A big, big thank you goes out to my girl, MissyJAnne85 whom I call my Beta, but is really more of an Alpha! You know this fic isn't possible without all you do!

This is a big one people - a double feature, if you will! I hope you enjoy the fluffy notes while they last!

As always, it is highly recommended to listen to the chapter songs before you read, but you can find them in the end notes if you don't want the spoilers. You can find ALL of the ALG songs on this Spotify Playlist.

The morning came when the students who were leaving Hogwarts for the holidays packed their trunks and marked them with their addresses. A tap of their wands on the luggage sent it straight to the Hogwarts Express.

"I guess we had better say goodbye before we go down to the Great Hall," Hermione looked up at Draco once her trunk had vanished. Emotions ghosted across her face, one after the other.

"Come here," Draco murmured softly, offering his hand. He pulled her to him, resting his chin on top of her head. Hermione nestled her face into his sweater and breathed deeply. She didn't want to forget the way he smelled, not even for a minute of their separation. His broad chest expanded as he did the same. "The party is only ten days away. We will see each other then and after that, it's just another few days until we're back here," he told her in a voice full of reassurance. If he could dull the pain of separation for her even just a little bit, it would be worth his next lie. "The time will fly, you'll see."

"I'll miss you," she said, gripping him tighter.

"I'll miss you, too, Granger."

Their eyes met mere moments before their mouths, moulding together with an ease born from practice. Hermione was reluctant to let go, and she clung to him tighter. Draco seemed to be of a similar mind. He grabbed ahold of her waist and hoisted her up to his height. Hermione wrapped her legs around his middle and held him to her. Her tongue laved at his bottom lip, desperately seeking entry. Their tongues collided and the butterflies invaded her stomach, a frenzy of a desire lacing through her. Would she ever have her fill of Draco? She didn't think so. With Hermione in his arms, he walked them over to the nearest wall and supported her weight against it. Her kiss both tormented and soothed him. It was paranormal of the highest kind, and he needed to pull away before their clothes lay in piles on the floor.

Hermione chased his lips with hers, but he had hidden his face in her neck, providing her with one more love bite to add to the hidden collection. Soon, too soon, he broke away and let her slide back down the wall, their hands laced together.

Amber eyes met silver ones once more. "Merry Christmas, Malfoy. I love you," she said, watching his face. They had fallen back into their old pattern of using each others' surname. It was familiar and safe. It was unspoken but understood between them that their given names were for the rare occasion.

His smile was sad when he responded, "Merry Christmas, Granger. I love you, too. We've really fucked up here."


Christmas morning arrived cold and wet. Hermione was glad to be waking up late in her own bed, safe and warm under the comforter. She and her parents would be joining Harry and the Weasley's for Christmas lunch. Hermione was excited to see everyone, but still apprehensive about Ron. Their last contact had been at her birthday party, and she knew her parting words to him had not been kind. Still, she was not entirely sure she regretted them, either. Hermione threw back her warm covers and scrambled for her bathrobe and slippers.

Today will bring what it will bring, she thought. I just hope we all have our Christmas spirits in check. With that in mind, she trudged downstairs to wish her parents Merry Christmas, share a light breakfast and exchange their presents.

"How are you feeling about seeing Ronald today, dear?" Her mother asked her as she poured the tea. "I know it's not nice to say, but as fond of him as your father and I are-"

"He was no match for you, sweetheart," her father continued, patting her hand. "He is a sweet boy, and very entertaining, but you need someone who can keep up with you. Someone a little more on your level."

Hermione could feel her cheeks warming. She had been home for a few days now, and she still hadn't thought of a way to tell them that her childhood bully now shared her bed, or was it the other way around? Never matter, that was not the point. She had not told them about Draco. She wasn't sure how to, and it was an added bonus that her parents would not be armed with that information before lunch today.

She had thought that her parents had loved Ron. They hadn't shared any concerns with her before this morning, and she wondered why. "Why didn't you tell me that you didn't think Ron was good for me?" She asked her parents, drizzling some honey over her muesli.

They exchanged a look, her father opened his mouth, but it was her mother who spoke. "You were so happy, darling. And you have been through so very much."

That's putting it lightly, Hermione thought as her mother continued.

"As parents, we think we know what is right for our children - always. But Hermione, dear, your life is so incredibly different from ours. You know things we could never dream of, have done things we'd never wish for you, sacrificed so much," her mother faltered, tears springing to her eyes.

Her father cleared his throat and scratched at the hair on his chin. "We wanted you to be happy. And we thought that maybe we were wrong about Ronald. You certainly knew him better than we did. But above all, we trust you to make the right decisions for yourself. You're an incredibly bright girl, Nee Nee," he said. His smile spread as Hermione protested against the use of her childhood nickname. "We know you can take care of yourself."

Hermione stood and kissed them each on the cheek. "I appreciate all of that, I really do. But when I bring the next boy home, don't hold your opinions back, ok?"

Hermione took her chair back and dug into her breakfast, willing the conversation to take a turn. She was not so lucky. Leave it to her mother to pick up on her subtleties.

"Is there a new boy, then?" She asked, her eyebrows raised.

"There might be," Hermione sniffed. Sure, she and Draco had said the big L word and had sex on nearly every surface they could. They had argued over the correct pronunciation of a certain charm, and which order several Ancient Runes should go in, and time and time again about making their relationship public. But was he her boyfriend? Was a boyfriend only a boyfriend when people knew he was your boyfriend? Was he someone she could actually bring home to meet her parents? The thought process was starting to make her head hurt and spiral away from what was important. This was one question that a book could not answer. Maybe some silly teen magazine could, but she had never trusted those.

