A/N: IT'S HERE! THE BALL IS HERE! (Woop!)

So yeah… I may have had Granger Danger from AVPM on replay the whole time I was writing this…

Be warned that I had to split the Ball into two chapters. This is the shorter and fluffier half :)

The Beginning of The End (of the bet)

Christmas Day: 00:00:05, 00:00:04, 00:00:03, 00:00:02, 00:00:01, 00:00:00 seconds until the Yule Ball – Part 2

Draco's gaze remained fixed on the floor of the common room. He had been sat on one of the sofas tapping his feet anxiously and impatiently for the past hour or so, having been too hasty in the 'getting ready' process.

"Hey you, what time is it?" he asked a third-year girl, who paused before responding. She seemed to be weighing out her options as to whether she should co-operate and answer, since Draco was older than her, or whether she should make a surly remark in return (a common dilemma in Slytherin house). In this instance, the girl decided to co-operate, which baffled Draco somewhat as almost every time, a student would retort. Maybe this girl was feeling generous because it was Christmas. Well either that or she had clearly been sorted into the wrong House.

"Errr, just turned eight o'clock," she said, glancing at a rather garish and expensive wristwatch.

She flounced off before Draco could thank her – not that he was going to anyway – and he resumed his foot tapping. He considered his own options for his plan of action. Hermione always struck him as the type of person who would show up irritatingly early, in which case he should already be down in the Entrance Hall since the Ball had technically started as of five, six, seven seconds ago (assuming that hideous watch was accurate). But on the other hand, there was every chance Hermione still felt wary and sceptical about him, and so she may show up a few minutes late to avoid feeling like he was going to stand her up.

Draco eventually decided to play the optimist and to head there straight away. His ego, and heart for that matter, didn't really enjoy the thought that Hermione would still be having doubts as to whether she could trust him. Draco pushed those thoughts away and made his way to the door; after all, he hadn't exactly done a good job of proving her that he was a changed wizard lately, so he'd probably deserve it if she were cautious.

An uneasy feeling in Draco's stomach remained with him throughout the brief journey to the crowded Entrance Hall, almost like he could sense that something was not right or that something bad was looming. The more he thought about what the feeling could mean, the more worked up he got, and he refused to let his unease be noticed by anyone, least of all Potter and Weas-

"Bloody hell!" Draco suddenly burst out laughing as Ron and Harry came into view, and the twisting in Draco's stomach eased considerably. The boys stopped in their tracks. Ron looked mortified, and his ears, along with his entire face, turned a deep shade of red, which made the whole spectacle of his dress robes even funnier. The blond wasn't sure if it was just his eyes playing tricks on him, but he could almost swear he saw Harry's mouth flicker into an amused smirk.

"By Merlin, those clothes are so hideous even a house-elf wouldn't want to wear them," Draco's laughter died down but a wide grin remained planted on his pale face.

"Malfoy-" Harry said warningly, for Ron was too busy muttering incoherently under his breath.

Draco ignored him and continued to taunt Ron, not even caring that the redhead wasn't listening. His amusement was enough to calm his nerves and take his mind off the stress he had been feeling for so long. Plus, he felt the need to exact his revenge for the snowball-in-the-ear incident.

"You look like a frilly Dungbomb!"

Ron's head lifted and a deep frown was furrowed onto his forehead. At first Draco thought he may have pushed his luck a bit too far, and he readied himself for the altercation, but it turned out that the Weasel wasn't looking at him, but past him. Without saying a word, Ron marched past Draco and approached Fred and George, who had been wiggling their eyebrows and wolf whistling at him.

"What the bloody hell are you wearing?" Ron exclaimed as he stared enviously at his brothers' sleek and stylish dress robes. His voice was more of a whimper now, as all of the staring and embarrassment was taking its toll on him.

"Dress robes," the twins answered, simultaneously looking Ron up and down with dubious expressions.

"No offence Ron, but I think we should be the ones asking that question," Fred said.

