Hi, new chapter! I'm excited for you all to read this one, it took me all day, I'm uploading from my phone ad I've been writing in a notepad from the beach :) I hope you enjoy this, it was my favourite one to write! Please review, fave, follow, etc x

Chapter Nine: The Ball

As each day passed, the ball grew closer and closer. Draco felt an increasing shadow of dread falling over him as he thought about it, which quickly transpired into terror on the day of the ball.

He woke late. He checked the clock. 11:04 am; he'd missed breakfast and the beginning of Potions. Not that this was a worry for him, of course. It was natural for Draco to miss lessons, in fact, more often that not, he wasn't present in class.

Instead, Draco went to the bathroom. He splashed his face in the sink, waking him up immediately. He stared at himself in the mirror, not out of vanity, but out of curiousity; his skin was pale, paler than it had used to be, and his cheeks were slightly sunken. His fair hair was wet from the water, the white-blonde strands falling into his eyes. Vaguely, he considered cutting it. Although, it wasn't as if he put much effort into his appearance nowadays.

His hands gripped the edges of the sink. They were, like the rest of his body, thin and pale. He was wasting away, and over what- a stupid bet?

He shivered. It was cold in the bathroom. He exited, and checked the time again. 11:29 am. He would go to the second half of the lesson, he thought, pulling on his robes. He neither enjoyed nor paid attention anymore; he had Slughorn, who would not give him the time of day, as oppoised to Professor Snape. With one quick glance in the mirror, Draco departed for his lesson.

He was able to walk unnoticed down the corridor, which pleased him greatly. He passed a gaggle of Ravenclaw students, momentarily wondering why they were out of class. He did not look at them directly, but he could sense their cold glares as they walked on. Fortunately for them, he had neither the time nor enough effort the reciprocte their glances. So, he walked on.

And soon enough, he was approaching the other end of the dungeons, where Potions was. He was just opening the door, when-

'Draco.'

Draco jumped, spinning around. He looked at the man behind him, his suspicions confirmed. Professor Snape was standing behind him, the corners of his mouth turned up into a smirk.

'What're you doing here?' Draco blurted out in surprise.

Snape raised an eyebrow, his smirk never falling from his face. 'I am the Slytherin Head of House, am I not?'

Draco could feel his cheeks going pink. 'Yes.'

'Yes sir.' He corrected, although not unkindly. 'And the common room is in the dungeons, correct?'

'Yes sir.'

'Then, Draco, you know what my business is here.' Snape concluded. Draco looked at the bottom of his robes uncomfortably. Since his father had been sent to Azkaban, there had been a shift in dynamics in Snape and Draco's relationship. Privately, Draco always had related Snape to something of a father figure; he was similar, and equally as cold and distant as Lucius himself. But now it was more so; of course, Snape was still removed, still formal around him at Hogwarts, but had, during the summer holidays, taken to frequenting the Malfoy Manor.

'-but, I do not know why you are out of your lesson, Draco.'

Draco threw him a contemptuous look; he was willing to bet his Hand of Glory that Snape had looked in his Potions lesson and checked if he was absent. 'I woke up late.'

'Stupid boy.' Snape said idly. 'Go to your lesson now. I have told Professon Slughorn that you are in a meeting with me-' (there it was, Draco thought) '-and, you are to catch up what you have missed after the lesson has finished.'

'Thank you, sir.' He could hear the venom laced into his voice. Snape's smirk widened.

'You may leave.' He said curtly, before turning on his heel and stalking away, his dark robes billowing out behind him.

Draco opened the door, slipping into his seat as quietly as possible, hoping to go unnoticed. This was tricky, however, Slughorn's N.E.W.T class had only a handful of students. And, like he had suspected, he was unsuccessful.

'Mr Malfoy!' Slughorn boomed, his huge stomach swelling impressively. 'I wondered when you would grace us with the pleasure of your company.'

'I- er- I had to speak to Professor Snape.' He replied, not bothering to exclude the coldness from his voice. Harry Potter was staring at him.

'Not to worry, Draco, m'dear, not to worry...' He smiled graciously. 'Now, we've been brewing up a Euphoric Potion, but we're nearly finished, I don't think you could do it in the limite amount of time we have left... not even Mr Potter himself could finish it in twenty minutes!' He chortled. Draco glanced at Harry, who had turned a brilliant shade of purple. He also couldn't help but notice Hermione, throwing dirty looks at Harry and muttering darkly to him under her breath.

'So I guess we'll have to pair you up with someone- hmm... let's see- Miss Granger? Would you mind sharing with Mr Malfoy?'

Hermione hesitated. Evidently she did mind. Casting alarmed looks at Harry and Ron, she nodded reluctantly in assent.

'Excellent, excellent!' Slughorn enthused. 'Well, I'd better let you get on, then...'

He moved away to examine Ernie Macmillan's potion disdainfully, which was giving off a putrid egg smell and smoking at the top. Meanwhile, Draco joined Harry, Ron and Hermione's table.

There was a very awkward pause as they stared at each other: Ron was looking at him angrily, his face flushed. Harry also was staring at him, but not, to Draco's surprise, in distain; his brows were furrowed, and his expression a combination of curiousity and frustration. Hermione was the only one who was not looking at him at all, her head down, determinedly staring at the potion.

'Get a couple of lacewing flies, will you?' Hermione mumbled, her eyes averted away from him.

Draco nodded, going to the storage cupboard. He could feel the trio's eyes burning on his back.

