Harry Potter 1. Chapter 1

Hermione was keyed up, in a way that she that had never been before, tangling with Dementors, Voldermort and the unsuitably named _Fluffy _was all well and good but for the first time she would be partaking in an activity that the millions of girls outside of Hogwarts and other wizardry schools could empathise with. She was going on a date to the Yule Ball and maybe, maybe she would experience her first kiss.

She would never admit to anybody, how hurtful it had been for both Harry and Ron to overlook her so easily. Really, it was embarrassing what simpering, drooling idiots they metamorphosed into in the presence of the exceedingly attractive Fleur and Ron had the nerve to criticise her for appreciating Cedric's aesthetics. At least he was nice, but then he hadn't asked her either. No one had, and she had had to tolerate Malfoy's cruel facetious remarks about everything from her hair to her teeth and finally to her heritage. She wished she knew a permanent silencing spell. Just yesterday, she and Draco had an altercation between lessons where once again he proved how malicious he was by stopping her in her tracks.

What do you want?" Hermione brushed her hair behind her ear self-consciously, careful to keep her lips closed even though the size of her teeth had been reduced helpfully by the fantastic school nurse.

Draco smoothed down his pristine dark robes importantly, "There's no need to sound so petulant, Granger, you should be gratified that I even deign to speak to you." He looked down his nose at her, there was no genuine spite in his shrewd grey eyes, merely uncertainty.

"Well, I'm not," she responded unapologetically, she attempted to side-step him but he stood in the way, clearly needing to get something off his chest.

"That's hardly surprising," he scoffed, a mean smile twisting his lips, "You Muggles, never did have any sense."

"Look, Draco," Hermione held up her hand, her voice was going horribly high pitched and quivery, "I really have to go, so if you don't mind: just get to the point," she enunciated each word perfectly, good elocution was essential for flawless spell casting.

"I was just wondering whether your boyfriend," he sneered obviously referring to the recent rumours concerning her and Harry. As if, the very idea was laughable. "Is accompanying you to the Yule Ball," he continued, looking stubbornly down at the floor, for the briefest moment he looked up gauging her expression.

A beatific smile spread across her face, transforming her into something other than plain, bushy haired know-it-all Hermione Granger. Draco's countenance turned sulky and he muttered harshly under his breath, inaudible to her but Hermione honestly didn't give a damn about what he was saying. "For your information Malfoy I will be going to the Yule Ball but as you well know Harry and I are completely platonic . . . thanks for asking." She grinned and waved before walking away in the opposite direction, she had gained the upper hand this time with him and she was very pleased to have done so. And after all she had Viktor Krum to thank for it, it had been very brave of him to approach her especially in his broken English, she found his accent endearing, although normally she couldn't stand bad grammar.

"Pahahaha!" Malfoy laughed heartily his cheeks turning a gleaming pink as he squeezed his knees to stable himself. Hermione's haughty exit had been cut short by her rather inelegant trip over an abandoned shoddy broomstick. Stumbling, she collapsed momentarily in an ungainly heap. Quickly she pulled herself, blushing furiously and blatantly angry with herself. She resisted looking at Draco's horribly self-satisfied expression, his laughter was enough to tell her that this was the funniest thing he had ever seen. "I wish I had brought my camcorder," he wheezed between chortles, for once his stone cold slate grey eyes were warm and brimming with mirth.

"Yes, yes, go ahead and laugh your stupid head off. Anyone would think that an important pure blood like you didn't have anything better to do," she spat, brushing down her uniform, her fingers rested loosely around her warm, the simple presence of it reassured her. Silence filled the dusty corridor, heavy and tense, he was still standing there, just watching her eerily intense. Thousands of thoughts must have flitted through his iniquitous brain, more ways to humiliate her no doubt. "Take a picture it lasts longer," she snapped this time leaving with a grace many pure bloods lacked. _Pity_, Draco thought.


	2. Chapter 2

"Hermione, what in the name of Scabbers are you doing in there?" she heard Ron rap loudly on the door of her bathroom, giggling she ignored him, lending her entire focus to her reflection in the mirror. This day was very important to her, it was imperative that she looked the part, then both of her supposed best friends would feel bad about not considering her as a dateable specimen of the student body. She recalled the sheer disbelief on Ron's freckled face when she had declined his less than chivalrous offer to join him at the ball. She would show him.

"Hermione," Ron repeated, his exasperated tone resembling the whine Ginny used to stay up past her bedtime. He couldn't help his curiosity, he still believed that she was delusional and had suffered some hallucination that made her think that some guy was taking her to the ball. He didn't want her to be disappointed; chances were it was probably some cruel elaborate joke concocted by one of the smarter Slytherins. _Speak of the devil . . ._

Draco Malfoy swanned leisurely into the room escorting Pansy Parkinson who looked ecstatic in spite of the surly face of her partner, in a floor-length pale satin dress, dark tresses pulled severely into an up-do which secured her sparkling tiara, she looked better than normal. Ron couldn't help noticing her hot, sleek almost feline body sheathed in her halter gown, but found the bedazzled almost crown on her head way too over the top, it nearly blinded him. "Malfoy, what are you doing here? This is Gryffindor's side and not to mention it's the girl's dormitories. Have you had a sex change?" Ron immediately turned on him after registering Pansy's figure.

