Hermione shuffled awkwardly in front of the mirror. She had absolutely refused Ginny's proposition to help her get ready for the Samhain ball. Considering who her date was, she was terrified that Ginny might prove to be a bit too overzealous in making her look good – at the expense of her pride. Because pride certainly wouldn't let her primp herself and try to look her best for a boy who had made it almost a decade worth of sport to torment her in any possible way. On the other hand, pride wouldn't let her appear sloppily made – it was a sin against the beautiful dress she had bought and her battered and bruised ego certainly needed some uplifting. She really was between a rock and a hard place. In the end she had decided to try to look her best with accentuating her most valuable assets. Her makeup was light enough to be almost unnoticeable, yet it drew attention to her high cheekbones and deeply set dark eyes. She approached the difficult task of managing her riotous hair in a somewhat unexpected manner. Instead of applying copious amount of potions she used her wand to tightly wind it in four intricate braids which were then twisted and pinned so as to resemble a crown. Although she did consider her efforts to be successful she still asked for Parvati's opinion and was pleased to hear the other girl say she really did look well. Before heading to the Hall of Doom she stopped by Ginny's dorm to hear what the ginger girl had to say as well.

"Wow, Hermione, you look beautiful." Ginny gasped, even if she herself was the epitome of beauty in her velvet emerald dress. "I love what you've done with your eyes – they seem like deep wells of desire in this light." She waggled playfully her eyebrows at the remark. "Really dark and mysterious. What say you, did ever a dragon keep so fair a cave?"

"I swear to you, Ginevra, if your dress wasn't so lovely I'd rip it to shreds. How do you know about Ferret-boy? And more importantly, how do you know enough of Shakespeare to quote it?"

Ginny giggled. "You know not all of my brothers are as dumb as Ron. Percy could be considered well-read, despite him being grating on the best of days. Bill also really does love to read – I imagine you'd be a match made in Heaven if he were a little younger. And if you haven't already captured a certain ferret's fancy."

"You know, you're very adept at not answering questions lately. And quoting Romeo and Juliet, no less." Hermione eyed her shrewdly, even though the other girl could still tell she was amused. "Any secret forbidden romance I should know about?"

"Oh, you're so funny. Want to take attention off yourself for a change?" Then she shrugged, doing her best to appear nonchalant. "No, no secret romance... that you should know about." She muttered the last part under her breath, so Hermione who had already turned toward the door wouldn't hear her.

Meanwhile in the dungeons the subject of the two Gryffindor girls' conversation was standing in front of the mirror, doing his best to look as buffoonish as he could. He was halfway between jealous ("Stupid Weasley and his stupid ineptness") and giddy that he got to take Granger to the ball. But his ugly insecurities had reared their head after the scene in Diagon Alley, so he had decided to take the golden path between serious and stupid – he just hoped that Granger would grasp his reference of Petruchio at the wedding day. He was grateful that Zabini was for once not in the room, because he did not need neither his teasing, nor encouragement at the moment. But when his gaze fell on the piercing blue eyes of his dorm-mate watching him avidly in the mirror, he groaned internally. Maybe Zabini was the better deal, after all. True, the Italian boy was always astute in his observations, but he was also fairly nonchalant for a Slytherin. Nott on the other hand was a different matter altogether. Draco had known him almost all his life, yet he simply couldn't grasp what made him tick. He supposed it was fairly understandable – Calla Nott had passed when Theodore had been only 4 years old. And even compared to Lucius, Thoros Nott, his only remaining family, was one scary individual – he had been, after all, a school chum with Dark Lord himself and one of his first followers. With the knack for torture that the old bugger had, it was a whole miracle that Theo Nott seemed fairly placid and normal. The most unnerving thing about him though was that he always seemed like he knew a secret no one else was privy to. Or rather - secrets.

Something of Draco's reluctance to deal with him must have flitted across his face, because the other boy snorted, seemingly amused.

