As always, muchos gracias to my charming and ever-enthusiastic beta-reader of doom, Valkyrja, who takes time out of writing her own ficlet to help me along out of her love for Draco, a fellow sailor on the SS Leather Trousers.
Disclaimer: Me? Own anything vaguely resembling the Potterverse? Why, you mistake me for JK Rowling, the amazing, beautiful, talented woman that she is and whose books I am barely worthy to read!
Chapter IV:
Pride
"If you'll just consider this-even if it don't make sense
All the time-give it time
And when the crowd becomes your burden
And you've early closed your curtains,
I'll wait by the backstage door
While you try to find the lines to speak your mind
And pry it open, hoping for an encore
And if it gets too late, for me wait
For you to find you love me, and tell me so
It's ok, don't need to say it."
~Fiona Apple, "I Know"
I would have been dead wrong.
The Great Hall was filled with laughter, raucous and infectious. The Gryffindors had all found one another with ease once the spell had lifted, and were gathered around each other. Harry had removed his Phantom mask and Ginny was teasing Ron about his Viking horns as Seamus tried not to stare at her too much, blushing beneath his blue woad.
"Where's Mione? I thought she would have found us by now," said Harry, nudging Seamus in the ribs.
"What was her costume?" he asked, rubbing his side.
"She was an angel," Ginny pipped up, giggling a little watching Harry and Seamus.
"I did dance with her, then," Ron said, and there were a few nods, including Harry, Seamus, Colin and Dean.
"I didn't realise that was her," Dean said. "She was really goregous." More nods to this statement as well.
"And what about me?" Ginny asked, pouting as Dean went crimson.
"You're just amazing, Ginny," Colin told her, making her laugh again.
Harry frowned a little. "But where is she? She wouldn't have left, would she?"
"She didn't seem really enthused about the whole thing," Ron said, and both Harry and Ginny frowned.
"Look, I'll go check the Common Room and everything, okay? You guys...figure something out," Ginny told him, and with a toss of her fiery mane, she slipped through the crowd, away from the gawking boys she left devastated in her wake.
"Ron, your sister-" Seamus started, but before he could finish, Harry jabbed him in the ribs.
"Knock it off, Seamus. Look, Ron and I will scout around outside. You guys look around the Great Hall and the castle, okay?" Harry, as usual, took charge, giving Seamus a glare. A general consent, and Harry and Ron struck off towards the grounds.
"I don't know why she would have run off," Ron said irritably, taking off his helmet. "I wanted to be able to see her at midnight."
"I don't know, either, Ron," Harry told him, though his heart wasn't really in it. He'd hoped to see Hermione, too. In all honesty, he had some things he wanted to tell her. If what Ginny had been saying was true, then it seemed that Hermione and Ron were heading straight for disaster. Although how to tell either of them that would be an exercise in tact. Harry wasn't sure if he had enough tact to do that. "Look, do you think Mione's really happy?" he asked.
"Sure!" Ron was scouting about, trying to pick out a pair of wings. "Dammit, I have no idea where she might be."
"Ron, listen. I don't think...and well, Ginny agrees with me...I mean, she cries a lot, and she's quieter than usual..."
"She's just overwhelmed. My sister likes to read romance novels." Ron scowled.
"I'm not so sure about that," Harry replied softly, and Ron stopped abruptly.
"Look, Harry, I don't know what you're getting at. I've told you, I'm head over heels for her, and I know she feels the same way for me."
"But what if she doesn't? This is your future, both of you! How do you know, did you bother to ask her?"
"She wouldn't have agreed to marry me if she didn't love me!" Ron thundered back.
"Ron, stop it," Harry said suddenly, and he put his hands on his friend's shoulders, looking him in the eyes. "You talk for Mione a lot, don't you realise? You tell her what she's thinking and it bothers me and Gin that she's stopped telling you off when you do it. Did you stop to think that you told her what she was thinking when you asked her to marry you?"
Ron was quiet for a long moment, considering this, his eyes darting from Harry to the ground and back again. "I think you and Gin are overreacting," he said at length, shrugging out of Harry's light grasp.
"No, we really aren't," Harry protested. "You've got to be honest with yourself!"
"I think you're just jealous," Ron shot back, beginning to walk away. "You're jealous of Hermione and I, that's what's eating at you."
