Title:
No Looking Back (I of IV)
Author: Miz
Thang
Characters/Pairing: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger,
Ensemble, HG/DM, RW/PP
Rating: FRM
Word Count:
4510
Warnings: Completely and utterly cliched. AU Year 7.
Not HBP-compatible.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything but
the little story's idea. Everything else belongs to who it belongs
to.
Summary: In Seventh Year, Head Boy and Head Girl,
Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger, are forced to attend a ball
together in their last few days at school. What results isn't
anything they'd ever expect.
Notes: For the Fantastic
Clichés And Why You Should Write Them Ficathon.
Requirements posted at the end. Amazingly, I signed up intending to
be completely and utterly serious, and what I've got is serious
with a side of funny. Especially from Harry, Ron and Pansy. And not
only that, but because of a massive dose of writers' block, it
became a three-part fic. Written for gleamingeyes.
I. The Mourning
"I am pleased to announce that we will be holding a ball in June for our fourth years and older." Headmaster Dumbledore announced, to which many whispers passed along the four table the students occupied. It had been a long few years as time went on, this year proving to be the worst when Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger were chosen as Head Boy and Head Girl. However, Albus Dumbledore was a wise old man, and therefore knew exactly what he'd been in for by forcing those two to share a common room for a full year of school.
"A ball?" Ron asked nervously, his mind taking him back more than three years to the disaster it had been then to find a date. He wasn't the only one wearing a look of fear, however. Many of his fellow Gryffindors wore the same look. "What do we need another ball for?"
Harry's only response was to shrug and Hermione glared at the both of them in annoyance (mainly because even as Head Girl, she hadn't been informed – and, from the look on Draco Malfoy's face across the hall, neither had he).
"This ball is very special, as you will all soon find out." Dumbledore continued.
"How special could it be? Girls, dancing, punch, boring." Seamus said with a roll of his eyes.
"For this ball, you all will be assigned your partner for the night. A partner from a different house." Dumbledore said, and more whispers spread like wildfire throughout the hall, only with a tinge of anger in the lowered voices, though some held disbelief that their dates would actually be chosen for them.
"Partners?" Seamus complained. "They're giving us partners? What if I get stuck with a Slytherin?"
"Loony Lovegood is worst than any Slytherin." Ron mumbled, only for Ginny to elbow him in the side. "What was that for?"
"Leave Luna alone. She's nice."
Ron decided not to reply to that, as Lavender gave a somewhat unlady like snort to Seamus' complaint. "Well, I can see why you'd be worried."
"Right." Dean said, dubious. "And why would that be so great for you?"
"Well, have you seen who's in that house?" Lavender asked. The boys continued to give her blank looks and she rolled her eyes. "Blaise Zabini. Very rich, very good-looking. And, not only that, but our dear Head Boy, Draco Malfoy. Even more rich, just as good-looking. Three hours with him and I'm set for life."
"Tell me we are not talking about this." Hermione said. "There is nothing infinitely great about Draco Malfoy. I should know."
"The one girl in all of the school who resists Malfoy's charms would be Hermione." Ron said as Dumbledore continued to drone on about the ball to come. He looked at his house mates. "You know what that means, Don't you?"
"…letters will be sent out to arrive tomorrow morning, revealing the name of your partner. These choices are irreversible. Magically picked by our very own sorting hat, in fact." Dumbledore said, close to finishing his speech. "So, please, don't try to exchange with others – it won't work."
Hermione sighed and decided to indulge Ron. "What does it mean?"
"He's likely your date." Ron then joined the others in filling their plates and eating their dinner. She really didn't understand why the entire lot of them had to act as if it were their last meal if they weren't going to do anything productive, such as going to library, doing research, or doing homework for once (how they made it to seventh year is beyond her).
Hermione of course wasn't in the mood to eat. What if Ron was right, and she really did have Malfoy? Then, instead of the three hours of a break she'd been thinking she'd get from him, she'd be stuck with him, pretty effectively, and of course she'd do it because she was Head Girl, a role model, after all. Someone for the younger years to look up to and -
"Harry," she waited for the boy to look up from his plate. "You don't think I got Malfoy, do you?"
Harry's eyes widened like a deer caught in the headlights before he got control over his facial expressions, settling on confidence he didn't actually have, and said, "Of course not, Hermione. Some other girl got him."
Hermione nodded, trying to reassure herself that the sorting hat had indeed given her a break for three hours.
-
Draco was almost terrified of who he'd get. At worst, he could get some mudblood who'd annoy him to no end. At even worst, he'd get one of those simpering idiotic girls who thought they were the one thing he needed in his life "to see the light and change his ways." What ways were they supposed to be changing, and what was wrong with his original thought process, anyway? If they didn't like it, they could find some other rich, nice boy to bother.
