Hi people. I'm sorry it took so long to update. For a while I couldn't log in to the site, and then summer class started, and I had those ideas for my side fics (Please, Wake Up and Unexpected Apology), and I was struggling to create a Yule Ball flashback that would be worth it. I know a lot of you are really excited to read this, so I really hope I don't disappoint. I tried my best. I also apologize for taking so long to get here (it's the major complaint so far). I'll try to do better after this.
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Draco woke up to the light streaming into the Room of Requirement. He remembered entering the Room last night and finding a beautiful setup… large windows with a majestic view of the mountains, a king size bed with light chiffon bed curtains, a plush red carpet and a loveseat next to an enormous bookshelf. He yawned and rolled over and bumped into the warm body of the person sleeping next to him. He blinked and smiled. Hermione looked so peaceful in her sleep, as if last night's events had never happened. He ran his fingers down her arm and she shifted slightly, moving toward him. His smile widened as he lay back and stared at the ceiling, thinking.
His mind slowly drifted back through the past few years, remembering the changes in his behavior toward this beautiful girl by his side. Oh, wouldn't his father be surprised. Ever since the Yule Ball, he hadn't once called her a Mudblood (not even in his head). He had tried to fight the growing infatuation at first, but it had been a losing battle. Eventually he even started being nice to her. Small and subtle, but nice things nonetheless.
Suddenly, responding to his thoughts, his wants and his needs, the Room of Requirement shifted, recreating the scene at the Yule Ball, keeping only the bed where Hermione slept still, undisturbed. Draco's clothes were suddenly replaced with the same robes he had worn that night. He fingered the sleeves and looked around, remembering…
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"Draco. Honestly, I told you my gown would be pink! Why would you wear dress robes in gray? We look ridiculous!" Pansy Parkinson pouted as she rearranged her hair ornaments for possibly the fiftieth time that evening. Draco just rolled his eyes and looked around for (also) the fiftieth time that evening. Why he had agreed to taking Pansy Parkinson to the Yule Ball, he didn't know. Dating Moaning Myrtle would have been much more enjoyable. And intellectually stimulating.
All around him students were milling about, commenting on each others' robes and hair and dates. Blaise had managed to score some date from Beauxbatons, the lucky bastard. There was Potty with the Weaselette, looking fairly pleased with himself. Scarhead dating his best friend's sister. Wasn't that a shocker. The Weasel himself was standing awkwardly with Lavender Brown, his moldy brown robes clashing horribly with her stripper pink ones. He smirked, thinking about all the stories he'd heard about her. And then there was Longbottom, sitting with that Loony girl. Well if that wasn't a match made in heaven. The idiots were dating each other. Draco had to laugh. At least he wouldn't have to worry about inbreeding. But someone was missing. Draco looked around for the bushy-haired Mudblood. He'd been expecting her to arrive with the Weasel, but he hadn't seen her yet. Draco wondered who her date could be. Maybe she hadn't gotten one.
A fuss by the stairs made Draco look up. Everyone was gasping and "ooh"-ing and whispering. What in Merlin's name was going on…
"Draco, we need to go inside now. We won't get decent seats." Pansy tugged on his sleeve. "Draco? Draco are you even listening to me?"
Draco brushed Pansy's hand aside as he stared at the goddess floating down the stairs on Viktor Krum's arms. She was gorgeous. Her brown hair tumbled about her shoulders in ways he knew by now (thanks to Pansy) that girls would kill for. Her lavender dress was perfect, accentuating curves he had never appreciated until now (Pansy, however she fancied herself to be, was always a little chubby). She wasn't the most beautiful girl in the Hall (Fleur Delacour still overshadowed her by a mile) but the happy glow about her gave her something no other girl seemed to have. He couldn't stop staring at her. He had forgotten Pansy, pouting next to him in her ridiculous pink dress; he had forgotten his derision for this ridiculous event. All he could think about was that girl on Viktor Krum's arm and how badly he suddenly wanted her to be his date. And then she turned in his direction and for once, Draco got a full view of her.
His jaw dropped open, along with every other jaw in the room. The girl that Krum was so gallantly pulling out a chair for was Hermione Granger.
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"Well if you don't like it, you know what the solution is, don't you?"
"Oh yeah? What's that?"
"Next time there's a ball, ask me before someone else does, and not as a last resort!"