"Ron!" Harry was slowly reaching the end of his rope with this track of conversation. "I am not." He hurried to catch up with Ron, drawing closer to the lake as they argued. It glittered silver in the moonlight, and there was more than one couple there.
"I think you are. Why else would you think of all this stuff? And my sister...she's my sister. She'll listen to anything you say."
"She's the one who suggested it to me!"
"And you believe her?"
"Well, I mean she's with Mione all the time and...."
"And she has crazy ideas!"
"Ginny does not!" Harry sighed. He didn't have enough tact to do this, after all, and he wasn't too keen on getting into a fight now, not with Ron. "Right. Look, let's just find her, okay? Make sure she hasn't gotten into too much trouble."
Hermione, had she been in her right mind, would have pulled away by now. But, she realised, she wasn't in her right mind. She was sitting on a log by the lake with her arms about the neck of Draco Malfoy, and he with his arms about her. They stared at each other in abject shock.
"I really don't know what to say," he repeated, and Hermione was surprised to note that the supercilious air with which he usually carried himself seemed to have disappeared.
"You said that once already," she offered quietly.
"And you aren't pulling away and screaming. Which one of us is more daft, you or me?" he asked, a tinge of humour in his tone.
"Point taken."
Draco chuckled a little. Hermione could still hear the silver in his voice, reflected in his eyes. "You know what the craziest thing about this actually is?" he asked softly.
"I could think of a few things, but try me."
"I still want to do this," he answered. Before Hermione knew exactly what he was going on about, he was kissing her again, gently. Hermione would have sworn that Draco was not capable of anything that was gentle, nor capable of the kindness, the utter gentility he'd shown to her. It was, she realised as she kissed him back, a night of surprises. The fact that she was kissing him back, however, wasn't a surprise, not to her. Despite knowing who her knight errant was, his kisses were still delicious, touching a core of desire in her she scarcely knew existed, leaving her dizzy and breathless. Dimly, Hermione realised she was shivering, though whether from the night air or his touch, she didn't know.
"You're cold," he said softly, and it wasn't a question so much as a statement as he broke the kiss.
"A little," Hermione admitted, and she was surprised when Draco pulled his arms from about her and unfastened his cloak. Carefully, he wrapped her in it, and slid his arm about her waist. Hermione didn't protest either.
"I suppose this means something," he observed, taking off his mask.
"It means a lot of things." Hermione did the same, taking the time to look at him as he gazed out at the water. His profile was delicate, that was the only word for it. An expressive mouth matched with equally expressive eyes, eyes up until tonight she'd seen only filled with malice or anger. The change, she noted, was remarkable. They glittered silver with the reflected light of the moon, and his colour was like that of fresh cream. Yes, she realised, this is why girls have a crush on him despite how he acts. He's gorgeous like this.
"I've been wrong."
Hermione was more startled to hear this out of his mouth than to be kissed by him. "What?" she asked softly.
"Oh, sure, now you can go tell Potter and Weasley you heard me admit I'm wrong," he replied, the bitterness creeping back into his voice and eyes.
"No, no, no," she said softly, soothingly. "I just wanted to know what you think you were wrong about." Hermione could rattle off a list of possibilities, but this side of Draco intrigued her.
He turned his head to look at her, something softening in his expression as he saw her without the mask. "I thought you were an insufferable know-it-all, and then Weasley's boring little girlfriend, and finally our perfect Head Girl, but that's not it. You wear masks, Hermione."
It was startling to hear him call her by her given name, not just Granger as he usually did when forced to refer to her at all. "No, I don't."
"Yes, you do," he insisted. "You play all those parts time and time again, and the one night you're out here with a complete stranger actually wearing a mask, you're more honest than ever. I've watched you. I watch a lot of people. Part of the whole 'I'm creepy, I'm a Slytherin and I'm a Malfoy' routine. But I never really saw it until tonight."
"I do what I have to do," she replied, feeling almost empty.
"No, you do what you think you have to do. You don't love Weasley, you just told me as much before the revalations of midnight rolled around. So why wear the dutiful girlfriend mask?"
"Fiancée," she corrected, holding out her left hand with the topaz.
Draco made a disapproving noise and shook his head. "Typical. No taste in jewellery. A topaz? And in that kind of setting? What was he thinking?"
