapped her eyes back up to his and she frowned in utter confusion.
Heaving a sigh, Malfoy rolled his eyes again. "Come on now, Granger, you're supposed to be the brains of your little group. Take out the fact that he's the almighty Boy Who Didn't Die and you're left with someone who can barely scratch by on some of his exams. Not to mention the fact he's practically quidditch obsessed, no doubt any less than Weasley is. From what I've heard, you'd rather stick your nose into a book than sit through another one of our matches. Sound like the one you're looking for? So put that bushy brain of yours to use and consider the fact that you are too good for him, Granger, and like I said, entirely out of your league. You could do so much better than the 'famous Harry Potter'."
The name rolled off his tongue like it was a sour or bitter taste in his mouth. Hermione barely noticed as she held her jaw tight. It threatened to fall open at any moment with the utter shock of what she had just heard.
Draco Malfoy, telling her off for thinking she wasn't good enough for Harry Potter, rather she was out of his league in the sense she was too good for him.
A part of her was tempted to look out one of the large windows near the judges table to check that trolls weren't flying around with hippogriff wings.
"And secondly, the article itself was just written poorly," Malfoy sneered. "I've heard that Skeeter woman writes for the Witch Weekly and I pray to Merlin that Pansy stops reading it."
Swallowing back the wave of shock that had overcome her, Hermione blinked and shook her head. "It was all a load of rubbish anyway. Harry and I have never been in any sort of relationship, and both of us agree that we never will be. I see him like a brother, not as a…boyfriend."
Just thinking about a romantic relationship with him made her cringe, though not for the exact same reasons Malfoy had proposed.
Malfoy laughed softly at her obvious discomfort and he brought her out for yet another spin. Angling herself back in, Hermione wondered if it was just her imagination alone or if she and the blonde wizard had truly started out this close to one another. Their pace hadn't slackened, nor had their postures, but they were now nearly chest to chest.
Again, a part of her wondered why she wasn't completely revolted at the thought or the feeling.
The orchestra began to play louder, signaling the coming conclusion of their forced dance. The dread that had previously curled her stomach in at the finale was no longer scrambling her brain for some excuse to back out of it at the last second. Truth be told, it didn't seem like the final straw that she would have to pull out at the end of a roller-coaster night.
"So, do you sort of admit it?" Malfoy asked, glancing down at her with a cheeky grin.
"Admit what?"
"That Potter's out of your league and the Weasel has been nothing but a prat to you this evening."
"I think it's a bit of a handful to call Ron a weasel," Hermione replied, her own sly smile curling her lips up. "After all, he wasn't the one scurrying around the Great Hall as a ferret."
There were many things in life that Hermione held close to her heart and countless memories she felt she would always remember.
But the sight of Draco Malfoy's cheeks turning from their usual pale tone to a deep shade of pink as he stumbled for the first time during their dance together would forever stick with her. She had to physically bite the inside of her cheek to keep her smirk at bay.
"No one's going to let that go," he grumbled under his breath, the tips of his ears showing a nice shade of red.
"I highly doubt it," Hermione chuckled, unable to keep herself from laughing a little at the situation, both at the present and the memory. "Have you even looked at Professor Moody since then?"
The glare he shot down at her was answer enough. As hard as she tried, Hermione couldn't quite hold back her grin and smirked up at the blonde wizard with a look just as cunning and witty as any other Slytherin in the school.
She was spun out and around again before he could reply. The strings of the orchestra picked up their pace as Hermione's dress fluttered out around her. Her feet and Malfoy's still moved in perfect sync, neither letting up until the song finally came to its final grand note.
One hand still resting on his shoulder, the other with their fingers almost completely intertwined, Hermione felt her smirk fall away into a real smile even as she tried to hide it. Malfoy, despite having a little color left in his cheeks, quirked the corner of his lips up in the hint of a grin.
She felt herself spin, almost as if she were airborne. Locking chestnut to silver eyes, the final step in their dance came with a quick descent in the music. All around, the soft smatter of applause echoed across the Hall, some groups panting slightly while others looked ready to scrub their hands with bleach.
