Title: No Looking Back (II of IV)
Author: Miz Thang
Characters/Pairing: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Ensemble, HG/DM, RW/PP
Rating: FRM
Word Count: 4790
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.

So, you may have noticed that now it lasts to four parts - at least I think it will. Thank you to everyone who reviewed Part I.

II. The Dance

The letters for the ball had been sent out on Saturday morning. By Saturday evening, everyone (with the story of Ron and Pansy spreading courtesy of Susan Bones and Lavender) had resigned themselves to the fact that they were stuck with their partner, just as Dumbledore had told them.

By Monday morning, Pansy was stewing in a bit of righteous anger for the next time she saw Ron. And Draco knew this for a fact. Mainly because Pansy had told him five times since he'd arrived at the table for breakfast that morning, detailing exactly what she'd tell "that Weasel" when she saw him.

The Golden Trio arrived late to breakfast; Draco figured it had something to do with two-thirds of them being lazy sods, and that he'd hogged the bathroom from Hermione for longer than was humanly necessary. He and Blaise watched Pansy's face light up when she saw Ron and Draco held high hopes for some kind of entertainment this morning.

She waited until they had sat, Ron with his back to Slytherin, before very deliberately sliding out of her seat. She paused to straighten her clothing, and a pleasant smile slid over her lips. If anything, Draco always thought that her fake, pleasant smile was worse than a sneer.

Slytherins, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs watched as she determinedly headed for the Gryffindor table, and many turned in their seats to see when Pansy came to stop behind Ron. She tapped him on the shoulder and he turned to face her, his mouth full.

His face paled at the sight of her. Nervously he swallowed the food he had in his mouth. Draco was of the opinion that it was always best to avoid being the target of anger from a girl who would actually hit you (well, except Granger) – Ron seemed to have that same idea. "What?"

"Let's get some things straight, right now, before I have to hit you – again." Pansy said, eyes narrowed. She almost smiled when he cleared his throat nervously, but just managed not to. "One – don't talk to me. I'm not interested in the Cannons, or anything else you could use for small talk. Two – don't look at me. Three – don't touch me. Four – don't dance with me. Five – if we're going to have any contact at all, I'll initiate it. Six – if you break any of these rules, I will not be held accountable for my actions. Do you understand?"

Ron nodded, maybe a bit nervously, and Hermione realized, surprised, that Ron couldn't have possibly been all that upset or disgruntled about having Pansy as his date as he'd been acting all weekend. In fact, if she actually thought about it more (which was the last thing she wanted since this involved Pansy), she'd think he felt exactly the opposite.

Pansy once again gave him her pleasant smile, replacing the dark glare she'd worn moments ago. "Good. We have an understanding then."

Pansy turned and walked back to the Slytherin table. Draco almost wanted to give her applause for that little performance. He refrained, thankfully. She sighed happily as she sat in her seat and, as if nothing had happened, said, "What do you think the odds are of us winning the House Cup this year?"

-

Days (and weeks) passed. Days in which, in an effort to "support" Dumbledore's idea, Hermione and Draco had tried something they hadn't really tried in the previous months of school – they were civil. To each other. It had been hard work for Draco, repressing the urge to call Hermione a Mudblood every time she annoyed (which, believe you me, happened every time she opened her mouth). It hadn't been a walk in the park for Hermione either. Especially when, just as Draco imagined hitting her with a large book, she did the same. Often.

But, in a show of maturity and some kind of civility, they repressed their urges and found that living was much easier if they didn't go out of their ways to cause issues. In point in fact, there were close to no issues when they didn't look for them. It had been a surprise to Hermione when she noticed, and she spent much more of her time than necessary wondering what the difference was between now and the annoying git that picked fights at the most inconvenient time (of course there wasn't much of a difference but it helped her sanity if she pretended there was).

Draco himself had found more important ways to let his frustration out. Most of them involved making first years cry, but with more malice than the usual. It wasn't the same as bothering Granger, but since they weren't being "enemies" anymore, he supposed it was all right.

So. Days (and weeks) had passed, agonizingly slow and almost making many students wish they could commit suicide, and, just a few days before they were to leave Hogwarts for the final time, Draco found himself standing just in front of the great hall, leaning against the wall, and tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for Hermione to finally deem herself ready to show her face.

"You know, for someone she despises, she's taking a long time to get ready for you," Blaise said. Padma had yet to show herself, but Blaise had let Draco in on the fact that he wanted to know what Granger was up to.

