Chapter 26

Draco tugged self-consciously at the lapel of his jacket as he made his way down the stairs into the Slytherin common room. A gaggle of fourth year girls rushed past him in a cloud of perfume, giggling as they caught sight of him. His mother picked out nearly all his clothes, as she had been doing it since he was born, but this particular ensemble had been of his own choice, which was why he kept glancing down at himself every ten minutes or so wondering if he'd really made the right one. But then he'd remember the way the elderly muggle lady had eyed him at the store when he'd stepped out of the stall, and his cheeks would feel distinctly warm.

He had acknowledged that asking a girl to be his date thirty minutes before the start of the ball was a dick move, but this was one of those times that he really didn't care if she rejected him or not. All he wanted to do was lay out the apology in front of her and give the date thing his best shot. Pansy was a cool girl – she'd do the sensible thing – and if that involved twisting his earlobes or kneeing him the groin, so be it.

There were a few couples standing inside the common room and all looked up as he entered, so he couldn't help but smile at the girls' pretty faces and nod at the boys' territorial looks. He spotted an energetic girl, one too young to be at the Winter ball and beckoned her towards him.

"Tell Pansy that I want to speak to her."

The girl blushed but flitted away. He grabbed the seat nearest to the fireplace and angled it towards the entrance to the girls' dormitories so he'd be the first thing she'd see when she came down. Then he folded his arms and waited.

And in a matter of minutes, there she was…swathed in silver from the neck down, her face bare of any makeup and hair down in loose waves – she'd been getting ready. Well, then. He never could've seen it coming but it suddenly hit him in that moment that contrary to his imagination, Pansy was quite done moping around over him. The thought made him want to slink back to his dorm and sulk for the entirety of the night, but he stood his ground. It was time to man up.

The strategic arch of her eyebrow and that little twitch to her mouth was all Pansy needed to convey to him how she felt about his look. He rose from his seat as she reached him.

"When did you join the muggle brigade, Draco?"

He looked around to see if anybody heard that, before looking down at himself.

"It's not muggle."

"It's nearly eighty percent muggle, given what you've attempted to do with those cufflinks. But I can see the inspiration. Looks dashing on you, anyway."

"Well, thanks," he said, choosing to take whatever she offered. "You look stunning, Pans."

"I know why you're here, Draco."

"Is that right?

"But you're late. Delectable as you might look tonight, I already have a date."

Draco made a show of hanging his head low and sighing greatly. Pansy chuckled, appearing to be in good spirits, but he knew there was more to it.

"Well, who is it?"

"Morag."

"MacDougal?"

"Yes."

Draco gave her a curious look. "You never liked Ravenclaws."

"True, that…but it hardly counts though, does it? I like him." She gave him a sly sideways look as she said this, apparently hoping for him to catch onto a deeper meaning. He didn't.

"Well he's a pretty faced one, I'll give you that. But isn't he a half-blood?"

She gave him another look. "I think you of all people aren't in any place to pass judgments, Draco."

"Alright, what is it that you're trying to say?"

"Please. You know exactly what I'm saying."

"Obviously I don't." He passed a hand over his face but straightened himself.

"Look, I'm here to apologize. I've been an asshole. I kept fucking up and now I've gone and made it so bad that I haven't the foggiest how to make it right. But you've been my girl for so long that I never realized that being the way I am was going to end up hurting you somewhere down the line."

Her eyes widened and her jaw visibly dropped at the words 'my girl'.

"Sometimes I think you believe the kind of shit that comes out of your mouth, and that's saying something considering the amount of time I spend around Millicent. 'My girl'? I would've respected you more had you said 'my whore'," she spat and a cold look he'd never seen before passed over her face. " – but like you said, it's just the way you are."

"Don't say that, Pans. You're the only real friend I have and nobody can take your place…but I swear I never thought of you like that."

"Same difference. You treated me like one."

"I didn't!" he said, suddenly defensive, "and you never even said anything! How was I supposed to know? You were in it as much as I was."

"Of course, I was, you daft prick! I wanted to marry you! I wanted us to have a future! I used to worship you but you – you never cared, Draco. All you cared about is yourself. You used me and you still would if given the chance, but a girl only spend so much time around you before realizing that you're a lost cause."

He felt eviscerated. His excitement had long went up in flames and all he wanted to do now was hug her tight – and that was as good an indicator as any about how little he knew about her. Pansy wasn't a fragile flower any more than he was.

"I don't have anything to say, Pans, except that I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I can't be exclusive and make you my girlfriend, but fuck, I should've made that clear earlier on. I just never thought it would matter."

She gave a humorless laugh and wiped her tears with a flick of her finger.

"You're still lying to my fucking face, but I forgive you this once as it appears you don't even know it. You don't want it to be me, Draco, don't you get it? You don't want to be exclusive with me!"

"I don't know what I want, alright? I just want you to be happy!"

"And isn't that pathetic."

He had no idea how to respond to this newer, hostile Pansy. He hadn't even known she existed. "What is?"

