by Eilime
Draco Malfoy adjusted his black mask one last time before entering the Great Hall. It had been decorated beautifully in the shades of silver and gold for the current occasion. Its beauty, however, was not appreciated by Draco who cared little for such tedious balls. Hogwarts was indeed throwing a ball “ a masquerade ball, for that matter.
Now, Draco wouldn’t actually willingly attend a ball, but the thought of free “alcohol” was more than enough to persuade him. The slight possibility of getting laid (For the first time, Draco embarrassedly added in the sinful depths of his adolescent mind) was the final factor on his decision to make an appearance, however short it may be.
Pouring himself a glass of punch, he surveyed the room before putting the goblet to his lips. Everyone had done a good job in concealing their identities, Draco noticed. Excluding Crabbe and Goyle, though, whose conspicuous, bulky bodies stood out as usual. And considering the fact that they were standing together, left hands in their pockets, right hands eagerly feeding their respective mouths with chicken drumsticks, no one could really not know it was them.
Draco had turned his hair black with a simple Makus Hairus Blackus spell because anyone would be able to recognise him by his striking blond hair. As he stood there drinking his punch and surveying the crowd while clenching and unclenching his buttocks repeatedly, the song that was playing suddenly changed.
Suddenly, the most peculiar event happened as the dancing crowd seemed to divide in two, and in the middle stood the most beautiful girl Draco had ever laid eyes on. She was wearing a dark red, floor-length dress and had curly, brown hair. She was walking towards him between the two dancing crowds (Draco had a sudden mental picture of Moses and the Red Sea and wondered vaguely why he was thinking about Greek mythology at a time like this) and came over to the punch table where Draco still stood, his buttocks having unclenched completely by the pure fascination of the beauty before him.
“Hi,” he croaked to the goddess, who turned around to face him.
“Hi,” she smiled before lifting the goblet to her pink lips.
“So… enjoying the evening?” Draco asked nervously. It wasn’t like him to be nervous, but she just took his breath away. He looked into her honey brown eyes as she looked into his silvery orbs.
“Oh, yes, thank you, I’m enjoying myself immensely,” she chirped. “You?”
“I am now,” he answered, smirking. “Would you like to dance?”
“Sure,” she replied, setting down her goblet before taking his proffered hand.
Draco led the girl to the middle of the dance floor, pulling her close to him.
“So, I can’t ask your name because of the rules of this ball, but can you tell me which House you’re in?” Draco asked conversationally.
“Gryffindor,” she answered. “You?”
“Erm…” He hesitated for a moment. Well, to be honest, the fact that she was a Gryffindor had not suited him well, but he was willing to let it slide because this girl was just so damn gorgeous. However, telling her he was a Slytherin probably wouldn’t be the best way to get in her pants. “I’m in Huffl--”
“You’re in Slytherin, aren’t you?” she interrupted.
Even though she had figured it out, it was still better than having to even pretend to be a Hufflepuff. Draco couldn’t believe he had actually been about to sin that dreadfully. Luckily “ or unluckily, depending on how she would take the news when he answered her question, which he still hadn’t done yet, but considering this was a fanfiction he could think for an interminable amount of time without her getting impatient, so sod it all to frigging hell “ she had saved him the disgrace of alleging to be a Hufflepuff. *Shudder*
“Yeah,” he admitted, dreading her response.
“Oh,” she replied.
She didn’t withdraw from his embrace. Therefore, they continued to dance all night, talking casually about nothing in particular, and as the time neared twelve “ the time when the masks where going to be taken off “ Draco found himself not just wanting to get into her knickers but actually (dare he admit it?) seeing her again. *Hyperventilating*
When there was only one minute till the unmasking, Draco slowly bent down and kissed her softly. To Draco’s relief, she kissed him back with just as much vigour. They broke apart seconds before the clock struck twelve. Mystery Girl lifted her hands to her white mask, at the same time as Draco put his hands on his black one; and together they showed each other their true identities.
“Weasley?” Draco voiced his confusion at the girl before him.
“Hi,” Ginny Weasley smiled sheepishly as the charm she had put on her hair began to vanish.
“But…” Draco mumbled, “Aren’t you supposed to be Hermione Granger and I should be all “Hell no!” when finding out. Then Granger would be all, “Oh, Malfoy, you meany. You deceived me with your meaniness and made me believe you felt something for me.” At which I’d respond, “No, I’m seriously “ and unrealistically “ falling in love with you this fateful night.” Then she wouldn’t believe me and run away with tears streaming down her cheeks?”
Ginny blinked. “Oh…” she uttered, as her eyes widened in comprehension. “Oh, so that’s what the script said! I thought it was weird that it read: Ginevra Weasley hurls in Hermione Granger’s hair.”