"What's the matter, want to woo and win the fair lady, but you don't have the bollocks to be mocked?"

"I always took you for a clever fellow, Nott." Draco narrowed his gaze in the mirror. "So explain to me, how exactly is dressing like a buffoon preventing mocking from the masses?"

"Not the masses – just your Gryffindor shrew." Damn those blue eyes, they were exactly the same shade as the late Headmaster Dumbledore's. "Besides, didn't you know? A man is most sincere when he's lying. Give him a mask and he'll wholly reveal himself."

"Impressive. How did you put your hands on such books? Surely your muggle-hating father wouldn't keep them in the family library."

"My mother's private collection. You?"

"One of the tutors. Although the choice was very limited. Shakespeare's folio, some Keats, some Wilde. His favorite was Anna Karenina."

"Good. So what are you? Petruchio, I'd wager."

He supposed denial was useless. "Got it in one, mate."

"You're in way over your head. You do know your Katherina would be furious, what with her being emancipated and egalitarian, right? And that play is outright chauvinistic."

"At least it's funny."

"Whatever you say. Should've gone for Othello, though."

"Whatever gave you the idea?"

"You look positively murderous whenever you look at the Weasley girl these days. Since I'm sure you're not secretly in love with Zabini, it must be guilt by association. That stupid brother of hers done something yet again?"

"He exists. Isn't that enough? And what are you dressed as - The Amazing Mind Reader?"

"The wizard with the hairy heart."

He snorted at that. "Let me guess – Daphne wants to play the fair lady with noble heart and kind spirit, for once. Still fits you though."

Something flashed in Theo's eyes and he smirked. "You shouldn't presume too much. After all, your lady love is enough of a know-it-all for the whole Hogwarts population. No need to become her twin."

Just then they were interrupted by a loud clanking of armor in the hallway. Draco couldn't help but guffaw at that.

"Zabini, have you nicked school property for your costume?"

"Yeah, dude. I'm Sir Luckless – the muggle. Have you read that particular tale by Beedle? Or Daddy had it barred from the Malfoy library as well? I heard he wrote to Dumbledore himself once upon a time to protect your tender eyes from it."

"You do know, the Hogwarts' library is not under Lucius Malfoy's jurisdiction, right? And daddy's seal of approval" he twisted his lips mockingly "stopped being crucial, when I began to use it. Anyway, I'm going to my date – I want to stay in the good books of that volatile little bird."

Just as he made his way to the door, he heard Zabini snicker. "If you were ever in her books, I bet she'd burn her library."

Hermione took a deep breath through her nose once the Entrance hall came to focus again. Hundreds of people – even the first years have been allowed to the feast in some capacity – were sporting all kind of colorful costumes. From scary through ridiculous to elaborate. She eyed Luna in the corner closest to her and smiled amusedly – Luna had gone to much trouble with her costume and Hermione was very happy to have helped in fulfilling one of Luna's dreams. Of course, it was a bit hard to understand someone so vastly different from herself – at times it seemed that the only things that Luna didn't believe in were the ones easily proved. Still, Hermione couldn't help but acknowledge that Luna was a pure-hearted girl and a good and loyal friend. It was kind of funny that the first time she ever saw Luna dressed in perfectly appropriate style, her clothes were medieval. The blonde Ravenclaw was dressed in the Wizarding robe that the founder of her House was painted in – or rather, a perfect duplicate of it. The proof of Hermione's help was sitting proudly atop of her head – the lost diadem of Ravenclaw, the very same that had spent some thirty years as a horcrux in the Room of hidden things and had shattered from Crabbe's Fiendfyre. She was beautiful. Before Hermione could ponder the strangeness of her choice for a date – Theodore Nott, who looked as cold and calculating as ever – something blindingly bright in her peripheral vision drew her attention away from them.

