A/N: Okay this is my longest chapter yet, but I've had this in my head since the beginning so I wanted to do it justice. It's my favourite chapter so far though so I hope I did.
For the purposes of this story, Madam Rosmerta is a muggleborn. You'll find out why later ;)
I don't own the song, the lyrics or the band as well as everything HP. You'll find out later ;)
This is a bit of an emotional rollercoaster so hold on tight and enjoy!
A Pivotal Moment
4 days until the Yule Ball - Part 3
"Quidditch."
"Of course it is," Hermione rolled her eyes.
Draco arched an eyebrow, "is there any reason for that sarcastic tone, Hermione?"
"I was hoping your answer would be less predictable. That question you just asked counts by the way, so it's my turn again."
Draco glared at her, "Oh yeah, because it wasn't predictable when you responded with 'library' when I asked what your favourite place in the castle was." He worded this carefully so as to avoid phrasing it as a sarcastic rhetorical question.
Hermione returned the glare, "You shouldn't have asked that question if you wanted to avoid predictable answers."
The two of them were in the middle of a game of twenty questions, since they'd hit a wall of awkward silence about two minutes after they re-entered the Three Broomsticks. The game had, up until this point, been going well; with both of them learning new things about the other and finding that to some extent, they actually wanted to know the answers.
"You know, for someone who gets pissed off at my smart-arse remarks, you sure are full of them."
"I was just making a point." Hermione argued.
"No, you were trying to have the last word and pick a fight, like you always do."
"I am not!"
"Yes you are. You did this when we were in the broom cupboard too, when I tried to storm out and you dragged me back in," Draco pointed out. His voice wasn't raised but there was an edge of tension to it.
"Fine I'll let you have that one but I don't always do this – if anything it's you who always tries to get the last word."
"No way, it's just you being too bloody defensive and always having to be right."
"No – it's you being competitive and down right chauvinistic," Hermione hissed at him across the table. The crowd had dwindled significantly as house-elves apparated in and out of the building taking students back to Hogwarts, but she still didn't want unnecessary attention to be drawn to them.
"Please, you're just as competitive as I am," Draco scoffed.
"I am not!" Hermione said again.
Draco rolled his eyes, "Of course you are. We're both as bad as each other. In case it slipped your mind, I'd like to point out that throughout the duration of this argument neither of us has used a question. Whether that was intentional with you, I don't know. But it was with me so I don't lose anymore of my 'twenty questions' questions. Even with stupid games like that I don't want to lose, and it looks like you don't either."
Hermione had never thought about it like that before. Her throat suddenly felt dry so she took a swig of her Butterbeer before she spoke, "I'd like to use my next question now."
"Go ahead," Draco leant back in his own seat and folded his arms. It was reassuring to Hermione that his eyes were no longer looking like cold steel. They now seemed warmer, making his whole expression seem softer than it had been. Maybe he already knew what Hermione was going to ask, but she said it anyway.
"Do you suppose that in some ironic way, that this is why we argue all the time? Both of us always want the last word."
"Ah, so you admit it!" Draco smirked. Hermione would have hit him if Professor Vector weren't sitting so nearby. She wasn't exactly on full alert as she was explaining about apparition to a nervous third year boy, but it was still too much of a risk.
"Don't be a git," Hermione said, "answer the question."
Draco sighed and absently used his wand to repeatedly levitate and drop a pouch of Galleons onto the table. Hermione could tell that he wasn't really concentrating on this but she couldn't ignore how arrogant he looked causally sitting there showing off his money to everyone in the pub. Part of Hermione started to question if he intentionally meant to be self-righteous all the time, or if it was just the lack of connection from his body to his brain, as was happening now.
"It does make sense. It actually looks bloody obvious now you mention it," he said, "Merlin we're more similar than I thought."
"Maybe because you would've point-blank denied that you could ever have something in common with me before… well before you gave me beaver teeth," Hermione added.
"I suppose," Draco met her gaze, "I'm sorry about that."
Hermione frowned, "you already said that."
"I know," he gave her a small smile. But this time I mean it, he thought.
Hermione simply nodded in response and chewed her lip as she processed this newfound understanding she had with the blond wizard.
"You can't technically lose at this game by the way; you can only lose questions."
Draco clenched his jaw. This witch couldn't bloody help herself could she? "Same difference. It all comes down to the simple matter of-"
"Pride," Hermione finished for him.
"Pride," Draco repeated softly to himself, agreeing with Hermione and thereby exposing another similarity they shared. He drained the remaining Butterbeer from his glass.
"Why did you run off to the bathroom?" He enquired.