"Do the world a favor, Draco and get your own shit together before you get around to figuring out mine. Not that I'm one, but tending to charity cases isn't your thing. Maybe you should seek pointers from your Mudblood girlfriend. After all, she's splendid at it."

His fists clenched but he forced himself to stand still. He was here to set things right.

"Tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it."

Pansy looked up slowly into his eyes, and in that one second he couldn't help but wonder what in the Merlin's name was it that she saw in him, but the moment passed and she was her old, easygoing self again.

"I'll save you first two dances, and don't you dare chicken out on me this time," she said over her shoulder, making her way back up to the girls' dormitories. "You owe me."

As she stared at her reflection in the mirror, Hermione thought she looked mighty decent, given how she'd only had just under an hour to get ready, but then her gaze lowered and she was forced to retract her opinion. She'd tried her best to downplay the entire décolletage thing she had going on by wearing long jeweled drop earrings, hoping to garner the primary attention in her entire look. Her hair was set in a messy but elaborate braided bun; she'd foregone the Sleekeazy's Hair Potion this time. Her makeup was muted and entirely non-dramatic, the only kind she was good at. And beneath the beautiful gown she was wearing her comfy flats. She looked exactly what the Hogwarts' Head Girl should look like, if she dare say so herself.

The ball preparations had been a grand pain in the arse but she had assigned the bulk of the prefects' duties to one Ginerva Weasley who had accepted to have them seen through after much pouting and shenanigans. From what she'd gathered an hour ago, the Great Hall had resembled a dark and underlit ice palace. There were violet fairy lights wrapped across glass-like ice sculptures and hanging down the walls in various patterns, crisscrossing with tall vines of ivy and mistletoe. The tables were lit with floating balls of light and were decorated in accents of pale blue. The fireplaces had been sealed off for the night, so warming charms were going to be a hassle for having to be enforced at regular intervals. Professor Flitwick was presently adding his own touch to the decor and Professor McGonagall had grudgingly approved of Mermaid Palsy – the band supposed to be playing tonight.

Anthony was going to meet her at the entrance of the Hall in about ten minutes, so she decided she better hurry. Throwing her refection one last look, she grabbed her wand and secured it inside the holster around her ankle.

Hesitation overcame her as she reached to step out inside the office. She cast a cautious look around and in the direction of the Head boy's dormitory but the area appeared deserted. This was getting ridiculous. She'd never been scared of Draco Malfoy; it was silly that she start now.

True to his word, Anthony was waiting exactly at the spot where he'd promised to meet her yesterday. He was wearing robes of the deepest blue, a color that would go splendidly with her dark teal colored gown.

He stared at her as she drew near, and didn't say a word even when she was standing directly in front of him.

"Um – hi," she said nervously, "You look great, Anthony."

His lips parted as he snapped out of it. "Wow…. Hermione, you look – you look amazing." He said, his gaze taking her in with one practiced sweep. "I didn't recognize you for a second there."

"Well, that's a compliment if I ever heard one," she said dryly, before smiling. "Thank you."

He proffered the crook of his arm, "Shall we?"

The Great Hall was abuzz with excitement, even though it was still early by her estimation. The few Professors who were present had taken their safe seats at the staff's table in the far corner and were watching the proceedings with amused eyes. Severus Snape was conspicuously absent, to no-one's surprise or concern. She cast a wide look around the hall for her friends, but was unable to spot a pitch black head or a shiny red one. What she saw next, however, nearly made her lose her balance.

Was that a freaking tux?

Draco Malfoy was dressed head-to-toe in what appeared to be a true, honest-to-god muggle tuxedo, complete with a bow. He was facing away, speaking to Blaise Zabini and for a second her attention got sidetracked by the sight of Ariana in a sparkly white dress, clinging nervously at Zabini's arm, but her gaze landed on him again. Boy, did he look sharp. He was carrying it off. Better than the muggleborn boys who were also clad in the traditional muggle garb. But what in the blazes was he doing wearing that?

"What's wrong?" inquired her date.

She shook her head once. "It's nothing."

"I think we ought to congratulate ourselves for having made such a splendid arrangement. And on such a slim budget too. For that, allow me to get you a drink," he said charmingly.

"Oh – of course. A butterbeer will do for me."

"Wait here," he said, and disappeared inside the crowd.

The music was surprisingly mellow, considering how wacky and out of tune many wizarding bands could be. The rhythm was exquisite and was quickly seeping into her bloodstream, energizing her. This kind of music begged for a slow waltz. And again, her eyes were drawn off their accord towards him. Her heart jumped to her throat as she caught him looking at her in the same moment. Too far off for her to really make out the expression in his eyes, she could, however, see that he had lost interest in his friend's conversation and was staring at her in earnest.

Time stopped. The music escalated as they stared each other down for several heartbeats. The violins climbed to a crescendo and she felt a little woozy, even with feet firmly planted in her sensible flats. Her face was on fire and her heart was hammering a hole inside her ribcage. More than anything, though, she was perversely, acutely aware of her low neckline…and that was just weird.

Her line of vision was thankfully interrupted by Anthony as he handed her the butterbeer.