Hermione paid it no mind as she tried to calm her racing heart.
Malfoy took a step back from her and let the hand that had been gripping her waist fall away. He brought the one still holding their hands together in front of them. The groups around them did the same and all mimicked the final departing gesture.
Lowering herself into a small curtsy, along with the rest of the ladies on the dance floor, Hermione's breath caught in her throat as Malfoy bowed forward.
In all honesty, she hadn't been expecting him to go through with it, in fear of potentially getting infested by Muggle-born germs.
But as Malfoy brought her hand up to his lips, shock like no other resounded through her, electrifying the spot on the back of her fingers that he bestowed with a gentle kiss.
It was short and didn't linger, but the soft press of his lips against her skin, not to mention the mere warmth of them, left a sort of tingle behind as he raised his head again and locked eyes with her.
Hermione figured it was normal for her heart to be pounding, especially after a dance as long as the one she had just endured.
Carefully retracting her hand back, she cleared her throat and tucked her hands behind her back. "Well, er…thank you, I guess."
Malfoy smirked again as he rose a pale brow at her. She took note, though, that it didn't hold the usual mockery or hidden sneer behind it. "Another thing I never thought I'd hear Hermione Granger say to me. Speaking of which, I'm still waiting for whatever compliment you had in mind."
Scoffing under her breath, she couldn't help the teasing grin that curled the corner of her lips up. "Only in your drea -"
"Draco!"
A high and shrill sing-song voice cut her short. Turning to look over her shoulder, Hermione watched as Pansy flounced up to the two and brushed past her like she wasn't even there. The moment she was at the blonde's side, the Slytherin girl latched her arm around his with a sly smile.
"I was looking for you the entire time," Pansy giggled, fluttering her lashes up at him. "I ended up with some older Ravenclaw, but you got paired with…her?"
Pansy's voice dropped in disgust as her eyes finally flickered towards Hermione, narrowing in on her dress and scanning her up and down like she was a pig for sale. Keeping her expression blank, she waited for whatever insult-concoction Pansy was brewing in her mind.
"Ew, do you need something to wipe your hands off with?" she grimaced, looking back up at Draco with wide, doe eyes. "I have a hanky you could borrow, and you're welcome to keep it if you like."
Hermione wasn't sure whether she felt like hurling up the contents of her churning stomach or washing her eyes out with soap.
"Daphne and the rest of them were going to get us a table again," Pansy grinned, snuggling up to Malfoy's side. "Why don't you come and join us? At least you won't have to be around that anymore."
She made a show of gesturing in Hermione's direction, referring to her as more of a thing than an actual witch.
"Well, then don't let me keep you waiting," Hermione snapped in reply. The look she shot the girl could have burned down the whole of the Hogwarts library. Physically biting down on her tongue to keep her words in check, she balled her hands into fists behind her back as she kept a calm and cool composure.
A means of not only showing civility between the schools, but also to show reformed unity from the students.
McGonagall's words echoed back in her head as she gave each of them a curt nod. "Enjoy the rest of the ball, and…thanks again for the dance, Malfoy."
Hermione couldn't hide the fact that she took mild pleasure in the way Pansy's mouth nearly hit the floor, her eyes going wide as if she had just slapped her clean across the face. Malfoy, who had remained silent through the whole endeavor and seemed to be trying to find a way to loosen Pansy's hold from around his arm before she suffocated it, only cocked a blonde brow at her again.
She wasn't sure whether or not she imagined the small twitch in his lip, barely pulling them into a smile.
Turning on her heel, Hermione weaved her way through the few students still left on the dance floor. Most had returned to their respectable groups while others hesitantly joined in on conversations with students from different houses. The sight made something in her chest feel a bit lighter.
It was quickly short-lived as she scanned her eyes over the students in search of Viktor.
Instead, she only came face to face with one Ronald Weasley. And he was livid.