Draco, of course, was bored out of his skull. He'd been standing there for ten minutes, thinking that, as Hermione liked to be prompt – and not to mention that she'd told him before he left their common room, that she'd come at exactly the time it started. But, no, there was a distinct lack of the Head Girl so far, and the only thing this could lead to was –

There had of course been rumors floating around for the past few weeks. One of them had been that Ron Weasley and Pansy Parkinson really fancied each other and that was why they were so antagonistic about being dates. The other had been that Hermione Granger was planning on doing a better job than she'd accomplished three years ago at the Yule Ball. Draco, personally, had thought that was the peak for Granger as far as he was concerned.

And, of course, he had to be proven wrong. But this, of course, was based on the reactions of the other boys that patiently waited for their dates, not his own feelings on the matter. As far as Draco was concerned, Hermione still looked business as usual – nothing pretty about her tonight. At all. Or so he could tell himself as he turned towards the stairs, where Blaise's gaze was directed.

She stood at the top of the stairs, pausing and taking in the fact that Draco was waiting for her at the bottom and watching her, his eyes only on her. As her hair had gotten worse with age instead of better, it had taken much more work for her to pin it up, and she personally thought the pale yellow dress robe she wore suited her much better than the periwinkle one she'd worn three years ago.

So, Draco liked the way she looked tonight. There was nothing wrong with that, was there? Just because he thought she looked decent enough to spend an entire night with him did not under any circumstances mean that he liked her or anything – because he didn't. He was just, appreciating the fact that she…all right, so Hermione was pretty, fact number one tonight. The dress robe looked as if it had been made specifically for her to wear tonight, and Draco had to reevaluate his opinion that the Yule Ball had been her peak. Because it wasn't – tonight was. Definitely. He, however, drew the line at actually giving her a compliment. He wouldn't.

She started down the stairs slowly, careful of falling, because the most embarrassing thing that could happen would be to trip and fall in the middle of her entrance – especially when she'd caught and was holding Draco's attention so effectively. Not that she cared for his attention, she told herself (a lot had changed for her in the past few weeks. More than a lot even – everything had changed).

Pansy, who had just finished her own walk, glared at Ron when he failed to continue paying attention to her and his gaze strayed towards Hermione repeatedly. Angry, and maybe a bit jealous, she hit him hard in the chest.

"Ow, what the – " Before he could finish his sentence, she grabbed a hold of his wrist and dragged him into the great hall, away from Hermione to where he could pay her more attention – not that she really wanted his attention, or so Pansy told herself.

"Malfoy." Hermione said, almost breathless from the attention she was receiving.

"Granger." He said in return.

Padma Patil hurried over to Blaise, tossing a compliment to Hermione, and the couple entered the great hall, leaving the Head Boy and Head Girl to stand in somewhat uncomfortable silence for a while longer (because Hermione was hoping Draco thought she was pretty to Draco without being obvious, and Draco was trying to rationalize that there was no reason for him to compliment Hermione. Because they were just being civil – and, to Draco, that didn't mean he had to compliment her).

"So…" Hermione started, taking another breath and letting it out slowly. "Should we go in?"

"That would be the plan." Draco said in response. A moment later, and only because he figured he might as well act as if he was with someone he'd want to be here with – like Pansy, he held out his arm for her to take in his. "We could at least pretend to have a good time, right?"

"We could." She took his arm and almost smiled at him. Draco decided that it didn't mean anything to him at all. Really.

-

Hermione wanted to die. It was one thing to be acknowledged with compliments and the like as she entered the great hall on Draco's arm. It was something else entirely, to have to deal with what had just been announced by Professor McGonagall. She had to dance. With Draco. In front of everyone. They wanted her to stand in the middle of the floor and move across it, with Draco. And Hermione wasn't so sure she wanted to do that. For one thing, it was in front of everyone. For another, it was with Draco.

Draco didn't look as if he was that excited to dance with her either. But still, as everyone was watching and waiting for the Head Boy and Head Girl to have the first dance along with the prefects, he held out a hand to her, a question in his grey eyes and his eyebrow raised.

A corner of her mouth lifted and she took his hand, accepting it with only a bit of reluctance.

Her heart was pounding as they walked towards the center of the room. She noticed, a bit unconcerned but just because she saw it, as Pansy let Ron take hold of her hand and guide her onto the floor.

