A/N: Thanks for the reviews you guys!! Seriously, y'all are amazing. I think this fic is the most reviewed I've ever written. It's definitely my favorite. Anyway, I'm glad a lot of people didn't attack me for the pretty crappy ending. But let's fix it. OH! And by the way, yeah, I'm not a big fan of Ron either. Can you tell?
Disclaimer: Do I look like JKR to you? I most definitely am not. Plot is mine. That's about it.
Chapter 8: White Lie
If a normal kiss with Draco Malfoy was good, then the bracelet and the ring never had a better purpose. The feeling of his lips on her's was magnified tenfold. The entire kiss was a contrast. It was soft and rough at the same time. She was surprised and somehow had seen it coming. She had her hands on his chest, both to push him away but to steady herself so she could keep the kiss going. She forgot everything around her; it was all nothing. All she could feel was the pressure of his lips on hers, and she was surprised to find that she liked it.
She finally pulled away, panting and gasping for air. She could feel his chest heaving like hers under her hands. He stepped away, and she bolted out from the wall, and made a beeline for her room.
Without saying a word, she flung herself on her bed and stared at the ceiling, too conflicted to do anything else. She should be crying; the love of her life had just almost beaten her and basically broken up with her and called her the most hateful name for a Muggleborn. But then again, she could be dancing, if she was like any other teenage girl at Hogwarts. She had just been kissed by Draco Malfoy! It was a monumental occurrence, at least for 'Mudbloods' like her. And she had heard more than one girl fawning over his superior kissing skills in the loo.
And yet, here she lay, staring aimlessly at the ceiling, not knowing how to feel.
She must have drifted off for a moment, because she awoke with a start to Draco pounding on her door. "Oi, Granger! Professor McGonagall wants to talk to us!"
She jumped up, straightened her skirt, and walked out, right into Draco's strong chest. The one she had just been pressed up against…She pushed the thought from her mind, but it hadn't gone unnoticed. She could practically feel the smirk on Malfoy's face as she descended the stairs before him. Scratch that. She could literally FEEL the smugness coming off him.
Professor McGonagall stood imploringly in the common room, refusing to sit on any couch or chair as if it were diseased, so Hermione and Draco opted to stand.
"I'm sure you remember the Yule Ball in the fourth year, correct?" she started off, wasting no time.
Hermione wanted to smack herself. What if Ron had actually asked McGonagall about a ball? "Yes, Professor," she answered.
"Well, it has come to my attention that most of the student population would like another of the same sort," Professor McGonagall said, her eyes leaving the Head Boy's and Girl's for a moment to sweep the room. "Therefore, I would like help from the two of you, being Head Boy and Girl."
Draco opened his mouth to protest, but McGonagall cut him off. "There's no point in fighting it, Mr. Malfoy," she snapped. "You will help Miss Granger plan this ball. It is scheduled for Halloween night. You two will open the ball."
Now Hermione had to object. Not because she knew Ron would get angry, or because she just wasn't a really good dancer, but because she really didn't think she could trust herself and her actions if she got that close to Malfoy again.
But the protests were futile. "You will plan the ball. You will open it. Good day."
Malfoy threw himself on the couch as soon as the portrait hole closed. "Looks like your little white lie just became a huge problem, Granger," he said. So he was back to Granger then, was he?
"I didn't actually want to have a ball, Malfoy," she hissed back. "Nor did I want to dance with you."
Malfoy sat up quickly. "You know, Granger," he said. "You could turn this dance to your advantage. That is, if you're really the smartest witch of the age."
Hermione thought for a second, then looked straight into Malfoy's stormy eyes. "I could use this dance to make Ron jealous?" she said, as a question. "I really don't care what he thinks anymore."
But Draco didn't care about that. "Hey! You were supposed to guess that on your own! No mind reading allowed!"
Hermione smirked. "Stop being such a baby. Now give me dance lessons."
Draco looked taken aback. "I thought-?"
"I know you did. Now I just want to make Ron angry, not jealous," Malfoy seized her around the waist and pulled her close, holding her right hand in his left in a formal dancing position. "And that's why I'm the smartest witch of the age."
A/N: Sorry this is a short chapter. It's late, and I'm tired. And this seemed like a great place to stop. And quick question: If Hermione is the smartest witch of her age, how come she doesn't know she's in love with Draco yet?