Draco sighed exasperatedly. “It said: Ginevra Weasley curls Hermione Granger’s hair. You ninny!”
“Right, whoops,” she grinned. “Oh, well…” she shrugged, flashing Draco one last apologetic smile as she sauntered across the dancing floor.
Draco looked around in bewilderment, for this was definitely not how fanfictions usually progressed. Oh well, he thought, knowing he’d see Granger in their common room, seeing as they were Head Boy and Girl and all that beneficial rubbish.
Hermione walked out of the bathroom having spent thirty minutes in the shower, which had left her exhausted and not wanting to arrive late at the ball. So, she missed the ball and her fortuitous meeting with Mystery Man, who shockingly turns out to be her school nemesis, Draco Malfoy.
Even though she wasn’t supposed to know that… Shh!
Instead, she spent the rest of the night reading Hogwarts, A History for the umpteenth time and went to bed early. The next morning, Hermione woke up smiling and headed for the bathroom. As she approached the door, however, it opened on its own accord as Draco Malfoy stepped wearing nothing but a towel draped loosely around his waist “ because we all know towels don’t fall off when loosely tied “ water drops sprinkled over his well toned torso.
Hermione’s mouth formed a small ‘o’ of surprise, as she stopped in her tracks while her eyes sinfully travelled over his pale yet muscular body. Even though she would never admit it to herself, or heaven forbid, to the people bored enough to read this fanfiction, she found that his body was fab! Apparently, he had benefited greatly from sitting on a broom, a.k.a. Quidditch activities. And though Hermione had vowed to forever despise the blasted sport, she found that she now appreciated it very much indeed. Go sticks! “ Wooden sticks.
“See something you like?” Malfoy asked smugly.
“No,” Hermione answered primly, her lips pursed in indignation.
Malfoy smirked, apparently knowing full well that she had been ogling his muscular body. Sweet Merlin, he was fine! Seriously, spray some oregano on him, wrap him in bacon, and Hermione could definitely fry and eat him.
What? Hermione’s sanity asked, bewildered.
Draco loved watching her squirm. Nevertheless, he had to go get dressed before he got a cold because colds really do sneak up on him.
So, he passed her and walked swiftly into his dormitory to dress. Afterwards, he headed for breakfast in the Great Hall, where he sat down next to his chum Blaise Zabini, who was reading some papers at the present time.
“Argh!” the black-haired boy exclaimed just as Draco reached for the perfect muffin.
“What?” Draco asked, buttering his meticulously opted muffin.
“Why do authors insist on writing “Zambini”?! I mean,” he huffed, waving said papers annoyingly in Draco’s face. “This is the fourth fanfiction I’ve read where it says “Zambini”! What, does everyone get a spasm when typing my name so they surprisingly and unknowingly hit the M-button?! “Zambini”, honestly! It’s sound like a tribe from Burkina Faso…”
Draco just shrugged.
“Attention, everyone!” Dumbledore suddenly spoke from the staff table. When everyone had quieted down, the Headmaster continued, “Since something quite important that was to happen last night at the Masquerade Ball didn’t happen, I have decided to throw another ball tonight, so we can get this story to go in the right direction. I know some of you might think two balls in one school year might be too much, but I can assure you that I’ve read at least one fanfiction with three balls in it. Therefore, this can hardly be called nonsensical.”
He smiled warmly at everyone before adding, “Oh, and by the way, this ball will be a Yule Ball, even though we are nowhere near Christmas. However, I felt uninventive, so I thought what the frigging hell? Enjoy your breakfast and I’ll be looking forward to seeing everyone smartly dressed tonight at eight.”
At the Gryffindor table, Hermione was innocently finishing her breakfast while the boys were enjoying a heated discussion about Quidditch because that’s really all blokes talk about these days, isn’t it? Plus, it’s a great way to stop any substantial conversations from getting access, since conversations are so difficult to write. *Sob*
“Hurry up, Hermione!” Parvati Patil urged excitedly beside her.
Hermione drank the rest of her pumpkin juice and said, “I’m finished, what is it you want to do?”
“Well, duh! We need to get ready for the ball!” Lavender gushed.
“The ball? But it’s not in… ten hours,” Hermione pointed out, looking at her wristwatch.
“Ohmigosh!” Parvati exclaimed. “We only have ten hours?!” she squealed, grabbing Hermione by the upper arm and dragging her upstairs.
Somehow they managed to spend all day getting ready, and when it was a quarter to eight, Hermione looked at herself in the mirror. She was dressed in a strapless, white, floor-length dress. Then the girls went down into the common room where they found the boys waiting for them, who ogled at Hermione’s prodigious beauty. She went over to Ron, picked up his jaw from the carpet, and said sweetly, “Here you go,” putting it back in place.
