A/N: So I've managed to get a lot of writing done for this recently (mainly because GoF came on TV so it got me inspired) and I can say for certain that this story will have 23 chapters in total.. so I hope if you're reading this then you'll stick with it until the end :)

Happy reading!

It All Ends at Midnight

Christmas Day: At the Yule Ball – Part 3

"Pansy, vhat are you looking at?" Viktor spun them around so he was facing in the direction Pansy was, but he didn't get much time to guess what it was that had caught her interest as she spun them back to their original positions very quickly.

Pansy didn't reply. She couldn't quite believe what she was seeing. Granger had still come after she caught Draco with her the other day; she had been more than convinced that Draco's move on her would have effectively been self-sabotage, knowing very well what a hot temper Granger had. She wasn't blind to how Hermione and Draco were looking at each other; it was almost sickening. But not as sickening as the fact that the couple's gazes meant one thing: Granger was going to kiss Draco at her expense, and he wouldn't push her away and humiliate her like Pansy had first hoped.

She growled in frustration and stomped her foot, consequently stabbing Viktor's toes with her heels. He merely grunted in pain and let go of Pansy to tend to his injury. The release of his grasp was all Pansy needed to take off after Draco and Hermione as the song ended and the pair left the dance floor.

Hermione stood awkwardly beside a table as Draco went away to get drinks. It was all very unsettling; he was being borderline gentlemanly tonight, and Hermione wasn't entirely sure if she liked it or not. In a strange way she would have almost preferred it if the snarky blond ordered her to get drinks herself; she was plenty used to his mannerisms after all. He wasn't gone long, and Hermione was twiddling her fingers and glancing around as if she wasn't sure what to do when he returned.

Draco cocked an eyebrow as he handed her a glass, "You know you're stood right next to a chair, right?"

"I know," Hermione snapped unconvincingly. She collapsed into the chair a second later; effectively making her look even more foolish than before, but she attempted to mask her embarrassment.

Draco watched her with an amused smirk. Pansy's voice cut him off before he could say anything else.

"Well, well, well," she sneered, "I see you two have made up then."

"Looks like it," Draco matched her sneer and echoed Daphne's words from the day before during her and Pansy's brief reconciliation.

Hermione caught sight of Draco's expression and began to relax. She knew he wouldn't be able to keep his inner Snake hidden for long.

Pansy scowled at her.

"What do you want, Parkinson?" Draco asked wearily before she could say anything.

"Nothing from you," she replied icily. Her pug-like features focused on Hermione, who instinctively steeled herself for the impending slanging match.

"I didn't think you were quite so…forgiving, Granger," she commented.

Hermione didn't need to ask what Pansy was referring to. "What do you care if I am or not?"

Pansy scoffed, "I don't. I'm just saying that I thought you would've given Draco a hex or twenty up the backside for what happened before you'd even think about forgiveness."

Draco sank down in a chair beside Hermione. He watched this encounter intently, and realised that Pansy did have a point, not that he was complaining about how Hermione handled the situation.

Hermione narrowed her eyes, "And you felt it necessary to follow us across the room just to say that?" Pansy was up to something, and Hermione was going to find out what.

"Not just that," the dark-haired witch smiled slowly, "It kind of got me thinking; perhaps you have an ulterior motive hiding in that owl's nest you normally call hair."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Please. What motive could I possibly have? And do you really think I'd be able to keep it a secret if I did? I wasn't born a conniving git like you Slytherins were."

"Thank you," Draco smirked, apparently taking her words as a compliment.

Pansy tapped her chin thoughtfully. Either Granger was a better actress than she first gave her credit for, or the Gryffindor had no idea where she was headed with this conversation. Time to up the ante.

"Oh I don't know," she began, continuing to tap her chin as if she was simply thinking aloud as ideas came to her, "Maybe you wanted to keep things civil just so you could still have a date to avoid coming alone. Maybe you have a point to prove to someone. Maybe you made a deal with a friend and are simply working off that bloody pride and stubborn nature of yours to make sure you follow it through…"

Hermione felt her fists clench in her lap as the realisation hit her that Parkinson somehow knew about the discussion she had with Ginny all those days ago in the library. It was irrelevant just how long she had known or when she found out, but her interrogation now was obviously some kind of warning that she was onto her…but what did she hope to gain from it?

"Shut up, Parkinson," she spat, keeping her voice as collected and steady as possible.

Hermione felt Draco's cool and questioning gaze on her and she desperately fought the urge to look at him. If she made eye contact with him, he'd be able to read her expression like an open book, and he'd confront her, then she'd confess about her deal with Ginny and ultimately she and Draco would fight and… that's it! Parkinson must know that the deal would be at her own expense, and she was now doing everything in her power to stop it from happening altogether.