Instead, she tried to imagine him sitting at this very table, eating breakfast with her and her parents. Colour rose up her neck as she choked on the grains of muesli that she had inhaled.

"Everything alright, sweetheart?" Her father asked, clapping her soundly on the back.

"Mmhmm," Hermione managed, wiping tears from her eyes.

"Tell us about this might-be boy! Oh, this is really starting to feel like Christmas morning! It's much more exciting than opening presents," her mother grinned at her. She had cradled her head in her hands, elbows propped up on the table, and eyes expectant.

"Speaking of presents!" Hermione pushed her chair back, darted to the small Christmas tree in the living room, and came back to the kitchen, handing her parents a small gift each.

"Alright, alright," her mother grumbled. "Change of topic it is."


When the clock chimed at eleven-thirty, Hermione was dressed in her Christmas best. Dark blue jeans with boots, and matching silly Christmas sweaters that her parents also wore. Hermione wrapped a scarf around her neck and pulled her long winter coat over the top of her truly hideous Christmas jumper.

"Now, this is going to feel really, really awful," she warned them. "It is not a pleasant way to travel, but as we're not connected to the Floo network, and I haven't learned how to make a Portkey, yet... Well, it is the fastest way to get where we're going. Whatever you do, do not let go of my hands until I tell you that you can, got it?"

Her mother looked nauseous already, while her father looked like he couldn't wait to board the ride. "Ok," she said, grasping each of their hands firmly. "Here we go," Hermione turned on the spot and Disapparated the three of them to just outside of Harry's house.

"You can let go now," Hermione said.

"Oh my God," her mother responded, bending over to wretch into someone's bushes.

Her father, despite his eagerness, looked equally pale and was a little wobbly on his legs. As Hermione looked up at Harry's home, she felt a little unbalanced herself.

When her mother was upright once more, and settling her hair back into place, they crossed the road together and stood in front of the door. Hermione reached into her bottomless beaded bag and produced a breath mint and a bottle of water for her mother, who accepted them graciously.

After a moment or two, her father asked, "Does it just open on its own, then?"

"No," Hermione replied, and sucking in a large breath, she lifted the heavy brass knocker and rapped it against the door. Within moments, the door swung inward, revealing the long corridor that was the entry for Harry's home.

"So, it does open on its own!" Her father clapped, delighted.

"Er, no, Dad. It doesn't." Hermione tugged on her father's sleeve and directed his eyes down, to where Kreacher was waiting impatiently for them to step inside.

"Oh, oh! " Her mother exclaimed.

"Hello, Kreacher," Hermione said, cheerfully. "Merry Christmas! May we come in?"

"But of course, Misses Bossy. Master Harry has been missing you. Gets insides, Muggles!"

"Kreacher!" Hermione admonished as they stepped over the threshold, and removed their coats. "We have spoken about this. Have you forgotten already?"

"Sorry, Misses." Kreacher grumbled, shuffling away. The way he was muttering under his breath led Hermione to believe that he had not forgotten her advice, but rather, chose when he wanted to apply it.

As Hermione showed her parents where to hang their coats, Harry came out of the kitchen, a huge grin on his face. "You made it!" He hugged her tightly. "Mr and Mrs Granger, welcome to my home! And Merry Christmas!" He beamed. "Please, go on upstairs to the living room. I'll join you just as soon as I can get Mrs Weasley out of the kitchen!"

"Hermione, dear. Is that you?" Molly's head appeared through the kitchen doorway. "It is! Oh, how delightful. You've brought your parents with you!"

"And some wine," Hermione pulled out two bottles of red wine from her beaded bag. There was more in there, but two was all she needed Molly to see. It was going to be a long day.

Molly emerged fully from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron as she went. Harry waved his wand at the kitchen door, effectively locking Molly out. With her hostess hat on, Molly hugged them all hello, wished them a Merry Christmas and led them upstairs to the living room.

Hermione was really pleased to see the progress Harry had made on the house while she had been back at Hogwarts. It was clean, had a fresh coat of paint and almost all of the furniture was new. Gone were the old Black portraits and in their place were a collection of moving photographs. Hermione recognised photos of Harry and Sirius, of his parents, of herself, of Ron; of the three of them together. Christmas lights and tinsel hung off of every surface. Harry was finally claiming this house as his own.

The living room was awash with Christmas decorations. A large tree stood proudly in the corner, mounds of presents underneath it. All of the Weasleys were present and accounted for, even Bill, Charlie and Percy.

Ginny hugged her hello, and from over the red head's shoulder, Hermione locked eyes with Ron. The blush crept up his neck, to his ears and over his cheeks. He nodded to her and excused himself from the room. Every single set of eyes in the room watched him leave and then flicked to her.

"Uh, excuse me," Hermione smiled into the room, refusing to acknowledge any one person. Hermione squeezed her mother's arm, gave her father a wobbly smile, and left. Molly would make sure that her parents were taken care of, she was sure.

Hermione found him in his room, the one she had once shared with him. Being back inside it, she couldn't help but remember the last time she was in there. That was where she was standing when he told her that he wouldn't come back to Hogwarts, and where she stood right now, was where she had stood when he broke up with her. The bed they had slept in and made so-called love. Emotion choked in her throat, but she swallowed it down. She had moved on. She was doing better than fine without him.

He watched her leaning against the doorframe from his spot on the bed. "I'm sorry," he said, eyes focused on her shoulders, too nervous to look her in the eyes.

"For what, exactly?"

"For everything," he shrugged. "I should have told you sooner about my doubts for Hogwarts. I should never have broken it off with you. I shouldn't have come to your party, uninvited. Merlin knows I've been punished enough for that one."