Pure, bubbling hatred flashed back at her as Ron stepped into her path near the Entrance Hall, a way out of ear-shot from many of their peers. Pausing in front of him, she saw the red color staining his ears, the clenched muscles in his jaw, and the fiery glare that could have burnt two holes through her head.
Clearly, he hadn't been happy to have a forced dancing partner to begin with. Hers, however, pissed him off on another level entirely.
"Why were you dancing with him?" he seethed, eyes flashing from her to someone over her shoulder.
"With who?" Hermione returned. It was a stupid question, but she already knew the conversation was about to head South from there.
"Malfoy," the red-head hissed. "How could you dance with him, Hermione? You told me and Harry you were going to stay away from them!"
"When did I ever say that?" she snapped, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Do not think that you can turn my words against me, Ronald. I said that if you didn't want to dance with another student from Slytherin, that was your choice and your choice alone. No one was going to force you to pick someone you didn't want to dance with - "
"Oh, so you wanted to dance with Malfoy then?" Ron scowled. Hermione felt her hands ball up at her sides again. This was not how she was going to end the evening.
"Professor Dumbledore asked us to dance with one another and I didn't see any reason why I needed to argue with him," she replied, trying to give her voice steady and quiet enough she wouldn't attract other attention. "For Merlin's sake, it was just one song."
"That's bad enough!" he grumbled, his glare returning full force after momentarily glancing away. "Look, Malfoy is and always has been bad news. If you think you're about to get all close and personal with him because of that bloody 'house unity' thing McGonagall was telling us about - "
"Ron, what on earth are you talking about?" Hermione shrieked, her patience down to its last nerve. "I danced with him once - a singular time - and you assume that I'm suddenly, what, trying to become his best friend? Our professors wanted to take this time to try and show that we can be civil with foreign students just the same as we can with our own classmates! That's it!"
"Yeah right," Ron scoffed, taking a step away from her. "It's bad enough your trying to turn against Harry so Vicky can win this tournament - "
"Ron, what - "
"But fraternizing with Malfoy too? Come on, one's a Durmstrang for Merlin's sake and the other is a spoiled, Slytherin git."
"RONALD WEASLEY!"
Hermione's voice carried and echoed around the walls of the Entrance Hall. She was thankful for the clatter of plates, silverware, and the preparations being made for the next upcoming portion of the night (she could have sworn she heard something about a wizarding band called the Weird Sisters). Nonetheless, a few students lingering around the entrance turned and gave her an odd look.
Her hands were shaking as she brought a finger up into his chest and gave him a firm poke. "I don't know what has gotten into you this evening, but I for one am sick of it! It is not your job to tell me who I can and can't attend a ball with, you don't get to be the one to decide who I dance with, and I will not tolerate you berating either of them like their monsters any longer."
Taking a deep breath, she prepared herself for her speech as Ron stood frozen in place, eyes wide and mouth slightly dangling open. "Viktor has been nothing but kind to me the times I've gone in to tutor him. Sure, talking about quidditch can sometimes be a little dull for me, but that has not stopped either one of us from enjoying the other's company. He asked me to the ball as his date because he chose to, and not as some dingy last resort because there was no one else to go with!"
"As it goes with Malfoy, I will admit I was not thrilled to have to be the one to close out the evening with him, and he felt the same way about me. Neither of us wanted to at first, but I'm not going to stand here and lie and tell you that it was the most miserable I've ever felt in my entire life. For what it was worth, he was not the most despicable person in the room and was actually civil with me. It isn't utter rubbish to think that people from a different house can be just as civil as your closest friends are, especially if that house happens to be Slytherin."
"My point here is that you are not the one who can dictate my choices for me, and I'm not going to let you hammer down the people I've spent my evening with because you couldn't ask me here yourself!"
Slightly panting, Hermione brushed a few loose strands of hair out of her face as she tried to calm her racing heart. Everything that had built up over the course of the evening she had just unleashed on one of her best friends. He was still awe-struck and hadn't moved from his place, his eyes unblinking as he watched her take a deep breath.
"They were my choices, Ronald," she whispered. "I'm sorry if you can't accept that."
