Deserving

The morning came far too early for Hermione’s liking.

She had barely stirred beneath the warmth of her blankets when her bedroom door burst open with a dramatic flourish.

“Rise and shine, Granger!”

Hermione let out a groggy groan, burying her face into the pillow as Pansy yanked back the covers.

“No, absolutely not,” Hermione mumbled.

Pansy snorted. “We have a lot of work to do, and you’re wasting precious primping time. Let’s go.”

After a few half-hearted protests, Hermione was dragged out of bed, still bleary-eyed, and ushered downstairs to the common room, where Draco was already waiting with breakfast.

He was lounging comfortably on the sofa, one arm resting along the back, looking thoroughly amused at Hermione’s reluctant presence.

“You look radiant this morning, Granger,” Draco drawled, taking in her sleep-mussed curls and oversized jumper.

Hermione scowled, grabbing a piece of toast. “Enjoy it while you can, Malfoy. Pansy is about to turn me into a human pincushion.”

Draco smirked, sipping his tea. “She’s not wrong, Pans. Try not to poke her eyes out.”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “You’ll thank me later when you see the final product.”

After finishing breakfast—and enduring Draco’s smug amusement at her expense—Pansy dragged Hermione back upstairs to begin the extensive transformation process.

“Alright, Granger,” Pansy said, rolling up her sleeves as Hermione sat in front of the vanity. “First, the hair.”

Hermione braced herself.

It took multiple rounds of relaxing charms just to tame Hermione’s wild curls before Pansy began the delicate process of arranging them into an elegant half-up style.

The curls cascaded down her back in soft, polished ringlets, while the front sections were gently pinned back with tiny, enchanted silver clips.

Pansy stepped back, examining her work. “Hot damn. That’s the best your hair has ever looked.”

Hermione, peering into the mirror, felt her breath catch.

She actually looked… ethereal.

Pansy smirked. “Told you. Now for makeup.”

The next hour was spent perfecting every detail. Soft, shimmering eyeshadow in warm, neutral tones. A subtle wing of eyeliner that made her eyes look impossibly large and bright. A dusting of blush, and finally, a deep red lipstick that made her lips look utterly kissable.

“You’re a bloody genius,” Hermione murmured, barely recognizing herself in the mirror.

“I know,” Pansy said smugly.

Finally, it was time for the gown.

The moment Hermione stepped into the ice-blue fabric, she felt a rush of excitement.

The gown fit her like a dream—off-the-shoulder sleeves, delicate embroidery woven into the bodice, and a flowing skirt that shimmered faintly in the light. It was effortlessly elegant, the perfect complement to the jewelry waiting for her downstairs.

At last, Pansy clapped her hands together. “Time to complete the look.”

She strode toward the door and called down the stairs.

“Malfoy! Give me the goods.”

Draco’s voice floated back up. “Not a chance. I want to see.”

“You’ll see when she’s ready!” Pansy huffed.

There was a pause before Draco relented. A moment later, a small velvet-lined box floated through the door, carried by a house elf.

Pansy smirked as she opened it, revealing the matching tiara, necklace, bracelet and earrings. 

“No ring huh? You sly man Draco Malfoy.” Pansy mumbled under her breath.

Turning to Hermione, she placed the tiara gently atop her styled curls, fastening it into place.

The moment it settled against her hair, Hermione felt the difference. The magic within it hummed softly against her skin, as if it recognized her as its new owner.

Pansy stepped back, arms crossed, her lips curving into a satisfied smile.

“Hot damn, Granger,” she breathed. “You’re going to knock him out.”

Draco adjusted his moonstone cufflinks for what felt like the hundredth time, smoothing a hand down the front of his perfectly tailored black dress robes. The manor’s ballroom wasn’t ready yet—neither was he.

He heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs and glanced up to see Pansy descending, the deep emerald green of her gown catching the light. She looked stunning, as she always did when she put in the effort, but Draco barely gave her a second glance. His focus was on the empty space behind her.

“Where’s Hermione?” he asked, shifting impatiently.

Pansy smirked, brushing imaginary dust from her skirt. “Just wait, Malfoy.”

Draco scowled. “Pans—”

She elbowed him hard in the ribs, forcing his gaze back up just as another set of footsteps sounded on the stairs.

And then he saw her.

Hermione stepped into view, the soft glow of the firelight catching in her curls, making them shine like molten gold. The ice-blue gown clung to her in all the right places, flowing elegantly around her as if it had been designed with her in mind. The tiara atop her head was delicate yet regal, glinting with every subtle movement. The matching necklace rested against her collarbone, drawing his eyes to the graceful slope of her neck, while the earrings swayed gently as she descended the stairs.

She was breathtaking.

His heart stuttered in his chest as he took her in, every careful thought he’d prepared for the evening scattering into oblivion. How was it possible for someone to look so effortlessly perfect? How had he ever convinced himself he was capable of keeping his feelings in check?

His fingers twitched at his side before drifting to the small box hidden within his pocket. He traced the edges of it absently, the smooth velvet cool against his skin.

Draco clenched his jaw, trying to maintain some semblance of composure as she reached the bottom step. She hesitated, smoothing her hands down her skirt as if unsure of herself.

“Do I look—”

“Perfect,” he said, his voice lower than he intended.

A blush dusted her cheeks, and for a moment, she seemed at a loss for words. Draco exhaled, flicking his wand to conjure a plush fur wrap, stepping forward to drape it over her shoulders.

“Can’t have you freezing before we even get there,” he murmured, adjusting it carefully around her.

Hermione’s fingers brushed over the soft fur, her gaze flicking up to meet his.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

Draco simply nodded before offering his arm. “Shall we?”

She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, her touch sending warmth through him despite the cold night air. As they stepped out into the snow, he cast a silent warming spell around them both, shielding them from the winter chill as they made their way toward the apparition point.

The snow crunched beneath their feet, the world around them hushed and still. Draco found himself stealing glances at her, the firelight from the castle catching in her eyes, turning them into pools of molten gold.

Not yet, he thought, his fingers brushing over the small box in his pocket once more.