Hermione raised her eyebrows at the last one. "Been punished, have you? How do you figure that?"

"Can't get the bloody image of you and Malfoy out of my head, can I?"

You should get used to it, she nearly said. It was on the tip of her tongue. But no. That's not what I came in here for.

"Yes, well. I suppose I did intend it to be a punishment, so I'm sort of happy to hear it worked."

It was Ron's turn to raise his eyebrows.

Hermione sighed. "Look, Ron. I'm sorry, too. I said some harsh things to you. I'm not ready to forgive you, not yet, but I am ready to move past it."

"Are you saying you want to get back together?" Ron asked with hope. Far, far too much hope.

Hermione pushed off of the doorframe and sat on the bed, feet planted firmly on the floor.

"No, Ron. That's not what I'm saying. Thank you for apologising for the rest, but do not apologise for breaking things off for me. I," she stuttered. "I think that it was for the best." Hermione didn't look at him as she said these things. She wasn't sure she could bear to see the look on his face.

"Are you with someone else?" He asked, voice cracking over the 'else'.

"That's not what I'm saying, either." Hermione was quite proud of the way she skidded around the question. It was neither a confirmation nor a denial. "What I am saying is that you and I - we were never right for each other. Spending some time apart has helped me to see that. I hope it will become clear for you, too," she patted his knee twice, friendly-like.

"No matter when I've done it, leaving you is always the thing I regret most. Time apart hasn't helped me to move on from you. It's made me realise how much I love you, how much I need you. I see now that I have seriously fucked it up this time. I - I will always love you, 'Mione. But, hearing you say this - I'll stop fighting for you. At least for now," he smiled sadly at her.

Hermione chanced a look at his face, it was red, and there were tears welled in his eyes. Hermione swallowed down the lump in her throat.

"Just-" she stopped, tried again. "Just don't wait for me, okay? Don't hold back from someone who could make you happy because of me. I- I don't want that for you." Hermione reached up and kissed his cheek.

She stood and made her way back to the living room for small talk and pre Christmas lunch drinks, leaving Ron to process their conversation on his own.


When Hermione and her parents were saying goodbye, Harry pulled her to the side. "Hey, 'Mione, two of these came in the mail the other week." He showed her a scroll identical to the one Malfoy had given her - the invitation to the New Years Ball. "Did you get one, too?"

Hermione nodded in affirmation. "Yes, why?"

"I just wanted to make sure that all of us were invited. Narcissa may have saved my life, but it doesn't mean that the Malfoy's have suddenly changed their world views."

"Hmm. You might be right about that, Harry. But I was invited, so I guess I'll see you there?"

"You will. But 'Mione. How do you feel about going back there? To the Malfoy Manor, I mean?"

Dread seized her heart for a moment. She hadn't stopped to think about the place. She'd been too caught up in the idea of attending a ball with Draco, even if she wasn't technically attending with him. "I'm not sure," she answered honestly. "I think it will be okay, so long as we don't need to go into that room," she gave Harry a shaky smile, subconsciously stroking her left arm.

Harry rubbed her shoulder in a comforting manner. "I guess I'll see you there, then. Oh, is this the sort of thing I should ask Ginny too?"

Hermione stared at him long and hard until he started to wither underneath her glare.

He gulped audibly. "Yes. That's a yes. I'll ask her tonight, then."

"And tomorrow you will take her shopping. This is the sort of thing a girl needs to prepare for, Harry. No last-minute invitations, thank you very much!"

"Sure thing, Hermione. Whatever you say," Harry nodded.

Hermione patted his cheek affectionately. "See you in a week," she said, stepping out of the door and into the blustering winter air, her parents one step behind her.


Hermione stared at herself in the full-length mirror and slid the red ruffle strap back up her shoulder. She had taken the afternoon to style her hair in a similar fashion to how she had for the Yule Ball in the fourth year. Maybe it wasn't an original look for her, but she had liked it, and it was the only other time she had had reason to style her hair so opulently. She had felt glamorous then, but now she felt self-conscious.

The stakes were similar, but her feelings were not. She had studied the current fashion magazines, read column after column of makeup tutorials, and done her best to imitate the model on a cover. A light smatter of a fine, colourless glitter eyeshadow over her eyelids, black eyeliner and mascara. A subtle dusting of blush over her cheekbones, and a deep red lip. Hermione held the cover of the magazine next to her face and felt like she had achieved the look she wanted - simple and elegant.

It was time to go, really. It was already past eight, but Hermione's stomach was churning as she picked apart every detail of the dress she had chosen. Her shoes were uncomfortably high, the black satin too shiny.

Her eyes glided over a thin scroll of parchment on her dressing table, a small smile graced her face as she remembered its contents.

Any ball held by the Malfoy's was sure to be a grand affair, but had she gone overboard? The bodice of the dress was tight, and backless, lined with more frills. The chiffon of the skirt moved freely around her legs. Hermione was anxious. She didn't want to seem like she was trying too hard. She glanced up at the clock. Eight-thirty. Was it still considered cool to be fashionably late? Did she have time to make adjustments? She bit her lip nervously, instantly regretting the action when she smeared the lipstick onto her teeth.

A knock sounded at her door. "Come in," Hermione called.

Her mother entered, her face softening as she took in Hermione's appearance. "Oh, my darling! You are so beautiful. Just look at you, my baby!"

"I'm hardly a baby, any more, mum," Hermione smiled. "Do you really think I look ok?"

"Sorry, sorry, sorry!" Her mother apologised, smile wide, a hint that she wasn't sorry at all.

Hermione picked at her skirt. "Isn't it too much?"

"My darling, you look incredible. Why do you doubt yourself? Is the young man that you won't tell us about going to be there?"