Hermione blinked in confusion.
"The game."
"Oh right," Hermione said, "how many questions do we have left?"
"I don't know, I lost count after that interesting little epiphany we reached. But either way, I get two in a row now since you just asked me something," he smirked at her, thankful that he was getting revenge from when he wasted a question earlier.
"Crap," Hermione cursed under her breath. She wasn't sure how she should tackle answering him, so a short pause stretched between them, "well I guess I just felt self-conscious since you made it quite plain that you only turned up to interrogate me about my dress."
"What did you have to feel self-conscious about? I never actually asked you anything. If I recall you jumped the gun and immediately assumed I wouldn't approve of it."
Hermione felt the blush creeping onto her cheeks. She kept trying to think up a way of wording her answer that didn't make her real reason obvious. Her discomfort didn't go unnoticed by Draco.
"I know you didn't. I made a snap-judgement about you and I'm sorry for that – I suppose I am rather defensive, but weirdly enough it's the dress I'm defending instead of myself" she laughed half-heartedly, "but that conversation we had in Flitwick's detention has been playing on my mind a bit. I still feel like my lack of femininity is why you Slytherins give me a hard time. Well, that and my blood status."
Draco's heart suddenly felt heavy. 'Vulnerable-Hermione' was resurfacing, and along with it came the immense guilt Draco had felt the first time. This was his chance to prove to her, and to himself, that he was worthy of the credit she had given him to Dobby. Wait. No! I don't have to prove anything to her. If anything this is just to stop her from making me feel guilty…
Draco tried to convince himself that this was purely for his own selfish gain, but he hated that part of him actually wanted to comfort her. He gingerly reached across the table and covered Hermione's hand with his own. She took a sharp intake of breath at the contact and stared down at their hands for a moment before pulling her own away.
Draco blinked, his hand still on the table. Did he just get rejected?
Hermione averted her gaze and played with a strand of her damp hair. She didn't even know why she moved her hand away; it was just instinct. In hindsight it was probably a wise move to establish boundaries with Draco, just until she knew exactly what was going on between them.
"Pardon me for attempting to console you," Draco muttered under his breath.
"Excuse me?" Hermione asked as two more students disappeared with a loud crack of apparition.
"I don't know if it has escaped your notice, but I'm not really accustomed to giving mushy, wordy reassuring speeches." And all the more reason why I need to win this bet, he thought, Damn you, Greengrass!
Hermione suddenly understood what he meant, "Oh and let me guess: physical contact was the easy option. I wouldn't be surprised if this was your way of letting Parkinson down gently. It's no wonder she's still fawning over you after all this time!"
Draco scratched his head and began tapping his foot on the floor awkwardly. Hermione smirked.
"Oh Godric are you serious? What on earth made you think it would be a good idea to hold her hand as a way of telling her you're not interested? Honestly, Draco, just grow a pair and tell her how you really feel!"
Draco's heart seemed to stop for a split-second, with his rational thinking taking longer than usual to engage. Why, when Hermione said that, did a flash of memory of his earlier conversation with Weaslette shoot through his mind? Draco didn't really want to think about that right now.
"I'm sorry, Hermione, but I think that was two more additional questions you asked me," he said smugly.
Hermione rolled her eyes. She didn't think they were still playing that stupid game! "Pathetic," she mumbled.
"No need to take your frustration out on me just because you let your guard down," Draco said, feigning innocence. He didn't quite manage to pull this look off, as there was no hiding the mischievous glint within his warm grey eyes that had greeted Hermione with a malevolent, icy reception countless times before.
"Git," Hermione's voice echoed into her glass as she took a sip of her drink. Her foot made contact with Draco's shin under the table, and she casually rubbed the tip of her shoe up his leg as Professor Vector glanced in their direction.
Draco frowned. What the bloody hell was she playing at? He wasn't left wondering for long as suddenly Hermione pulled her foot away and gently kicked him once she had seen the Professor look away again.
"Oomph. Merlin, Granger what the-"
"Oh my gosh, Draco I'm so sorry. Did I hurt you?" It was Hermione's turn to play the innocent card. She leant over and touched his hand with her own. Her eyes were wide and apologetic, but her mouth soon stretched into a toothy grin.
"How do you like it?" she whispered as their faces became closer. Her eyebrows twitched upwards and she bit on her lip as she smiled at him, pulling away from him no sooner than she did so, looking very proud and smug.
Draco swallowed hard. He knew fully well what she was doing, and felt more than a little concerned that he found this carefree Hermione wasn't getting under his skin like normal-Hermione did. Both versions were annoying little know-it-all's with a fierce wit to boot, but it was new for him to see her laugh and not take herself too seriously. It just seemed to change her demeanour entirely when she wasn't being all serious and uptight about school.