If Hermione weren't already prepared for some stupid Malfoyish stunt, her jaw would have probably hit the floor. It was absolutely preposterous – rags would be too kind a term for what he wore. Horribly clashing colors of which orange (orange, for Merlin's sake) was the most dominant were almost hurting her eyes. And the absolutely worst part of it was he didn't look half bad in it. She recalled the ridiculous remark from the Astronomy tower - that he would dye his hair ginger if it would make her like him. It was typical and predictable of him, cruel to the bone – to mock her like this, and she almost shrugged despondently. Well, nothing for it now, she would have to endure that evening; she'd taken a wand oath after all. Just then their eyes met and her resolve wavered – what she saw in his eyes was too raw to even be defined. If it was anybody else looking at her like this Hermione would have swooned at the pure longing she saw there. But he was not someone else. He was Draco bloody Malfoy and trying to determine what he felt for her was like riding a rollercoaster. One thing was certain, though – without a fail, he elicited one or another reaction from her, and right now that was definitely anger.

The stupid git of course noted this and strode determinedly towards her. Sighing loudly, he dropped on one knee and started reciting for the whole hall to hear.

"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate…"

"Thank you, Malfoy" She gritted her teeth and interrupted him before he embarrassed her further. "You look lovely yourself. Orange suits you – makes your eyes pop."

There was a bubble of laughter surrounding them. He leaped lightly on his feet – seemingly nonchalant – and took her hand. Hermione couldn't help but notice how different he seemed from Ron at that moment. While Ron was bulky and awkward, Malfoy was lean and graceful, pure energy contained. She couldn't imagine Ron handling such an awkward situation without dying from embarrassment but Malfoy seemed to take it in stride.

"Ah, beauty and wit." He continued lightly for everybody's apparent amusement but her own. "How can I not find myself moved to woo thee?" He placed emphasis on the last phrase looking her straight in the eye.

Mentally scoffing, she thought "Oh, how I long to move thee hence, you ferret, you have no idea."

As if reading her mind he added quietly, but still amused. "Come on, Hermione, will you, nill you, I am your date to the ball."

"So you know Shakespeare. Color me impressed."

"I may be a git, but I'm not stupid." He was now guiding her towards a table in a perfect gentlemanly manner.

"All those years spent with Crabbe and Goyle, you could have fooled me."

"I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm fairly competitive. I don't do losing well. It was either those two or Nott and Zabini. And they're both smarter than me."

She gaped, but Draco didn't know whether it was because he had pulled a chair and carefully guided her onto it, or because of the admission that someone was better than him in something.

"Ah, don't look so put out, love. I am human, after all. Even though you may think I'm perfect." She scoffed yet again. "You do know I'm bound to have some semblance of humor, right? Nott's a damn clever fellow, always has been – I think he was born at forty. Kind of reminds me of Snape, actually. He never had friends, that fellow."

"What about Zabini?" Draco smiled at that. That was Hermione Granger to you, always so eager to know. He couldn't help but be a little bit proud that she was for once interested in what he had to say, even if it was something trivial like his judgment of someone's character.

"Vain as a peacock. I think if he had long hair he would take lessons from my Father on how to flip it."

She laughed at that and it was a like a dozen of tinkling bells. Who would have known it could be so much better making her laugh, rather than scowl at him angrily.

"And now tell me what do you seriously think?"

"He can be very charming. You saw him with Potter at Diagon-Alley. Also, he's probably had his sense of shame magically removed, so he isn't afraid of using any means so long as it gets him what he wants."

He barely had time to look around himself or in his plate, as he talked. It was exhilarating, the way she seemed like she was trying to catch the words, as soon as they left his mouth. Still, he noted, that Longbottom and his date were at the same table along with three boys that looked to be fourth or fifth year. The last seat was unoccupied. Granger took the time to order a specific meal to the plate in front of her, following the example of the boy on his right side. He did the same, more out of habit than anything else. He didn't feel like he could eat much, either way. After several minutes she lifted her eyes to him, making his stomach do a little somersault. Merlin's balls, he'd always known she was kind of special to him, but exactly how deep was this attraction of his running? He was honestly scared.

