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Ch. 22

Fucking Weasley.

Who the hell did he think he was, upsetting her like that?

As soon as I had walked her halfway to her dormitory, I felt the anger surge up within me once again. I didn't know why, but when I saw her cry, I took it personally, as if someone had hurt my feelings. I wanted to find that stupid little blood traitor and rip him to shreds, maybe make him cry.

The feeling came rarely, but I actually felt bad for Granger.

I had never known what it felt like to be heartbroken or in love with someone for that matter. As much as something inside me didn't want me to admit it, I knew she was heartbroken over that prat, and had been for a very long time. Their friendship wasn't the strongest thing either, so when something went wrong, a lot of the time the whole foundation would crumble as well. How did I know this?

She had dropped hints of this, very large ones, during our little meetings and discussions. She always managed to tell me things about him without even trying. As of now I knew he could sometimes be egotistical and extremely daft towards people's feelings, as I suspected happened quite a lot to her.

At the same time, I wanted to slap her, and no, not literally. Maybe in the past I had wanted to, or maybe I even would've. Since I had changed, for the better, my anger had lessened drastically. I hadn't been a perpetually happy boy since my childhood, but since this year, I managed to find many things that made me happy, and it was starting to get better.

Hermione made me happy sometimes.

I really wanted to talk some sense into her though. She should know better than, as smart as she was, to be upset at something or someone as unworthy of her affection as Weasley. For years I had seen her long over him, it was quite visible, for a lot of the times, she wore her heart on her sleeve. She was a bit sensitive as well, when it came to him. I remembered all of the times I had maliciously taunted him for being poor, something he had no control of, and how upset she would get over it. She hated anyone that insulted him for anything, or anyone that found an interest in him.

I remembered last year, seeing him with Lavender Brown, and the pain that would flash over her face whenever they would embrace in front of her. There were times where she would be on the grounds, reading as I would be, and the moment they emerged, she would flee into the comforting arms of the school library, the only place Lavender and Ron never went because they were more interested in showing off their relationship to everyone, especially to the people that never gave a crap.

It's funny though, because now they were great friends.

If I were her, I wouldn't even let the girl near me. I would probably hex her so badly that she would have to stay in the Hospital Wing for a week.

I was selfish, malicious, and spiteful.

She was everything I wasn't.

Why did she even want me as her friend?

My thoughts were so jumbled it made my head hurt. I crashed onto my bed, burrowed deep beneath the covers, and shut my eyes as tight as I could.

I didn't need any of this. Nor had I asked for it.

VVVVV

It was Thursday night, and we were decorating again.

I had managed to put up a dillusionment charm big enough to cover the Great Hall so that Draco and I could actually test out what he had drawn. Thanks to multiple Transfiguration classes, we were able to transfigure the simple wooden tables and benches of the Hall into elaborate décor pieces, including our tables, tented area, and stage. I had even managed to conjure three, thousand-crystal chandeliers which lined the ceiling grandly. We had been working for nearly four hours, and we were both exhausted. That didn't stop us from working though. Draco was also being quite the gentleman. Instead of sitting there and watching me work, as I had half expected he would do, he was actually working as hard as I was, trying to size everything perfectly, and trying to use as many spells as possible to see which ones would work the best the night of the Ball. He had insisted that I take a break three times already in the past hour, insisting he could handle it, and each time I had firmly refused, insisting that we would take our break together.

I looked over at him from my side of the room and saw that he was drawing a few more things into the blueprint. I wasn't concerned, he was the artist here and he had never messed up before, so I trusted him with the designing completely. He was leaning over the table, a quill moving furiously across the page, his brow furrowed in concentration. His hair was tousled slightly and his shirt had a few buttons open, making his tie hang loosely. I turned around and decided to focus on my work, biting my lip before I thought something that I could possibly regret. After ten more minutes of silent working, I heard him slam his quill onto the table.

"I can't do this anymore, time for our break." Without another word, he slumped onto a bench and tilted his head against the wood of the table. I gave him a small smile.

"Diva much?"

He rolled his head in my direction, groaning. "Be quiet!" He replied, although he knew I was only joking. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him smile.

Somewhat hesitantly, I took a seat next to him. His eyes were slightly shut, making him look drowsy. He probably was. His eyelashes fluttered closed, but only for moment, before turning to me again. I looked at him, and he scooted closer, even though we were close enough, and grabbed the blueprint, putting it in front of us. I stared at it for a moment, and then realized that we had created an almost exact replica of what we had imagined, together. I stared in disbelief. I was happy and surprised at our finished product.

