The day of the Yule Ball, everything was in order. Hermione ran around, making sure that everything was ready in time for that night. Her brain was frazzled; she'd been working on this for so long. Fat lot of help Draco was too. The guy was never around, and when he was, he was distant, cold. Having Ron and Harry helping her wasn't very helpful either. They would get into fights with him, baiting him to get angry and lash out at them verbally. Finally, she'd just thrown them all out, told them she could do it better herself.

Draco, she'd sent to do the entrance to the Great Hall, Harry and Ron she'd sent to check on the house elves and the menu. It was more just to keep them preoccupied than anything but anything to get them out of her hair was perfectly fine with her. She turned back to the great task of decorating the hall. Motioning with her wand, she sent streamers flying into the air to weave themselves around the rafters.

"Miss Granger," Headmaster Dumbledor called, coming towards her. "I would like to congratulate you on your hard work here for the Yule Ball. It is going to be magnificent. But where, pray tell, is the Head Boy, Draco Malfoy, if I remember correctly? Yes, that's the one."

She sighed. "I had him doing the entrance to the Great Hall but if he's not there, I don't know where he is. Honestly, I don't think his head is here and now."

He smiled, patting her comfortingly on the shoulder. "He has already finished the entrance and it looks lovely. And how can any man think when he has to prepare a special night for his lady love?"

"Pardon me?" she asked, trying to sound convincingly confused. "He's what?"

His eyes twinkled. "Tonight will be a big night for him, I imagine. A lot to make up for. But that's beside the point. I would like to congratulate you again on your decorating and organizing of this project… thank you." He patted her again then glided off towards another group.

She stared after him, wondering, not for the first time, how he always seemed to know what was going on everywhere.

Draco paced back and forth in the Slytherin common room angrily. He had no idea what to do for Hermione for the Yule Ball to show her that he loved her. Nothing. He could come up with nothing to do to show her that he was sorry and that he'd changed and that-

Crabbe and Goyle started to argue loudly over who got the last cupcake.

"Shut up!" he bellowed. "Can't you see that I'm trying to concentrate here?"

They stopped, looking up at him apologetically.

"Sorry, Draco," they mumbled in unison.

Crabbe looked at him in confusion. "What's wrong with you anyway?"

Draco raised an eyebrow at him. "Why's it any of your business, you nosy fat bastard," he snapped, spinning on his heel to glare into the fire.

Crabbe looked confused again and Goyle took this opportunity to steal the last cupcake.

"What do you mean by that?" Crabbe finally asked.

Draco stared at him. "Forget it. I'm leaving. I need air." He stalked out of the common room and headed for the stairs. His favourite place to think, other than up in the air with a broomstick, was the South Tower. Tonight, he had too much to think about, too much distracting him. He brushed the thoughts aside and took a deep breath of the cold air. That was better. The Slytherin common room was dank and musty, always so dismal and disgusting. Up here, he could think, could send his thoughts out into the air and not have to worry about two blithering idiots like Crabbe and Goyle, who he only kept around because of their muscle. He breathed in, leaning out against the railing and looking down on the grounds.

Below, he could see the Whomping Willow swaying as if by wind (he knew better though), Hagrid's cottage (small thing that it was, it looked crude), the dark Herbology greenhouses, and the sparkling waters of the lake in the dimming light.

When he looked up, he could see the horizon stretching out in front of him and if he concentrated hard enough, he could almost picture London, his house, his mother probably sitting by a warm fire – she always seemed to be cold.

He looked down again. A small figure was walking slowly out, a girl, he surmised. She looked up and he realized it was Hermione. What was she doing outside by herself? As he watched, she went to Hagrid's cottage. A few minutes later, she exited, carrying a bundle of sticks under her arm. She looked so fragile and beautiful, with her hair blowing softly in the evening wind and her cheeks rosy from the cold. He let out his breath slowly. Tonight was going to be perfect, even if he killed himself trying.

As night became nearer and nearer, Hermione became more and more nervous. What was Draco planning?

"Here, Hermione! Help me put my hair up!" Lavender called from across the room.

Hermione looked up. "Why don't you just use magic?" she asked but stood up nevertheless and walked towards the other girl, taking the long blond hair in her hands.

"Because you do it way better than any magic can!" the girl whined. "I'm so glad you decided to go with Draco. Dean's such a wonderful guy! Thank you!"

Hermione turned pink. "Don't worry about it." When she decided to go with Draco, she'd used a few well-placed comments to convince Dean to ask Lavender and to convince Lavender that Dean was the greatest guy in the world. It had worked much better than she'd thought. The girl wouldn't shut up about him. It was now turning really annoying.

"There. Done," she said, giving Lavender's head a final pat. "Now I have to get ready." She went back to her vanity. She was wearing her periwinkle-blue dress robe again – it still fit her, her hair was magically put up in a French twist, and her make-up was perfectly done. She sighed, looking at herself in the mirror. "What am I doing?"

Her reflection looked blankly back and the mirror replied,

"Going to the ball, of course… you look lovely, by the way. Have a nice time."

"Thank you." She got up and went down towards the Gryffindor common room, where she met Harry and Ginny. "Hey you two. All ready?"

They nodded.
            "Are you?" Ginny asked, her brow wrinkling.

She nodded. "Have you seen him yet?"

"Outside," Harry replied, jerking his head towards the portrait entrance.

"Thanks."

"Have fun."

"Thanks," she said again, making her way to the entrance.

The portrait swung open to show Draco, his back to her, studying a painting, his hands clasped behind his back.

He turned around and she let out the breath she didn't even know she'd been holding.

He'd changed so much since first year, they both had. His blond hair, which used to be long and slicked back, was now short and usually spiked, like tonight. His physique had also changed, he used to need Crabbe and Goyle to seem intimdating but after years of exercise and Quidditch, he was over six feet and well muscled. He was now intimidating to all because of his physical appearance and wit. In his dark green robes, and serious look, he seemed much older than his eighteen years.

"Aren't you going to say something?"

She came back to reality with a thump, realizing he'd been talking. "What?"

"I said, 'are you ready to go?'"

She shook her head to clear it of her fanctasies she was having about him. "Yes, of course."

"You look beautiful, by the way," he added, holding out his arm.

She took it and they started for the Great Hall. "So do you… handsome, I mean." She blushed, her cheeks growing hot.

He smiled, flashing her his straight white teeth. "Thank you."

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Okay, that's it for now… sorry about the delay… I've been really busy, it's the end of school and I ran out of ideas so hope you enjoyed it and please review!!!