Wait…

Pansy knowing Hermione's part in the deal would be at her expense would mean she knew exactly what Hermione had to do, in which case, she would have overheard the conversation when it happened. She had known all along.

But…

That night when Hermione caught Pansy and Viktor kissing…the Slytherin had almost been acting like she had been expecting Hermione to be there - to catch them. That was the thing that convinced her to accept Draco's invitation in the first place, which meant that Pansy had on some level, influenced who her date was going to be.

Why would she do that when she knew I was planning to kiss Draco?

Hermione's brain was suddenly abuzz with a thousand questions. The plotting smirk Pansy had shot her way in Defence Against the Dark Arts that day… was she planning the Viktor situation right then?

"Feeling guilty, Granger?"

The girl's challenging gloat brought Hermione back to the Great Hall. She made to retort but bit her lip at the last second.

Guilt…

Hermione's thoughts took her back to yesterday by the lake. She'd had her reasons for letting him off easily, but what if on a subconscious level, Parkinson was right and she just wanted to keep him as a date for the deal? That thought made Hermione's stomach squirm uneasily. If he ever found out, he's just think she'd been using him this whole time…but she wasn't. Hadn't. Wouldn't.

Hermione almost missed the days where Draco Malfoy was just a convenience - a puppet for her to use in order to shame Parkinson. She hadn't even thought about how this would affect him, and now that she had, Hermione wished she'd never made that deal. But at the same time, she didn't want Parkinson to get what she wanted.

She rolled her eyes. What bloody perfect timing for her to suddenly get a conscience about this.

"Hermione?" Draco's smooth voice interrupted this time.

Pansy smirked, "See. She's obviously hiding something."

"Oh and I suppose you know what it is?" Draco countered, looking very unconvinced by Pansy's words.

Hermione stared at the raven-haired girl with wild, panicked eyes as the Pansy's mouth stretched into a sly smile.

"Actually now you mention it-"

"NO!" Hermione cut her off. She didn't want Draco to find out about the deal full stop. But she'd be damned if he heard it from Parkinson. Crap, now both of the Slytherins were looking at her with raised eyebrows. She needed to improvise something to back up her outburst.

"What is your problem Parkinson? Can you not leave me alone and refrain from making me feel bad about myself for one sodding night? Is it just your life's mission to torment me or something?" She didn't even wait for a response as she rose from her seat and grabbed Draco's wrist, pulling him up too. "Come on, Draco."

"Err, all right then," Draco said uncertainly, "But since you didn't even touch your glass of Butterbeer that I so kindly bought for you, I expect you to get your own next time."

"'Bought' – at a school dance?"

"Okay fine I didn't have to pay for it, but still."

"Fine I'll get my own drinks from now on," Hermione sighed. "Now can we just get through the rest of the night without any more drama?"

Draco cocked an eyebrow, "Really, three whole hours with no drama in this place? That's a bit optimistic."

The next hour and a half flew by without a hitch, much to the surprise of Draco and Hermione. Then again, Hermione had made sure that no drama had the chance to unfold as she had practically dragged Draco back onto the dance floor as the Weird Sisters started their set.

He had protested for a good ten minutes, declaring that this was no longer dancing and more 'mindless jumping around to music', but he was forced to swallow his pride as Hermione was slowly submerged further and further into the crowd and away from him. He was taking no chances with the fine print of Daphne's requirement, so he gave in the next time Hermione 'danced' back over to try and persuade him to join her. She didn't much care for this type of thing herself, but as long as she was occupied and away from Parkinson, she was happy.

Draco awkwardly shuffled from foot-to-foot on the spot, half-heartedly popping his arms up and down to the beat of the music. Hermione couldn't help but laugh at him but in all fairness she probably looked just as ridiculous as he did.

As a couple of songs passed, the two of them seemed to ease up a little. The dance floor was packed with uninhibited students and ironically, she and Draco were the ones who stuck out, as they were the only people taking themselves seriously at this stage. At some point they had locked eyes and come to a silent agreement that maybe it would help if they joined forces. Draco took Hermione's hand and began spinning her and dipping her randomly to the music, not caring if it was off the beat or not (or acting like it, at least). They continued like this for the remainder of the band's set, and after that they were both thoroughly red-faced and parched.

Draco sent Hermione off for drinks and collapsed in a chair, throwing off his jacket in a flurry. He let out a sigh of relief as semi-cool air washed over him, and gratefully snatched the two glasses of Butterbeer that Hermione brought for him and drained them in no time, with Hermione following suit.

Both of them were bursting for the loo soon afterwards. Unfortunately for Draco, he was out before Hermione, and Potter and Weasley were lurking outside the boy's bathroom. They eyed Draco sceptically when they saw him.

"Is there something you want or do you two just get your kicks from creeping the hell out of people when they leave the bathroom?" He enquired dryly.