"Well played, Hermione. You know, you always seem very Slytherin when you beat me at my own game like that."
"I do not!" she said defensively.
"Please," Draco waved a hand idly to show his dismissal of the idea; "I didn't miss that evil glint in your eye just now."
Hermione inhaled sharply through her nose. Did she really do that? She wasn't going to press him now though as that would mean losing more questions.
"In that case, I'd like to say that I think you extending all of these olive-branches to me was very Gryffindor of you."
She noticed Draco's knuckles turn white as he clasped his glass a little too tightly, "you dare say something like that to me again and I won't hesitate to revoke all of those olive-branches."
"Double standards much?" Hermione scoffed.
Draco clenched his jaw. She was right (as much as he hated to admit it). He had found it endearing to a certain degree the first time she outsmarted him, but twice in a row was too far. That seemed to be the line where she crossed back over to the insufferable, argumentative swot Draco first thought her as.
Hermione had been joking when she made the Gryffindor comment but she realised that that was where Draco's patience with her banter reached its limit. She bit her tongue, fighting back the urge to make another smart-arse remark. It annoyed her to no end that her agreement with Ginny meant that she had to tiptoe around Draco in such a way.
"That's three more questions to me, by the way," Draco arched an eyebrow at her, apparently now over his internal strop.
Hermione sighed, and conceded that if there were anything she would never be able to change about him, it would be his annoying need to be the best at everything. This was something she knew from first-hand experience of herself. She had come up with a logical reason for her competitive streak, but she couldn't even begin to fathom what his was.
Oh well if he's already three questions ahead, what's the harm in a fourth?
"Why do you always feel the need to one-up me?" she asked.
Draco snapped his head up, "are you seriously asking me that after just now?"
"I'm referring to your defensive come-back of declaring how you're in the lead of this game," Hermione said coolly as she began trying to flatten down her hair, which was considerably dryer now and was starting to puff out.
"Because you're the one person I have to one-up," he answered honestly, "I don't particularly feel comfortable saying anymore right now though."
Hermione blinked in surprise. She hadn't expected a sincere answer from him at all. She had actually reached the human part of Draco, which was usually sealed off under lock and key in the deepest recesses of his heart. It wasn't often she saw his smug persona fall down to reveal the real, feeling boy underneath. She felt a little sad that he felt such a need to hide behind the mask like that.
"Okay, I respect that," she said, "go on then. Commence the interrogation of your three questions."
"Four."
"Three: you asked me – rather rudely I might add – if 'I was seriously asking you that question'?"
"Whatever," Draco said as he pondered what he should ask her next, "I still don't think this makes up for your line of questioning last week when I first proposed this truce though."
Hermione laughed and shook her head slightly.
"Since you made such a fuss about it earlier, I feel obliged to know what's got you so het up about this dress. Is it just me that you're worried about or am I missing something?"
Unbeknownst to him, he had sussed it out. He knew there was something more than the obvious bothering her. There was no way Hermione was going to tell him that though, so she didn't comment.
"It's a little of both. I know how spoiled you Malfoys are, and well, the dress is pretty much perfect so I feel the need to defend it from the disapproving remarks you'll undoubtedly make when you see it."
Draco nodded thoughtfully, "Merlin, I never knew you had such womanly tendencies in you," he joked, "That'll teach Parkinson if she ever makes comment against your femininity again." He glanced at Hermione when he said this, and she couldn't help but feel like this was his way of reassuring her about the matter.
She smiled at him. He returned it and continued, "Is there anything more to this dress? I feel like something's still bothering you but you're too proud to admit it."
Hermione sighed. She knew that Draco would be able to see right through her.
"There was this hair barrette – that's like a clip thing – and it was almost the same blue as my dress. I'm sure I can use a spell to make it a perfect match but I don't know what came over me, I just loved it straight away. It had these little flowers and crystals on it and it was just so beautiful."
"So what's the problem?" He couldn't help but smile when he saw how wistful Hermione's expression had become.
Hermione grinned and prodded Draco's arm, "You just used your last question, Mister."
"Damn!"
"Don't you dare make any of your pompous comments but there was a slight issue with the price. It was over 9 Galleons and the dress was one of the most expensive in the shop as it was so I just couldn't afford it."
She eyed Draco's face for any sign of an eye-roll or disgusted grimace, but none came. She wouldn't deny that he didn't seem a little amused about it but at least he refrained from saying anything – about the money at least.
