A/N: Warnings: bittersweet story/not exactly a HEA/pining Draco
I was having my high school musical moment where they dance in the rain on the rooftop and then I wrote this Drabble lol.
*cue 'Can I Have This Dance' from the High School Musical 3 soundtrack*
"Decided to go stag again, I see?"
Draco, who had been slumped quite unattractively in his chair, turned from his table to see Granger approaching, taking confident strides across the Ballroom.
Typical of her to catch him in his most unsightly moments. He stood from his seat, bringing his glass of firewhisky with him.
"Of course," he said, holding the drink to his chest in an attempt to make himself seem more aloof, "You wouldn't believe the number of women I had to turn down just to come to this thing alone."
He took in the sight of his coworker - for whom he had not been waiting, honestly - and in response, promptly shut his jaw which had boldly dropped open, like an admission to the entire assembly of Ministry personnel here that he had feelings for Hermione Granger.
Which he did not.
Tonight, Granger wore a dress of - well Draco wasn't entirely certain of the color, though it looked to be some hybrid of blue and purple - that pooled at the floor and accentuated her - assets. Thin, flowy sleeves fell off her shoulders, exposing the entirety of her neck, all the way down to the peak of her chest, where he willed his eyes to avoid lingering, despite it being strenuously difficult.
Which was a naturally male reaction to all women, present company included.
Her hair was up in a sort of bun, with a few curls left out near her face - surely to act as a distraction from the cleavage - and she wore a smile that could've ignited every candle in the room.
He means that in a not at all romantic.. platonic sort of way.
Granger smiled at him and gestured to his glass. "Which drink are you on?"
He raised it. "Still nursing my first." He knocked back another gulp, probably so that he wouldn't mention the - chestiness - of her gown.
She tutted, mockingly. "You're behind on your usual quota."
"Ah," Draco sighed jokingly, grinning like a fool, no doubt, "but the night is still young."
"Hermione Granger!" called a grating voice from a few tables over. There, with her terribly blonde hair and her heavily jeweled spectacles, was disgraced journalist Rita Skeeter saying her goodbyes to the straggly looking wizard she'd been talking to.
"Oh for crying out loud," Granger groaned. "She wasn't supposed to be attending tonight!"
She ducked behind him, but Draco was confident that Granger had studied enough about basic Mathematics and surface area to realize he could not properly hide her.
"Why does it matter if she comes to talk to you? You're the most - scandal-less person I know."
"I'm dateless," Granger said. "That's newsworthy enough for the likes of Rita Skeeter."
Draco failed to hide his surprise. "You're - not here with anyone, tonight?"
"Ron was my date." She ditched her effort to hide and came to stand beside him, playing absently with the fabric of her dress. "Before we - well, I'm sure you know -" Her gaze dropped to the floor.
Draco didn't know, not directly, but he'd heard about their breakup through the usual office gossip. He hadn't believed it, though - office hearsay was often largely false, or either very far removed from the full truth.
Apparently, this rumor just so happened to be true.
Granger was single.
Draco filed away his feelings of elation for later consideration because the sadness causing Granger's eyes to tinge red suddenly had Draco clenching his fists and eager to punch a Weasley.
"What does it matter that you're here alone?" he asked. "There are plenty of people here without dates." It was after speaking the last syllable of this sentence that Draco epiphanized that, perhaps, he's not so good at offering condolences.
"Have you read the Daily Prophet lately?" He hadn't, but he knew, these days, it was plagued with fabricated stories about Potter and his gang of friends. "These reporters are all looking for their next story. My being here without Ron is front page news," she finished in a huff.
Suddenly, Draco had a most brilliant idea as to how he could help her.
"If you think she'll make your," careful, Draco, be sensitive, "situation into tomorrow's headline, then just tell her I'm your date." He added a shrug for extra aloofness.
However, whenever Granger snorted at this idea, he felt slightly less inclined to help her.
"Hermione!" the blonde reporter said again, this time close enough to reach out her hands and pull Granger into an air kiss on either cheek.