"What's going on Malfoy?" Ron asked.

"Care to elaborate, Mr Dungbomb?"

"With Hermione. You're acting different."

"Just spit it out, Weasel." Draco rolled his eyes.

"Well I get that you two are like friends now or whatever," Ron mumbled, "But you hardly spent any length of time together last week, and now tonight you're hardly apart."

Draco groaned and bit his tongue. He had been careless in failing to anticipate how this situation would put the twerp twins on high-alert meddling mode. As if being ogled by a couple hundred people wasn't taxing enough.

"It's called 'manners', Weasley," he said with a sneer, "she's my date to this thing." He put extra emphasis on the word to make the Ron even more uncomfortable.

"Yeah but I mean you and her… and…what the bloody hell is going on Malfoy?" Ron exclaimed in frustration.

"Potter, care to explain what your pet orang-utan is babbling about?"

"Oi!" Ron said.

"Er…" Harry hesitated and glanced around the room wildly in the hopes of gaining some sort of inspiration. He hadn't been expecting Ron to say that. Then again, Ron wasn't aware of as much as Harry was, so it was possible that he was still adamant that the blond was up to something. Hell, even Harry was still a little suspicious despite everything Hermione had told him.

Draco waited for him to answer. He was taken aback when Potter turned to address his friend instead of him.

"Ron just calm down. Hermione is Malfoy's date," Harry paused. That was a sentence he never thought he'd say. "I'm sure after tonight they'll go back to how they were last week. It's not like they're actually a couple or anything." He shot Draco a pointed look as he said this. It was almost as if to say 'Don't get any ideas'.

Draco smirked. Now that Potter had voiced his disapproval of the idea, the Slytherin had a desire to go against his wishes just to annoy him. However in this instance it would seem that Potter was in luck; Draco didn't know if he had the nerve to even begin to process the idea of getting into an actual committed relationship with Hermione. He had only just about accepted that he harboured certain…affection for her; he was in no position to feel comfortable about putting a label on it.

Ron didn't catch the look Harry gave to Draco but he seemed content enough with his friend's words. This didn't stop him from shooting doubtful glares in Draco's direction though.

Luckily the lingering tension between the three wizards didn't last much longer as Hermione, Hannah and Daphne emerged from the girl's bathroom a minute later. Draco's eyebrows shot up as Hermione drew nearer. Something seemed different.

"Were you having a bloody party in there or something?"

"Draco, don't be silly," she replied without looking at him. She stopped, suddenly realising that he was standing near Harry and Ron. "Why is it every time I walk into a room you are always together? Do you have a secret friendship you're not telling me about?" she joked.

"NO!" Harry, Ron and Draco all shouted defensively.

Daphne sighed in disappointment and pushed her glasses up her nose. She'd been hoping that Draco would have gotten himself into a duel or slanging match with Harry and/or Ron if she hung around and stalled Hermione long enough. She'd even taught her the spell to apply make-up using magazines like she had done earlier. Luckily no other Slytherin was in there to see that; her pride had taken enough of a beating as it was.

"C'mon Potter let's go back inside," she said. Harry waved goodbye to Hermione and followed her.

Ron pretty much bolted after his friend, dragging Hannah with him. He was just eager to get away from Malfoy.

"Guess we should head back in too," Hermione said. She didn't look up to meet his gaze, almost as if she was suddenly self-conscious about something. Draco was about to question her on this but she was already walking away.

He tilted his head to the side as he caught sight of the Slytherin girl with the stupidly large watch. It was approaching ten thirty; there was just over an hour and a half to go before the Ball ended, and he'd be free of the bet.

It sure had been a long two weeks.

Daphne, Harry, Ron and Hannah entered the Great Hall, and almost immediately Hannah pulled Ron away to talk to some of the other fourth year Hufflepuffs, much to Daphne's chagrin.

She had been scraping by so far by making herself look like a fool and insisting that they follow Weasley and the Hufflepuff around everywhere, because she had soon realised that she didn't have a clue what to say to Potter. And now she was alone with him for the first time tonight.

"Er, do you want to dance?" she asked somewhat hopefully. At least they'd be occupied to an extent.

Hope was lost almost immediately as she saw Harry's face drop. He was polite enough to pretend to think about it before declining.

"Not really, I'm a bit tired."

"You don't have to lie for my sake, Potter."

His green eyes widened, "What? I wasn't-"

"There you go again," Daphne smirked. "You know it's times like this where I wonder if you should've been sorted into Slytherin."

Harry tensed as a memory of the day he was Sorted flashed through his mind. "What do you mean 'times like this'?" He asked, feeling a mixture of intrigue and dread.