"Mum bloody sent me these!" Ron lifted and dropped the hem of the main cloak in angry gesture, which caused the frills around his collar to float up and down again in the breeze. The twins burst out laughing.

"Well she didn't send us any robes, did she Fred?" George asked his twin.

"No, we had to go and buy our own; so did Ginny… must mean that you're her favourite, Ron," Fred winked.

"Oh bugger off," Ron pivoted sharply and walked back over to Harry and Draco. Once again, the lace floated upwards and bounced lightly off his shoulders as he moved. He sighed in frustration, and a brief silence stretched out between them as they all waited for their respective dates to arrive.

"If it helps, Weasel," Draco said. Ron looked up wearily, "you are by far, the prettiest Dungbomb I've ever seen."

"Gee, thanks," Ron muttered. There was no use arguing with him, for even he knew how hideous his robes were. "Hey Malfoy…"

Draco narrowed his eyes slightly, "What do you want, Weasel?"

"I'm going to give you a once-in-a-lifetime offer, to get rid of me for good. What do you say you Avada Kedavra me right now?"

It didn't take long for Draco to catch on, "As much as I may regret declining that generous offer in the future, I'd much rather have you alive and endure four hours of embarrassment for wearing those robes. Plus, I hardly think it's worth getting thrown into Azkaban for."

"Ferret in Azkaban, that'll be the day," Ron snickered to Harry.

Draco's smirk vanished and he stepped forwards, pointing a finger in Ron's face threateningly. Nobody reminded him of his experience as a ferret – and indeed being down Crabbe's trousers – and got away with it.

"You'd better learn to watch your –"

"Oi!" A girl's voice shouted from somewhere behind them. It was Ginny. "Honestly can't you learn to get along for one minute?"

"No," the three boys said at the same time.

Ginny rolled her eyes and turned to Draco, "How hypocritical can you get? You call Ron 'Weasel' all the time so I hardly think you have an excuse to get touchy when he calls you a ferret."

"Yeah but-"

"Ah," Ginny held up a finger to prevent Draco from completing his excuse, "You're outnumbered now. Two Weasels against one ferret."

Draco scowled despite the fact that Ginny's face gave away the fact that she wasn't taking this conversation seriously. He was more concerned of the fact that he was effectively now surrounded by Gryffindors.

"Er, Gin?" Harry said, "Neville's over there. I think he's looking for you."

"Oh okay, I best be off then," Ginny smoothed down her dress and disappeared into the crowd.

"Make sure to put numbing charms on your feet!" Draco called after her, remembering what Hermione had said about Neville being her dance partner in classes. Somehow Draco got the impression that he'd be the clumsy and ungainly type so he thought it best to warn her; it was the female Weasley who convinced him to go to the Three Broomsticks at the weekend after all. Well she blackmailed him but nevertheless Draco had begrudgingly forgiven her for that.

Ginny turned back, frowned in confusion and shook her head before continuing on. No matter - she'd understand what he meant soon enough.

"I thought this thing started at eight," Ron said to no-one in particular, "When can we actually go into the Great Hall?"

"I s'pose Dumbledore or whoever wants to give people a bit more time to get down here for any late-comers. It shouldn't be too long though," Harry said. He was fidgeting with the sleeve of his robes. He looked slightly nervous.

Draco resisted the urge to make a sly jibe about this; he wasn't exactly feeling a hundred per-cent composed himself. Where was Hermione?

At that moment the large doors to the Great Hall opened, and Professor McGonagall began ushering the growing mass of excited students inside, all the while calling out for the four Triwizard Tournament champions and their partners to hang back in the Entrance Hall. Draco rolled his eyes as he learned that the champions had to make their own special entrance; he would expect nothing less where bloody Potter was concerned.

As the crowd thinned, a Hufflepuff girl from their year whom Draco recognised but could never be bothered to learn the name of skipped over with a wide grin on her face. She stopped in her tracks when she saw what Ron was wearing and her smile faltered slightly, but she recovered. Poor girl, she must be the Weasel's date.