"Yes," Hermione sighed.

"Does he feel the same way about you?"

"He says he does, and I believe him."

"Then I think he will be utterly speechless when he sees you tonight. Hold your chin up high, my sweetheart, and knock em' dead."

"Thanks, mum," Hermione smiled. "I guess I should get going then. I'm late enough as it is." She gave her mum a quick hug, careful not to smudge her makeup, and with a spin and a crack, she was gone.

"I'll never get used to that," her mother said, shaking her head.


Hermione arrived at the Malfoy manor with trepidation in her heart. What was she about to encounter? Would she be able to shut off her memories and create new ones? She was shown the way to the ballroom by a delightful House-Elf named Moppy, dressed in her own tiny little black ball gown. The Manor was absolutely nothing like it had been when she was there last. Hermione was surrounded by bright lights, black, red and white decor and a silver ceiling of falling stars. With her gaze trained upwards, Moppy opened the ballroom doors, and Hermione's senses were assaulted anew. The ballroom was full of people, much more than she had expected - laughing, talking, drinking, and dancing. The orchestra, yes, orchestra, Hermione double-checked; were playing something soft and alluring. Something that she recognised, but didn't know the name of. Cocktail tables were covered in long black, silken tablecloths, with small silver trees as the centrepiece. Hermione's eyes caught several of the trees shiver, their branches dropping crystals in imitation of snow.

Hermione had been standing in the doorway, absorbing the party atmosphere for less than thirty seconds before someone took a hold of her arm and pulled her behind a large water fountain.

"Why did I agree to this?" It was Harry, adjusting his glasses, and pushing his hair out of his face. "I'm at a party I don't want to be at, and I don't ever wear a suit and tie -"

"Yeah," said Ron, suddenly appearing at Harry's side. "You, uh," he swallowed loudly, his eyes darting over her body. "Look really nice, 'Mione," he stammered, eyes dark and ears pink. He cleared his throat.

"Thank you. Both of you look lovely. I don't know what you're complaining about."

"No one's even looking me in the eye," Harry complained, pulling on his bow tie now, attempting to loosen it, his drink splashing precariously close to his white shirt.

"Harry! There you are! Hermione, Merlin, you look gorgeous! I wish I could pull off that kind of red!"

"Ginny!" Hermione rushed to her friend's side, hugging her tightly. "You are a vision in white! I love the way your dress moves!"

Ginny did a little twirl, and her skirt fanned around her.

"Not sure who you're trying to fool, Gin," Ron grinned. "You? In white? Mum and Dad might believe it, but the rest of us?" Ron chuckled. "Pure, my right arse cheek!"

Ginny punched her brother on the forearm, numbing it. "Come on, Harry," she said, taking his drink and downing it in one. "Shall we dance?"

With very little choice in the matter, Harry disappeared with Ginny to the dance floor; leaving Hermione to stand awkwardly beside Ron.

Hermione cleared her throat. Anything was better than watching Ron stare at his feet. "How has the night been so far? I'm sorry I'm a little bit late."

"S'alright," he replied. "But I don't think I fit in at this party. Everyone's got so much to say, but it's all bullshit, isn't it? I always feel like I'm nobody compared to you and Harry -"

Hermione had started to protest, but Ron talked over the top of her. "No, it's alright. I don't mind. It's not a problem for me, not anymore. I guess you always made me feel like maybe I could be somebody, but -"

"Granger. You're here. It's about fucking time! My mother seems to think that because I hand-delivered the invitation to you; that I should be responsible for your tardiness. Weasley," Malfoy nodded at him, just leaning towards politeness.

"Oi! Just cause this is your party, doesn't mean you can speak to Hermione like that, you self righteous git!"

Draco raised his eyebrows at Ron and surprised Hermione by responding civilly.

"My apologies, Granger, Weasley. The stress of the evening must be affecting my judgement. If you'll excuse us, Ronald, I have some rather urgent Hogwarts business to discuss with my fellow Head," his tone was polite, but Hermione couldn't help but notice the sneer he was holding back.

"'Mione, will you be alright?"

"Yes, thank you, Ron. It's ok," Hermione leaned in to whisper in his ear. "Go and see if you can find something expensive to break," she pulled back with a wink that sent Ron happily on his way.

She turned back to Draco, a brilliant smile on her face, and eyes alight. Draco was a sight for her sore eyes. Ten days had felt like a lot longer. He was a traditional powerhouse in his all-black suit. A white dress shirt with a black bow tie and black Dragonhide shoes. He was dazzling, and he did not meet her smile. Not with his mouth, and not with his eyes. Hermione felt her smile falter.

His voice was stiff when he asked, "Back on speaking terms with him, are you? Comfortable leaning into his body and whispering sweet nothings in his ear? You know he's looking at you like he can't wait to tear that dress off you? Don't scoff, Granger. I know the look, I'm fucking wearing the look."

"All I did, Malfoy, was say something to send him on his way and give us some privacy. I'm sorry if that made you jealous. You have nothing to be worried about, especially when it comes to Ron. We have had a discussion over the holidays, yes."

"And?"

"And," Hermione swallowed back some indignant rage. "We have come to a sort of truce. We have both apologised to one another, and I have hope that in the future we can be friends again."

"Just friends?" Finally, finally, he met her eyes. Hermione felt the loss of him from the last week and a half even more acutely, especially because she couldn't touch him.

"Just friends," she confirmed. She simultaneously wanted to strangle and kiss him. He was infuriating that way.

Draco breathed in deeply and held the air in for a moment before releasing it. "Granger, you are breathtaking, absolutely stunning. This vision of you will never leave me."