Glancing up at him one final time, Hermione turned away from him and made her way away from the Great Hall.
She needed to clear her head and quiet her thoughts. A weight felt like it had been lifted off of her shoulders that she had finally confronted him about his actions and attitude towards her; it was so un-Ron-like for him to question her every move, scold her every idea, judge her every choice.
One might call it jealousy, and Hermione sighed at the notion. There was nothing for him to be jealous of to begin with, especially if he was worried about Viktor becoming a permanent part of her life, or Malfoy suddenly acting like a civil human being.
They were people with magical blood, just like her. One so-happened to play quidditch as a professional sport, whom Ron actually seemed to fancy his work in. The other was known as the boy who had been turned into a white ferret after confronting Ron's best friend. She shook her head at Ron's reaction to one simple dance - nothing had gone down other than them talking.
She assured herself of that.
Looking over her shoulder to make sure she wasn't being followed, and that Filch wasn't about to jump out around a corner and catch her out of the party, Hermione sighed as she walked out into the grassy courtyard. She hugged her arms around her chest as a cool breeze blew through the area, rustling her dress with the promise of a Christmas snow fall soon to come.
Taking a seat on one of the stone benches, Hermione leaned forward on her knees and ducked her head down towards her chest. Everything was supposed to have run smoothly tonight, whereas everything that could have gone wrong seemed like it had. Ron was angry with her, Harry seemed mildly unbothered and caught up on wooing Cho, Viktor was most likely either looking for her or had found another girl to sweep off her feet. And with the prospect of Malfoy now in the running of what had thrown her night onto its roller-coaster loop, she considered her time with the blonde wizard in question.
She was shocked to say the least.
Malfoy hadn't said a word about her heritage or her blood. He hadn't thrown too many harsh insults her way, and even the ones he had managed to get out in regards to her two best friends were mild. He had teased her, smiled at her, and even went so far as to reassure her why she didn't have to lower her expectations of herself when it came to advice on her love life.
Hermione couldn't help but snort under her breath.
The world had turned over on its head seeing as she was the one getting it from Draco Malfoy.
Lifting her head again, Hermione looked around the desolate and quiet courtyard as the distant thrum of an electric guitar floated through the corridors, along with the suddenly bursting excitement from the students.
That, and the approaching footsteps.
Whipping her head around, shock overcame Hermione for what felt like the hundredth time that evening.
Stepping out of the opening leading towards one of the corridors, Malfoy heaved a heavy sigh and ran a hand through his hair and down the side of his face. Glancing up at the sky, his silver eyes dimly reflected the glow of the moon encasing the entire castle in a winter wonderland feel.
Unable to tear her eyes away, she took note of the rumples across his dress shirt and his robe hanging over his shoulder. All in all, he didn't look like he had just come from a party he had highly enjoyed.
A small part of her wondered and worried if she was to blame. Clearing her throat, she straightened up on the bench and called, "Are you following me, Malfoy?"
The blonde's eyes snapped down to her, clearly taken aback that someone else was out there. Blaming the dark on her untrustworthy vision, Hermione brushed aside the idea she had seen his shoulders sag in relief.
"You can keep telling yourself that," Malfoy replied, sauntering towards her and stopping a few feet away. "But I wouldn't flatter yourself, Granger."
Hermione crossed her arms over her chest as a shiver went through her spine. The brisk air shot another nasty gust of wind down the center of the courtyard, ruffling his blonde hair that already looked to have been messed with since the last time she danced with him.
"So," she started, shrugging her shoulders as he stared down at her. "What brings you out here? Didn't feel like catching up with everyone else?"
What could have been a grimace crossed Malfoy's expression and twisted his mouth back into a scowl. "You could say that."
"Or perhaps just a singular someone," Hermione suggested carefully. Not wanting to insult him and break their short streak of holding decent if not civil conversation with each other, she hoped she hadn't thrown everything out the window.
To her surprise, Malfoy snorted as if in agreement.
"Yes, a singular someone," he sighed. "I thought you said you weren't interested in my love life."
"I'm not," she shot back.