It almost made him wish he'd get Granger. She was Head Girl, not to mention his unwanted roommate, and he already spent much more time than he ever wanted to with her anyway. Besides, he already knew how much she could grate on his nerves in the span of twenty-four hours, so how much could one-eighth of that really matter?
Except it did. A lot.
"Malfoy." She greeted when he entered their common room. As usual, her nose was buried in a book and Draco idly wondered if there was anything else she could be doing – maybe she could get into an adventure with Potter and the Weasel, undoubtedly connected to Voldemort…and die. That way, maybe, just maybe, he could get a full eight hours of sleep without hearing a page turn in her room – or forbid she drop one of her heavy tomes in the middle of the night (guaranteed to spark many arguments between the two at two o'clock in the morning).
"Granger." He responded, and she rolled her eyes. He decided that, as he wanted to sleep soundly before his life was ruined tomorrow morning, that he'd let it go (because he knew Granger would drop a book later on, just to anger him).
…like he really had that much self control.
"Light reading, Granger?" he asked, eyeing the infinitely large book she had tucked into her lap. He wondered, if she fell asleep with it, if it would crush her and then – if that stupid hat had decided they would make perfect dates – he could go alone. Blissfully.
She eyed him suspiciously, before settling on, "Go bother someone else, Malfoy. I'm busy."
"Only if you say so." Draco replied sarcastically, a well-patented sneer on his face, which Hermione did not see because she'd already returned to her book.
Draco decided in the next instant that he'd rather not spend any more time than necessary in the same quarters as Hermione, and left the common room rather than retreat to his room. It wouldn't do any good to try doing his assignments when all he really wanted was to take one of her books and hit her with it. Repeatedly.
The portrait slammed closed behind him and he made his way through the dark halls of Hogwarts, his one and only destination Slytherin. It's not as if he'd even think of going to another house; Slytherin was the only house with girls that had sense enough not to bother him. It was likely that none of the seventh years had retreated to sleep yet and that he could have at least one decent conversation before he was forced to return to the company of Granger.
"Oh, but what if I got Potter?!" Pansy was asking, a horrified look on her face as Draco entered through the portrait; none of them had noticed him yet. "If I get Potter, I'll die!"
Daphne Greengrass, a usually quiet girl with dark skin, long hair and bright eyes, sighed as she reclined in her seat, legs crossed. "Oh, please. The worst Gryffindor by far has to be a close tie between Longbottom and Weasley."
"Don't tell me you're all talking about it as if you can do anything." Draco said, almost rolling his eyes as he took a seat in the common room.
Pansy's eyes lit up as they landed on him – he figured she thought he had some inside knowledge into who had who. And he didn't. He didn't even know who his own date was, much less Pansy's. "Well, I don't look forward to a ball if I have to spend it with anyone but a Slytherin. Gryffindors are stupid, Ravenclaws are boring, and Hufflepuffs don't even rate attention."
Blaise rolled his eyes this time, and Draco had the feeling that everyone had been forced to listen to Pansy since dinner ended. "Moving on to better topics…who do you think will get stuck with Granger? I feel sorry for him already."
"She'll probably want to talk about the minor errors in Hogwarts: A History." Pansy snorted.
"How do you know there are minor errors in Hogwarts: A History?" Draco asked. Pansy stopped laughing.
"You didn't answer the question, Draco." Blaise said a moment later.
Draco then noticed everyone was looking at him. He narrowed his eyes, looking at each of them in turn. "What?"
It only took him another moment to realize why they were all looking at him as if they may feel pity for him. "You think I've got Granger? The sorting hat can't be that stupid to let that happen."
Pansy raised an eyebrow. "A date with a mudblood. Lucky you."
"Granger is not my date."
"Right. And you know for sure because, why? You didn't even know there was a ball until dinner." Millicent said dubiously.
"I just am."
There was almost a tense silence, but Pansy broke it before it had the time to properly settle. "I've got Potter. I can feel it in my bones. I've got Potter."
Almost everyone heaved a simultaneous sigh and Draco none too nicely said to Pansy, "shut up."
She glared at him. "And who are you to tell me to shut up? You're just mad that everyone thinks you got Granger."
"I don't have her. So there's nothing for me to be mad at."
"We'll find out tomorrow, won't we?" Nott asked, speaking up for the first time in the entire conversation. He couldn't be bothered to care who his date was; just because he had to come to the ball with that person, didn't mean he had to spend the entire night with them; he'd learned that three years ago (of course it had been the other way around and Daphne had abandoned him to spend the end of the night with Anthony Goldstein, but he wasn't bitter about that at all – really).