Daphne shook her head, "No need to look so bloody terrified about it, we're not all evil, spoiled, deceitful, prejudiced, stuck-up, conniving, rude arseholes you know," she frowned, "Merlin my House really doesn't get any credit at all, does it?"

"Not really," Harry said.

"Well I can't deny that those are all common traits, but I suppose my point is that people have a tendency to assume every Slytherin is all of those things, which isn't true. There are one or two whack-jobs who tick every box, but the majority of us only represent three or four."

"Well based on that, I don't see how you could think I should be in Slytherin," Harry commented for argument's sake, but somehow he knew Daphne would elaborate anyway.

Daphne smirked and walked over to a table. She sat down, with Harry reluctantly following suit and taking the chair beside hers. He drummed his fingertips on his thigh.

"That's my point; that was a list of the stereotypical traits people link to Slytherin. It can get a little frustrating when somebody you just met automatically thinks you're going to hex them for no reason and run off with their Galleons, and doesn't judge you based on traits that are valued in us like our ambition, determination and cunning."

Harry frowned, "But surely in a way the example you just described is what somebody associates with cunning?"

Daphne sighed in frustration, "But it's put with a negative spin on it." She hadn't realised that she had such passion for the misconceptions directed to her House, but maybe that was just something that the bet had made her think about. Daphne didn't really want to be put into the same category as the likes of Parkinson after everything that had happened.

"Sorry but I'm still not sure I get it. To me, you nicking someone's money would be a form of cunning."

"Fine. Let's play a game, Potter. I'm going to name the four Houses and then you say the first thing that springs to mind, okay?"

"Er, okay?" Harry said unsurely. He didn't know why Daphne was so het up about this, but it seemed to be something she cared about so he didn't protest. It reminded him of the way Hermione got so worked up about random things like House-Elf rights…

"Right," Daphne cleared her throat. "Gryffindor."

"Bravery," Harry answered without hesitation.

"Hufflepuff."

"Loyalty"

"Ravenclaw."

"Smart."

"Slytherin."

"Untrustworthy." Harry said. He clamped his lips shut immediately, building up the nerve to look at the blonde girl.

"There you go," Daphne said. She seemed triumphant but at the same time a little sad.

Harry didn't really know what to say. He raked a hand through his messy hair and continued to drum his fingers.

"Is that why you think Weasley is still sceptical about Malfoy and Granger?" Daphne asked suddenly.

"Hm?"

"Well you weren't thinking when we did that, so that must mean that's how you really feel about us Snakes."

"I suppose," he said, "but for the record I get your point about all of you not being the same. It was Malfoy that first came to mind when you said 'Slytherin', but I don't really think of you like that."

"Well I'm glad I made a point," Daphne half-smiled, "It still gets a bit grating when there's negative perceptions that people cast on every Slytherin as a group."

"But as long as you know you aren't like that, then what's the problem?" Harry asked. He was beginning to feel quite enlightened by this whole conversation, and maybe a little guilty at his initial reaction when Daphne mentioned that he should be in Slytherin.

Daphne rolled her eyes, "I can safely say that you never would've been in Ravenclaw, Potter. Okay, we're going to play that game again. This time you say the House names and I will demonstrate what I mean."

"Er, okay. Slytherin."

"Untrustworthy," Daphne mimicked Harry's answer for argument's sake.

"Hufflepuff."

"Sappy pushovers."

Harry winced a little at her response but carried on. "Ravenclaw."

"Nerds."

"Gryffindor."

"Stubborn wannabe heroes."

Harry actually flinched at her description and immediately felt the urge to defend himself; he didn't want the fame but it was just…given to him (for lack of a better phrase). And suddenly, he understood.

"Touch a nerve?" Daphne asked, feeling slightly smug that her message had finally hit home.

"A little."

"See? All I did was use the negative spins on the qualities the Sorting Hat looks for."

"Okay, okay," Harry smiled slightly to himself. He felt like Hermione had just lectured him, which was oddly comforting for familiarity's sake, but there was something quite strange and wrong about that at the same time. His smile wavered, but Daphne didn't notice.

"Oh yeah you wanted me to explain why I think you should've been a Slytherin, didn't I?"

Harry nodded and Daphne shot him a quick smile.

"Well, obviously because you were fibbing your arse off just now," she began, "you evidently couldn't give a crap about rules since you, Weasley and Granger always seem to find some new way of saving the bloody school every year, you can talk to snakes, and well you're obviously ambitious since you're in this Tournament and everything."

Harry felt his body tense all over. "All of those are out of context when you say it like that."

"How do you mean?" Daphne arched an eyebrow.

"Firstly, I was lying to be polite, I don't go looking for ways to 'save the school' but it always seems to fall to me to do it, I can't help that I can talk to snakes and I didn't put my name in that bloody goblet." With each word Harry's voice seemed to get lower and angrier.