She nearly snatched it from his hands, drinking generously in large gulps and resisting the urge to hold the chilled bottle against her temple.

"You look a little flushed," commented Anthony.

"Do I?" As she glanced back, Malfoy was now in the process of escorting Pansy Parkinson towards the dance floor.

"Yeah," he watched as she finished her butterbeer and placed it carelessly on a table beside her, which happened to be occupied. "Er – shall we dance?"

"Might as well."

Anthony was a good dancer, but she was hardly in any position to compare considering her own lousy footwork and having had only Victor as a former dance partner, but he steered her gently across the space, with hands firm around her back and head bent indulgently towards hers. He was the perfect height too; she ought to feel flattered and important.

They danced several dances. The last two songs were a strong beat, so she thoroughly enjoyed dancing those. It was this one – this slow, painfully grating number – which was somehow irritating her and messing up with her buzz. She glanced around and saw the lighting change, watched couple gravitate towards the each other and bodies come up flush against each other, becoming one. Blaise was whispering something in Ariana's ear and she was smiling. Ron was snogging Lavender. Malfoy and Pansy were nowhere in sight.

"I'm glad you came with me, Hermione," Anthony said softly to her, "I haven't had such a great time in ages."

"Thanks," she answered, not knowing what else to say, "This was a great idea, I can see it now. I'll miss this. All of this. Especially when it looks so beautiful."

"You're beautiful." He brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers, causing her to steady her gaze at him and wonder what he was getting at. "I really like you. I've liked you for a while now."

"Oh I like you too, Anthony." I do. Mostly.

"I'd planned to wait for this, but I realize it's difficult," He smiled self-deprecatingly and fingered her left earring. Was it her imagination or did he just lean in a fraction?

"I'm going to kiss you now," he said, dispelling all her doubts, "And it's going to be right here. In front of all these people. So, you have to make up your mind now. And make it quick, Hermione."

"Anthony – "

"Look, I get it. I know what you meant when you said that you like me. I'm not an utter fool, nor am I blind. But if I stand a chance, I need to know it. I need an answer."

This was a surprise, but even more surprising was the fact that in that moment she felt unable to say anything. She prided herself for being strong and assertive, and for speaking her mind whenever the situation called for it. But how could she give a definitive answer to something that had been giving her sleepless nights? The predicament had neither a head nor a tail, and least of all a name. It made no earthly sense and confused the hell out of her. So what could she possibly say?

Anthony cocked his head to the side, taking in her expression carefully. When she looked away, he sighed.

He leaned in, nevertheless, and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek. As she looked back up, the sparkle of his electric blue eyes was nowhere to be found.

"We'll finish this dance, okay?" he told her quietly.

She felt like she might cry. So she laid her head against his chest and listened to his heartbeat. Had she just made a colossal mistake? She could only hope that she hadn't hurt him too badly.

The song ended with a grim finality, but Hermione was thankful. It had been too mind-cloggingly romantic. Her date gave her a parting smile, before turning away and leaving her to stand amidst a harrowing crowd.

Ginny Weasley parted the boisterous crowd like a hot knife slicing through butter. When she reached him, she effortlessly took his elbow and steered him into a corner.

"Where is she?" she started without preamble.

"Who?" he said, raising a dark eyebrow at her.

"Don't be cute. Where's Ariana?"

Blaise grinned as he folded his arms and leaned against the wall.

"She's gone to the bathroom. But you knew that, which is why you came all the way here." He said, before pointing at her cheek. "What's that?"

"What?"

"I can't be sure, but it looks like jealousy. Not a flattering look, by the way."

She couldn't resist rolling her eyes and smacking her forehead with her palm.

"You're a wanker, Zabini."

"And you're a bitch, Weasley."

She straightened her posture and looked at him head on.

"I just came here to ask you this: what are you playing at?"

"What do you mean?"

"I know you're not as dense as you pretend to be and I also know how shrewd you can get. Blaise, she's – she's a kid. And she's my friend. If you hurt her…so help me, Merlin – "

"Oh, please. Spare me the protective crap. She's not a child and she knows exactly what she's getting into. As for me, I always know what I'm doing so don't you concern yourself with that."

"I'm making her my concern. She's obviously enamored by you but isn't familiar with your serpentine ways, Zabini. You see, none of them are at first. They all think you're the safer bet from the entire house. But I know that you're not. You're actually the worst."

His eyes tightened at the corners the longer she stood there berating him.

"Does this conversation have a point or am I supposed to stand here listening to you whine about my character? My date must be looking for me."

"I'm serious, Blaise. Don't mess her up. From this second onwards, I'm onto you."

"Fuck off. She asked me. She knew what she was getting into. And she can come to her own conclusions. The right ones, by the way, because she's got her head set straighter than the rest of you stuck-up chits." He pushed off the wall and made his way around her.

She stilled at his words.

"Promise me, Blaise. Tell me you won't hurt her."

He turned his head slightly, catching her genuinely concerned gaze.

"I don't intend to."

A/N: In the next chapter….ball contd. DH interaction.

And I swear I'll finish this story by the end of this year. :P Bear with me.