Disclaimer: The characters of Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling.
Author's note: Thanks for all the great reviews everyone! Hope this lives up to expectation…!
Chapter 15
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You walk up to her
Ask her to dance.
She says hey baby I just
Might take a chance.
You say it's a good thing
That you float in the air.
That way there's no way I will
Crush your pretty toenails to a thousand pieces…
Only in dreams.
-Weezer, Only in Dreams
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Draco Malfoy stomped his foot to ward off the cold and growled in irritation. Where in Merlin was that Longbottom fool?
Longbottom had been supposed to meet him here, outside Hagrid's hut near the border of the Forbidden Forest at five o'clock in the evening. It was already six and the dance was an hour away. He wanted to pull his hair out in frustration. What he needed to do would take much longer than one hour!
"That stupid Longbottom had probably forgotten all about our agreement. Figures." He snorted. That idiot hadn't been given a Remembrall in first year by his grandmother for nothing.
He looked behind him and left and right, hoping to catch a glimpse of the clumsy Gryffindor in the waning autumn sunlight. He rubbed his shoulders and watched as his breath came out in cloudy puffs. It was getting to be a bit chilly these days.
6.15 pm. Shit! Longbottom really wasn't going to come! It was now too late to go get him without raising a big fuss that would reveal his plans. Draco walked tentatively to the edge of the Forest and stared into its yawning maw. A wolf howled and he could feel the hairs on his neck stand. Groaning, he screwed his eyes together and clenched his fists. This was ridiculous! He thought, disgusted with himself. Here he was, a member of the Order of the Phoenix and practically a hero with a plethora of encounters with the Death Eaters under his belt and he still hadn't gotten over his fear of the Forbidden Forest at night!
He gulped and forced himself to put one foot into the forest. Then another.
This is for Hermione.
You can do it!
It was still as dark and scary as it had been all those years ago when he had been forced to serve detention with the Gryffindors. Walking slowly and cautiously so as not to disturb the Forest's many…denizens, he pulled out his wand in front of him and started to creep further in.
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Hermione traversed the moving staircases, not even bothering to feel annoyed when one staircase swung away at the last minute, leaving her to have to take another, much longer and more tedious route to the Great Hall.
She was right now on her way to the dance, but what she really wanted to do was to groan in embarrassment and bury her bushy head under the ground.
That's right, her bushy, bushy head.
A snide voice whispered, so what's new about that?
What had she been thinking, asking Draco if he wanted to walk to the Great Hall together?
She's been so excited, so hopeful of what the night might bring.
And what had he said?
"Uh…sorry Hermione, but I have something to do before that. Why don't you go ahead and I'll meet you at the Great Hall?"
If that wasn't a rejection she didn't know what was.
What was wrong with her?
Or, more specifically, what was wrong with her that made Draco Malfoy suddenly not seem to care?
The truth was, that while she had initially been skeptical about Lavender's idea to have a dance, witnessing the excitement of everyone else, and seeing all the plans Lavender, Padma, and Luna had drawn up, had made her feel somewhat eager…nervous even.
Normally she would've scoffed and dismissed everything about this dance, ignoring it in the favor of curling up in bed with her favourite book, but…it was just that…she hadn't felt this happy in such a long time now. And the fact that the source of that happiness was somehow Draco Malfoy did not make the whole situation now any better.
There was just something about Draco that had made her so look forward to this dance, made her think, deep in the secret schoolgirl recesses of her heart, that maybe, just maybe, something might happen at this dance. Something romantic, something magical; something special. Something that would make the war seem a mere bad memory. Something that involved herself and Draco.
That she could not help but feel…hurt at his rejection was something she could not avoid, no matter how much she tried.
It was so utterly frustrating! Just a few months ago, the thought of Draco Malfoy would not have made her pause at all, and now a simple gesture, a few simple words from him were all she could focus on!
And now she wondered, had this all been a passing phase for him?
Or maybe…maybe she had been mistaken. Maybe he'd only always tried to be a good friend to her. Maybe…
Get a grip, Hermione! All these maybes and what nots will not go towards helping them win this war at all. So just suck it up, ignore him being the usual prat that he is, go to the dance, have a good time and tomorrow you can concentrate on winning this war once and for all.
She was done swooning over him, she told herself determinedly. Whatever he wanted to do was none of her business.
Nothing was wrong with her, and she was not going to think about him if she could help it.
Really.
She wasn't.
Right then.
She walked into the Great Hall with her head held high, trying and failing to persuade herself that the blonde-haired ferret meant nothing to her at all.
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Draco Malfoy had not had a good night in the slightest. First, that idiot Longbottom fails to show up, then he had to venture into the Forbidden-frickin' Forest all on his lonesome, and after pulling branches and leaves out of his face for a good half hour, he finally comes upon what he wanted, only then to be attacked by a bunch of blood-thirsty crazed acromantula!