"My sentiments, exactly." It was more than slightly odd to sit here and talk about Ron with Draco Malfoy, and then about his taste in jewellery.
"I would think something other than white gold, and let's not touch the stone choice here. At least a better setting, honestly, or a different cut...maybe a marquis, but definitely not princess. Weasley doesn't have a clue, does he?"
"No," Hermione admitted, "none at all. Not about me."
"Then why suffer it? Why not throw that ring at his feet and find your Prince Charming somewhere else?"
"I can't...and there is no Prince Charming, that's a dumb fairytale they tell girls to make them passive."
"You seem to have bought the passivity routine, then."
An angry retort was on her lips, and Hermione was flushed until she realised within a split-second that he was right. "Since I started being with Ron, I suppose so."
"You could do better."
"Ron's a nice guy!" Hermione protested almost immediately. "Sweet and kind, and he's always there-"
"Then why are you miserable if he's so magnificent? Look, I hate doing the advice thing, and why I'm still sitting here with you, I'll never know and I'll never hear the last of it. But Hermione, you've got to open your eyes. Take off that mask. I like you without it."
That was almost too much for Hermione. "You like me without it? Me, a mudblood? You tormented me for years, Draco! I wasn't good enough for you and your pureblooded ideas! And now you like me without it!"
"I told you I was wrong! Wrong about a lot of things. Wrong about you." The last sentence was almost inaudible, and Hermione almost didn't catch it. He was looking out at the water again, as if embarassed by his sudden revalation and confession.
"I think I might have been wrong, too," she told him softly.
"No," he corrected her, "you're still right about me. I'm still a miserable, insufferable git who thinks he's better than a lot of people. I still am mean, I'm still a prat who has to get his own way. It's a Malfoy thing."
"I don't think you are."
He looked at her again, something uncertain in her silvery eyes. "Why not?"
"If you were, you would have left to brag about how you got a cheap feel by the lake and gossip about how Granger and Weasley aren't as perfect as they want the world to think they are. You would have delighted in my misery, not tried to get me to walk away from it."
"I still think you ought to," he said.
"Ought to what?"
"Walk away. Find a different boyfriend."
Hermione chuckled. "Like who?"
"Well...." Draco paused. "Granted, we can't all be blessed with the amazing looks I happen to have, as well as natural talent, charm and a pedigree longer than my left leg, but Potter is a step up."
Hermione laughed at that, her cheeks flushing. "This coming from you is nothing short of a miracle."
Draco rubbed the back of his neck, almost awkwardly. "Yes, well, he's not exactly my first choice, either."
"Who is your first choice, then?"
Draco frowned a little. "I thought I knew."
"Don't you?" Hermione asked, leaning a little closer as they talked.
"Not anymore." Once more, he bridged the distance between them to claim her lips with his own. Hermione didn't resist, quite the contrary; she clutched tighter to him, the kiss she returned searching, questioning, as if she could know him, understand him simply through that act alone. Hermione felt as if she could, as if she knew him better in that moment than she'd ever known Ron. She was a part of him.
"Oh, my God," Harry said softly, his eyes towards the lake, fixed on a pair of lovers bathed in the moonlight. One silver-haired, the other chestnut, and he could tell there was a pair of wings beneath the cloak. Hermione and...Draco? "Ron," Harry croaked, but before he could say anything more, Ron seemed to embody the Viking costume he wore. He drew himself up, and Harry saw colour flush his face, direct evidence that he was furious. This, Harry realised, was going to be awful.
"Get your dirty hands off of her, you bastard!" Ron roared, launching himself towards a startled Hermione and Draco. Draco pulled away from Hermione, and just as he began to rise to meet the enraged Weasley, Ron tackled him about the waist, sending the pair head over feet down the bank and into the lake with a terrific splash. Hermione screamed, and Harry, quick as ever, was following them down to the water's edge. He wasn't quite sure if he wanted to break up the fight, or break Draco's face. Ron had already landed a solid punch to Draco's cheek, and Draco, for his part, had managed to squirm away and nail Ron in the nose with a resounding crunch of broken bones. Tempers flared and insults were traded between blows as Harry tried to worm his way between the two, taking the opprotunity to swing at Draco whenever it came up. He was surprised by Draco's dexterity, though he shouldn't have been. They had faced off enough times on the Quidditch pitch, and Draco was just as quick there as he was here. Harry was distinctly waterlogged, his cloak slowing him down, and Ron was never very nimble to begin with, and while enraged, even less so. Draco had the upper hand, and cracked Harry in the eye with ease, the leather gloves stinging more that skin. Finally, Hermione ran to the water, and pulled back Draco's arm.