He grinned largely, even happier than I was. "We're pretty good, aren't we?"

I nodded. "That we are."

He seemed to notice something in me that I hadn't even fully noticed in myself, and his face turned serious again. "Still mad about Weasel-bee then, aren't you?"

I shot him a look, and he quieted down. He knew I hated it when he called Ron Weasel-bee. Well he deserved it didn't he?

"I don't know what you're talking about Draco. It seems that all of this hard work has made you delusional. Is it time for bed?" I retorted.

"Ooh. Someone's cross today."

I rolled my eyes. Why was he even bringing this up? I was trying my best not think about it. He wouldn't like that if I told him, and he would probably act even worse. He could be so infantile sometimes.

"Well wanker – I mean Weasley, has a date to the ball, so why don't you? I know a few people without dates too, you know."

I laughed at that comment. Why did he automatically have to think that I didn't have a date to the ball? I was as perfectly eligible as any other girl, and I certainly didn't need him trying to set me up with one of his friends.

"Well if that wasn't a shot at my pride, I don't know what is. Actually Draco, I do have a date to the ball, thanks for asking. Maybe I'll save your matchmaking skills for another event."

There was a moment of silence, and I watched his face. His brows creased for a moment, and then his face become stoic once more. I looked away, not knowing what to say. It was almost as if that comment had hurt him. He cleared his throat, but when he spoke again, there was something small, an almost insignificant change to his voice.

"Really now? Who would that be exactly?"

"Dean Thomas." I replied quietly, smiling a bit. I didn't know whether I should've or not.

He nodded.

In an attempt to break the creeping silence, I broke into conversation once more.

"And what about you? Who is the oh so sought after Draco Malfoy taking to the dance?"

He smiled and shook his head at my ridiculousness.

"I'm not really taking anyone I suppose. Pansy will be tagging along I guess, to keep up her appearance, but besides that I guess I'm going solo." He shrugged.

I couldn't help but open my mouth a bit in surprise. He caught my reaction.

"What?" He replied, almost sounding self conscious.

I shook my head. "Nothing it's just…I can't believe that I managed to get a date and you didn't. It just seems weird to me. Usually it would be the opposite."

He turned to me, and sat up slightly. "On the contrary, I think. I've only ever taken Pansy to these types of things, and well, I'm sure no one else would be interested in me anyways. You on the other hand? You have a lot more going for you than I could ever try to. Many, many guys would be lucky to be your date."

I blushed furiously, feeling the heat rush from my neck to my cheeks. "Thank you. Many…um…many girls would want you to go with them too. Maybe you should try taking someone else as your date besides Pansy next time."

He smirked and eyed me. "I would try it for the ball, but all of the good girls are taken."

Something in my stomach exploded, and I couldn't control how heated I was getting. I did nothing but laugh nervously. Why was this happening? He could have the weirdest effect on me, on anyone really, when he wanted to. After a moment, I turned to him, perfectly fine. I wouldn't let him have that effect on me just so he could get a kick out of my reactions. I didn't know what to think or how to think around him. One minute he was annoying and the next minute he was perfectly friendly and sweet, and then the next –

Enough.

"So did I ever tell you that McGonagall wants to start of the Ball with a formal dance? " He asked me. "She says it's beneficial for the students to practice something, even when they're at a party. I'm surprised she's not planning on slipping transfiguration tips into our appetizers." He scoffed.

I would've laughed at the comment if I hadn't been ready to crap my pants.

"Did she say formal dance? As in ballroom dancing?" I asked him nervously.

He laughed. "Why of course. What were you expecting, some sort of hoedown? Although I suspect Sylvia would be leading that, not McGonagall." Draco smirked.

I ignored his crude comment and his attempt to make me laugh. I had always sucked at dancing, and I knew I would become incredibly self conscious, especially if I would be dancing with Dean, one of the most well liked and quite popular guys in the school. Imagine the look on people's faces when they saw that the Head Girl sucked at dancing? I cringed. Draco touched my shoulder lightly, looking a bit concerned.

"Are you okay? You're looking paler than me right now." He half- joked.

I shook my head. He waited for me to speak, probably unsure of what else he could say to a pale, slightly terrified girl. I cleared my throat noisily.

"I…I can't dance." I croaked.

There was a moment of silence before Draco gave a booming laugh. I gave him dagger eyes in return.

"What? You think it's funny? I'm sorry that I'm not confident in everything I do, unlike you, Mr. Malfoy." I retorted sarcastically. I went to turn away from him, scowling.

