Dribble Two: Dental Hygiene

Length ~ 1k words

Rating: K+

Hermione must have gotten turned around somewhere – she didn't know this part of the castle. It was murky, with shadows pooling in the corners, and, through the windows, she could see that the lake was much closer, almost on eye-level.

She must be near the dungeons. Right where the Slytherins lived.

Hermione squared her shoulders and walked ahead bravely. She might be just eleven years old, but she had been sorted into Gryffindor, and Gryffindors weren't afraid of anything. Besides, all she needed to do was find a bathroom, brush her teeth, and then she could run back to her dorm. Skipping the daily routine didn't even cross her mind – what kind of a dentists' daughter would she be then?

Sadly, curfew was just a few minutes away, and the hallways were empty, so there was no one to ask for directions.

"Aha!" Finally, she spied what looked like a bathroom. Hastily, she made her way towards it and opened the door in a rush.

"What the–"

Hermione colored crimson. In her hurry, she'd stumbled into a boys' lav. And there, standing in front of the sinks, was none other than Draco Malfoy, who'd already been quite mean to her on several occasions.

Although, he wasn't the only one. Almost everyone was mean, since few liked the bushy-haired know-it-all. Not even members of her own house showed her any affection. It made life rather lonely.

"Sorry!" she squeaked, making to pivot and run to some dark, forgotten corner where she could promptly die of mortification. But, something caught her eye, and she paused.

Draco Malfoy, to his growing horror, witnessed the first-year Gryffindor approaching him.

"Are you… flossing?" she asked, fascinated.

The question, combined with her presence, was so incongruous, that his mind shut down for a moment. Instead of sneering and shoving her away, as any proper bigoted pureblood should, he fell back on his well-bred instincts and replied in a scandalized fashion: "Of course, I'm flossing! What kind of animal doesn't floss after eating?!"

Hermione giggled suddenly and said, "Ronald Weasley doesn't. Over dinner, he got this bit of parsley stuck between his teeth, and he kept picking at it with his fingers! He went to bed right after, and I think it's still there."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Well, that's Weasley," he replied scornfully. "I'm not entirely certain he even knows what a brush is!"

Hermione giggled again, eyeing the bit of string with interest. It was obviously magical: when she'd walked in, Draco had been standing with his mouth open, and it was moving by itself. All he had to do was stand watch.

"I came to floss too," she shared. "But I got lost along the way. Still, I couldn't go to bed without cleaning my teeth first!"

"Of course, you couldn't," he nodded as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Anyone with even a speck of self-respect knows that. Show me."

"What– oh." Blushing, Hermione opened to share with him the contents of her little pouch, which held all of her bathroom necessities. There was her pink toothbrush, sensibly stored in a plastic tube holder, which she cleaned out rigorously every day; a bar of floral soap; a packet of floss, scented with mint; the toothpaste her parents recommended; and some girly products which she shoved away.

"Hmm," Draco inspected the essentials dubiously. "Muggle things?" He poked at her floss; it did nothing. His own was suspended in midair, waiting to resume its work.

"Yes. I didn't know there were alternatives," Hermione answered sadly, suddenly feeling embarrassed for her plebeian background. Of course, Draco Malfoy, who came from this world, would have magical floss, magical toothpaste, and a magical brush.

"Well…" the boy began hesitantly, "If you don't have any, I could get you some."

"Really?!"

"Yeah." He sounded more confident now. "Not only do you know the importance of dental hygiene, but you just poked fun at Weasley, so even if you are a muggleborn you can't be all that bad," he reasoned. "So come back here tomorrow, and I'll give you some things which should be part of any normal witch or wizard's daily regimen."

"You'd do that?" she asked breathlessly.

Malfoy's cheeks started to turn pink. "I just offered, didn't I?" he mumbled, looking down.

"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!" Hermione exclaimed, and then, in a bout of emotion, lunged forward to peck him on the cheek.

It took her a moment to realize what she'd done.

"I'm so sorry!" she squeaked, covering her face with her hands from embarrassment. "I didn't mean to...I mean...I just…"

Malfoy, standing just a foot away, watched her sputter incoherently. "It's just a toothbrush," he muttered, "and some floss."

"But it's not just a toothbrush!" Hermione cried out suddenly and began to sniffle. "It's so much more than that! You're sharing it with me! No one else here shares anything! All they do is laugh and call me names!"

Malfoy, who'd done his own fair share of name calling, shuffled uncomfortably.

"Look," he said awkwardly, because he had no idea what to do with crying girls, "it's almost curfew. I'm already done, so I'll go. You...do what you need and come back here tomorrow, alright?"

"Alright," Hermione agreed, wiping her eyes and smiling brilliantly, which made her buck-teeth stand out even more. Oddly, Draco didn't find the sight repulsing. It was even kind of...cute. "Thanks."

"You're, ah...you're welcome. Oh, and, uh...avoid Peeves."

She was still smiling when he went out the door.

Hermione completed her evening routine, and then carefully made her way back to Gryffindor tower. From time to time, a huge grin would pop up on her face, and she didn't even try to bite it back. She had just made a friend! Counting Neville, that made a grand total of two, and she felt like her fortunes in Hogwarts were finally turning around.

Life was so much better when you had friends.

Written at 3 am when my flu lead to insomnia and an irrational impulse to floss my teeth. No regrets.