"Hey as long as you tame your frizz I'll be a happy man," he drawled.
Hermione rolled her eyes and decided to change the subject. The more they spoke about the Yule Ball, the more her mind kept conjuring up images of her and Draco kissing on the dance floor.
"So how did you do on that Charms test?"
"Oh I passed that – easy," Draco said.
Hermione beamed, "Yay! Well done."
Her smile faltered when she noticed that Draco was eyeing her suspiciously.
"Don't even bother pretending you're happy for me; we both know you're just full of yourself because I succeeded under your tutelage."
"Hey that's not fair."
"It's true though, right?"
"To an extent. I am proud of myself for teaching you the proper way to do some spells but it was down to you on the day, so of course I'm happy for you."
Draco's eyebrows shot up, "this must be a first: you're actually happy that I got full marks instead of throwing a strop because you have to share the credit."
"Y-you got full marks too?" Hermione's shoulders slumped.
"I did," Draco smirked, "thanks for helping me," he knew he'd have to say this since Hermione seemed to be sulking a bit, "but of course the marks came down to my exquisite skill more than anything else."
"You're welcome," Hermione perked up a bit.
"So, this dress business aside, are you looking forward to this dance?" Draco asked.
Hermione pulled a face, "well my date's a bit of an arse-hole but other than that-"
Draco glowered at her across the table.
"I'm kidding!" Hermione laughed. As Draco's face relaxed a little more, she winked, making him unsure if she really was kidding or not. She was seriously picking up way too many of his tendencies.
"The atmosphere, dressing up, the experience – yes I'm looking forward to that, but I'm not particularly enjoying the prospect of actually dancing."
"What?" Draco snapped. He couldn't believe his ears.
"I…" Hermione took a deep breath, "can't…dance. There, I admit it."
"Please tell me you're joking," Draco said.
"You clearly don't know me well enough to be going to the Ball with me if you think I'd joke about not being able to do something," Hermione said dryly.
"Good point. Bloody shit, Hermione, we can't have that."
"Is this you just being a proud snob – you think I'll embarrass you?"
"Yes."
Hermione opened her mouth to retort, but she did understand why this would be a big deal for him. It would be the equivalent of Hermione trying to out-do or at least match Harry's flying abilities, and through that analogy she realised that dancing with someone like Draco, who had probably been taught at an early age, would be embarrassing for her as well.
"It's not that I haven't tried. We've been having weekly lessons with McGonagall. I haven't been stepping on my partner's toes nearly as much as I did to start with, but I'm still not the most graceful and fluid of dancers."
"I'll teach you."
"Come again?"
"You heard me," Draco said, "think of it as repayment for your Charms tuition. What do you say?"
Hermione was shocked, "but where would we-? When would we-?" With the Ball being only days away, she couldn't imagine how they'd ever get any practice in somewhere where gossiping students wouldn't be watching their every move, not to mention Rita Skeeter.
"Here. Now," Draco answered, "that's an extra question to me by the way," he grinned.
"But-"
"But what?" Right now Draco's priority was to save them both the impending embarrassment by getting this witch as much practice as she could get. Yes- weirdly enough he was considering her side of it too.
"The elves-"
"-Will pick up the fourteen-odd students that are in here besides us first. We have ten minutes, at least, depending on how many students are still in the village and how many elves are able to leave the kitchens."
"I'm not doing it in here where people can see us."
"Obviously," Draco muttered, "there's a hidden door in between the ones for the toilets that leads down to a basement."
"We need music-"
"Salazar give me strength, what's with all of these excuses? I'm offering you a service here. This is most likely the nicest thing I'll ever do for you so take it or leave it."
Hermione didn't answer. The truth was that she felt a bit emasculated at the idea of being taught how to do something by someone who wasn't a Professor. Draco did have a point though – he was offering to help her, so Hermione told herself it was only fair that she swallow her pride too.
She nodded. Draco gave her a small smile and shot off to the bar without providing reason. Hermione was left twiddling her thumbs for a minute or two until Draco returned - a Walkman in hand.
"Okay you're going to have to be in charge of this thing. I don't have a bloody clue what any of those symbols mean or how you work it," Draco thrust the device into Hermione's hands and dragged her up from her seat and towards the toilets when Professor Vector wasn't looking.
"Draco, where did you get this?" Hermione asked.
"Madam Rosmerta is a muggleborn so I figured she's have something like that."
"Oh let me guess, you found that out whilst trying to chat her up one day."
"Aw Hermione, you know me so well," Draco smirked.