And now, he was late for the dance. Hermione would no doubt disappointed and maybe just a bit infuriated.
He sighed. So much for his surprise.
He barged into the Great Hall, and some of the attendees at the periphery of the dance floor turned to stare at his bedraggled appearance. He glared back at them.
Buggering idiots. So he did not have the time to change into his dress robes. So what! He was still a Malfoy and Malfoys look good in whatever they wore.
At least, that was what he told himself. He rubbed his bruised and sore arm with one hand and cursed the bloody overgrown spiders for his sprained ankle that was now causing him to limp a little. He looked about him even as other students approached him to give their greetings. Giving a perfunctory and rather irritated smile (only Draco Malfoy could truly pull that look off), he walked about trying to find his Hermione.
Where was She?
And then he saw her.
She was just…wow.
Her golden-brown hair tumbled over her shoulders in waves, and her cheeks were flushed pink. She was wearing a light blue robes of some kind of floaty material, and despite the fact that hers was not the most spectacular or gorgeous get-up in the room, her fresh beauty shone through, making Draco ache for her in ways and…places he really shouldn't have.
And then he saw whom she was dancing with and a vein in his head began to pulse angrily.
Zacharias Smith was going to die. Painfully and with a maximum amount of gore.
And it was in this state that he stalked towards the couple, eyes only for the witch who had his complete and somewhat smoldering attention.
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She had already resigned herself to standing by the sidelines like a wallflower from the first swirl of Professor Flitwick's wand that had caused the music to start playing magically and loudly from all corners of the Great Hall. To be honest, with Draco nowhere in sight, Hermione did not even feel the inclination to dance at all. Happy couples spun all around her, and it was all she could do not to run to the girl's toilet like a first year to cry her eyes out in front of Moaning Myrtle.
It was only after Zacharias had asked to dance with her that she had thought, hey, why not?
She was a free woman. She could dance with whomever she wanted. And if a certain ferrety-person thought he was too good to show up at the dance, then, well, it was his loss.
And then, just as she was in the middle of her second dance, she heard an abruptly loud bag and some muffled cursing. The cursing to her was really oddly familiar. On hindsight, she really shouldn't have been that surprised as to who it was. Trying to strain her neck over the tall boy she was dancing with but to no avail, she turned her attention back to the wizard who was trying eagerly to engage her in conversation.
It was only when she was turning in time to the music that she saw him.
She let out a small 'Oh'.
Practically glowering at her and Zacharias was Draco Malfoy, striding towards them in a surprisingly good imitation of a scowling and murderous Severus Snape.
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"Excuse me, may I cut in?" asked Draco brutally, as, without waiting for an answer from a blustering Smith, he pulled Hermione away from him to claim her for himself.
He smirked triumphantly at her even as she glared back at him.
"What gives you the right to just cut in like that whenever you wanted to? You were being incredibly rude to poor Zacharias!"
"Oh, so he's now poor Zacharias, isn't he?"
"What do you mean by that?"
He gripped her waist harder. "What I mean is you going around in other men's arms while I'm not around!"
Hermione sucked in her breath in outrage and hissed at him, ignoring the curious looks other couples were throwing their way, "There are so many things wrong with that sentence that I can't even begin to say how! Number one, who says I need your permission to dance with other men? I can do whatever I want and it's certainly none of your business whom I dance with! Number two, you're one to talk! You were the one who was one hour late in the first place!"
"I didn't mean to be late!" burst out Draco. And to Hermione, he really did seem to be frustrated, upset, and exasperated all at once. "I was only late because I'd been trying to get you this ruddy flower!
She was stunned speechless.
Finally, she managed to remember how to speak again and asked, "What flower?"
He bit his lip, resigned, "I had wanted this moment to be more romantic, but…well…this still comes from my heart Hermione."
And he removed a slightly crushed but still beautiful blood red rose from the inside pocket of his robes.
To the casual eye, this rose might seem like an every-day, common variety one.
But those who had studied their Herbology texts as well as Hermione had, would recognize the distinctive maroon markings on the outermost petals of the rose.
She gasped. This rose…it was…
"It's an Everlasting Rose," whispered Draco. "They last…"
Hermione interrupted and recited with textbook efficiency, "Everlasting Roses, they are a precious breed of flora that, if picked, and preserved, will last forever. They are also widely considered to be a test of love, as the person who tries to pick it will only be allowed to by this semi-sentient rose if he does so for his…true love."
He looked so shy and yet so pleased with himself at the same time that Hermione felt her previous anger all but melt away.
"So…" he started to ask, somewhat contritely and hesitantly, wondering if she still wanted to bite his head off, "dance with me?"
She nodded wordlessly, and trembling, he once again put his free hand on her slender waist, and guided hers to his shoulder. Smiling reassuringly, as if to say, See, we can do this, he tenderly led her forward.
And so for Hermione and Draco, the dance truly began.