"Allow me to add 'prejudiced' to that list," she said shrewdly. "Honestly Potter I can't believe that you're still making excuses after that whole conversation we had about misconceptions of my House."

Harry's anger fizzled out slightly. Daphne didn't really know him well enough to be able to understand that he didn't and never would have put his name in the goblet. Merlin, even Ron couldn't understand at first and they'd been best friends since first year, so Harry decided he'd give her the benefit of the doubt on that one.

"Sorry," he mumbled, "but if it helps, I was making the excuses on a personal level. I didn't mean it to look like I just didn't want to be associated with Slytherin House."

"Hmm, I don't know if you're just lying again to make me feel better but I suppose I'll have to trust you and hex you later if you are lying." Daphne replied evenly.

There was a stretched silence, and she chewed her lip as she racked her brains to think of a new conversation topic. Once again, Harry noticed the very Hermione-like action and he frowned. He told himself he was just being paranoid and subconsciously looking for things that were similar to what his best friend would do since he had spotted one likeness between her and Daphne. What's more, they couldn't really be that alike otherwise Malfoy would surely have made a move on Daphne in the past since he seemed to like Hermione.

"So do you like dancing then?" He asked. It was such a lame question but he had to start somewhere.

"What?"

"Well earlier when you asked if I wanted to. You seemed disappointed when I said no."

Daphne breathed a sigh of relief; she couldn't think of anything else they could talk about.

"I suppose I do, yeah. I was taught from a very young age so it just reminds me of home I guess," she shrugged, "But on the other hand I get the feeling that you despise it."

"I'm just not very good at it," Harry replied.

"Well, tell me some stuff you do like then," Daphne turned her body a little so she was face-to-face with him.

"Well er, Quidditch…" Harry began, but his voice trailed off when he realised he didn't have anything to add to the list.

Daphne rolled her eyes, "Typical boy. So there aren't any lessons you find particularly fun or interesting?"

Harry shrugged, "I like Defence Against the Dark Arts but I tend to get bored with everything else. Well either that or I just give up trying because I'm useless at it."

"Merlin, Potter you can't do that! If Defence is your best subject then that's most likely what you'll get a career in, and you need a lot of high O.W.L and N.E.W.T grades to get a job in that field."

"Are you, er…academic…then?" Harry seemed to hold his breath in anticipation of her answer.

Daphne eyes him curiously; he was acting very strange all of a sudden.

"Potter, are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," he said unconvincingly. He and Daphne had already agreed just to remain civil once the Ball was over with, so there was no need for him to get too worked up about this.

"Alright then. Well yeah you could say that. I enjoy reading, but I prefer fiction to those enormous textbooks Granger insists on trawling through. I think Transfiguration and Potions are my strongest subjects. Why do you ask, anyway? It's weird conversation topic for a date."

"Don't call it a date. Please," Harry blurted out. Merlin that made him look like an arse, but it was getting too weird.

"Why? I know we aren't dating but what else would you call it?"

Harry hesitated but Daphne rolled her eyes. "Come on, I'm not offended or anything. It takes a lot to wound a Slytherin…especially from a Gryffindor."

"I know you don't like her but you sort of remind me of Hermione sometimes and it kind of feels wrong because she's like my sister, so when you said 'date' it was kind of-"

"Bloody hell, why does everyone say that?" Daphne muttered to herself.

"What?"

"Zabini said the same thing to me a while ago," she said, remembering that that was also the day the bet had begun. "He said it was because I went all 'bookish'. Is that the reason you say that too or is there anything else?"

Harry thought about his answer for a moment, mainly because an angry glint had appeared in Daphne's eyes. "Its just little habits that you have I guess, like rolling your eyes and chewing your lip. Hermione does those things a lot."

Daphne, who had been chewing her lip at that moment, released it slowly and her stomach squirmed. Oh Salazar this couldn't mean that she had actually started to like Potter had it? She couldn't; she knew next to nothing about him.

"Oh…"

Harry looked at her with narrowed eyes, "Look, I know you don't like her, but she's my best friend so I don't want you to say anything negative about her when I'm around."

Daphne sighed, "This isn't about Granger." That wasn't entirely false; since she still had her own prejudices against Muggleborns still firmly engraved in her skull – no thanks to her parents… her stupid parents…

"Then what is it about?"

"My bloody parents always compare me to my little sister and I'm sick of it!" The confession came out so suddenly that Daphne hadn't realised it had even been bothering her until now.

Harry blinked several times, "How do you mean?"

"Astoria's really sporty; she's amazing at Quidditch, swimming… they just can't accept that I'm not like her. Plus I'm terrified of water, and I just … No, I don't want to talk about it," she said sharply. Daphne realised that they had somehow reached a point where once again, Harry would be comforting her. There was no way she was going to let her guard down around him again - look where that landed her on Saturday. It was like an endless cycle, so she was sticking to what she knew best and bottling up her emotions for the rest of the night.