Kiss him. Scratch the strangling. Hermione definitely wanted to kiss him. But she couldn't - not here. He looked left and right. Behind his shoulder, and over hers. He nodded his head back towards the door and disappeared through it. Hermione waited for a beat and followed him back out into the empty parlour.

"You got my owl, then?" He asked, fingers dancing close to her neck, indicating her lack of adornment.

"Yes," she sighed, wishing his fingers would even just brush against the hollow of her ear. He dropped his hand to his pocket and produced a pair of earrings. Hermione took one look at them, a gasp escaping as she took in the design. Draco had presented her with pear-shaped, brilliant diamond drop earrings, set in goblin-wrought white gold.

"I- Malfoy! Are those real diamonds? I can't accept these! They must be worth -"

"Very little in comparison to what I have. Take the earrings, Granger. It would please me if you would wear them tonight and treasure them later. Consider them a Christmas gift, if you will."

Well, damn bloody Draco Malfoy and his smooth bloody words. She took the earrings from his hand and slipped them through her ears without another hesitation, securing them in place with the studs. They were heavy, both in weight and in essence.

The orchestra had stopped, and people were applauding their performance.

"What was that song they were just playing? I recognised it, but I can't think of the name," Hermione tilted her head, attempting to listen to a song no longer playing.

"Really, Granger? I'm disappointed," he said, admiring how the earrings moved with her. "It's Puccini's 'O Mio Babbino Caro'," he pronounced the last in a flawless Italian accent.

"Ah, yes. How silly of me to forget such a memorable name," Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Go and mingle. Let people know you're here. Particularly my mother. She was disappointed that she didn't get the chance to greet you along with Potter and Weasel in the procession line. I'll find you later. You can be sure of that." Draco lifted his hand as if he was going to cup her cheek, but let it drop back to his side before he could make contact.

Hermione felt the disappointment swoop through her as he moved away, disappearing back around through the grand doors. Hermione waited two minutes before following him. Her eyes were drawn to the statue Harry had pulled her behind not ten minutes before. She craned her neck to take in the whole thing. An angel prancing through the shallows, she rolled her eyes. At least it wasn't a damn peacock. With one last look in the direction Draco had taken, she melted into the crowd on the opposite side.

Hermione floated through the horde of people, accepted a flute of champagne from a passing tray, and nodded to the people she knew or recognised. Her eyes were searching for Narcissa. She needed to find her for purposes of her own. She was hoping that Draco's mother might see something more in her than just a clever Muggle-born witch. She was hoping that Narcissa would see a witch who was more than a fine match for her son.

Finally, she saw a tall figure, with platinum blonde hair wound into an intricate design on the top of her head. Narcissa was magnificent. She stood tall and confident. Perfectly intimidating, and Hermione started to understand the Veela rumours. The top of her strapless, fitted gown was black, the bottom a glittering silver, the two shades blending in a swirl around her waist. Hermione was feeling daunted by the beauty of the woman in front of her. But she held her head high, just like her mother had told her, and made what she hoped was a graceful appearance in front of her hostess.

Hermione approached her from behind, unsure what to do to get her attention, she settled for a quick tap on the shoulder. Narcissa spun around elegantly, met her eyes, and smiled warmly at Hermione.

"Mrs Malfoy, thank you for inviting me here this evening. Your home is truly stunning, and the ballroom is spectacular."

"Miss Granger!" Narcissa's smile was a lesson in decorum. "I'm delighted that you were able to attend. I'm sorry I wasn't available to greet you when you arrived. I was needed elsewhere."

Hermione did not miss the slight that Narcissa handed her about being late. Mrs Malfoy's eyes swept from Hermione's head to her toes, her right eyebrow twitched slightly as she took in Hermione's shoes. Damn it, they are too shiny, Hermione fought off the groan that wanted to escape her.

"No need to apologise, Mrs Malfoy. A hostess has many demands on her time, and you truly are most gracious in making time to greet me now." Hermione addressed the thickly veiled snub with a sugary sweetness that would make her parents wince. She channelled her inner Gryffindor and carried on before she had a chance to chicken out. Hermione had a feeling that Draco's mother would appreciate a quick wit. "I apologise for my tardiness. I didn't anticipate the time it would take to wrangle my hair together." Although Hermione's smile was warm, she remained guarded. She needed to stay on her toes.

Narcissa's eyes were dancing with laughter that she did not allow to reach her lips. "Hmm," she said, instead. "You styled your hair yourself? I have seen your curls in action, my dear. You have done well with them this evening."

Hermione shook her head, a shy smile on her face. Her new earrings swayed against her neck with the movement. Narcissa caught their movement for just a moment before she focused on something over Hermione's left shoulder. "Oh, Draco, darling. Look who is here," Narcissa preened.

Hermione felt her heart plummet to her stomach. Her breath caught in her throat, but she forced herself to remain calm, voice even, and a neutral expression on her face. She had thought she'd been keeping up with Narcissa, but the playing field was far from level. Hermione knew that Narcissa had a keen eye and was sure she had noticed her earrings. Perhaps they were familiar to her? Draco might have bought them recently, or they might be some sort of heirloom. Hermione didn't know, and would probably never ask. She also couldn't predict what Narcissa would observe when she watched her with her son. Hermione would have to be careful.

"Granger," Draco acknowledged her gruffly.

"Malfoy," she responded, tone equally unfriendly.

"Come now, you two. We're having a party, and you need to show everyone how well you're getting along - even if you aren't. There are appearances at stake here," Narcissa smiled coyly. "Draco darling. Ask Miss Granger to dance. The pianist is about to begin Beethoven's 'Moonlight Sonata'."