"What about you?" she asked, looking at him as if he was some rare Arithmancy tome.

"What about me?"

"You seem like a good judge of character yourself. And I've always known you could sniff insecurities like a Niffler – gold."

"Ah, the talents that come hand in hand with being a bully" He added hesitantly at her skepticism. "Yes, Hermione, I've no illusions as to what it was. I honestly don't know. I have some qualities, I guess. I'm terribly impatient, but I've learned to compensate with persistence. I'm a quick learner, although not in the way you are."

"How do you mean?" she asked defensively, apparently expecting an insult.

"I've watched you, you know. After all the tormenting from Father about someone of "such background" being cleverer and getting better grades I tried, I mean really tried, to understand how come you're better." He shrugged uncomfortably - it wasn't easy to admit such thing. "So I watched you for a year, maybe even two. I was very curious how you can manage ten classes, spare time for leading law defense for a sentenced Hippogriff and still come out better than me. I have to say I was happier about you losing sleep and time, than Hagrid being heartbroken over his pet."

She narrowed her eyes and glared at him. Oh well, suppose he was bound to get overexcited and revert to his old ways. "Do you have some bipolar disorder or something? How can you be decent one minute and then completely obnoxious the next?"

"I don't know what a bipolar disorder is. Some muggle contagious disease?"

"Very funny, you prat. No, it's something to do with mental health. Basically mood swings – from depression to maniacal happiness. The switch could happen twice a day – that's extremely severe though, or one or the other episode – depression or mania - could last for weeks or months. You get the idea – it's rather unpleasant."

"Oh, wow, I think my grandfather Cygnus maybe had that. You know - the one with the mad Black genes. I gather you've spent some time in my cousin's house. Was he really such a nutter?"

"Good lord, you can be disgusting, you know that? I can't say he was a wonderful person – I've only known him after he was broken from twelve years in prison over something he didn't do. But he had a really generous heart and cared for those he loved. Still he was very unhappy – imagine living with those parents for seventeen years and then spending twelve more in Azkaban for not being suspicious enough of one of your best friends? Though from what I've heard from Harry, you and he had a few things in common. Now, could you please make some effort and be civil?"

"I can't help it – being civil for long enough makes me feel itchy. Or rather I should say – twitchy. What things in common?"

For a moment she didn't understand his reference and then burst out in laugh. Hannah Abbott regarded them with wide eyes. "Twitchy, huh? Now I know what you mean, when you say you have issues with patience. He was arrogant. Confident. Mouthy. Also had some experience as a schoolyard bully. But you're awfully good at evading. Quick learner?"

"Of course I'm good at evading when it suits me, I am a Malfoy and a Slytherin. Though I'm not sure if some time in the past grandfather Abraxas or Nicholas or god knows who had not lodged a formal complaint against the Sorting hat for putting the noble offspring of Malfoys in Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw. Arrogant pricks, those Malfoys."

She actually snorted at that. "And you're not?"

"I'm humble enough to admit that I'm arrogant."

"Why yes, the essence of humbleness. But you're still evading my question."

"See, that's the difference between you and me. You're as determined as a Krupp holding on to a piece of meat. And you're systematical to a fault. Once you sink your teeth in a matter, you won't let go, even if that means you won't sleep for weeks – otherwise how could you stand up to those bitches Skeeter or Umbridge without any outside help? By the way, leading the frog to a centaur herd, that was impressive. Anyway… I'm… chaotic at best. My mind wanders quite a bit while I'm at something. But I learned in time it's not necessarily a bad thing, because I can come up with unexpected solutions. And as for persistence – Snape has had me trained like a dog when it comes to potions and at some point I've learned to extend that kind of discipline beyond his lab."