He checked to see if any students were around and tapped the wall in between the bathroom doors with his wand. A wooden door materialised and Draco pushed it open, leading Hermione down a small flight of stairs to a square room that was about half the size of a Hogwarts classroom. Cases of alcohol and chairs were stacked against the back wall, and the rest of the room was bare with the exception of torches and occasional spider webs. It wasn't particularly warm or welcoming, but that wasn't really much of a surprise for a basement.
"I don't even care if you get two questions in a row now, how did you know this room existed?"
"Luck," Draco answered, "I can't even remember how I found it. All I know is that Parkinson used to drag me in here to sn-"
"Okay, okay. I don't need to hear details," Hermione covered her ears, "la la la la la la la la."
"You really are a strange one," Draco said as he prized Hermione's hands away, "now get to work on that walkie-talkie."
"Draco, this is a Walkman. A walkie-talkie is-"
Draco glared at her and Hermione stopped, "Right, not the time for a lecture. Got it."
She examined the tape inside the Walkman.
To Iris, love John – 1998 it read on the front.
1998? Hermione was intrigued – that was four years from now.
"Who the hell are Iris and John?" Draco asked as he read over her shoulder.
"Well I'm assuming this Iris is Madam Rosmerta: this is her Walkman after all and I've never heard her being addressed by any first name before."
Hermione squinted. There was some smaller writing underneath the message.
"Engorgio," she pointed her wand at the Walkman so she could read what it said.
To Iris, love John – 1998.
I couldn't wait for you to hear this song for so many years, so I snagged a Time Turner and decided to bring the song to you. Just don't let anyone else hear it until '98 when it will 'officially' be released, or else me and the Dolls will be done for plagiarism. (It is named after you too; just a heads up so try not to get too embarrassed when it's released.)
Hermione gasped. How could someone be so irresponsible as to mess with a Time Turner in such a way?
"Okay so Iris, John and now 'the Dolls'. I'm lost," Draco said, "I'm assuming this John already knows Iris in this present time as a younger version of himself, otherwise there's some creepy-stalker shit going on here."
"Agreed," Hermione said. She shrunk the Walkman back down to size.
"I'm not going to be impressed if after all that, this turns out to be a heavy Weird Sisters kind of song," Draco shrugged off his 'winter' robes, "I can't dance in such restrictive garments," he added when he saw Hermione's questioning expression. She shook her head and rolled her eyes.
"Judging by that little note, I think we're safe from that – it should be good for dancing to."
Draco nodded and pulled Hermione to the centre of the room. She looked up expectantly at him.
"We can't dance while you're holding that thing."
"Right. Er, Wingardium Leviosa," Hermione levitated the Walkman, "we'll just have to try not to walk into it."
"Fine," Draco said. He gingerly reached out and put one hand on Hermione's waist. It felt very awkward. He was grateful that he was getting this over with now instead of the first time having to be during the Ball, in front of everyone, "just put your hand on my shoulder so we're ready. Then hit whatever button you need to make the music start with your free hand then we can just go whenever since we won't know how long it takes to kick in," he instructed.
"But I don't know what I'm doing," Hermione said. She was suddenly very aware that Draco's hand was on her waist, and that her cheeks were undoubtedly tinted pink, if not bright red. The heat from his hand felt like it was burning through her clothes onto her skin, which wasn't helping Hermione ignore it.
"You learn by doing, Hermione," Draco replied, "I'm leading so your job is to follow and try not to stand on my feet."
"Easier said than done."
"Who have you been partnering in these classes?"
"Neville."
"Figures."
Hermione hit Draco in the shoulder before she rested her hand on it. He cleared his throat.
"Ready?"
"Yeah," Hermione said, realising that they hadn't been in such close proximity since they were in the broom cupboard.
Hermione quickly snapped the play button down on the floating Walkman and clasped her free hand with Draco's. They stood there like that, waiting for the song to start. Hermione didn't know where to look. She settled on her feet.
A mandolin instrumental began playing and Draco tilted Hermione's chin up so her eyes met his.
"Lesson number one: never look at your feet," Draco said softly with his finger still under her chin.
Hermione was lost for words. Her heart was pounding in her throat as well as her ribcage, so she wouldn't have been able to speak even if she knew what to say.
Draco clasped her hand again and maintained eye contact, "Keep your eyes on me, relax, and just follow my lead – no doing your own thing pretending you're the boss like I know you'd want to. I'm in charge for the next three minutes or so."
Hermione mumbled something incoherent. When she imagined being taught how to dance by Draco, she had anticipated being talked at in a snappish, impatient manner. This was completely unexpected, but there was no time for her to think much more about it as the introduction ended, and the melody began.