"Then why so curious?"
"It was actually a statement."
"That's practically the same thing."
"Did you ever actually have any real intention of telling me or were you just trying to get a rise out of me?" Hermione asked, her tone coming out as more of a jab than she intended.
Malfoy didn't seem to take it to heart and only smirked down at her. After a beat of silence, he reached up and slung his robe down from around his shoulders and tucked it over his forearm.
"Let's just say I got cornered," he muttered, glancing away from her as a twinge of pink appeared at the tips of his ears again.
"Cornered?"
"Under that bloody plant," Malfoy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose like he was fighting off a tremendous headache. His rumpled appearance suddenly made more sense as Hermione's eyes widened in understanding - mistletoe, to more people than one, was a curse more than it was a Christmas blessing. "Pansy isn't a bad friend, but in regards to stuff like that, it's…well…"
He physically shook his head and shuddered at the memory.
Hermione couldn't get her hand up to her mouth in time before a bit of an uncontrollable laugh bubbled over.
The image of Malfoy "trapped" under the mistletoe with Pansy Parkinson was not one she had ever thought to imagine, but at his sulky appearance and his feedback to their shared moment together, she couldn't help but chuckle at the premise of it all.
"Let me guess," Hermione remarked, trying to keep her face passive as she pressed her lips into a thin line to hide her smile. "You're out here to hide?"
"No, not at all," Malfoy scoffed, readjusting his robe again. "I think 'get away for a while' is a much better term for it."
The cool temperature didn't seem to bother him in the least, and the reminder of the warm feeling of his lips against her skin sent a tingle back down to her fingertips, and a scolding to her mind for thinking such things. Glancing away to conceal the flush threatening to crawl up her neck and stain her cheeks pink, Hermione quickly cleared her throat and tried to focus on the distant music echoing down the halls, the one playing being very different from the one they had danced to earlier.
"Well, you might want to get away for only a minute or two," she exclaimed, gesturing in the direction of the corridor. "You'll miss the entire performance."
"I wasn't going to be gone for long," Malfoy shrugged, glancing away from her and down to the end of the bench she wasn't occupying. Ducking his head down and looking away, she heard him mutter, "Well, do you mind if I wait out here for a little?"
Surprised that he was asking for her permission, and not immediately barging in on the time she had taken to herself, Hermione slowly nodded her head and scooted over on the bench leaving more room for him.
Malfoy looked back up at her and towards the room she had made for him, and he hesitated on his first step forward. His eyes flickered back to her as if checking that she knew exactly what she was doing, Hermione gave him another small nod and turned her attention forward as he released a sigh and closed the rest of the distance between them.
Sinking down on the seat beside her, Hermione was overcome with the mere oddity that the night of the Yule Ball had turned out to be for her. Starting with the fact she, out of all others, was asked to be the date of Viktor Krum, it sent the ball rolling on a night she knew she would never forget. A few dances here, a small fight there, and she found herself in the arms of one Draco Malfoy as the two danced in a strange harmony together, the usual tension that had built up between them over the last three years slowly and gradually coming down.
To the point she was at now, she didn't know whether to be shocked or astonished that the final moments of her evening were still going to be spent in his company.
"You can stay for only a little while, Draco," she muttered, catching his eye as he glanced up at her with evident surprise written across his face. Offering the smallest hint of a smile, Hermione shook her head and glanced back at the hallway leading back to the Great Hall. "Just one song, though."
Shock still written behind two silver eyes, he slowly gave a single nod and was the first to look ahead again.
Hermione missed the twitch in his lips up again, hidden from view as she turned to face the empty courtyard.
"Alright Granger," he replied softly. "Just one song."
Hey y'all!
I hope you guys enjoyed this little one-shot that turned out to be a lot longer than I intended it to be, but nonetheless if you've reached this point, thank you so much for reading! Majority of this was written between 12:00AM-3:30AM, so if there are any major grammatical errors, my apologies!
As always, I hope every one of you lovely readers has a magnificent morning, afternoon, evening, or night!
-Summerwinds :)