She and Draco stood before one another, their eyes locked and she wondered if he was as nervous about dancing as she was, because she was – nervous, that is. She didn't know or understand why she was nervous, but she was.

The music started and Draco took a hold of her hand and her waist. And then, they were dancing, moving about the room, and spinning in circles. She almost felt dizzy from it all. But there was this airiness to it, and she almost felt as if they were floating on air, gliding.

She looked up at Draco, and, somewhat companionably, said, "This is surreal, isn't it?"

He almost smiled, she could tell, but he didn't. "Very."

It was all the conversation she needed, her gaze straying to their joined hands. She smiled as she saw the room in a blur, not for any real reason other than because she could. She had a feeling something had just changed phenomenally.

-

Padma and Parvati Patil stood along the sidelines with their dates of Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott. Almost everyone's eyes were on Draco and Hermione as they danced, seemingly lost in their own little world as they spun around. It was almost disconcerting not to see them bickering as they danced, instead moving in companionable silence.

Blaise saw Pansy and Ron also not looking any different from the Head Boy and Head Girl – Pansy had even gone as far as to smile at the Gryffindor when he said something. Blaise considered his rumor to be a success, and smiled to himself.

"I've never thought of it before, but Malfoy and Granger look so well together," Parvati said, and almost exactly after, Padma said, "They're in love."

Blaise rolled his eyes. "Just because they shared a dance and are making googly eyes at each other doesn't mean they're in love, Padma."

His date shook her head, ready to defend her logic. "No – I mean, I've noticed it before, but this, you take everything you've seen before, and you watch them as they are right now – and that cinches it. They're in love, but they don't know it."

Blaise looked at Padma and, upon seeing that she was completely serious, decided to take another look at the couple, only through the eyes of Padma. There was a chance she was right and that Hermione and Draco really had gone head over heels over each other without realizing it. Well – there was a very large, very hard-to-not-notice chance she was right.

So, was it just Blaise, or did anyone else feel like there might be a problem once they recognized it?

-

About an hour after the dance that left much to be desired and grappling with her confused emotions, Hermione found herself in the gardens. Distantly, she could hear the cheers of the others as Susan Imperius took the stage. She, however, couldn't find it in herself to ignore her thoughts and just enjoy the moment – and that was entirely Draco's fault because she liked Susan Imperius.

When they had danced, she'd felt …different. Not in an overly bad way, but in a good way that didn't make her feel uncomfortable, or even the least bit bothered, with being in his arms. It was almost as if she'd felt complete while they had been dancing. And that scared her much more than she would like to admit, because that meant she couldn't possibly hate him as much as she'd told herself she did. And she had. She'd told herself that she hated him, and that they were only being civil for the sake of being role models. And…maybe they hadn't. Maybe, maybe she'd changed her mind about him and there was more than civility there? Maybe –

"Has anyone ever told you that you think too much, Granger?"

She started, spinning around the face the owner of the voice. She found the object of her current distress and confusion, standing little more than two feet away, his tie and the top two buttons of his dress robe undone – and why was her heart speeding just because he was standing there? Hermione knew a crush when she saw one, and she most definitely did not have one on Draco. She'd just…since the day she found out about the partnerships, she had only been trying to reduce the amount of hostility for tonight, but that didn't mean anything, did it?

"Has anyone ever told you that you don't think enough, Malfoy?" Hermione retorted, her mouth threatening to form into a smile. She repressed the effort with much difficulty, because civility was not friendship.

He didn't answer, and as she watched him, she couldn't help but to blurt out, "I know we said we'd pretend to have a good time, but did you expect to actually have one?"

He raised an eyebrow and she almost blushed. "No." he answered, seemingly able to tell that the question had made her a bit nervous. "The same could be said for Pansy and Weasley."

"What?"

"Daphne and I found them out there somewhere. Kissing." He smirked and Hermione tried to feel bad for Ron. "I think they're embarrassed."

Hermione felt a bit weird about the thought that Draco had been out on the grounds with Daphne Greengrass at night. She tried not to let it show as she asked, "What were you and, um, Greengrass doing out there, together?"

From the bemused and somewhat questioning look on his face, she knew it hadn't worked. Could she be more obvious that she was – what? What was she? Jealous? Because there was absolutely no reason for her to be jealous of Daphne for being out here in the dark with Draco. For one thing – she did not like Draco, and for another – Draco was not hers, and her name was not stamped on any part of his body. Thirdly – Draco didn't like her either.