And I'd give up forever to touch you, 'cause I know how you feel me somehow. You're the closest to heaven that I've ever been and I don't want to go home right now…
Hermione instantly recognised the singer's voice. This was one of her mother's favourite bands, The Goo Goo Dolls. They were an American group whose lead singer was called John Rzeznik, and apparently they were wizards. Well, who would have thought it?
"Don't look now Hermione, but you're dancing," Draco said. Hermione's head cleared and she realised that her discovery had distracted her from overthinking the idea of dancing.
And all I can taste is this moment…
Hermione accidentally trod on Draco's toe. He winced and cursed under his breath but he didn't miss a beat.
"I'm sorry," Hermione said.
"Shh, don't think. You're a much better dancer when you don't think. Just feel the music and just go with it."
Hermione took a deep breath. She kept her eyes on Draco's, hoping that she'd get sucked into them so she couldn't think about the dance. She decided to distract her mind by focusing on the lyrics and tempo of the song.
When sooner or later it's over. I just don't want to miss you tonight...
Draco suddenly picked up the pace as the music rose – apparently this song was a power ballad. He started spinning Hermione in perfect unison to the music; it really was hard to believe he'd never heard this song before.
And I don't want the world to see me, 'cause I don't think that they'd understand. When everything's made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am…
"Not my usual style but I'll go with it," Draco commented as the second verse began.
"What is your usual style?" asked Hermione. She was already out of breath.
"You know, classical, instrumental stuff. Music one would waltz to," he said as he and Hermione glided across the floor.
"How is it you're so good at this then?"
"I'm feeling the music," he smirked, though this time it was oddly charming instead of smug and pompous.
Hermione was glad for the distraction of conversation. It took her mind off the fact that they were sharing such an intimate moment, and the fact that Draco was still holding her waist. Not to mention the fact that the lyrics seemed so appropriate for what was happening: they were being so genuine with one another, but they were hidden away where no one else could see them.
Or the moment of truth in your lies…
Draco's stomach dropped when that line played out. If he could jump into that little box and hex the damn singer into oblivion he would, but he didn't want to stop. Not yet, at least. That was an apt lyric if there ever was one. His lie had been all of those olive branches to the witch he was now dancing with… the rest was pretty self-explanatory.
And I don't want the world to see me, 'cause I don't think that they'd understand…
The music rose again, and Draco instinctually sped up to match it. Hermione followed with ease. She was a better dancer than she gave herself credit for, and Draco could only blame Longbottom for that. Merlin help Weaslette at the Ball.
The chorus was followed by a long guitar, mandolin, drum, and violin instrumental. It was powerful and rising in tempo, but soft at the same time so Draco felt comfortable with the ballroom-esque style that he was leading Hermione in.
Throughout this instrumental, the two of them danced. Both of them were lost in their own thoughts but still had locked gazes. Whether either of them were aware of this was a different matter, but it was what it was.
The chorus repeated two more times, before the song slowed one more, as it had been at the start.
I just want you to know who I am… I just want you to know who I am…
The instruments faded, leaving the singer to deliver the last line over the fading chord of a guitar. Without even realising, Draco and Hermione had ended up not really dancing anymore- well not travelling at least. At some unknown point Hermione's other hand had climbed up to Draco's other shoulder, and both of Draco's hands were wrapped Hermione's waist. As the last note faded they slowed their swaying and walking in circles, and pulled their heads back at the same time, only just realising that Hermione's head had been resting against Draco's chest and Draco's had been buried in her hair against the side of her head.
Both of them were breathing heavily as their eyes met. Neither of them spoke, and neither of them made an attempt to let the other go. It was as if they were both cherishing this moment, knowing that as soon as they stepped out of the basement their barriers would be raised again due to the constant prying eyes of their friends, peers and teachers. They would return to being… well whatever the hell they were before they came in here. Neither of them knew what it was, but they did know that it wasn't what they wanted to be. It wasn't this.
"How was it?" Hermione said, her breathing still quite fast.
"What?"
"My dancing."
"Oh shit, right, er-"
"I did well at the 'feeling the music' crap you spewed to me, huh?"
"You shush, little one," Draco smiled.
Hermione wagged her finger at him, "Don't you start on that me being small stuff again."
"Okay, okay," Draco pulled Hermione in slightly closer. It was his brainless attempt at making her stop wagging her finger.
"You were great, Mione. For a beginner at least," he smirked again.
Hermione took a deep breath as she tried to calm down her heart rate, breathing in Draco's vanilla scent as she did so, which didn't help.
"W-what did you just call me?"
Draco's brain took that moment to engage, and his whole body tensed.