"Mother, really, I -"

"Oh, Mrs Malfoy, I really can't-"

"I'll hear nothing more of it. Draco, ask your colleague to dance."

"Shall we, Granger?" Draco asked. Resigned, he offered his arm.

"I'd be delighted," Hermione drawled in response. She took his arm and prayed to Morgana that Narcissa was buying the performance.

Draco didn't dare glance at her as they made their way to the dance floor.

"Would you have danced with me, if I'd have asked?" He whispered, barely loud enough for her to hear.

They had made it to the middle of the floor, as Narcissa would expect. Everyone attending this party would see her son dancing with the Muggle-born, ensuring that they saw how well he was able to cooperate.

Hermione didn't need to answer, surely he should know. He took her right hand in his and placed his left on her lower back. Hermione's spare hand drifted to his shoulder, aching to reach behind his neck and run her fingers through his hair. She resisted the temptation.

"Or would you run, and never look back?"

Draco's right foot took a step forward in time with the music. Hermione stumbled backwards, momentarily forgetting that she needed to dance. He had distracted her with that last line.

"Run where?" she whispered back, as he led her seamlessly in a circular motion with the other couples. Of course, he could dance. It was just one more thing to add to the list of dreamy qualities he had.

"Anywhere. With me, away from me? The options are endless," he said, voice flat, eyes focused up high on a tier ringing the ballroom that Hermione was yet to notice. Her eyes followed his, but saw nothing of significance. Just people watching the dancing and involved in their conversations.

"Don't you know by now? I'm with you. Always," she hissed through her teeth, careful to keep her rigid smile in place.

"Would you tremble if I touched your lips?"

Hermione groaned, her eyes flashing. "Do not tease me like this, Malfoy. I'm barely keeping it together as it is!"

He twirled her under his arm, her skirt billowing around her. He pulled her back, fitting her snuggly to his side.

"Would you swear that you'll always be mine?" His hand gripped hers a little harder, his other twitching against her back.

"Draco," she hissed, suddenly angry. "You're the one who wants to keep this a secret. You're going to get us caught!"

He ignored her, continuing to lead them around the dance floor, picking up the pace in time to the building crescendo from the piano.

"Merlin, this song is too long," Hermione complained. She needed to get away from him before one of them did something they'd regret.

"It is not too long, and I don't care," he said. He ripped his eyes away from the tier above and trained them on Hermione, instead. There was a fire in his eyes, and Hermione held her breath. This could not be a good thing. Draco was not being careful, and she knew he'd regret it. He'd take it out on her, adding another item to his list of things to loathe about himself. "I don't care," he said again, watching her eyes dart back and forth. "You're here tonight," he shifted their joined hands just a fraction towards her face, intending to run his finger across her cheek.

She knew his movements too well, had been studying them for weeks, and she was a clever witch. She wouldn't give him the chance to ruin what they had. She dropped his hand and stepped away from him, nearly bumping into another couple as she did so. "I think we've danced long enough," she said, adequately loud for the people around them to hear. She turned and darted through the remaining couples on the floor, leaving Draco to do the same.

Stupid, reckless jerk! What is Draco thinking? He's not. He's not thinking, he's forgotten himself for some reason. Too much Firewhisky, perhaps. Hermione pushed through the crowded ballroom, seeking fresh air. She found a balcony overlooking the most beautiful gardens she'd ever laid eyes on. There were vast expanses of lawn, broken up by a large pond, topiaries and artfully placed garden beds. She focused on the types of flowers she could discern from this distance, willing her heart to stop racing.

"Everything alright?"

Hermione started, turning to see Ginny coming to join her.

"Nice view," Ginny said when Hermione didn't respond.

"Mmm," Hermione agreed.

"So. Malfoy can dance," Ginny tried again.

"Yes. I'm adding it to the list of reasons why I could strangle him," Hermione turned her head and met Ginny's eyes.

"Everything alright?" She asked again.

"He's an absolute arse sometimes, Gin. I don't understand him. He was being so careless just now. It's like he gets off on the pain he can put himself through, and me by proxy." Hermione glanced around. She and Ginny were the only ones on the balcony, and she could see no one strolling through the gardens. "He's the one who wants to keep us a secret. I'd scream about it until my lungs would give out if Draco would let me. He seems to think that people will be out to get me, or him, if we were public. He thinks he's protecting me. It's infuriating, but I'm on board until he decides otherwise. But tonight, in front of everyone, he - he just, gah!" Hermione threw up her hands in frustration.

"Hermione, listen. I don't know what went on between you two on that dance floor. What I do know is that you two are involved, and I'm telling you, that right up until the end, you both looked like you'd rather be doing anything else than dancing together. You did a very, very good job."

"What did you see at the very end, then?"

"Er, some rather intense eye contact. But 'Mione, that could be read in any number of ways. I'm sure most people will assume he said something unpleasant, and that's why you stormed off."

Hermione released the breath she was holding, along with some of the tension from her shoulders.

"Good, ok. That's what I was hoping for. He'd been about to do something spectacularly stupid, I'm sure of it."

Ginny turned her back to the garden. Leaning against the rail, she watched the party happening inside.

Another floating tray full of champagne flutes drifted out towards them. Ginny lifted one for herself while Hermione took two. She downed the first one while Ginny watched on, eyebrows raised. Hermione placed the empty glass back on the tray before it floated away and cradled her second.

"You go on back in and find Harry, see if you can't get him to dance again," Hermione smiled. "I just need another minute."

"I'm pretty sure he's hiding from me," Ginny grinned. "He's had rather enough dancing tonight. But I'll see what I can do," she winked, leaving Hermione to the peace of the chilly night air.