Draco exited the Hall just in time to see an irate Hermione stride away from a flabbergasted Weasel. He stepped back behind the doors, hiding. He watched as Hermione strode out of the castle and into the gardens, while Weasel stood there, opening and closing his mouth like a stupid fish, before marching up the stairs muttering not quite under his breath. He looked behind him. The Ball wasn't quite over yet; around half the students were still inside, dancing to the music. Pansy had long since abandoned him because he hadn't been paying much attention to her –he had been too busy forcing himself not to think about or look at Hermione. She was a Mudblood. She was beneath him. No matter how beautiful she looked tonight, with her radiant smile and her carefree laugh and her balletic movements… He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts of her, but something located in his ribcage just wouldn't let him. That same thing took him out of the Great Hall and down to the gardens, led his footsteps to where a beautiful, brown-haired girl was crying. That same thing made him open his mouth and ask,
"Hermione, are you all right?"
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Hermione started when she heard a voice ask her if she was all right. She had thought her spot, sitting on a bench hidden by bushes, was fairly secluded. She wiped her eyes and turned around, intending to thank the person behind her for caring. Her sad smile disappeared when she saw who it was.
"Draco! I- what are you doing here?" Her hands flew to her hair, her face… She was a mess. He would never let her live this down.
"I…," Draco looked down sheepishly and ran his hand through his silvery-blond hair. "I saw you fighting with Weasel and I followed you to… see if you were okay," he finished lamely, looking at the ground.
Hermione stared at him in wonder. Seeing the expression on her face, he caught himself. "Not that it matters to me, Granger. It's just that… It's just that no one should make you cry except me." It was a pathetic attempt at normality and even he knew it. He went back to staring at the ground.
"…you called me Hermione." The smile in her voice made him look back up. His eyes met hers and he could see the hurt inside, the hurt from her argument with Ron. But he could also see the relief that he wasn't bullying her. She was just so sad. He could hear strains of music coming from inside the castle. Impulsively, he held out his hand.
"I suppose, now that I've accidentally called you by your first name and asked if you were all right, that I should also ask you to dance. Just so I'm thorough." He bowed a little, nervous, unable to look at her in case she rejected him (or worse, hit him again). He was surprised (but also pleased) when he felt a smooth, slender hand take his.
He helped her stand and took her hand firmly in his, the other just barely touching her waist. Slowly, as his years of training had taught him (his mother had insisted on his learning what she called "proper society activities" and what he called "a load of pompous crap"), he spun her around and swayed her back and forth. The fairy lights were still bright in the bushes and they were all alone in the garden, with the stars and the moon shining down on them and oh, she was beautiful and that thing in his ribcage stirred again, happily. He wanted to lean down, and smell and kiss her hair and her forehead, and touch her skin, her smooth cheeks and her soft wrists. But he looked into her eyes and he saw contentment and while that thing in his ribcage said yes, his mind said no and he was a Slytherin, he listened to his mind and so he let go. He let go of her soft hands and her small waist and he gave her a small bow and left her standing there, in the middle of that perfect spot. For while he knew she was beautiful tonight and would be, to him, for all nights thereafter, she was still a Mudblood and he was the Slytherin Prince, and so he left her there, the touch of her hand still burning in his. He did not turn back to see the hurt and confusion in her face; he did not look back and see the smile as she gazed at her hand. He forced his mind not to wonder at how one night could change how he felt about her entirely. He simply made his way back into the castle, back to his dormitory, to visit the pleasantries of his dreams.
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"Draco?" A sleepy voice behind him broke through his reverie. He turned and found Hermione had woken. His shirt slid off her shoulders, a little too big for her, and her hair was tousled from sleep. She yawned. "I woke up and you weren't there."
His heart melted and he walked over to her, taking her hand, reveling in the smoothness of her skin, in her slender fingers. He held it against that thing in his ribcage and smiled. He wasn't going to let go this time.
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And there you have it! I hope I didn't disappoint. I had to refrain from unloading a bunch of cheesiness into this chapter, mostly because while Dramione usually features an out-of-character Draco, that would have been going too far. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! :D I'll figure out how to end it soon. Many thanks to all my supporters, who've stayed with this story up to now (particularly BeneHime1124 and mydirt09, who sent me reviews almost per chapter), and to all those who reviewed me.
And no, Draco and Hermione did not have sex. Just so you know.