"She was trying to find Pansy and tell her about the band. And I was looking for you."

"Really?" Hermione asked. She felt a flush of pleasure at that and decided that she was doomed. School was ending in about a week and three days, and it was likely she might never see Draco ever again, and she was starting to like him now, of all the times in the world? She was supremely doomed – hell-in-a-handbasket doomed. "Any specific reason?"

When Hermione looked back on this moment later (which she'd do often), she'd realize that even with the conversation in hindsight, it was much too much of a blur to see it coming. One moment, she'd been looking at Draco, waiting for his answer as to why he'd bothered looking for her, and the next moment, she was being very thoroughly kissed.

Her eyes fluttered closed, and she let the sensation of being kissed wash over her. Meanwhile, her mind was going a mile a minute, asking herself what she was doing, and very redundantly telling herself that she was kissing Draco Malfoy – the very same prat that had only stopped calling her a mudblood the day before they found out about the ball. It was a redundant statement because Hermione was very aware of that fact, and of whom she was kissing, but also aware that it didn't really factor into why she was kissing him and not pushing him away.

The kiss deepened as he took a step closer and slid one arm around her waist. Similarly, her arms found their way around his neck.

Hermione didn't want to call it perfect. She really didn't. But this night, the nearly friendly days leading up to it, how it came to be, and the fact that she was sure she didn't hate him at least, all added together – and she told herself that that was what made it perfect. It wasn't the kiss itself, but it was the circumstances surrounding the kiss that made her never want it to end.

When she was finally given the chance to breathe, she could only look up at him, a question on the tip of her tongue (because how do you go from despising someone to kissing them in the span of only an hour and a half?).

Hermione didn't realize that she might not be the only one getting confused as to where they stood with each other until he hesitantly whispered in her ear, "I didn't tell you earlier that I think you look nice tonight."

Before she could say anything, he was backing away from her and heading back towards the great hall, leaving her to stare at his retreating back with a tiny uncontrollable smile on her face.

Yes, Hermione had already realized that she was screwed, thank you very much.

-

Tonight, in Draco's opinion, would be forever known as the epitome of, not only his own insanity, but every other seventh year's. It seemed as if the picking of partners, had served more as a blind date service than anything else for most couples (with the exception of Lavender Brown – who would much rather kill herself, and Hannah Abbot – who had spent most of her night attempting to avoid Goyle). Draco had especially gotten a laugh out of seeing Luna Lovegood pull Harry along the grounds towards the edges of the forest, in search of teedle tweedles; Draco didn't think they even existed (not that he'd know for sure with Hagrid as a Care of Magical Creatures teacher).

All those weeks ago, when he received that letter that told him he'd be spending this night (to forever be known as the Leaving Ball) with Hermione Granger, he hadn't imagined it would start with him repressing the desire to compliment her, or end with actually doing so after kissing her on the grounds outside the school.

She'd joined him inside once again, and he'd realized after the fifth time that she kept sneaking looks at him (which didn't make him much better as he was doing it also). This was new in a way for Draco. He and Pansy had been brief, but here had been an understanding embedded in there and they understood each other. He and Hermione, however, that was different. They had complete opposite opinions on everything, and how could he even be considering romantic notions for someone who he stood completely opposed to? Except he was. And there in lay the newness for Draco.

They didn't talk as they walked to their portrait, Draco only giving their password (slythindor) to the quiet woman in their portrait. She was a very special woman, with another portrait on the other side of the wall for emergencies. She didn't talk much, and she didn't gossip with the fat lady or her friend Violet. She liked to remain to herself, and Draco suspected that may have been the very reason Dumbledore had given her this job.

"Um," Hermione started nervously as the door swung closed behind them. "I'll take Gryffindor and Hufflepuff?"

Draco nodded in agreement and headed towards his room without a word in her direction.

"Malf – Draco?" She called out before he could disappear inside.

He stopped and turned to face her.

"Can we…can we talk, after we've made our rounds?" she asked, wringing her hands in a nervous habit she'd developed over the course of the year and watching his face for any sign of rejection.

"I don't see why not." He finally said.

She let herself breathe once he was inside his room, and turned to head towards her own.