"It's not that! Many people aren't the best dancers. It just amuses me how hard you are on yourself sometimes. Have you realized?" He said smiling. It was stupid of him.

I didn't answer him.

After a few moments of silence, he sighed, and I felt his weight lift from the bench. It creaked.

"Get up." He sighed.

I turned to him again, half glaring and half confused at his strange demand.

"What? Why?" I asked. What was he up to?

He shook his head. "Just do what I ask, for once?"

I sighed, and slowly got up. "Happy?"

Without another word, he grabbed my hand and led me to the middle of the Hall, where we had set up a huge dance floor. He flicked his wand at the ceiling and the lights dimmed, making pinkish light reflect off the walls and onto the chandeliers. I stared in awe, silently marveling at the design we had created. It was beautiful. My thoughts stopped however, when his hand snaked around my waist.

I stared at him, confusedly.

"What are you doing?"

"What do you think?" He retorted, sarcastically rolling his eyes. "I'm teaching you how to dance."

I shook my head stubbornly and as he tried to bring my body closer to his I refused to budge.

"I can't." I was sure of it.

It wasn't as if I hadn't tried. It was something I had always managed to mess up at, and I wasn't proud of that.

"You don't know that till you've tried!" He insisted, placing my hand on his shoulder.

"Oh believe me, I have." I insisted, trying to get out of his grasp.

"Not with me you haven't." He smirked, as sure of himself as ever. He was acting like a prat.

Before I could object, he flicked his wand at the hidden music station behind the stage and soft, pretty music began to blare from invisible speakers. It was magic. The look on my face still wasn't pleasing him, so he nudged my waist, tickling me slightly to make me laugh. I tried to hold it in, but I couldn't and slowly a smile began to emerge on my face. Draco licked his lips in focus, as he aligned our bodies so that they fit perfectly against one another. I was willing to let him try it this once, and he willed by body to relax. He held one of my hands lightly in his, and I could feel heat nestling between our palms. I sighed, and he smiled breathily, content that I was relaxed enough that he could move my body along with his. He told me to let him take the lead, and I did. He began to glide across the dance floor, as graceful as a man could be, with me in tow. The voice of the person singing was soft and melodic, almost a whisper, and it relaxed me.

After a few minutes of slight dancing, it slowly began to become more languid, and I was completely relaxed into his arms by the time the middle of the song had arrived. Somehow, throughout the dance, my head had ended up resting on his shoulder, his lips lingering beside my right ear. When he spoke, it rang clearly in my ear, like the sound of water in the ocean, very cool and calming.

"Are you listening to the music, Hermione?" He asked me. I nodded, almost sleepily, not wanting to take my head off of his shoulder. It felt right to be held by him as he led me across the dance floor. Somehow, without even trying, Draco had managed to take away all of my fears of dancing when he placed me into his arms. I smiled against him, taking in the scent of his cologne that I had grown to know so well, and the cool scent of his skin. I slowly began to listen to the lyrics, feeling so in tune with the moment as they flooded into my ear.

'I had a feeling once
that you and I
could tell each other everything
for two months,
Never pick sides
Never choose between two
But I just wanted you
I just wanted you'

I could feel Draco's lips pressed lightly, almost brushing, against my hairline, and for a moment, this seemed too intimate. We swayed in place for a few moments, as we both listened to the signs that song and this dance were coming to an end. For those few moments of the song's ending, we listened the guitar strum to a stop and the violins stop their whispery notes. And then there was silence.

There was a silence, and I was still in Draco's arms.

He breathed in deeply and exhaled before letting me go, sliding his hands from around my waist, giving me goose bumps at the sudden loss of contact. He looked down at me, still in the half-dazed aftermath that I was in.

He smiled, shaking his head at me. Although I looked at him, something stopped me from opening my mouth.

"And you said you couldn't dance?" He said disbelievingly.

I gave him a smile, but I didn't feel it. I was numb.

What was wrong with me? Better yet, that question could go unanswered.

Draco was staring at me, in the middle of the dance floor, unmoving. I didn't move either. I was frozen.

Looking at his face, with his lips slightly parted in wonder of my actions, made my head spin.

What was going on?

VVVVV

Hey guys! So this chapter was a bit weird wasn't it? Hermione is starting to get more confused than ever, and so is Draco! Not to mention that the Ball is so close I can almost taste it, not literally XD! I hope you guys are enjoying the story! Feel free to leave me reviews, constructive criticism or ideas! Thanks for reading! Love to all! BTW! If you haven't checked out my Dramione one-shot 'Brownie Points', feel free to take a look at that too! Thanks again!