Draco didn't want to be here. Especially on the arms of Pansy Handsy Parkinson, but it was the duty of a good pure blood son to have a 'suitable' companion. He stood at the grand entrance to the Great Hall pondering. Maybe he could leave early? Afterall no one said that he needed to be here all night. He'd rather hang out with Blaise and Theo instead, hopefully theo remembered to bring the fire whiskey.
Suddenly the chatter around the hall died which pulled Draco from his musings. He looked up to find Her on the staircase. The bane of his existence Hermione Granger.The soft periwinkle ruffles of her gown cascaded around her like a shield, pooling gracefully on the stone steps. She looked regal, like a muggle queen. When Granger made her entrance, the world around Draco fell silent. Every step seemed to command the attention of the room. The soft glow of dusk filtering through the glass ceiling caught her features in the most enchanting way, highlighting the constellation of freckles that dusted her nose and cheeks. She was a vision. All eyes were on her, and Draco couldn't help but scoff.
He didn't think she'd be here, especially not on the arms of Viktor fucking Krum himself! Krum ought to have better taste. He expected her to be dateless sitting in the library with her bushy stupid hair. Why were Potty and weasel not with her? They were her friends surely she should've been with them instead. Why was her hair not like that tonight? Why did she look so radiant? How could a filthy mudblood look so glorious? It must be a charm cause there's no way in hell Draco Malfoy perfect pure blood heir thought Granger looked beautiful. She’s not stunning. She’s not beautiful. She’s a Mudblood. A filthy, insufferable, know-it-all Mudblood who just so happens to be best friends with Potter. That’s all this is. That’s why it bothers him. That’s why he’s staring. It’s because she doesn’t deserve the attention. She doesn’t deserve the admiration. She doesn’t deserve the beauty she’s somehow managed to step into tonight.
She’s filthy, and he’s better than her.
Better blood. Better education. Better upbringing. Better looks.
And yet… why does it feel like the opposite?
Krum lead her to the dance floor. She seemed nervous. Was today the day Granger finally failed? But no she was as poised and graceful as a proper pure blood girl with a smile so blinding his eyes hurt. He found himself wishing that he was on the receiving end of that smile. And the way she dances—carefree, light on her feet, completely unaware of the way the world watches her. Completely unaware of the way he watches her.
And that’s the problem, isn’t it? Because lately, that’s all Draco seems to do. But How? She was a mudblood! She shouldn't be that way. He definitely shouldn't feel that way. Certainly not from just one glance. He had always controlled himself better. Draco didn't know why, but that made him angry.
Pansy's annoying simpering voice reminded him that it was now time for him to lead pansy on the dance floor. His eyes and focus should have been on Pansy, but not once did they leave Granger.
They switched partners and soon Granger was in his arms. He should've flinched from her touch. He should've mocked her, but Draco did none of that instead he danced. She seemed surprised. Of course she'd be suprised he was shocked himself. It was obvious that she’d expected he would refuse to dance with her.
It was only a dance, he lied to himself. He was not choosing this—he had to hold her. They moved in perfect time, the world around them fading into the music, into something quiet and unexpected. The music slowed. Their steps stilled. His expressions schooled he kissed her hand and thanked her for the dance. She stiffened head jerking upwards to meet his gaze.
He didn’t mean to linger but he did anyway. He couldn't help but feel cheated where was that blinding smile she graced Krum with.
Pansy Parkinson be damned the yule ball he damned he needed to get away. He was done with this night. The dark lord himself could not get him to go back.This couldn't be happening. He could not- NO he would not fall in love with Granger. It was not right. How could she enchant him with just one dance? A potion maybe? Maybe some kind of charm. It must be hormones, he was a teenager afterall.
He needed to breathe. In and Out. In and Out. And just like that he felt better. And the god's must hate him cause just then she appeared. "What was that?" she screeched in that high pitched voice of hers. "You'll have to specify Granger we all aren't mind readers like you are" I replied smirking.
"You- You can't just kiss someone's hand Malfoy!!!" She spluttered "Relax Granger it's tradition, mudblood or not I treat women with respect " I replied scoffing. She flinches at the word, good it should get her to leave. But when has Granger ever done what was expected.
"Righttt so that's why you left the hall running as if voldemort himself was chasing you". I flinch. Damn it!! I should have had better control over my expressions. I thought I hid my emotions better than that. He mentally berated himself.
I snarl at her and say "It's none of your damn business Granger" She storms towards me "It is when you look at me at like that" she yells. "Like what?!?!!" I ask frustration slipping in my tone. I don't like where this is going. "Like you want to kiss me." She whispers.
I was right I do not like where this went. I didn't realise we were this close her body practically touching mine. She smells absolutely divine. God I want to kiss her! I shouldn't I really shouldn't. I never noticed this before but her eyes have a little flick of golden in them. I look at her and my eyes drop down to her lips, she bites them a nervous habit I think. And once again I think Hermione Granger is going to be my downfall.
“You’re absolutely infuriating, Granger for once your life butt out” I murmur. "Make me" she replies.I snap I can't help it's just all too much for me to resist. Before I had the time to stop myself, correct course, my body was already set in motion. All those years of carefully screening his thoughts and feelings had come crashing down in one smooth pull of an arm and a clash of skin against skin. I kiss her and it takes her not more than a second to respond shocking me. Why isn't she slapping me or pushing me away? My senses are clouded and all I can feel is her. Draco's hands move of their own accord, tangling in her hair, tugging and twisting until she tilts her head, giving him exactly the angle he wants. His thumb brushes the curve of her jaw, trailing down the smooth line of her throat until his palm fits around it, holding her gently but firmly.
She lets him.
Her nails scrape against the back of his neck, and he groans softly, pulling her impossibly closer. Her tongue slides against his, pouring everything—anger, frustration, something darker—straight into him, and Draco is helpless to stop it.
The kiss is messy and chaotic— nothing polished or practiced. But it's her, and it's everything.
She's everything. It's passionate and it feels so damn good. Merlin! She does it just like she does all her subjects that is to say extremely thoroughly. How can she fucking excel at kissing too? She's addictive. God I could die here. Maybe I should ? Dying kissing Granger seems like a good way to die. It's sinful how good it feels. But we stop we both know that this can't go any further. Maybe in another life.
We look at each other she understands. Of course she understands. I wish she didn't It'd make it easier. And just like that it's over. They do say reality comes crashing down
And so I indulge myself with one last kiss and we both go our own ways. I may regret a lot of things but kissing Hermione Granger is a thing I do not regret.