At least she now knew that she and Harry would never work; she reminded him of Hermione too much and she would constantly be using him for a shoulder to cry on.

Now she was dreading the prospect of having to kiss him even more.

Draco caught sight of Daphne and Harry from across the room, where he and Hermione were back on the dance floor. It was getting late now, so the Hall was much less crowded and therefore quieter than it had been a couple of hours ago. Consequently, that meant less prying eyes and whispered comments; it felt just as easy being with Hermione as it had in the basement, and on the balcony. The Slytherin heard her sigh in contentment, and despite being all too aware of the remaining onlookers, he smiled to himself.

The music was considerably calmer now, and he and Hermione were simply holding one another and swaying gently. It would have been enough to rock them both to sleep should they be the only two people in the room, but Draco knew he had to remain vigilant; he still had a bet to win after all.

He caught Daphne's eye and wasn't surprised to see that her perfected poker face was masking any sign of discomfort or worry in her expression. He stared into her brown eyes intensely in the hope that she would crack and let on exactly how well it was going with Potter. Unfortunately, Hermione had lifted her head from his shoulder and spun then round the opposite way so he was forced to back out of their stare-off.

"What are you looking at?" she asked.

"Greengrass and Potter."

"It's not polite to stare, Draco," Hermione gave him a disapproving look and wagged her finger.

Draco rolled his eyes, "Oh come on, you can't deny that it's quite the spectacle…no pun intended." He smirked.

"How do you mean?"

"Just…them…together. It wasn't exactly a match I would have anticipated happening."

"And what, you expected us to end up here together, tonight?" Hermione snorted, too caught up in how impossible that sounded to notice how Draco tensed in her arms.

He just laughed humourlessly in response. "Well you know, convenience and all that…"

Hermione's expression fell, and she started chewing her lip as if contemplating how to respond. Draco bit his tongue; he shouldn't have said that.

"Are you okay?" Her question took him completely off guard; he'd half been expecting her to scold him for still labelling her as a 'convenience'.

"What?" His voice was exasperated and rough.

"It's just, you've been sort of tense tonight, I guess, like something's bothering you."

Draco focused all of his energy in following Daphne's example and masking his reaction.

"I don't want to talk about it." He said bluntly. Merlin knows that wasn't a lie!

"Is this the same thing that was bothering you at the weekend, the thing you wouldn't tell me?" Hermione's voice had an edge to it now, and Draco didn't like that one bit.

"Something like that," he sighed.

"Is that all?" Hermione asked.

"Again with all of the questions? Did we go back in time to last week when you interrogated me after I asked you to help me with Charms?" Draco exclaimed through gritted teeth. His outburst made Hermione recoil slightly, something that made his stomach tie itself in knots.

"Sorry, it's just that I didn't know if being here with me like this made you uncomfortable."

"Where the bloody hell did you get that from?" Draco was beginning to feel hot under the collar all of a sudden.

"Well I know we haven't been quite so…public before, and I know that you're probably going to get a lot of stick from the other Slytherins. To tell the truth I'm getting annoyed with everyone always staring at us, I've had half a mind all night to tell them just to mind their own bloody business."

Draco was oblivious to the fact that Hermione's gaze was fixated on Pansy as she said this. She was obviously sticking around purely to try and psyche Hermione out and challenge her to see if she would actually go through with it. Her Gryffindor tenacity had been determined to do so, but seeing Draco's reserved demeanour had made her doubt herself slightly.

Draco smirked. "Since when do you care what other people think?"

Since my dignity is on the line because I'm trying to prove someone wrong, she thought.

Draco pulled away slightly and guided her chin with his fingers so she was looking at him.

"Just ignore them. Imagine that we're the only ones here. That's how I've been surviving tonight. If I didn't then I'd surely have been kicked out of here for telling the brain-dead gawpers to sod off and to stick their wands where the sun doesn't shine, lest I do it for them if they'd stop staring."

"You've such a way with words," she said dryly.

"So I've been told."

They continued to dance and Hermione did her best to pretend that nobody else was in the room, which proved to be more than difficult as her mind was abuzz with thoughts about her deal with Ginny and Parkinson and Daphne and Harry who were sat nearby, not to mention Ron, who remained oblivious to everything that had happened.

But then there was Draco, who against all of Hermione's doubts, had remained by her side the entire night without letting the peer-pressure get the better of him. Before she left the common room she'd been delayed by having a minor panic attack with imagined scenarios whereby Draco would turn on the rude and arrogant façade to keep up appearances and keep her at arm's length or something to that effect. There was less than an hour before the Yule Ball was over, and the blond Slytherin she used to hate was still with her, and he was smiling down at her with a smile that she was pretty sure only a handful of people would have witnessed before.