Draco took this time to get a good look at her, unabashedly raking his eyes over her. She was pretty enough; long blonde hair and bright blue eyes, tall and slim. She was wearing a lilac three-quarter length gown that showed off her figure nicely, and yet Draco wasn't completely bowled over by her. Something was missing… and he had a niggling feeling that that 'something' was a wild mane of hair, or a lightly freckled nose.

Shit…

Draco's thoughts snapped back to what was happening and he noticed that the blonde girl was looking at him with a cold expression.

"Sorry, do I even know you?" Draco asked. He had no idea why she looked so pissed off at him, but it occurred to him that he might've insulted her at some time or another in the past.

The girl scoffed and grabbed Ron's arm, dragging him into the Hall. "Arsehole," she muttered as she walked away.

"Did I just get insulted… by a Hufflepuff?" Draco asked.

"Looks like it," Harry said, trying not to sound too amused.

Draco shrugged, "No matter, it's a common opinion around this place."

"Fact," Harry corrected. He felt very awkward about still standing with Malfoy in the near-deserted Entrance Hall and at the same time waiting for another Slytherin to come and rescue him from enduring his presence further. Merlin, he never thought he'd ever land himself in this position. He didn't even know exactly how this all came about in the first place, come to think of it.

Draco arched a blond brow, "You know what else is a fact, Potter?"

Harry groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. Here we go; he really should learn to keep his mouth shut around Malfoy.

"Enlighten me."

"Whether you've been too dense to realise it or not, I've been doing my best to be civil to you since I left the common room for Hermione's sake. The matter is that you are not showing me that same courtesy, which makes you just as much as an arsehole as I…" Draco's voice trailed off as he looked back at the dark-haired wizard and narrowed his eyes, "And I believe the fact that you are currently not listening or even looking at me right now is more enough than to support that argument."

But Harry didn't hear a word of Draco's rant. It wasn't that he was intentionally ignoring him; he was just completely thrown and distracted by the girl who had just emerged at the top of the last flight of stairs down to the Hall.

"Potter?" Draco's voice seemed distant, as Harry was still focused on the girl.

"Hermione?"

At the mention of her name, Draco's head snapped away from Harry as he turned to look in the same direction he was. A girl was stood on the top-most step looking down at them. She was familiar, and yet at the same time, so different. She seemed to have Hermione's petite frame and hair colour, but didn't possess the same unruly mane from what Draco could make out; the fact that the girl was stood slightly in the shadows didn't help him to identify her faster, but Potter seemed to think it was Hermione. She was the only person standing there, so it had to be her whom Harry was addressing.

Draco squinted. He silently willed the girl to descend the stairs so he could know for sure. Deep down, though, Draco already knew it was her. His heart began thumping in anticipation as the girl took a step downward, almost as if she sensed his wishes.

She descended slowly, but moved with a regal grace that captivated the Slytherin. He watched every nuance of her movements as she came closer into view; utterly transfixed at the way her posture seemed to lengthen her small stature. Her shoes were simple ballet pumps with small stiletto heels that created delicate tapping sounds against the stone floor with each controlled step, and there was the faint noise of swishing fabric from her floor-length gown as her legs moved beneath the skirt. The torches on the walls illuminated the material… the periwinkle-blue material. Draco gulped as he felt his throat dry up.

The girl finally reached the flat ground and stepped out of the shadows. Draco's jaw dropped. It was Hermione, looking nothing like he'd ever seen her before. She was breath-taking (quite literally, as Draco's breath had inadvertently caught in his throat at some point during her descent and he had yet to release it). The dress was beautiful and floaty around the hips, accentuating her slim waist and the same fabric lay on her shoulders and bounced in a similar way Ron's frill had done. But in this instance, it wasn't funny. Draco's entire being warmed in sympathy to the fact that Hermione must finally be feeling feminine and empowered.