The moment Ginny was back inside, Moppy appeared next to Hermione with a crack. She dropped her champagne glass over the edge of the balcony and into the garden below. Hermione didn't watch it fall. Her wand was out of her leg holster and in her hand before she'd even registered what she'd done.

"Apologies, Miss. Moppy is not meaning to startle you. Master asked Moppy to wait until Miss was alone to give her this." Moppy presented Hermione with a folded piece of parchment, bowing low. Hermione plucked the note out of the elf's hand.

"Thank you, Moppy," Hermione said.

"You is most welcome, Miss," Moppy replied. "Moppy is to wait until you has finished reading," she said, gesturing for Hermione to go ahead and open the note.

Granger,

You're right. I was a complete arse.

Let me make it up to you.

Burn this and go with Moppy.

DM

"Incendio" Hermione said, touching her wand to the note. "Let's go, Moppy," Hermione reached out her hand to the elf.

Together they Disapparated, and by the time Hermione's feet had touched the ground, Moppy was gone again.

Hermione took in her surroundings. She was standing in the middle of a small white gazebo. She could barely see the Manor in the distance, even with its lights. There was a small pond to her left, brightly coloured koi catching the moonlight as they swam through the shallows. She left the little structure to get a closer look at the fish. More green grass and topiaries on her right and Wisteria hanging from the roof and trellis of the gazebo. Her shoes sunk into the grass and she shivered. It was especially cold out here next to the water and in the open air. With her wand still in her hand, she cast a warming charm over herself and waited.

Less than a minute later, a loud crack rent through the air and Hermione had her wand trained on Draco's chest. She dropped her hand in relief and holstered it back to her leg.

She wanted to step into him, but instead, she watched him, a question on her face.

"We're safe out here, Granger. I placed the wards myself. We can't stay too long, though. People will start to notice that we're missing."

Hermione instantly softened at the sound of his voice. Despite this, her anger got the better of her. "You're a stupid git, did you know that? Ten more seconds on that dance floor and your precious secret would have been blown. What got into you?"

"Fuck," he said, starting to pace. "You were right to move away when you did. I had been about to fuck it all up. You don't see the way other people look at you, the way those wizards track your every movement. The room was full of them. Young, old, married, single. You are mine, Granger. And for one small, insanely stupid moment, I was ready to risk it all to have them know it." He said, finally moving toward her.

"When will this end?" She asked, sliding her hands up his chest, and meeting his eyes with hers. His arms circled her waist, and he pulled her closer.

"I wish I had an answer for you, but I don't," he said. "I've missed you, Hermione."

Her heart melted as it always did when he used her given name. "I've missed you too, Draco," she replied. He cupped her face in his hands and lowered his head to kiss her softly. She finally wound her fingers through his hair and pulled him harder against her, flicking her tongue against his bottom lip, demanding entry to his mouth. He obliged her, moulding her body to his, fingers itching to undo all of the hard work she'd put into her hair. One curl slipped loose, followed by two more. Hermione stepped out of her shoes. They stayed stuck in the grass and she allowed him to lift her off the ground. For a brief moment, he held her suspended in the air. Their mouths clashing. Want, need, and desire all fighting for attention, whispering I love you in words unsaid.

He set her back down on the ground, feet squishing into the dew-damp grass. Hermione didn't care. He held her head close to his rapidly beating heart.

"Dance with me," Draco said.

Ignoring the fact that there was no music, Hermione agreed. "Ok," she hummed, face still pressed against his chest.

"Follow my lead," he whispered, twirling her in his arms, once, twice, before taking the pose for the waltz.

He led her around the pond in a dance much more graceful than the one they'd shared inside. This was intimate and loving, a memory she knew she would cherish forever.

"I'll never understand how I got this lucky," he said, bending her back in a low dip, and sweeping her from left to right, and back up to his chest. His eyes drew her in. "I've found a woman, stronger than anyone I know. You carry my secrets and make them your own," he groaned. "Granger, I don't deserve you, but I'll spend forever trying to."

Hermione sighed. Her heart was full. "We are just kids. How can we be this in love? And we're fighting against all of the odds. Do you think we can make it?"

"I'm not sure, Granger. I haven't figured out that part of the plan yet."

"Maybe if you'll tell me what other obstacles we're facing, I can help you work on the plan," Hermione said. She knew he wouldn't tell her - she'd tried before. But she would keep on trying just the same.

He ignored her like she knew he would. "Just keep dancing in the dark with me, Granger. We're running out of time."

"Draco, please. I want to see my future in your eyes," she whispered, needing him to know how badly she wanted to help. They should be in this together. Hermione was certainly not a damsel in distress.

He hummed something low in his throat, blissfully ignoring her tiny protest. "How can I focus on the future when I have you between my arms. Not to mention, barefoot in the grass," he chuckled.

"Oh, I must be a mess!" Hermione realised. She'd been far too caught up in him to notice anything about herself.

"Darling, you look perfect tonight," he assured her.

She reached up on her tiptoes and placed a slow, sweet, loving kiss on his lips. He smiled against her mouth. "You're perfect in my eyes, Granger, but I might have ruined your hair before. I'm sorry - I have to go, but you should take a minute, find your shoes. If I can't see you before you leave, I'll see you at school." He kissed her cheek and Disapparated before she could say another word.

Hermione unholstered her wand and conjured a mirror. "Lumos," she said, inspecting the damage. Her hair was not as bad as she had thought. A tweak here and there, she shoved some pins back into place. No one would know the difference. She trudged back to the other side of the pond where her shoes were still sticking out of the grass. She pulled them out of the ground and sat on the stairs of the gazebo. She cast a Scourgify over her feet, skirt, and shoes before slipping them back on. Hermione dusted her hands off on her dress and Disapparated, arriving back on the balcony and startling several guests.