Hermione finally gathered all of her courage and kept all of her focus onto Draco's warm grey eyes. This was it. Her first kiss. There was no backing out now. She still had to step onto her tiptoes despite having small heels on her shoes. Her heart was pounding in her chest like it was a rogue Bludger. Godric forgive her for being in a position where she actually wanted to kiss him: probably the most unpredictable Slytherin there was. She must be out of her mind.

The next few seconds seemed to go by incredibly slowly; so slowly that Hermione was aware of every tiny hint of movement that occurred in that make-or-break action. As she leant forwards, Draco's eyes widened, so shocked by what was happening that he actually flinched away slightly and almost pulled out of her grip, but it was too late for Hermione to back out.

The distance separating them felt much larger than it appeared to be, but maybe that was because Hermione's eyes were now closed and there was every chance that Draco was doing everything he could to create even more space between them. She couldn't even hear the music or the chatter of students around her any longer, instead only able to listen to the increasingly panicked and nervous thumping of her heart in her chest and ears.

Finally, her lips met his.

In reality everything must have happened in the blink of an eye, for Draco's mouth was unresponsive and still at the first touch. Hermione didn't dare move her own mouth; instead she just took in the plethora of new and wonderful sensations for a few more hour-long seconds. It was simple flesh-on-flesh contact, but Hermione felt butterflies in her stomach and her whole body felt lighter as she took note of everything; how feather-soft, firm and full Draco's lips were – three adjectives she never would have used if she were asked to hazard a guess of what they would be like. They were warm too, which somehow made the blood in Hermione's body coarse through her veins with a pleasant heat to match Draco's.

She didn't know what made her do it, but that alien but exhilarating feeling re-lit the Gryffindor courage in her belly. She delicately and questioningly pressed her lips a little further into his, timid through lack of experience but at the same time very determined. There was a pause, and Hermione counted five intense beats of her rapid heart before Draco moved.

His grip on her waist tensed, and she came crashing down to earth as the scenarios she had unwillingly thought of before she left the common room seemed to be unfurling before her eyes. Oh Merlin he can't push me away. Not now…

But he didn't. He puller her closer, and the next thing Hermione felt was a warm hand sliding up her body and up to her cheek, leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake; the other still snaked around her waist. And then he reciprocated her kiss, and all of the anxiety clouding Hermione's head cleared, and the giddy lightness she felt before replaced it. She clasped her hands around the back of his head, toying with the soft strands of platinum hair that rested on his neck above his Dracula collar as her rational thoughts were taken over by natural instinct.

She had been anticipating Draco to be a good kisser, but she told herself not to rely on such a notion, as she had no other frame of reference. Despite this, she just had a feeling that the rumours were true, because there was nothing hesitant or awkward about what Draco was doing.

Each one of his movements was calculated and controlled, but at the same time, so fluent and natural. She followed his lead as their lips moved against one another and praying to the Founders that she was doing it right. She noticed that Draco seemed to have remembered that this was her first kiss, as he accommodated her uncertainty by applying the perfect amount of pressure to make her comfortable. His lips always met hers with a gentle and tender contact, but there was always a small amount of force behind each touch that was meaningful without it being gruff or overdone.

Hermione felt weightless, and she unknowingly leant even more into Draco's body. Her heart fluttered as every one of her senses (except for sight) was filled with him. His scent, touch, taste, and even the sound of his breathing made her head spin. She was no expert, but this certainly hadn't been the kind of kiss he had shared with Parkinson the other day.

She let out a small sigh of contentment that only they could hear as the kiss ended and she smiled against his lips as Draco gently stroked Hermione's cheek with the pad of his thumb as he drew his back straight once again, and slowly their surroundings drifted back into Hermione's senses. The gentle music and chatter filled her ears and the dance floor and Great Hall reappeared into sight.

It had felt like she and Draco were the only two people in the room, but now Hermione felt too aware that there must be several pairs of eyes on them in that moment.

Unfortunately, the Slytherin in her arms was too. A glance up at his face was more than enough proof of that. His eyes were icy and cold, set into a hard and angry stare as he looked at nothing in particular; his nostrils were flared slightly and his jaw was tight and clenched.

"Draco?"

The sound of her voice snapped him out of his trance, and he recoiled from her so violently as his eyes fell on her that he was torn from her grasp. He staggered away and raked both of his hands through his hair, causing it to become dishevelled and messy. He was breathing hard.

"No…" he said in a scratchy voice, though Hermione didn't know whom he was addressing; her or himself.

Draco's tongue flicked out to lick his lips, where Hermione's taste still lingered.

"No," he repeated, sounding much firmer and decisive.