Hermione smiled coyly at Harry for a moment before her eyes travelled sideways to meet Draco's, and her smile grew wider, a pretty tint of pink covering her cheeks and nose as she blushed. She was positively beaming at him, and seeing her so happy after all of the stress he'd put onto her shoulders recently made his own grin begin to form. It didn't turn into an equally toothy and uninhibited smile until Draco caught sight of the central indigo stone in the barrette he had given her earlier that day, which seemed to have brightened in colour since he had last seen it. He beamed back at her, not even caring that Potter was staring at them both as if he didn't quite believe what he was seeing, and not even caring that McGonagall was trying to catch their attention to usher them into the Hall.

It may have just been his deluded mind and ego playing tricks on him, but the moment Draco saw (or thought he saw) the affection in Hermione's warm brown eyes was the moment he realised how amazing she was for giving him a second chance, and indeed another chance after that. At first he'd been convinced that either she was just plain stupid or he was a better actor than he gave himself credit for, but some way along the line, he'd been enlightened; he doubted anybody else would have given him the time of day if he'd treated them the way he had treated Hermione over the last few years.

Now more than ever, he felt small and unworthy of her friendship, and yet, she was looking at him as an equal, completely oblivious and naïve to the schemes that was the foundation of their bond. Draco felt sick to his stomach. He dreaded the day she ever found out…

But he didn't want to think about that at the moment. He just wanted to focus on Hermione and the here and now. Part of him was fighting the urge to just pull her close and kiss her inviting pink lips; the ghost of Potter's voice from their recent conversation as well as his guilty conscience were screaming at him that he'd have to wait a day or two longer until the bet was over with. He didn't think he'd be able to live with himself if anything happened beforehand.

The Malfoy part of him on the other hand felt very unsettled by his emotions. The part of his brain that had been tainted by his parents' incessant lectures about the blood-status hierarchy of the wizarding world still remained ashamed and disapproving of anything to do with the girl who stood before him. If only his father could hear his thoughts right now - he'd have a heart attack.

His smile fell a little as he tried to settle the internal debate going on in his head.

"Draco?" Hermione asked unsurely.

Draco's glazed over eyes refocused with a shake of his head. Shit. Just how long had he been stood staring at her without saying anything?

"Hm? Oh, er hey Hermione," he said with a sheepish half-smile.

"'Hey'? Is that all I get for all of the effort I put in to the stupidly time-consuming, strenuous task of 'taming my frizz'?"

"Err…" Draco faltered. He always seemed to seize up when the topic was meaningful or mushy. He'd splurged out many a fake compliment to desperate girls (namely Parkinson) in the past, but this time it would be real, and something within him was holding him back.

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Well coming from you I suppose leaving you speechless is the best compliment going," she smiled.

"Yeah you should dress like that every day Mione," Harry chipped in from the sidelines, "He'd never speak again, and I'm sure that would be lovely for everyone."

Draco frowned, "Is there a reason you're still hanging around like a bad smell, Potter? Oh I'm sorry not 'like' – you are one. And I always wondered why you and Dungbomb Weasel go so nicely together."

"Draco!" Hermione berated.

He shrugged innocently, "Whether you believe it or not, I was actually being nice to Captain Spectacle over there before you arrived."

"Captain Spectacle?" Harry quizzed.

"It's been four years, Potter, I'm running out of insulting nick-names."

Hermione watched this encounter with amusement, "Forgive me if I don't quite believe that you were being civil before I got here."

"I bloody was, okay? In fact, I was giving him an earful about that very thing but he wasn't listening because he was so distracted about how bloody amazing you look!" Draco's angry outburst caused him to inadvertently let slip the compliment he had been holding back earlier. He clamped his lips shut tightly, but it was too late to retrieve the words.

"Charming," Harry said dryly, but Hermione wasn't really listening.

Draco had given her a straightforward compliment, albeit a slightly crude one, but it was real and Hermione's heart suddenly felt lighter and her blush reappeared on her cheeks. She glanced at the ground shyly. She was really out of her comfort-zone in terms of attire and general appearance, and only now did she feel like herself. If Draco had made the compliment in a cheesy, poetic fashion she'd feel like she was up on some sort of pedestal instead of down-to-earth like she preferred, but his blunt manner was nothing less than she was expecting.