They worked in silence, which bothered neither of them; the awkwardness transcended into concentration, and determination to finish. Draco gratefully took this silence. He did not want to push anything with Hermione- not when Ron and Harry were present. And although he had not wholeheartedly warmed to her, he respected her- he thought it wise to allow her space.

The lesson finished, and everyone moved to the great hall for supper. After that, the rest of the day passed in a blur -a free period after lunch then double defence against the dark arts- and before he knew it, the evening had come.

Excitement rose in the sixth years, the atmosphere lifting considerably. Soon enough, every sixth year had all retreated to his or her dormitary to get ready for the ball.

Draco, joined by Crabbe and Goyle, headed back to the great hall after getting ready. Crabbe and Goyle wore black robes, that looked suspiciously similar to their school robes. They each wore plain black masks. Draco wore robes of royal blue, and carried a thin black mask, crusted with silver at the rims.

It was an uncomfortable journey; as they walked closer and closer, Draco became more and more nervous.

Entering the great hall, he barely recognised it; the tables had disappeared, and in its place stood numerous students, several dancing on the floor. Unexpectedly for Draco, it was incredibly hard to distinguish the people once their eyes were covered. A large chandelier hung, and the ceiling gave the romantic illusion of a twinkling night sky.

He recognised Hermione immediately. She was standing alone, which was a first. He vaguely wondered where Harry and Ron were. She was wearing pale pink dress robes, and a matching mask. Her hair was falling loosely in curls down her back, but not frizzily. She looked absolutely beautiful.

Before he knew it, he was across the great hall, approaching her. He passed Pansy, also standing alone- her hands clasped together- a twinge of guilt coursed through him, but he walked on, but remembered why he was doing this, it wasn't his fault-

But all thoughts of anyone else vanished when he approached Hermione. A spark of recognition twinkled in her eyes as she noticed him.

He extended a hand. 'Care to dance, Miss?'

She bit her lip. 'Draco, no... anyone could see... you must be careful... please-'

He smiled. 'Anyone could see,' he said softly. 'But no one would know.'

Hermione looked to her feet. They were also pretty, Draco thought. She was wearing a set of white high heels rimmed in pink. He could tell that she was hesitant, but when she looked back up her eyes were serious, looking coldly back at his.

'No one must know.' She said sternly. And with that, she took his arm, and led him to the dance floor.

They danced together, his hands on her waist, her hands resting on his neck. It was slow, and everything else seemed to melt away. It was pleasant for a few minutes, before he noticed Hermione's expression.

'Hermione, what's-'

Hermione whimpered, glancing at something behind Draco's shoulder. Quickly, she tore away from him and slipped away, from the great hall and out of sight.

Momentarily dumbfounded, Draco stood alone, numb. Almost instantaneously finding his feet, he looked around, noticing the shock of red hair and the tall, gangly body. Terror coursed through him. He had no idea if Ron had seen them dancing together. Quickly, he raced after Hermione.

He heard her before he saw her, the loud clank of her heels against the cold floor directed him to her. She was running, her hand to her face. He could hear another pair of shoes walking slowly and quietly behind him, but he ignored this. 'Hermione- wait!'

'No!'

'It's okay- I don't think he saw-'

'Listen, Draco- I can't- I just can't- leave me alone!' She said shrilly. She turned, going down an isolated corridor. Draco followed hastily. Even in heels, she walked quickly.

'Please, Hermione- just talk to me!' He exclaimed.

'Okay, Draco, do you want to talk?' She snapped, turning on her heel and rounding on him. 'Let's talk. Let's talk about how I can't get you out of my head, alright?'

Draco stopped in his tracks, frozen.

'Let's talk about how you spent the last few years bullying my friends, and being a prat!'

'I didn't-'

'-I don't know what to do, you see? I really, really like you- I might even love you- but I can't be with you because of how you treat people!' She continued hysterically, her voice rising to a shriek.

'And I have Ron, who I don't really like, I just thought I did, when he was dating Lavender- and now he loves me, and I want to break up with him, he's more like a brother to me-'

'-Then-'

'It doesn't help with your feud together, and all! I want to be with you so much, don't you see?' Hermione said, calming down slightly. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes filled with tears threatening to spill over. 'But Draco, I just- I can't run away anymore. I don't know what to do.'

Draco stared at her, his mouth moving wordlessly. They were closer now, she'd stepped towards him in anger, and they were inches apart. Her expression was an odd combination of fury and sadness. He was completely unaware how she actually felt about him, and he felt almost guilty that he hadn't trusted her.

'I don't want to run from this anymore.' She whispered. She put a trembling hand to her mouth, concealing her face completely. The mask was still on.

Very gently, Draco removed the hand from her mouth, and stepped closer. 'Then don't.'

And he kissed her.

It could've been seconds, or minutes, Draco was unaware- he had no clue what was going on, only he was kissing her, the beautiful Hermione Granger, who he had previously hated, what an odd turn around-

He bent his head closer to hers, his pale fingers sliding into her hair. He could feel her uneven breathing as she reciprocated the kiss, her hands reaching up to the nape of his neck. Her lips were soft and warm against his, he couldn't believe his luck- and for once, he wasn't thinking about the Vow, he was only thinking of Hermione- just Hermione-

CRASH.

Draco pulled away from Hermione in a muffled exclaimation. 'What was that?' Hermione shook her head, she didn't know. He was about to inspect were the noise came from, before a girl spoke.

'Draco?' She said feebly.

Dread washing over him, he turned slowly, to see Pansy Parkinson. Her cheeks were streaked black with tears, her dark hair falling from it's up-do. Her trembling hand was clutching at thin air, and a goblet was lying at her feet.