None of the other Slytherins answered, thankfully, and blissful silence descended on the group.
-
Hermione didn't sleep very well that night. Mainly because her mind was completely occupied by the scary thought that Draco Malfoy would be her date to the ball. She hadn't even had the presence of mind to disturb his beauty sleep – and that was rare in itself.
By the time she had gotten out of bed, she was paranoid and almost definitely sure that Malfoy was indeed her date to the ball to be held in a few weeks, and that she would be tortured by his presence.
Ron only gave her a look when she arrived (late) to the Gryffindor table, and said, none too gently, "You look awful."
She gave him a look, sincerely hoping it contained all her distaste (because the fact that she even thought Malfoy had a chance of being her date was his fault). "Thank you, Ron. Really."
"I just…so, er, you didn't get any sleep last night either?" Ron asked.
Before Hermione could answer, the flurry of owls arrived and she watched as every person in the great hall straightened, afraid of who they'd get as a date. Hermione could almost feel the tension.
An owl landed before her on the table and she stared at it for a brief moment before she tentatively reached for the letter. Around her, the other Gryffindors opened their own letters with much trepidation. Well-deserved trepidation, in Hermione's opinion.
"Bloody hell." Ron muttered under his breath, sounding every bit as if his life had just ended. "I got Pansy Parkinson of all the girls in the entire school – "
"Ronald Weasley?!" A voice suddenly screeched from the Slytherin table; it was undoubtedly, unmistakably, Pansy Parkinson. And she did not sound happy. In fact, she sounded downright scandalized. "Of every boy, why must I be stuck with him?!"
"At least it wasn't Potter." Tracey said and she and Daphne burst into a fit of giggles at that; Pansy glared at them and they shut up abruptly, deciding it was better to not incur her wrath.
"Luna…Lovegood." Harry said to himself. He blinked at the sheet of parchment uncontrollably, almost as if he was attempting to will the letters to rearrange themselves into any other name in the world. Any other name in the universe. "Luna Lovegood."
"Harry," Luna called from her lonely seat at the Ravenclaw table. "I look forward to our night – perhaps afterwards we can go off in search of the elusive teedle tweedles? I've heard that it's their season."
Harry stared at the blonde-haired, blue-eyed Ravenclaw, jaw slack – and then he very resolutely banged his head on the table. Incessantly – that is, until Hermione thought it would be better to stop him. However, she supposed he'd rather be in a coma than at a ball with Luna as his date. Hermione almost felt bad for him, but, then again, she was currently contemplating the odds of her having Draco as a girl had yet to jump up and down screaming his name with glee.
"Hermione, aren't you going to open yours?" Ginny asked, an easy smile on her face. Hermione already knew the girl had Michael Corner – were they going out again?
Hermione shrugged her shoulders back and unfolded her letter carefully. She eased it out, her eyes quickly scanning the name. The letter fluttered from her fingers and Hermione almost fell out of her seat.
They wouldn't – they couldn't have – how could they just – Draco Malfoy? How could they give her Draco Malfoy?
-
"Padma Patil." Blaise said, a curious tone in his voice and an eyebrow raised. He folded the parchment and looked over to the Ravenclaw table; Padma grinned widely at him with a tiny wave and a wink. Blaise then decided that he'd be having a good time on the night of the ball, if no one else did.
Draco rolled his eyes, fingering his letter absently as Pansy (temporarily over the embarrassment of having Weasley for her date in the light of another's suffering) said, "Oh, look, Granger just had a panic attack."
"Hmm." Draco toyed with his letter a bit more before figuring he should just get it over with. He ignored the noisy and mostly disappointed voices in the great hall, concentrating on opening his envelope and slowly sliding the contents out with a large hope that it be any name but Hermione Granger on the parchment.
Tough luck for him. The Head Girl's name was written across the page in neatly flowing script, and Draco realized that he really was stuck with Granger at the ball.
"There is no way I'll stand for this." Draco said furiously, throwing the parchment onto the table and stalking out of the great hall without a backwards glance.
Pansy reached for the letter and almost laughed as she read the contents. Instead, she decided to spread the embarrassment and misery of this morning and yelled across the din of the great hall, "Hey, Granger! Don't do anything I wouldn't do with Draco!"
As predictable, the students all forgot about their own predicaments, instead focusing on someone else's and swiveling to stare at their Head Girl. Hermione threw a hateful glare in Pansy's direction before she herself beat a hasty retreat from the room.