"Thank you," she said once she'd gathered her bearings, "and you look a bit like Dracula," she added, spotting the raised collar on his black dress robes.

"Who?" Draco was confused, but somehow he got the feeling that this 'Dracula' wasn't someone he'd want to be compared to.

"It doesn't matter," Hermione, grinned, "It suits you. I'd hate to boost that already inflated ego of yours, but you do scrub up rather well."

Draco fought the urge to make some smug remark in response and settled on a 'Thanks'.

McGonagall was becoming almost intolerable now so Draco held out his arm for Hermione to take, and began to guide her into the sparkling Winter-Wonderland that was usually the Great Hall. When this bet first came about he never thought in a million years that he'd actually be proud to have Hermione Granger on his arm and as his date. Moreover, Daphne's 'stay with her all night' requirement now seemed like a blessing as opposed to a curse.

Speaking of the She-Devil, Daphne rounded the corner at that moment wearing a fitted midnight-blue ball gown and Harry expelled a breath. He had never been more delighted to see a Slytherin before. It would have been traumatic to say the least to go into that Hall and officially open the Ball with no dance partner.

Unfortunately for Harry, Draco had decided to turn back around that same moment.

"Aah here's Mrs Spectacle!" He said, noticing that Daphne had decided to wear her glasses instead of contact lenses after all.

Harry shot him a dark look and Draco chuckled before disappearing with Hermione into the Hall.

He didn't even get a chance to greet, or even look at Daphne properly before her sharp tongue cut across him.

"Oh thank Merlin that you seemed to know what you were talking about with the fabric," Daphne sighed, reaching out to touch some of the loose material around the sleeves, "Polyester. Good. I almost asked for Charmeuse silk instead of Taffeta but I'm glad I went for the latter."

"Err, what's the difference, exactly?" Harry asked weakly. Bad mistake.

"Well Charmeuse has more of a smooth, satin-y look to it. It's kind of shiny like normal silk, but Taffeta is better for texturing so it has more metallic-y shades to it…"

She kept lecturing him about materials again, and Harry sighed. Why did he even ask?

"Dear Godric what on earth is so difficult to understand about 'Please make your way into the Hall now'?" McGonagall sighed as Hermione and Draco finally crossed the threshold and the large doors closed behind them with a bang.

"I'm sorry, Professor," Hermione said meekly, blushing slightly.

McGonagall turned to Draco, as if expecting some sort of apology or explanation from him also.

"Er, yeah, terribly sorry, Professor," he drawled, "but I assure you we would have been much more punctual if Hermione here didn't take forever walking down a few stairs."

"Hey!" Hermione elbowed him, but McGonagall didn't seem to care. If anything she seemed to be amused.

Draco shrugged, "Sorry, Slytherin force of habit."

"Typical." Hermione rolled her eyes.

Snape slunk onto the scene and stood next to McGonagall. Both were hard-faced and stoic - a rather humorous juxtaposition to the merriment of the setting and holiday cheer that surrounded them.

"Ten points from Slytherin; twenty points from Gryffindor. For holding up proceedings on this… event." the older wizard said in his usual monotone voice with a sneer.

"What? But it's Christmas!" Hermione protested, "How come I get more points docked?"

"Precisely," Snape's black eyes bored into Hermione, "And what better gift is there to give myself than docking some points? And to answer your question Miss Granger, I believe the added penalty is apt as Mr Malfoy so kindly pointed out that you are to blame."

"Severus," McGonagall hissed, "Surely you can cut the girl some slack just this once?"

"What about me? Don't I deserve to be let off too?" Draco bristled, but the witch paid him no heed.

"On the contrary Minerva, had it been any other day of the year it would have been fifty points docked from Gryffindor House. I must be embracing the Christmas spirit after all," Snape said in the least jolly voice he could muster and flounced away, his usual black cloak billowing behind him.

"Well I see my lovely Head of House has made the effort to dress up," Draco commented sarcastically.