-

Gryffindor was as accounted for as could be. Ginny was missing, and Hermione had been scarred by the sight of running into Pansy outside the seventh year boys' dorms. Hufflepuff wasn't any better, because she found Dean Thomas with Susan in the house's common room, and decided that she would give up for the night. The seventh years had obviously decided this would be their one last chance to have fun before leaving this place, and these people, behind forever, and Hermione hated how her mind strayed to Draco at that thought.

As she hurried up the stairs towards the portrait of the quiet lady, her heart beating faster in her chest and she almost started to wring her hands, because Draco was either already there, or would be arriving back soon if he'd given up like she did, and they would talk, and she'd know for sure whether there was something for her to be making anything out of, or if this was just one of those spur of the moment things, brought on by the fact that this could be their only chance.

Hermione's body slowed to a near stop as she reached the top landing, and it took a few extra seconds for her to get herself to walk towards the portrait. The quiet woman gave her a small smile that oddly reassured Hermione. "Slythindor."

The portrait swung open and Hermione stepped inside carefully, attempting to gauge if Draco had already returned or not. When no noise gave her a sign, she gave up and called out, "Draco?"

"What?"

His room. She took a deep breath and walked towards the door slowly. She paused outside of it, nervous. And then she told herself that she was being exceptionally stupid and that there was nothing wrong with her just opening the door and going inside. He'd practically invited her anyway.

She twisted the door knob, and entered the room. Draco was sitting at his desk, scribbling furiously at a sheet of parchment. "Homework?"

He looked up at her and then back at the parchment. "I was making a list – of the pros and cons. It's not helping."

"Did you really think it would?" She asked.

He stood, seeming almost angry, and sat on his bed dejectedly. She moved towards his bed and sat next to him. "This is insane, you realize."

When Hermione had realized that she'd be going to the ball with Draco, she had never imagined she'd end up sitting on his bed, about to make one of the biggest decisions of her life – a decision that had a vast chance of destroying her morals and ethics. She'd never thought she'd cared about his well being, and she really never thought she'd even hold notions of becoming romantically involved with him.

Hermione had now seen and understood that things never quite go the way you're hoping, very effectively, and she decided that now would be as good a time as any to reevaluate her life. Something had indeed changed on that dance floor earlier that night. She had changed. And maybe, hopefully, Draco had too.

"I do realize. But – I don't think I really care."

Hermione wanted a relationship. With Draco Malfoy. And not just any kind of relationship, when you consider the circumstances surrounding them. She wanted a meaningful, maybe it'll last, kind of relationship. She wanted a relationship she wouldn't have to hide, or be afraid of what anyone else thought (not that she thought there wasn't any hook up that didn't occur among the seventh years that they wouldn't be embarrassed about). She wanted to be herself, maybe even with Draco, and that was it.

"Hermione – "

"I – care. About this, and you. For many, uncontrollable, nonsensical reasons. But I do." She said. A moment passed, and in a lower voice, her eyes on his green bed sheet, she asked, "Can you understand that?"

"Our friends won't take well to the idea of us."

She looked up, her eyes meeting his. She realized that in this situation, she'd already figured out what she wanted – Draco had to figure his own out by himself. "And is there? An us, I mean? Because we didn't reach a conclusion for that as of yet. I'd remember."

He almost smiled, and waited a moment before he said, "I don't – do you want there to be?"

"Maybe." Hermione answered. "No. Yes. I don't actually know." She ignored his mutter of "for once" and looked towards his window. Moonlight filtered through the green curtain, casting an eerie green glow on the room. She turned back at him. "Is there anything that you'd let stop you – because I don't think I can do this and then turn it off later."

"I want to know whatever it is we're trying to be, Granger."

"Oh. All right. Well, that's good, I suppo – "

As far as kisses went, Hermione was sure that this one went above even the one in the courtyard, because this was more than a spur of the moment thing. She, Hermione Granger, and Draco Malfoy were going to be an item. She and Draco were – in what? In like? In very deep like? In – in love?

Hermione broke away to look at Draco in the eyes and asked, "No looking back?"

He watched her much in the same way she watched him, and she recognized, with a freeing feeling that Draco was probably fumbling along as much as she was. He didn't answer her though, and she wondered if he even really needed to. The fact that they were here, doing this – wasn't that enough?

She kissed him confidently, though nervous, as she sank deeper into uncharted territory for herself, and hopefully for Draco. She was slightly aware of the fact that she and Draco were on the verge of something they'd never be able to come back from.

She decided in the instant afterwards, that she'd deal with the future when it came.

End Part Two.