"I, er-" he began, not feeling sure about what her reaction was going to be. He tried to find some words, any words, but his thoughts left his mind again when he saw Hermione's brown eyes looking up at him. She didn't look pissed, so that was one thing in his favour at least.
She looked so innocent and curious, and some paranoid part of Draco thought that the longer her eyes bored into his own like this, she would uncover the truth, and the lies he had told that had lead them to this point. He wondered how he could have ever hurt her before, or why she would even trust him so much as to agree to give him a second chance after everything he'd done. He didn't know whether she was insane or just too nice for her own good.
"I-" he tried again, but his words were lost the longer he looked into her eyes. He could see his reflection in them, along with the hidden secrets held within his own eyes.
"Draco-" Hermione began. She wanted to ask why he was looking at her like that. Was he okay? He blinked a couple of times when he heard her voice, but his eyes glazed over again.
He gulped. He bit his lip as though contemplating something. He exhaled slowly. He closed his eyes. He bent his head. He leant into her. Hermione found herself leaning in as well. Her heart was pounding. Butterflies were fluttering in her stomach. Her gaze flicked to his mouth. She closed her eyes. She stood on her tiptoes. Their lips were centimetres apart.
The sound of chairs scraping overhead made Hermione realise what was happening and whom it was happening with. She panicked and gently pushed Draco away by the shoulders. He had also jolted slightly at the noise and blinked several times when some distance was put between them, as if the same realisation had just hit him. His eyes managed to focus this time.
"I'm sorry Draco. I just um… I er… well…"
"What?" Draco's voice was apathetic; he didn't sound angry, nor did he sound understanding. Hermione supposed he wouldn't be the type who'd be used to getting rejected like that.
"I've never kissed anyone before."
Draco's expression showed no signs of shock, and Hermione expected as much.
"I just panicked. I mean it's you and me, and I just have a feeling that if I kissed you things are just going to get weird between us, and I don't want that. I like that we can be friendly to one another, and I don't want to lose that." Hermione decided to leave out the fact that she thought it was already weird between them to a degree. She didn't want to put her foot in it if Draco though everything was perfectly normal.
"I kind of figured by the way you told that elf about what's happened."
"Oh, you heard about that?"
"Damn right I did," Draco finally cracked under the torrent of emotions he was feeling – frustration being at the forefront, "I can't believe you'd go around singing my praises like that. I don't deserve it and everybody – even the bloody servants – know that."
Hermione bit back her need to defend the house-elves, but now wasn't the time so she begrudgingly let it slide.
"Draco, stop punishing yourself, will you? I've forgiven you. It's fine." She dug her fingernails into Draco's shoulders so he couldn't run away like she knew he'd want to.
"Except it's not fine, is it?" Draco snapped, "I wish you'd just stop sticking your meddling nose into everything! It's your own bloody fault I feel bad about this. You've painted a picture of me that I can never live up to."
"Since when do you care what I think of you?"
"Since it made me feel about this big," Draco held up his index finger and thumb of his right hand a few centimetres apart from one another.
Hermione's eyes blazed, "Is your bloody ego really the thing that's worrying you the most right now? Because if it is then I'm happy I stopped you from kissing me." Hermione bit her lip. It made the whole thing seem more impossible when she said the words out loud. If anyone walked in right now they would laugh in her face if they heard her say that Draco Malfoy almost kissed her. So much for establishing boundaries until we discussed this, she thought.
"What is that supposed to mean?" Draco said through gritted teeth. He made no attempt to shake Hermione's hands away.
"It means," Hermione sighed and released him. A chill inadvertently ran down Draco's spine in the absence of her touch, and not a good one.
"It means that you're clearly the same boy you were last week, and maybe you're right and I was wrong for thinking you could grow up," she blurted in the heat of the moment. She instantly regretted saying that. Draco had already put his reputation on the line a number of times for her, and there had to be a limit somewhere.
The fight drained from Draco. Hermione had just provided a way out for him, an escape-route to get away from the high expectations he had just spoken of. A weight was lifted from him, releasing him from the pressure of having to prove himself… so why didn't he feel any happier?
"I'm not. Not entirely, at least," he said firmly, "the same person wouldn't have tried to kiss you in the first place."
"I know. It wasn't fair of me to say you're the same person, because you have changed. That's why I said that stuff to Dobby. I'm sorry if you feel pressured by it, but nobody else knows I've said it. I refuse to feel guilty for voicing my opinion."
"Except you don't know that, do you? It obviously never crossed your mind that house-elves could gossip just as easily as humans. One overheard word from a teacher could spread through the staff and then to the students like Dragonpox."