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Draco Malfoy had never really been able to say what had attracted him so much to Hermione Granger. Was it her intelligence? Her wit? Her caring? Her fresh-faced wholesome beauty?
Then again, he could name countless other witches with those very same qualities, witches who were infinitely more suitable in terms of their lineages; witches who actually did not actively hate him. So what was it that he found so special about her? So entrancing? What was it about her that made him yearn to be with her with a startling intensity?
And now, dancing with her, taking in her vanilla scent, with his face against her hair, he realized that there was no need for reason, no need for logic; this was the woman he loved, this was the woman for him.
He had reached out, and miraculously, she had grabbed hold of him as tightly as he held onto her.
And for that, he was never letting her go. He trapped her as surely as she had trapped him. She was practically in his bones now. He bid a sweet adieu to his freedom and nestled back contentedly into her arms.
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The song finally ended and Draco pulled her urgently away to a secluded alcove inside the Great Hall, eyes wild and strangely…feral. He let go of her once they were alone and it was only now that Hermione suddenly realized the disheveled and chaotic state that his robes and his normally perfect silky hair were in. Here and there were long gashes up his sleeve, revealing light scratches in areas where the cloth parted to reveal skin. Dirt, leaves, and other sorts of dark, slimy…particles that Hermione did not want to think about were stuck to his robes, body, and hair. His face was flushed and smudged with mud. Despite all of this, however, he was still the most handsome man she had ever seen.
Draco noticed her staring at him and he scratched his head, looking slightly abashed, "I erm…got attacked by some acromantula. Damn flowers like to grow by their lair."
"Acromantula!" she shrieked. He suddenly looked very wary as this particular shriek was by now famous to him and all the inhabitants of Hogwarts Castle. It meant the advent of McGonagall-like scolding, reprimanding, high-handed lecturing, and a whole lot of Hermione-patented screaming. He steeled himself for the inevitable and groaned. So much for the romantic interlude he had tried to engineer.
"DRACO MALFOY you dolt! I can't believe you did all that! What were you thinking, going into the Forbidden Forest at night, and all by yourself! That was an incredibly stupid and silly thing to do! You of all people should've known better!"
He hung his head like a puppy that had just been scolded for peeing on the rug and whined, "I know…I didn't mean to go on my own, it was that blasted Longbottom, he-"
"But…" she interrupted, and now she blushed, "that was the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me, Malfoy. The sweetest and silliest thing. And I thank you for it."
His grin would have sliced through even the darkest of days, so bright it was.
They stared at each other for an indeterminable amount of time.
She, bashfully and occasionally looking away; he, unwaveringly with something stormy deep in his eyes.
"Hermione…" whispered Draco finally, breaking the silence, "Can I kiss you?"
"What?" she burst out, startled, "You want to what?"
He misinterpreted her shocked tone of voice as one of disgust/and or rejection.
Pushing his hands into the pockets of his robes, he mumbled, "It's not that bad, you know, kissing me. It might even be enjoyable…"
"No! No! I mean…yes! No…yes…um...well, that is to say…that's not what I meant." She took a deep breath to calm herself down. "What I meant to say was…yes! You can kiss me. If you want…though I never took you to be the sort to ask for consent first." She smiled somewhat nervously.
Draco's eyes lit up and he took one step closer to her, backing her against the wall. His fingers caressed her cheek lovingly and at that moment Hermione forgot how to breathe. Placing both hands by the sides of her on the wall, he pressed the entire length of his body against her soft, pliant one, savoring the feel of her body and her scent so irresistibly near his. He moved his head shakily towards hers, imagining all the while how he would finally plunder her soft pink lips, making every part of it his own. Every nerve in Draco's body was screaming for him to take her, take her now!
Her lips were just there…just there…a bit more…closer now…
BANG!
"GREAT BUGGERING HELL!"
The doors of the Great Hall boomed open, revealing an injured and slightly delirious Kingsley Shacklebolt, who swayed on his feet.
The rest of the Great Hall had turned their heads as one towards him, momentarily distracted only by Draco's colourful swearing.
"They have the Longbottoms." And in a move eerily reminiscent of Quirrell in their first year, Kingsley toppled over and fell onto the ground with a great 'thud'.
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"It's a ploy," bit out Bill Weasley curtly.
Lavender rolled her eyes and sighed, "Of course it's a ploy. It's a bloody trap for Merlin's sake, by the Lestranges no less! So what're we going to do about it?"
Everyone looked uneasy at the mention of the all-too-familiar insane couple.
Zacharias Smith fidgeted on his feet and burst out characteristically, "Why should all of us risk our lives to save just three people, two of whom are mad and half-dead?"
Hermione shot a look at him caused him to want to shrivel up on the spot. "No one gets left behind, Smith. No one."
Everyone was silent and ashamed, staring down at the floor to avoid Hermione's wrath.
Draco finally piped up, "When do we leave?"
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