"Rita." Hermione returned the greeting with significantly less enthusiasm. "I'd heard you couldn't make it tonight."
Draco, effectively invisible in the sights of Rita Skeeter, finished the last dribs of his firewhisky and placed the empty glass onto his table.
"Where's Mr. Weasley? Off to fetch you a glass of this," Rita hiccuped, "decadent chardonnay, I hope?"
Draco glanced up from the table to see Granger with her head bowed and her cheeks a very telling shade of pink.
Rita Skeeter obviously noticed it, too.
"Oh? No Mr. Weasley tonight? I do hope everything's alright between the two of you?" Though the reporter's voice feigned sympathy, her eyes glistened like she'd just struck gold.
"I - we're just -" Hermione stuttered.
In an act of panic, or otherwise a dire need to prevent Granger from all forms of sadness, Draco walked back to the women and daringly wrapped his arm around Granger's waist. He quickly found out that her gown was backless as his hand rested, frozen, on bare skin just above her waist.
"Actually, Ms. Skeeter, I've been bestowed the honor of escorting Ms. Granger this evening." Hermione's head snapped to look at him, whether about his hand placement or his words, he wasn't sure.
As if a cloak of invisibility had just lifted off of him, Rita regarded Draco for the first time, with more - joy than he had been expecting.
"Draco Malfoy," he too was pulled and forcefully air kissed, "as I live and breathe. Lots of tragic family history in recent years. Mind if I," a levitating quill and notepad materialized, "ask you a few questions about that?"
"As tempting as that sounds, Ms. Granger here was just in the middle of accepting my invitation to dance." He looked at Granger expectantly.
"I was?" Granger asked.
"You were?" Rita looked back and forth between the two.
"I - I was," she confirmed.
"Oh, to be young again." Rita wiped away a nonexistent tear from underneath her spectacles and vanished her quill and notepad. "Do be sure to find me again when you're done? We have so much to catch up on." And with a newly emptied glass of chardonnay, Rita Skeeter sauntered away, towards the bar, most likely.
"Bestowed the honor?" Hermione taunted, looking up at him.
"What? I was trying to sell it." Draco shrugged. He began to walk them away from their table, far away from the bar, his arm still sitting comfortably on her waist.
Granger sighed deeply. "I think we might've given her a different headline to publish."
"Does she always corner you at Ministry events like this?"
"Usually. She's been trying to catch me in a scandal for years. My theory is that she's still miffed about the whole...jar incident."
Draco perched an eyebrow. "Jar incident?"
Granger paused her steps, looking sheepish, like she'd said something she wasn't supposed to have said.
"I - may or may not have trapped her in a jar when she was in her animagus state. During our fourth year."
"You what?"
She fluffed the skirt of her gown before crossing her arms, staring at the back of Ms. Skeeter with a grimace that was unique to only Granger.
"She deserved it. I try to mention it every time we meet, though it's become less potent over the years, unfortunately."
"And here I thought she was about to make you cry."
"Cry? I was trying to think of a legal hex I could use but nothing came to mind."
"You're merciless."
"I had even prepared a joke for her this time. It was going to be hilarious."
"Indulge me." He started their walk again.
"I was," her mouth curved upwards as she brought a hand to her lips to stifle the laugh already bubbling up. "I was going to ask her if she'd - if she'd caught the stomach bug." Hermione had barely finished the last word before the laugh burst from her lips.
Draco smiled too, merely in pity at her horrifically bad joke.
"I'll believe that joke hits harder when one has consumed more than a single glass of fire whisky."
As though she'd just realized Draco still had his arm around her, Granger laughed softly, "She's gone now. You don't have to put up the act anymore."
"On the contrary, Granger, my services have not yet been completed. As your pretend date, I not only stave away unwanted journalists, but I also offer one uninterrupted dance. Free of charge." He stepped back, letting his hand glide across her waist as she left his hold, then held out his arm to her. "May I have this dance?"
She pretended to take a moment to contemplate his offer, leaving him waiting just a moment longer than awkward.
"Well," she said, finally, "if it's free." Granger grinned that candle igniting grin, sliding her arm through his and he walked her the short distance to the dance floor.