"I didn't really have high expectations," Hermione replied, "I can't really imagine him wearing fluffy white dress robes, can you?"

"Well I can't not now!" Draco glared.

McGonagall began barking orders at the students to stand at opposite sides of the Hall to form an aisle for the champions and their partners to walk down. Draco and Hermione joined the throng, subconsciously taking a step or two away from one another to create distance between their bodies.

They'd both realised that whilst they had grown accustomed to letting their guards down around one another, they hadn't yet shown such a display when in public. To almost everyone in the room, they were still borderline enemies who were just about able to be civil, which probably explained the array of dubious glances they were receiving.

Tonight was evidently going to prove to be a challenging test for them. Draco's barriers were already raised as he returned the glares of several of the onlookers. He felt very exposed and helpless, like a caged animal as he stood near Hermione, though he didn't know why. He almost missed the privacy of the balcony or the Three Broomsticks basement, feeling just the same as he had done after the broom cupboard situation.

Draco's palms felt sweaty and he bit the inside of his cheek absently. How the hell were they going to get through the night?

"Thanks for dubbing me in there," Hermione's voice brought him back to reality.

Draco half-smiled, "Why were you taking so long walking down the steps anyway?"

Hermione smiled shyly, "Actually I er… was just trying not to fall over…"

The blond couldn't help but smirk at her honesty, "Well if it helps, you pulled off the whole 'alluring mysterious woman' vibe quite nicely." It seemed to help to a degree if Draco kept his gaze on her; he could pretend there was no one else in the room.

Before Hermione could reply, Professor Flitwick tapped his lectern and the orchestra began playing. The chatter died down and focus shifted to the doors. A sense of anticipation and excitement was thick in the air as the music rose and the doors opened once more. The four champions and their partners walked down the aisle to the dance floor.

First came Fleur Delacour with Roger Davies, the Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain and Chaser. Fleur was predictably looking as regal and elegant (if not a bit stuck up) as ever, with Roger smugly sauntering beside her, relishing the envious glares being directed towards him by almost the entirety of male students. Draco felt somewhat jealous of the Raven-bore's achievement, but he wouldn't let it pray on his thoughts. Much to his shameful surprise, Hermione actually looked more beautiful than the majority of the Beauxbaton's students. Hm. Daphne's bet seemed to be teaching him a lesson in more ways than one (not that he'd ever tell her that).

There was a chorus of girly squeals and thunderous applause as Cedric Diggory followed Fleur and Roger with Cho Chang on his arm. The noise seemed to amplify even more when Viktor Krum and Pansy walked down next. Hermione snorted as the Slytherin girl was evidently under the deluded impression that the applause was for her. She strutted down the aisle in a short hot-pink cocktail dress with matching stilettos and make-up.

Ginny caught Hermione's eye from the other side of the aisle and the two girls shared a secret smirk as Parkin the Imp's words that Pansy should wear a floor-length dress in order to hide her fat calves floated to the front of their minds. Hermione stole another glance at Pansy's retreating form and snorted again when she saw that the infuriating creature had been right.

"Here comes Saint Potter," Draco commented as Harry and Daphne entered the Hall. Several more Slytherin students who were standing nearby snickered at Draco's remark and began jumping up and down showing off their 'Potter Stinks' badges that they had pinned to the front of their dress robes in the hope Harry would notice. But the ruckus soon died once it registered who his date was. Several confused murmurs and whispers started up then, allowing Daphne and Harry to successfully reach the white dance floor with minimum hassle.

Evidently their partnership had been kept on the down low, or at least, nobody seemed to realise that they were a couple, as the school had been too busy gossiping about Hermione and Draco. Whatever the case, both of them would undoubtedly be bombarded with questions as the night went on.

The students then gathered around the perimeter of the dance floor to watch the first waltz of the evening. Three of the couples pulled one another closer and moved their feet smoothly to the rhythm; however Daphne and Harry reached awkwardly around one another only to chicken out at the last second and pull away, reaching around the other side, and repeating the whole process.