"Since when do you have a problem with people talking about you?"
"Since it's all lies!" Draco roared. He was breathing heavily and his raised voice scared Hermione slightly. His eyes looked so conflicted and fearful. Something was clearly going on, but Hermione felt that she'd be invading his privacy if she asked about it. This impression told her one thing: they barely knew each other at all.
Hermione rubbed her temples, "I don't think I can do this, Draco."
"What?" Draco's stomach dropped.
"I can't go through with it," Hermione was thinking more about her deal with Ginny more than the Ball itself, "I'm sorry. Maybe you really don't know me well enough to be going to the Ball with me after all, and I don't know you either."
She turned to leave the basement but paused to look back over her shoulder, "after all, if you did know me, you'd know that my instincts of people are almost always spot-on. I don't know why you're so affected by what I said to Dobby, and frankly I don't think you're likely to want to tell me anytime soon. I know that we're just going to be driven further apart if we don't discuss that kiss– what it means, and Merlin knows how stubborn we are so that isn't going to happen anytime soon."
She turned again but Draco called after her.
"Oh sure, run away like a coward." Honestly what was the logic? She just pretty much said that the sooner they talk, the better, so why else would she leave now?
Hermione faced him again. "You're the coward here, not me. I'm not the one freaking out about positive gossip because I feel the need to hide behind my own damn fake personality. I'm the only one who's seen the real you, Draco, and frankly I don't know why you're fighting so hard to make sure no-one else gets the chance to see or even consider the idea of it. I know the Draco I'd rather be friends with and it certainly isn't the bigoted snake you parade yourself around as when we're not alone."
Draco's jaw clenched. Hermione was right. She had called him out on something he didn't even know he'd been doing.
She seemed to relax after getting that off her chest, and she looked into his eyes, "I'm doing this for us. I'm giving you some space to figure out whatever problem you still have. If I pressured you to tell me it would only drive a wedge between us, and I don't want us to go back to hating each other. I like what we are, but I realise that we can't move forward if we barely know one another, and I class the Ball as a step forward."
"What are we though, Hermione? Why do you care so much?" These were the questions Draco had been dying to know the answers to for the past few days. He could only hope that Hermione had the answers.
"Because I li-" Hermione stopped herself from blurting the rest of the sentence, and chickened out, "because I know you've changed." She reiterated.
Draco's heart skipped a beat. Had she been about to say what he thought she was? His next planned move was to press her on it but she had already scurried away up the staircase.
"I feel pressured by what you said because I don't bloody deserve you!" He shouted helplessly after her. A moment later he heard the distant crack of apparition. She was gone.
Had she heard him? Draco had no idea. It was probably for the best if she hadn't – that would just open a can of worms he didn't want to be opened yet. At least he now knew where he stood with her after so much wondering.
Draco took several paces backwards until his back hit the cold wall. He leant against it and slumped to the floor. Maybe it was a good thing that Hermione had pushed him away. She had already uncovered his subconscious lie of his arrogant persona, so it was only a matter of time before she found out about the lies linked to the bet. The repercussions on their bond could only get worse the more time they spent together other and more they became emotionally attached, so some space could be beneficial.
A kiss could only signify that their friendship was something more, and it would all be based on lies. It didn't matter that the lies actually held a ring of truth once Draco had told them. It didn't matter that the dance lesson and the almost-kiss had been done under Draco's uninfluenced choices. The lies were the catalysts that lead them to this point. That's all Hermione would need to know.
Their friendship really was doomed before anything even started. Draco would give anything to forfeit the bet and establish a bond with Hermione on a clean slate, but that would only mean he'd have to declare his feelings for her as his penalty – more lies. There was the option of pulling out altogether, but that would trigger the punishment of the binding spell, and the mystery of it was too risky.
Draco only had one option. It was inevitable that his little bubble with Hermione would be burst for good at some point – he may as well make the most of it while it lasted. He needed to go to the Ball with her… he wanted to go to the Ball with her...
Back at the castle, Hermione had one thought playing over and over again in her mind. She had hoped that her points made to the Slytherin would be enough to make the words sink into her own head, but there was still a niggling bit of doubt in the back of her mind.
It's purely physical, nothing more! Purely physical…
To be continued…
A/N: and breathe... I wrote that in one sitting haha! I wasn't planning on it being so long but I ran into that little issue of the song being released in 1998 (sigh) so I had to write my way around that little hurdle. I was determined to use that song though because I think the lyrics are just so fitting for them (It was Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls if you didn't already figure that out ;D)
Also, over 100 follows and 50 favourites, thanks for the love so far!