The light fragments from the floating chandelier made the stone flooring look like stained glass under their feet. The song playing was slow in tempo. Granger's eyes grew slightly wider in panic.
"Oh I don't actually know how to slow dance - "
Draco fixed his expression in mock surprise. "You mean the incredible Viktor Krum didn't slow dance with you all those years ago?"
He pulled Granger into him, holding up his other hand in a waltz pose. She positioned her hands reluctantly, one around his waist and the other clasping the hand he held out to the side.
"I was fifteen! What we did was less of a dance and more of a shuffle -"
He tightened his grasp on her waist. "Don't worry, Granger. Just follow me. I'll show you what to do. Just try to keep your toes touching mine."
She nodded, glanced down once at her feet, and they were off.
Without taking his eyes off of her, Draco moved backwards, slowly enough that she could anticipate his step easily. And again stepped to the side, making sure she understood which steps he wanted to follow. And again.
Step, 2, 3. Step, 2, 3.
"Am I doing it right?"
"You're a natural." He chuckled in a way only Granger could make him. "Though, believe it or not, it would be easier for you if you weren't staring at your feet the entire time."
"Where am I supposed to look?"
"Look at me."
She did and he was suddenly fifteen again, but this time, he'd asked Granger to the Yule Ball like he'd wanted to.
And she'd said yes.
After a short time like this, slow and steady, Granger became comfortable enough in her steps that he felt the tension leave her body. She became lax in his arms, letting herself enjoy being spun around the room. Draco, too, began to relax into their dance, snaking his arm further around Granger's body. He felt where the fabric stopped at her lower back and let his fingers rest there again. She didn't oppose.
He was surprised at how easily she let him lead her around the dance floor. There must be many more competent dancers here than he, yet here she was, dancing with him. They twirled around the room, concerned about nothing but themselves and the placement of their feet.
At some point, her cheek fell onto his shoulder. He rested his head on hers.
She didn't oppose.
Time felt infinite, the room empty except for the warm body in his arms. He lost count of how many rounds they'd traveled around the floor until the song - too soon - came to a close. As the band issued the final notes of their song, Draco coaxed Granger into a dip. Her head fell back in laughter, a sound better than the music they'd just danced to.
Basking in the euphoria of their dance, they left the dance floor with full smiles and chests heaving.
"Where did you learn to dance like that?" she asked, bringing a hand to her chest in an attempt to calm her breathing.
"Years of suffering through parties at the Manor had me learning how to dance. To avoid the dull, aristocratic conversation, of course."
"Mm," Hermione nodded. "A smart divergence."
Her smile froze as she became lost to something behind him. The curves of her lips drew downward and her soft expression hardened. He followed her gaze to see a red-haired man standing at the entrance of the room.
Weasley. What impeccable timing.
The look on Ron's face was stoic, forlorn, as if he'dbeen the one abandoned by Granger tonight instead of the other way around. The git had the audacity to beckon to her before taking a step back and disappearing again through the heavy doors.
"I should go talk to him," she said slowly, almost like a question, as if she weren't sure that was the right decision. Draco's mouth opened to protest, to tell her to ditch Weasley and dance with him again, but there was a sadness in her eyes, true sadness this time, that brought his lips together, thin lined.
Granger began to walk away from him before she turned back to say, "Thanks, Malfoy. For the dance. For Rita." She placed a hand on his arm.
He nodded through the inexplicable tightening in his chest. "You owe me, Granger. The dance may have been free, but I insist on some form of repayment for getting rid of Skeeter." He meant his taunting to sound light, but a heaviness to his tone caused his joke to fall a little flat.
Still yet, Hermione humored him.
"Yeah, yeah," she replied, a ghost of her earlier smile returning to her lips. "Whatever you want, it's yours." She bunched the fabric of her gown in her hands, so as to not trip over it in her exit. He watched her dress billow behind her, a blur of blue and purple, as she followed Weasley out of the room.
Whatever you want, it's yours.
Draco had never heard words so devastatingly false.