"Truly, you don't need to be so humble." She was teasing, he could tell by the twinkle in her eye. "Tell me something not so nice."

"Hey, you asked me what I honestly think. I can do that occasionally, Hufflepuffish as it may be." He tossed a look of contempt in the general direction of Longbottom and his date. "And I'm still a jerk, mind you, I don't understand why should I care about other people's feelings and I don't expect them to feel guilty over hurting my feelings. It's perfectly normal – people are selfish, after all."

"Wow, you make it sound just peachy, the business of caring for other people. Although I generally agree with you – can you believe that?! – people are selfish, it's the way nature is, after all. You have to take care of yourself, yes, but I don't think you couldn't or shouldn't care for others too."

"Well, it's obvious I'm not a caring person – as far as I'm concerned, I only care about my mother. She's put her life on the line for me many times over. And I guess to some extent my father and… Snape. When he was still around, that is. I'm aware he took an Unbreakable vow to spare my life in some way."

"Harry's saved your life too, as far as I remember." He could tell she was angry now, truly angry over his ungratefulness. At least she didn't mention Dumbledore.

"But that's the thing. Your Harry's noble to a fault, I admit it, but he's not and was not a sacrificial lamb. Would he take a Killing curse himself just so I can live? And before you answer me, remind yourself who I actually am. Draco Malfoy, a git, a coward, a bully and a prejudiced arse. I don't think so, Hermione. Whereas my mother would do so in a heartbeat. You said it yourself, it's only natural."

"You're a cynic."

"Yeah, I'm a cynic. I was on the ugly side of the war, remember? And I don't mean, the losing, I mean the ugly. It certainly makes you a cynic when you watch people around you debase themselves. People you've known your whole life to be proud and on top of everything." Shit, he'd really gone ahead of himself, hadn't he?

Granger eyed him uneasily. "Do you mean your father?"

He scoffed at that, utterly frustrated - she was so transparent and easy to read. Yet she'd somehow gotten him to spill his guts and babble about things he didn't want to talk about with anyone, much less her.

"Who else, Hermione? It certainly puts you in a pensive mood, no? Someone who belittled you and made you feel not good enough for a good fifteen years acting so… pathetic. And I can't help but wonder - if he's pathetic and yet still makes me feel worthless, what does that make me? Utterly pathetic?"

It was almost akin to pity, the way she eyed him now. Fuck, there really was no way to win with this girl, wasn't there? She despised him when he was spiteful and mean, she pitied him when he was honest. He didn't want either of those things. But when she carefully formed her thoughts, she threw him off his centre yet again.

"If you can acknowledge he's the pathetic one, maybe you just shouldn't measure yourself up against him."

Draco quickly covered his surprise with a snort. "Grangerish to the core. Come on – the other people have been dancing for ages. I'm bored with this tedious talk, I want to revert to my old ways and behave like a… what did you call Goldstein, again? Callous pig?" She huffed but her lips twitched in an almost smile. "Besides," he smirked devilishly as he helped her out of her chair "I'm a show off. I want everyone to see that my date is the most beautiful girl in the Hall."

Hermione gaped but he had already turned his back to her, dragging her to the dance floor. Unlike the Yule ball when there was a live band, this time the hall was enchanted with the music – it ranged from smooth waltzes to modern, almost rock dances. The place was crowded with dancing people, some of them providing quite the spectacle. Like Blaise Zabini, who was wearing a knight's armor and was dancing with a wonderfully flushed Ginny. Hmm, her suspicions about these two were beginning to seem more and more credible. After Diagon-Alley and the way Ginny just knew certain things about Malfoy that she shouldn't have a way of knowing, Hermione thought that maybe she was seeing someone who she thought wouldn't be easily approved. Namely, by one of her many hot-headed brothers, Mrs. Weasley or Harry. Or all of them. Zabini fit that bill well – true, he hadn't been active in the recently ended conflict, but as far she knew he hadn't made a stand to people like Alecto and Amycus either. She chuckled lowly - from the way they both had snarled at each other in Slug-club, one would think there was no love lost between them.