Draco walked into the Great Hall which had been decorated in the various nuances of blue for this highly anticipated and long-awaited ball. He walked straight over to the punch table and decided to go wild and have a Butterbeer. Slowly the Great Hall was filled up and people started dancing. The song changed to “Shake That” by Eminem; even though it was 1997 and it wouldn’t be released in the Muggle world for another nine years or so. Draco drank his Butterbeer while surveying the Great Hall with its dancing and chatting people. Then the music slowed down. Suddenly, Dumbledore’s voice could be heard above it, “Let us see the Head Boy and Girl dance!”
Draco still found him being appointed Head Boy so unbelievably unrealistic considering his bullying past (and present, mind you), that he momentarily forgot it was he who was now expected to dance with the Head Girl.
Who, by the way, was none other than *drumroll* Hermione Granger.
Yeah, I know; shocker.
They approached each other in the middle of the dance floor, a circle of people forming around them. Draco could see how reluctant Hermione was to dance with him, but he ignored her unease, and drew her close. They swayed to the music, and shortly after people began to dance all around them again.
“I can’t believe I’m dancing with a lowly Mudblood,” Draco spat, wrinkling his nose.
“And I can’t believe I’m dancing with an insufferable ferret,” Hermione retaliated unoriginally.
“Snort.”
“Huff.”
“Grr.”
They danced in silence for a while, neither realising that the song had changed, and weren’t actually obligated to continue dancing with each other.
“You’re just so cruel,” Hermione broke the silence childishly.
“You don’t know anything about me,” Draco retaliated indignantly. “You don’t know what I have suffered! How can you stand there, and accuse me of being cruel, when you don’t even know anything about me? Sure I’ve teased, hexed, laughed, tripped, tricked, insulted, slapped with wet noodles, kicked, and even talked about you behind your back. But that doesn’t make me cruel. No, that just makes me stupid. Because whether we like it or not, we’re going to fall madly in love with each other “ quite soon, I might add “ so there was just no point in being cruel-- I mean, being like I was before. But did you ever stop to consider why I was like that? No! Well, I’ll tell you why! Not because I feel I know you enough to confide this in you, or because this is the right time to tell you with hundreds of people around to overhear, but I’ll tell you anyway because I’m rambling! I have been mistreated by my cruel, evil, merciless father my entire life. He has used the Cruciatus curse on me countless times when all I did was befriend a Muggleborn boy at the age of five, sing ‘I Feel Pretty’ in the shower, forget to do my potions assignment, get so drunk last Christmas that I threw up in Voldemort’s last remaining Horcrux “ a vase, designed after the original found in Rome in AD 467, by the way, just in case you want to pass this knowledge on to Potter “ but I mean, come on! Name one adolescent who hasn’t.”
“Oh, my,” Hermione breathed. “You’re just a misunderstood boy.”
“Shortly put, yeah,” Draco nodded sadly.
“I understand you now,” Hermione smiled sweetly. “And, if you don’t mind, I’d like to be your friend.”
Draco was floored. No, literally “ he fell down on the floor. Not because of the shock, but because he tripped on her long dress.
She helped him onto his feet and dusted off his dress robes. “Sorry…” she mumbled.
“Don’t be,” he replied, stopping her hand from dusting him off further by taking hold of it with his own hand. Draco felt electricity run through their connected hands. He felt the electricity course through his entire body finally stopping at his bum with a singe.
“Ouch!” he yelled, clamping his hands on his sore buttocks.
“You felt it, too?” Hermione asked sheepishly. He noticed that she, too, was holding on to her bum.
Draco looked intently at her for a moment, before chancing it and releasing his bum to close the short distance between them, lowering his face to meet hers. He kissed her swiftly and then pulled back to see her reaction. She was smiling slightly, blushing as she did.
“But, Draco,” she muttered, looking forlorn. “We can’t. What would people say? Our Houses? For you know how much influence the rivalry of our Houses has even in our lives post-Hogwarts! House rivalry goes on to infinity! And beyond!”
“Hermione…” he whispered, “No one can stop us. I know now “ this very moment “ that I belong on the Light Side. With you.”
“Aww!” Hermione cooed, cupping his face and kissing him again.
“And I, Draco Lucius Adolph Mao Judas Malfoy, swear upon the originality and weirdness of my name to never hurt you in any way and to love you forevermore.”
“Sob! That was beautiful!” Hermione gushed, throwing her arms around the love of her life.
“I know; it’s a wonderfully powerful script,” Draco agreed. “Compliments to the author,” he added with a wink.
THE END
Reference:
“To infinity and beyond!”
- Buzz Lightyear, Toy Story