To Hermione it was quite endearing and sweet, but Draco thought that they should both just swallow their pride and get on with it; he rolled his eyes and sighed excessively to illustrate this. Hermione scolded him for his lack of sensitivity, but to give him credit he was still unaware of the details of what had happened between Harry and Daphne.

Eventually they found their bearings and shuffled and stumbled hesitantly around the floor for the first half of the piece of music. Both of them were red faced; Harry was simply out of breath and sweaty from the discomfort and nerves, and Daphne seemed more embarrassed than anything else, though Draco knew that she had had a lot of prior ballroom dance experience and was probably fuming at Potter for being so useless at leading.

Several more couples had glided onto the floor and begun dancing with their partners during the second half, and some smug Slytherin part of Draco was eager to infuriate Daphne even more. On the downside, doing so would mean having to take a very big step with Hermione by exposing them to judgemental eyes even more.

Draco hesitated. He questioned if his pride and reputation was worth missing out on time with Hermione. Merlin knows she probably wouldn't forgive him if he were distant and cold towards her tonight.

Salazar forgive me, he thought.

"Care to show them how it's done, M'lady?" He bowed and held his hand out to Hermione.

"Don't say that, it's far too polite for you," she smiled, taking his hand and leading the way onto the dance floor.

They slotted back into the familiar starting stance, clasping hands with Draco's free hand resting on Hermione's waist and hers on his shoulder. Both of their minds immediately went back to that day in the Three Broomsticks basement, and they shared a secret smile before Draco took the first step.

Across the floor Daphne and Harry simultaneously did a double take and stared in shock at how smoothly and easily their friends fit and danced together.

"You think they've done that before?" Daphne asked curiously.

"I don't have a bloody clue about anything about them anymore," Harry admitted with a frown. Aside from the hug he had witnessed on the balcony, and that awkward night in the library, he had never actually seen Malfoy and Hermione…like this…whatever 'this' was. Daphne's question had got him thinking too. Hermione had given him rushed details about their apparent impromptu dance lesson, but even so Harry would have expected there to still be a lot of awkwardness involved.

Having noticed Draco and Hermione too, Ron purposefully led Hannah over to Harry and Daphne.

"I'm not bloody seeing things am I?"

"No…" the other three said simultaneously.

Just then, the blond and brunette glided straight past the group of their friends, but neither of them noticed. They were moving together effortlessly around the crowded floor, never once breaking eye contact.

"You think he Imperiused her?" Ron asked. He and Hannah were still moving but remaining in the same place, so he could talk to Harry properly.

"No," Daphne said firmly. She wouldn't put such a thing past her Housemate, but his winning of the bet rested on the fact that Hermione had to willingly co-operate with each requirement. Had it not been for this, the Imperius Curse would certainly be the most believable explanation to what they were all seeing.

So far Draco had completed two out of the three requirements, and in a way Daphne was shocked and a little worried for herself that he had managed to do that much. But the night was still young, and there was every chance that the two of them would get into one of their usual disagreements, which would inevitably cause Draco to storm off, leave Hermione and lose the bet… Daphne pursed her lips. It was wishful thinking, but still entirely possible.

She chanced another glance at the unlikely pair and felt her heart drop. Okay maybe it was a little less possible than she originally thought.

"Er Daphne?"

She glanced up to see Harry looking at her, "Yeah?"

"You okay? You seem a bit distracted."

Daphne sucked back her nerves about the bet and put on her best Slytherin poker face. She remembered what Draco had told her about not pining for any comfort from Potter tonight; she just had to be her usual snippy self and see how she felt about him by the end of the night. Simple? Ha. Easier said than done.

"Yes, I'm fine." Daphne lied.

To be continued…

A/N: There's quite a good chunk of Daphne/Harry in the next half (I know some of you wanted to see some more of them!) Sorry it ended pretty abruptly but there was no other reasonably acceptable place to end it!

Thank you everyone for your lovely reviews and comments, it always makes my day when I get a notification :')