"Enough!" she cried, and Draco turned. He was bedraggled, and his pale cheek was already beginning to bruise. Hermione's heart nearly broke to look at him like that, to look at Ron with a bloody nose, and disheveled and soaked Harry. Draco's cloak had been left behind, and her satin skirts soaked up the water, giving the angel an air of Ophelia as well. "Just stop it, both of you," she said, softly.
"Hermione, what the hell is going on here?" demanded Ron, storming over to her, but Draco held up his hand, and Harry held Ron back, wanting to see where this went.
"I am going to rust if I stand here much longer, Weasley. And she'll freeze," Draco announced, the familiar draw returning to his voice. He looked at Hermione, who was already beginning to shiver, and nodded a little. Offering her a hand, he helped Hermione out of the water, then stepped up onto the bank himself. Ron and Harry, dumbfounded, remained frozen where they were. Draco looked at them, and sniffed derisively before turning his attention back to Hermione. "Get yourself dry and warm." Picking up his cloak he draped it around her shoulders. "Goodnight, Hermione," Draco said softly, taking her hand and squeezing it a little before marching stiffly towards the castle.
"What was that?" Ron finally demanded of Hermione, hauling himself out of the water as Harry did likewise. "What happened here? What were you two doing?"
Hermione drew herself up, pulling Draco's cloak more tightly about her. "What the hell do you care, Ronald Weasley?" she spat at him before turning herself and marching to the castle.
"Harry?" Ron asked, turning to his dripping friend.
Harry shook his head. It seemed things were falling apart faster than either he or Ginny imagined. Now all he could do was get them both patched up. Ron's nose was bleeding, and his lip was split, and Harry was nursing a black eye. "C'mon, Ron the Red. There's nothing we can do tonight. And your nose is at an interesting angle."
Ron scowled. "We could go ambush him."
Harry shook his head, wringing out his cloak. "He's expecting that. Let's get patched up. We'll figure this out in the morning."
I am in heaven, yet in hell. Exstacy and torture all at once, and I am deliriously happy, moreso than I can ever recall being. And all because of the Masquerade, my mask and Draco. I must be mad. Ginny certainly thinks I am. She helped me get out of the wings, and only asked if I was alright. I think she knows something happened. I just don't think she knows what. I thought a shower and a return to my normal clothes, my pyjamas and dressing gown would make the world seem normal again, but it doesn't. I'm so glad. I couldn't bear normal life, not after this. Ron's ring is sitting in my jewelery box, along with the necklace he gave me and the rose petals. I can't wear it now, not with Draco's kisses still burning on my lips. He suggested I find a new boyfriend. Harry, he told me, was a step up. But I wonder if he was suggesting someone different… I am mad, I must be. He's been our enemy for so long…how in one night has the world changed so drastically? How have we both become different people with one kiss? My world has changed, turned on its head and I should dance for joy because of it. A gift given by a dragon whom I thought only breathes fire, but I found can speak honeyed words. A dragon who has changed, and who has changed me.
The world has shattered. I no longer see myself in the looking glass. And I'm glad.
**********
Oooh, guys and gaias, the eternal question-now what? Plots, plans and ruminations abound, along with messages, Hermione being told off finally and the Gryffindor War Council. This really is turning into "West Side Story". If I have Hermione break out into "Tonight" then permission is granted to remove me from the SS Leather Trousers. And how does a Weasley plan to unleash hell?
Faith (formerly Griff, I believe): I see you're not liking the pairing? I guess I needed a ship disclaimer. Keyara: I always need to see more Draco. It's a side-effect of my insanity. And thank you for the praise. AngieJ (aka Ebony): I'm simply honoured that you came by to read my humble fic. I could fall into the Draco/Ginny camp, but schnooglepuss in TiP just killed that for me. Barb LP: I try to make things plausible, and I depend on my beta read (*waves to Valkyrja*) and my reviewers to keep me from getting too far out in left field. And I'm glad you like my disclaimers.