They were dancing to an old-fashioned waltz to something that oddly reminded her of Debussy's music. This close, gazing into his grey eyes, she was hard pressed to admit that Draco Malfoy was nothing like what she expected. It didn't sit well with her – to hear his opinions (some of which she even shared), to see for herself that he wasn't a mindless minion parroting antiquated beliefs. No, he certainly wasn't his father's copy – like everyone else, the war had done a number on him and he had started to think for himself. She could sense the newly found guilt that had come along with introspection, but still she couldn't decide whether something valuable could come out of it. Perhaps time would tell.

What Hermione couldn't quite determine and was putting her ill at ease was whether this strange, ambiguous boy who so resembled a trickster could have any pull with her emotions. One minute he was insightful and serious, the next he was bitter and to top everything he wanted her to think that he was attracted to her. No, it simply wouldn't do, she decided, she'd had enough of hot and cold to last her for a lifetime. For the hundredth time though he spoke and her resolve crumbled.

"I wasn't joking, Hermione, you are very beautiful." She couldn't help but notice that he didn't compliment how she looked tonight, but rather it was a more general statement and thus all the more flattering.

"Thank you." Oh, god, now she'd started to stammer. Mentally pulling herself together, she noted uncertainly. "Why the sudden change of heart, though? Your past remarks about my appearance could hardly be deemed positive. You're also using my given name."

He shrugged in his maddeningly vague way and said, as he twirled her. "Do muggles have the proverb that "the grape is sour"?" She gawked and he laughed. "Aside from that, I'm tired of animosity. I'm not that stupid little boy who could blame everybody else for his oh-so-great woes. Hatred easily turns to self-hatred, don't you think?"

Just then a big clock somewhere chimed half to ten and the music was interrupted. The headmistress stood to make an announcement.

"As it is well past the usual curfew, I ask that students from fourth year and bellow stand near the doors and wait for their Head of house to escort them to their dorms. The rest of you are permitted to stay until midnight and please remain as you are, since Professor Flitwick has a surprise for you. He will announce it after he escorts the students from Ravenclaw house."

Now the hall was abuzz and everyone was guessing what kind of surprise would that be; distracted, Hermione barely noticed Malfoy's hand that was resting lightly at her waist, drawing her near to him. She eyed Ginny and Luna making their way, dates in tow.

"So, what kind of surprise do you think we have in store?" Of course, it was Ginny – lighthearted and curious.

"I don't know, Weaslette, maybe Celestina Warbeck will grace us with her presence and sing "Seduce me with Belladonna" or something." Blaise waggled eyebrows suggestively and Ginny laughed heartily.

"Please, no. My mum will gush that she missed it until my ears bleed."

"You shouldn't laugh at such matters, Ginny." Luna told her seriously, yet she still seemed serene. "There is ridiculous amount of Wrack spurts around your ears, as it is."

Next to Hermione, Draco – Malfoy! – coughed to cover a snort and the blond girl turned to him in an absent manner. "How are you, Draco? Did you try to get rid of the fiuts that were flooding your basement?"

Everybody gaped at her nonchalance, and only Nott laughed quietly – something that surely even his dorm-mates haven't heard more than once or twice.

"You're unbelievable, Luna Lovegood. I don't think anyone – much less someone who spent months trapped there – would be kind enough to call it a basement."

She turned her serene gaze at him. "Well, why I wouldn't I advise him to – they're malevolent spirits and attract bad energy. After he was kind enough to apologize to me, for something he wasn't responsible for, I might add."

The blond boy shuffled awkwardly and avoided Hermione's quizzical gaze. "Yeah, thanks, Luna. I informed my father of what you said, verbatim. He's the owner of the house, after all."