Pansy grinned as Tracey complimented her on how evil she was. Pansy only said, "I like to spread the misery – I'm a giver."
-
Hermione didn't dare go back to her common room. She couldn't. Not only was there a chance that she'd run into Draco, but she'd be reminded just by being there that she was forced to attend her last event ever at Hogwarts with Draco Malfoy. She decided to spend the rest of her Saturday morning sulking around Gryffindor with her other unhappy housemates. It was a very rainy day, metaphorically speaking, for Hogwarts today.
Lavender herself sat dejectedly on the base of the stairs that lead up to the girl's dorms. She held her head in her hands, and her voice was muffled. "I knew I needed a dress robe this year – because it was on the list – but I did not think it would be to spend three hours, undoubtedly never leaving the food table, with Vincent Crabbe."
Hermione would gladly switch partners with the girl if it was possible (because anyone had to be better than Draco), but after seeing the repercussions of crossing the age line in fourth year, she didn't want to see those of attempting to switch partners for this ball.
Of course, however, despite all her lectures on that fact, Ron was currently in a corner, attempting to coax Dean into giving up Susan Bones for Pansy. Why he would do that for Ron, Hermione had no clue. Sure, Pansy was nice-looking, pretty in her own, stuck up, pureblood supremist way, but at least Susan Bones had less chance of being involved with Death Eaters.
She rolled her eyes as the Muggleborn boy finally relented and handed over his parchment with the Hufflepuff's name before taking the one with Pansy's.
Ron grinned in triumph and Hermione waited patiently for the backlash as the redhead moved to rejoin her and Harry. Sure enough, he paused mid-step, before doubling over and running from the common room as quickly as possible, barely giving the fat lady enough time to open the door for him.
"I told him." Hermione said smugly. She looked at Harry. "Didn't I tell him?"
"Hermione, I'm mourning right now." Harry said sullenly, slouched low on the couch.
"Mourning? Mourning what?"
"My sanity. There won't be any of it left after three hours with Luna."
-
Draco hadn't tried to return to the Head common room either (he had a feeling that if he was forced to face Granger right now, he'd say something that he wouldn't regret later, but that would come back to bite him in the arse – hard); instead he'd moped around Slytherin with the other seventh years.
About a half-hour previously, he'd watched Pansy fly out the door with Blaise and Tracey in tow, searching for Susan Bones to trade dates with; after all, Pansy had said, Dean Thomas would be infinitely better than Ron Weasley – and, of course Draco agreed (of course, she'd also said that she'd rather have Longbottom over Weasley – Draco decided he draw the line there).
He did wonder how it had worked out for her – Daphne had floated by fifteen minutes ago to talk about Anthony Goldstein, and, not too surprisingly, didn't hold his attention for long. Draco needed something exciting, maybe even a little embarrassing, and if it involved Pansy and an antic, he was sure it would be entertaining – for him.
As if by his will alone, the door to Slytherin swung open. Tracey and Blaise appeared, guiding a horrified and traumatized-looking Pansy inside. Her eyes were wide and blank, and she seemed to have forgotten how to walk on her own.
Draco raised an eyebrow at her. This ought to be good, he thought to himself. Pansy lowered herself onto to couch beside him gently as Tracey found a seat haphazardly in an armchair and Blaise sat in the other.
"What happened to you?"
As if she was suddenly remembering her ordeal, Pansy turned to look at Draco and said desperately, "Kill me."
"What?"
"Get your wand out and kill me – I'll even write a letter beforehand that I said it was all right. Promise!" Pansy said earnestly.
Tracey just managed not to roll her eyes. It was a hard battle after hearing the woes of Pansy for nearly twenty-four hours. "Weasley kissed Pansy."
"Egh, don't remind me!" Pansy moaned, slouching in her seat.
"You should have seen it, Draco. It was so slow, so dramatic…so full of passion. For the few seconds after they parted before Pansy punched him of course, you would have almost thought they'd meant it." Blaise added, a smirk on his face.
"We did not." Pansy mumbled half-heartedly.
"Did too." Blaise countered.
"Blaise and I think the hex on the partners is to make them kiss." Tracey said. "So, unless you're actually looking forward to snogging Granger, I'd let it lie, Draco."
Draco didn't answer, only settling into a dark glower. Pansy slouched further in her seat.
"He kissed me! I'm ruined, completely scarred for life."
"Pansy – " Draco started no avail.
"If he kisses me again, I swear on Merlin's beard I'll knee him." Pansy continued despite Draco's efforts, her tone darkening considerably.
Blaise shifted in his seat uncomfortably, and Draco decided that maybe it was time to return to his common room.