Hermione frowned and reached out an arm to touch him but he flinched away.

He stared at her with wide eyes, letting out a few more ragged breaths before the harsh mask and a deep frown glazed over them again and he pushed past her.

And then time sped up again.

"No!" He exclaimed loudly, but not loudly enough to alert the whole Hall. It was only enough to travel to the ears of Hermione, Pansy, Harry, Daphne, Ron and Hannah, whom were in the closest vicinity to them. But in some ways, that made it worse.

Draco marched frantically over to the table where he had left his jacket and scooped it up in his arms before he kept moving further and further away from Hermione until he was out of the Hall completely.

It all happened so damn quickly that she felt like this was all a figment of her imagination. She just stood there, frozen to the spot on the dance floor, stunned and confused. Oh Godric this was just what she'd been afraid of; Draco must be having a tantrum because she wasn't a good enough kisser. That had to be the reason why he was acting this way.

Then the whole illusion was shattered when an outburst from one Slytherin brought Hermione out of her trance.

"Oh my God, I actually won?!"

Hermione's eyes fell on Daphne, whose expression showed a mixture of joy and shock. This soon morphed into one of horror and regret as she gasped, her brown eyes widening as they met Hermione's.

Won? What did that mean…?

The Hall seemed to become void of sound and life once again as Hermione's vision became blurred. Time seemed to pass slower than ever as the first toll of the clock in the distant tower reverberated in Hermione's ears for what seemed like an eternity.

Dong…

A shrieking laugh brought her back once more. It was Parkinson. She began hurling insults Hermione's way but she had zoned out again.

Dong…

She had to get out of there before she completely broke down in front of everyone. Hermione stumbled on shaking legs off the dance floor before gathering her bearings and haring out of the Hall.

Dong…

Harry spoke to her as she passed but she didn't hear. She reached the stairs… those bloody stairs, and started her ascent.

Dong.

One of her shoes fell off halfway up the first flight, so Hermione grabbed it whilst yanking the other off and continuing her journey to Gryffindor Tower.

DONG.

As soon as she was out of sight of the Hall, Hermione ran the rest of the way barefoot, fuelled by adrenaline and determination. She could only be thankful that the castle seemed deserted. The sound of the clock grew louder with every chime as the harsh reality of the situation set in.

The memory of catching Pansy and Viktor in the library crossed her mind, and she remembered that Draco had been the one to tell her to go there in the first place.

He was in on it too…

DONG!

She slammed the door as she reached her dormitory and slowly sank down it to the floor. Yanking the barrette from her hair, she hurled it across the room, where many of the crystals smashed as it collided with her chest of drawers and finally to the floor. The central indigo crystal remained fixed to the accessory, though, and that delicate colour was all Hermione could see through her limited vision as she allowed the tears to fall down her face.

Dong.

Draco sat on the floor of his dormitory, surrounded by piles of battered textbooks, which he had been taking out the majority of his aggression on. The anger was drained from him now, and he was left alone with his regrets and his feelings.

Dong.

With the eighth chime of the clock mocking him, he wished he could have a time turner to erase the last few minutes, or better yet, the last few hours before the Ball had started. He could tell himself what was going to happen, and make sure that kiss was erased from history.

It had caught him completely off guard, and his body had betrayed him by returning her kiss when his head had initially been screaming at him to push her away because it wasn't the right time.

Dong.

But he couldn't push her away, not after last time. Draco didn't regret kissing her back; hell it was probably one of the best and most meaningful kisses he'd ever had… he just regretted that it happened when it did. He was so angry with himself.

Dong.

He also regretted letting the bombardment of guilt and emotions get the better of him once that moment of bliss was over, and reality set in. Feeling her smile; hearing her sigh and feeling her body pressed against his… it was all too much. The amount of trust she must have put in him to initiate her first kiss then and there, and he had thrown it all back in her face.

Dong.

Draco buried his face in his hands. Merlin, she actually did trust him. What's more, everything that had just happened hinted that there was more to it than trust. She had feelings for him. It was one thing for him to assume from an incomplete confession, and to be told by Potter, but what happened tonight proved it more than mere words ever could.

The Slytherin tried to go over his train of thought in that rushed moment when he left her there. He remembered assuming that she would want to make their 'relationship' something of a real thing; something more than friendship. But he couldn't let her do that. Not before he could start afresh with her and whilst the bet was still going on.

So he ran to save her from himself.

Dong.

It was midnight. Draco had lost the bet. But what stung even more was the knowledge that he had probably lost Hermione too…and all because he was trying to do what was best for her.

Irony was such a bitch.

To be continued…

A/N: Sorryyy but I knew how the Ball was going to end before I even starting writing this. But in the words of Team StarKid; it's not over yet!

See you in a few days for the next chapter :)