Nott smirked at that and wrapped carefully a hand around Luna's shoulders. "Come on, love. I've yet to show you my beastly, hairy heart that you should cure with your devotedness and all that tripe." He threw a knowing look at Hermione and Malfoy, and added with a little grin. "Besides, you're making our Malfoy here uncomfortable. Three months ago I would've bet that he wouldn't know the words "I'm sorry" even if they smacked him in the forehead. Or as Granger would have it, nose."

Thankfully, just then Professor Flitwick decided to make his way over to where McGonagall stood and cleared his throat with a squeak.

"Welcome, seniors, to the second part of our fest. As you are currently of age or close to it, we decided we should put some special effort, so that you remember today fondly. We've lost many beloved just in the Eve of Beltane when we should have celebrated life. And now, as Samhain approaches the staff here feels that we should pay them a tribute, mostly by appreciating life and not forgetting its value. With that said, I'd like to encourage anyone who wants to feel special or share a feeling with the others to make his way to the musical box over there. Concentrate for a minute or two on what you'd like to hear with your wand placed on the top lid and we'll all hear it, even if it's just a tune or something not traditionally performed in the Wizarding world. I myself have put some considerable skill charming it in order to make it work, so I hope you all will enjoy yourselves for the rest of the evening."

Everyone gushed excitedly and the first enthusiasts slowly trailed a path to the right. Soon enough they were all swaying to the lively beats of the Weird sisters, some – although thankfully not very much – Celestina Warbeck, even more waltzes. Hermione didn't have a minute to breathe, because the blond prat refused to let her sit down and take a breath. He relented on a couple of the mushiest songs. First, they took some punch (lightly spirited with the Headmistress' permission. She was Scottish after all!), and some time later they leaned against the wall, making silly comments about other people's dancing skills. Still she had more fun than she probably had in the three previous years and was thrilled to hear even some beloved songs that her Muggle-born classmates had chosen. She was completely ecstatic when Seamus whose father was a Muggle started bouncing energetically to the tunes of Whiskey in the jar – a traditional Irish song, but in the hard rock version. Malfoy laughed at her, but still he stayed on the dance floor and danced rather enthusiastically. Unfortunately their amusement opened an avenue for more of his teasing.

"Come on, Hermione, pick something yourself. Prove to me how superior Muggles are in performing music."

"No, I'm not in a mood. Besides, my mother who is the music lover in our family's rather untraditional in her taste and I get it from her, I guess. I don't think now's the place and time for that kind of music."

"What do you mean, untraditional? Something like what our fellow Seamus apparently likes?" he quirked an eyebrow sardonically.

"Oh, no. I mean, she also loves poetry, so I learned to appreciate words rather than tunes. Even though I love music."

"All the more reason for me to be curious, I think."

"God, you're persistent like an incurable disease, aren't you?"

"Does that mean I get to hang around until you are at your deathbed without the danger of being slapped?"

"No, constant vigilance should be your motto."

"Funny much, eh Granger?"

"Whatever gave you the idea? Everyone knows I'm as boring as a History lesson."

"I think that would be Binns. You may be a lot of things, but boring isn't one of them."

"Oh, fine." Hermione tried to look defeated, but her smile was still there. "But don't blame me, if it doesn't suit your taste."

Since there was already a slow number playing, they danced in silence, before she thought of something.

"So, tell me about Shakespeare."

"There isn't much to it. I had a tutor who read almost everything – he could have given you a run for your money, that's for sure. He made me read "Midsummer Night's Dream" and "As you like it", but I was too young and stupid to know better. I found a couple of years ago a few books he had left behind in a closet next to my room. Shakespeare's complete works were there, obviously."

"What is your favorite play?"

"You'll laugh at me – it's such a stupid cliché."

"Does that mean "Hamlet" then?"

"Yeah. It came at an appropriate time in my life. Surely you don't need me to elaborate."

"I guess that makes Pansy Ophelia then."