"Sorry," she apologised. "I got lost coming back from the loo. This place is so huge," she shrugged, leaving them behind to find her friends before the clock struck midnight.


Finally, finally, all of the guests had left. It was two in the morning, and Draco had just shouldered his way out of the heavy black jacket he was forced to wear all evening. He was looking forward to a long, hot shower, and his soft bed where he would be free to dream of Hermione, her hair tangled around his fingers, while his eyes absorbed every detail of how she had looked that night.

But it was not meant to be. His mother was knocking on his door.

He sighed. "Come in," he called, taking a seat in his favourite chair by the window. His leg crossed loosely over his knee, the picture of nonchalance.

Narcissa entered his room, the train of her gown trailing after her. She leaned against his bedpost.

"Did you have fun tonight, darling?"

"I think it might be the best one yet, mother. Well done."

"Hmmm," she purred, pleased. "Any of the young ladies catch your attention tonight? Miss Parkinson seemed to be rather enamoured with another young gentleman, which is a shame. But the younger of the Greengrass sisters - she looked lovely this evening, did she not? She wouldn't be my first choice," Narcissa hummed. "But she certainly seemed taken with you. Astoria, isn't it?"

"Astoria is a bore, rivalled only by her elder sister. Thank Merlin she's too preoccupied with Blaise to notice me. No, thank you, mother. I believe I can do my own matchmaking."

"Is that why you disappeared for nearly an hour this evening?" Her eyes narrowed.

Fuck, he should have known it was a trap. "I just needed some fresh air. I took a stroll through the gardens. You know I dislike all of the fuss," he lied smoothly.

"Curious. Your absence was very well timed with Miss Granger's. A coincidence, perhaps?" Narcissa was not letting up. She was on to him, and she was not impressed.

"We bumped into each other." Another smooth lie. "Had a quick conversation about changing up the Prefects nightly patrols. I've had enough of working on the weekends." He kept his pose purposely neutral, but Narcissa was sharp and clever; never missing a beat. She was too practised at making small observations, especially in the last few years.

"I thought she looked lovely this evening. She really has turned into the most beautiful woman. Fantastic taste in jewellery, too. Did you happen to notice her earrings? They reminded me so much of my Grandmother's. I know those technically belong to you now, my darling, but you wouldn't mind if I took them out of storage, cleaned them up and wore them for a little while, would you?" Her tone was sweet as honey, dripping with sugar.

"Mother -"

"I'm feeling rather nostalgic." From honey to ice, Narcissa was dropping the game.

Draco got to his feet, ready to start his defence. Narcissa held her right hand up, palm facing her son, effectively stopping him from speaking.

"I agree. Physically, intellectually, socially - the Granger girl would make a good match for you. I can see that she makes you happy, no matter what you tried to hide. The whole evening you glared daggers at any man who happened to even brush past her, let alone speak to her. You're in love with her, aren't you?"

Draco had no response. All of his carefully laid plans undone by his impulsively observant mother, who he never should have underestimated. He had counted too heavily on her being distracted this evening and had overestimated his own skills. He continued to say nothing, knowing that she was far from finished. She sat down on the edge of his bed and patted the space next to her. Draco obliged her.

Narcissa placed her hand lovingly on her son's knee. "I can see that she makes you happy. Your whole demeanour changed from the moment you saw her arrive. My love, I want you to be happy. Nothing would make me more pleased than to see you come alive, thriving, and enjoying your life. Hermione Granger could pull our name out of the mud it still sits in, despite all appearances tonight."

"There is a 'but' coming, I know there is."

"Yes, there is. I am not the only one who noticed this. Your uncle was here this evening, Draco. With the Dark Lord and Bellatrix both gone, his one remaining loyalty is to your father. You know as well as I that it is impossible for you to wed anyone who is not pure of blood. Your father will go to endless lengths to prevent your fraternisation with the Muggle-born. You must," she hissed that last word, "end whatever it is you have with her."

"I will not," Draco seethed, standing up and tracing a path in the plush carpet. "She is everything. I will not give her up. "

"Then you will watch her die. If not directly by your father's hand, then your uncle's by extension. And if for some reason they fail, because she is an exceptional witch, surrounded by exceptional wizards; yourself included, my darling, then terrible things are sure to happen. Curses older than this house are in place to prevent a union with someone our ancestors deemed undesirable. You should know better, Draco. End it, or watch her die. The choice is yours to make."

Narcissa stood, smoothed her skirt down and left his room as gracefully as she had entered.

The moment the door closed behind her, Draco flicked his wrist towards his dressing table. Glass bottles shattered and drawers rattled to the floor. His next victim was his bed, he shredded the mattress - and its opulent dressings to tatters. He brought the four posts crashing down on top of it. Chest heaving, he wasn't done. He charged into his closet and pulled every item off of every shelf, sliced through robe after robe, tearing whatever he could to pieces with his bare hands. He screamed at his four walls until his voice was hoarse. He had always known this, of course. That any relationship with Hermione would end in disaster, that she could never be truly his. He had warned her for fucks sake, and yet he had let it happen anyway. He had gotten carried away in the feel of her embrace. He loved her and he couldn't stop. He couldn't. It wasn't possible.

Draco stood there in the end. His eyes glazed over on the destruction he had wrought in his room - by magic and by hand. He saw it and considered it nothing in comparison to the devastation of his heart.

I Don't Care - Ed Sheeran & Justin Bieber

Hero - Enrique Iglesias

Perfect - Ed Sheeran

If you're curious about the earrings, follow this link.

As always, if you've gotten this far, I assume you like what I do! Your comments/ reviews are always appreciated!