Hermione and Harry were still, embarrassingly, reclining and pretty much hogging the Gryffindor couch when Ron returned fifteen minutes after he left, still looking as if he may actually up heave in the middle of the common room. Hermione watched, eyebrow raised as he collapsed onto the floor in front of herself and Harry and said, much more dramatically than was needed, "Kill me."
"What?" Harry asked in disbelief, looking at Ron as if the redhead had some kind of contagious disease he didn't want. What could have happened in the span of time in which Ron left and returned that would have him begging for death?
"Just kill me, please." Ron nearly begged.
Hermione realized that it had to be a bad result of trying to trade partners. It had to be for Ron to react so badly. A slow smile crossed her face. "What did you do?"
Dean and Lavender moved closer to the trio, intent on hearing about Ron's obviously embarrassing encounter. Ron only put his arm over his eyes and moaned. "Hermione, I'm dying. How can you make fun of a dying man?"
"All I did was ask a simple question." Hermione said, but the smile never left her face.
"Ikissedpansy." Ron mumbled through his arm and the four stared at him in expectation of him to say it again, only clearer and with the intent of actually making sure they heard him. He sighed and moved his arm from his face reluctantly. "I kissed Pansy and I'm now scarred for life."
Just as Ron should have feared, cat calls and whistles rained on him from the other Gryffindors that overheard him, and Harry grinned, completely forgetting about his own doom.
"You kissed Pansy? Pansy Parkinson?"
"It's not like I did it on purpose – it was the spell!" Ron exclaimed. "I swear it was the spell!"
"I told you so." Hermione said simply.
Ron rolled his eyes in annoyance of her smug behavior, and pushed himself to his feet. "I think – " he paused as if remembering his ordeal and said, "I'm going to go lie down." He ignored the continuous noises from his fellow housemates as they continued to find amusement in his predicament, and headed for the stairs to the boys' dormitory.
"Hey, Ron!" Seamus yelled before the redhead could disappear up the stairs.
Ron turned around, not expecting anything good to come from this. Nothing good could come from the fact that he'd actually walked up to Pansy Parkinson and kissed her. And it was definite that nothing good could come from the fact that now all of Gryffindor knew about it. "What?"
"Did you like it?" Seamus asked, and every Gryffindor waited patiently for Ron's answer.
Not that he needed to, actually. Hermione was sure, as was everyone else, that the answer was all in the quick way Ron's face colored.
Eventually, Hermione forced herself to realize that she couldn't hide from Draco forever and left Gryffindor in favor of her own common room. She rationalized to herself that she didn't live in Gryffindor anymore and that there was no bed for her anymore, so she couldn't hide out in Gryffindor for the remainder of the term.
Draco was already there, reclining on their couch and reading a Potions textbook. "Did you hear?" he asked, detachedly.
"Hear what?" Hermione asked, though she would rather she'd just ignored him and continued to her room.
"About Weasley and Pansy." Draco answered.
"I did, actually. He kissed her – because of trying to switch the partners. I thought he looked a little green after the fact." Hermione said, not resisting a jibe at Pansy; the dark-haired Slytherin had attempted to embarrass her this morning – and it had nearly worked.
"I'd think more black and blue than green – Pansy punched him." Draco said. "If I were you, I'd tell the Weasel to avoid her. She threatened harm to something that he would find very important."
At least it's Granger and not Lavender Brown, Draco thought to himself, when he remembered that he was stuck with his unwanted roommate for a date. He didn't know if he'd survive an encounter with the blonde Gryffindor. She was beautiful, yes, but she was also one of those simpering girls that never let him be.
Hermione didn't bother to ask what that would be. "I'll do that. I think." She shook her head and left him behind for her room.
Hermione liked her room. Similar to those in the girls' dorms and decked out in her prideful house colors of red and gold. Hermione didn't think it could be any better; surely it would annoy her greatly if the room happened to be in any other colors after being surrounded by red and gold for six years?
She remembered Lavender's great disappointment at realizing that she'd be wasting her dress robe on, not Zabini or Malfoy as she'd wanted, but Crabbe. Not that Hermione felt she was in any better a position. Forced to waste her night away with Malfoy, and what would that get her? She'd much rather be alone than with him.
She eyed the new dress robe she'd bought specifically for this year and sighed in resignation. In a few weeks, there would be a ball. A ball she'd be attending with Draco Malfoy. And in the best dress robe she'd ever seen. But she'd be with Malfoy.
She figured, if she really had to spend her entire night with him, that she might as well wow the jerk. Or…at least try.
End Part One.