"Ugh, I didn't need that imagery." He mock-shuddered. "And it wasn't like that. It was rather one-sided on her part and… well, I was very confused most of the time. It's more like I… I don't know - mistook attention for care. What about your favorite - was it "Winter's tale" because of your namesake?"

"Predictably enough, no. "The Tempest" I suppose, since it introduces the concept of sorcery. I also really like "Much ado about nothing."

"I can see where you're coming from." He smiled lopsidedly which for a moment made him look… adorable. Oh, god, what was her problem? "Alright, Hermione, that song's halfway over, so maybe we should line up. Don't want you getting clever ideas – like maybe letting someone else take your place in the queue."

"Fine. But blame yourself when you don't like it. I can only think of one song at the moment and I'm pretty certain you won't be too excited to hear it."

A couple of minutes later, after she'd concentrated long enough to remember the whole text of her mother's favorite song – which was likely the reason it sprang to mind – they were once again facing each other. After the first accords her hands were on his shoulders and his – on her waist.

I came so far for beauty,

I left so much behind

My patience and my family

My masterpiece unsigned…

As some of the students trailed away from the dance floor, he smirked. "Now I get what you meant when you said that song wouldn't be popular on demand. But I don't understand why I would have something against it. "

She didn't answer anything, just let him listen to the words for himself.

Broken bones to teach

The value of my pardon

The shadow of my reach

No, I couldn't touch her

With such a heavy hand

"Oh." It was easy to see he wasn't particularly happy with her choice – there was a glint in his eye that reminded her of previous, unpleasant encounters. "My, aren't you waspish? The question is" his hands were slowly creeping towards the low of her back and making her uncomfortable "is your sting in the tongue or in the tail?"

"Stop" she ground out forcefully "being a git."

"That would be like to try and hold my breath for twenty days. Do you think I would survive?"

It was at that precise moment that the song ended and Hermione decided she'd had quite enough of his wild mood swings for one evening. She tried to extricate herself from his grip, but he held tight.

"I would like to go now. I suddenly felt very tired."

"It's almost twelve, so I think you can hold on for a few more minutes. McGonagall has something to announce again."

"Thank you all for a wonderful evening." The woman couldn't help but wipe a tear from her eye. "Now, I would like to choose the last song and wish you a good night. Please remember what our beloved Albus always used to say. As long we have and love each other, we have hope."

And just like that the whole hall stood still as if the time had stopped, maybe indeed had stopped. The most beautiful sounds – the sound of hope, of love, of passion for life reverberated through the walls. It was the song of the Phoenix, the very same that had left the world after the death of his beloved owner. Hermione, for the love of Merlin, Morgana and Nimue, couldn't move even an inch even if her life depended on it. Her gaze was riveted on the face of one Draco Malfoy – filled with guilt, anguish and remorse. She held her breath, as she met his eyes – grey, like mercury or silver, and completely in disagreement with the rest of his face - bright with hope and desire. They were honestly quite beautiful eyes.

As if space meant nothing he leaned closer, too close and murmured. "Doesn't the magic always fade at midnight in your muggle fairy tales?" She didn't even blink. "It's twelve o'clock, Granger – masks off."

Two more inches and his lips were on hers, giving her the most surreal kiss in her life.

A/N: Hey, there. I'm kind of proud how this turned out, hehe. It's still sappier than I intended, but not overly much... I think. But if you would be kind enough and review whether it was or was not (or anything that pops to mind really), I'd be very happy indeed. Thanks to those who took the time to leave a comment, especially Vera - the bunch of references are for you. ;)

In case you were wondering about the song it is by Leonard cohen - who's a truly great poet - predictably called I came so far for beauty.. Although I really wanted to stick Tom Waits or Nick cave in there, they're quite the inspiration. And Whiskey in the jar is of course performed by Metallica.

By the way this is not the last chapter and I don't own anything - Harry Potter, The Taming of the Shrew or any of the aforementioned songs. cheers.