"You can talk wearing that ridiculous dress, Weasle." Malfoy derided. Ron wished he could criticise his nemesis's attire, but Draco looked irritatingly dapper in his sleek coat and tails, his normally flaxen hair darkened by the carefully applied gel. He looked like the perfect little gentleman; he was even smiling for once.

"You didn't answer my question," Ron said, officially annoyed by just about everything. Why did nothing ever work out for him? Harry got the fame, the money, the hero worship and plenty of simpering underclassmen, Hermione got perfect grades and mysterious dates, plus she could probably dance and he, well, he got nothing.

"Are you done feeling sorry for yourself now Ronald?" Draco asked rhetorically in his customarily mocking tone. Padma came barging into the room at that instant, dressed in a colourful pink and green sari, her bejewelled sandals scintillating as manically as Pansy's tiara.

"Ron, come on!" her jet hair was braided neatly, the thick plait bouncing behind her almost like a tail. "I want good seats," she stamped her foot impatiently, Ron had no idea what constituted as good seats at a Yule Ball, but this situation was perturbing to him.

"Pansy, go with them," Draco commanded with an authority his father would have been proud of, "I want good seats to," he placated her with a slight smile when she bridled at the thought of leaving him for even a second. "Please, and see if you can reserve some Butterbeer." Obediently, Pansy nodded, kissing him on the cheek before she glided out the room. She checked behind her to see if Draco was watching her swishing hips but he wasn't. Begrudgingly, she trailed after Ron and Padma at least ten paces behind, being in Gryffindor territory was bad enough, to walk next to them would be an insult to herself.

Draco's gaze was resolutely fixated on a faded, poor quality photograph peeking out of Hermione's Arithamancy textbook. The edges had curled up and the glare of the flash had turned Hermione's eyes in the picture blood red, nonetheless the six year old girl depicted in the photograph cradled protectively between her parents was undeniably adorable. Round cheeks, soft brown curls, the ends tipped gold, her tiny hands clasped a stuffed giraffe in a death grip. A door slammed, prompting him from his scrutiny, guiltily he looked up, blood pounding in his veins, he saw a replica fo the same giraffe on the bed and god help him because he found it cute. Draco Malfoy who never categorised anything from children to miniature cupcakes as cute was now using that atrocious adjective in his vocabulary. He hung his head in shame, thoroughly sickened with himself.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Hermione's accusatory voice interrupted him and he dropped the photo like it was on fire. She looked a vision in the demure chiffon periwinkle blue gown she wore, it flared slightly at her calves and displayed her graceful collarbone. Her hair was pin straight and the shiniest shade of chestnut he had ever seen. The glossiest tendrils curling loose around her pretty face, softening her features and darkening her liquid chocolate brown eyes.

He stuffed his hands into his pockets, "I know who your date is" he deflected her question, in truth it had taken a lot of underground digging to discover that Krum had been the only one with the balls to ask her out. Like Potter or that carrot top would have even thought of it, sometimes he gave that duo far too much credit.

"So?" she raised her neat brows, unimpressed and fastened her small heeled matching shoes onto her feet.

So indeed, "Is it really wise to cavort with foreigners, I mean, I knew you Mudbloods were desperate but this is a new low even for you."

Her lips thinned and she squashed the stinging sensation she underwent every time he insulted her, "You know, I really think I hate you."

"Whatever," he blurted back with false bravado.

"I'll have you know that Viktor is an extremely talented wizard, an internationally renowned Quidditch player and brave and smart and caring and courageous –"

Draco interrupted rudely faking a yawn, "And here I thought you were just with him for the money," he smirked until a stuffed giraffe came sailing towards his jaw, the happy stitched smile freaking him out.

"Get out!" she shrieked, retrieving the stuffed toy and battering him about the head with it, anger suffused her, hitting someone had never felt so pleasant, she had always believed herself to be a pacifist, she remembered smacking Draco once, perhaps she was more aggressive than she originally thought. Or he merely brought out the aggression and rage in her.

"Stop it, stop it, you imbecile, you're messing up my hair," he cried his hands trying to push her away. Sure enough, his fair hair had gone fluffy.

Hermione spluttered, "You look like a duckling," she laughed into her hand, hiding her previously prominent teeth, she couldn't help shading them from view even though they no longer were there. It was a habit he had noticed and involuntarily he experienced a stab of guilt and something darker and uglier twisting in his belly. She would be going to the ball with Krum, looking up at him with her big brown eyes and laughing at his jokes, she may even kiss him towards the end.

"I have to go," he mumbled, feeling very sick.

Hermione blinked, befuddled, was it completely preposterous or did she and Draco just have a moment? He shook her head ridding herself of the bizarre thought, checking her reflection one last time, deep breath, she could almost hear her mother's kindly voice surrounding her like a specially warm hug. "Honey, you never looked prettier." She was ready.


End file.

Harry Potter