fervere

Chapter Four

“One, two, three, One, two, three.” Professor McGonagall counted out loud, correcting hand positions and the posture of a few students that she came across with. She looked absolutely delighted at the chance to instruct teachable pupils the art of dance.  

It didn’t take long for the word to spread around school how god awful the Gryffindors boys were at dancing. A lot of the girls were reconsidering having to accept any invitation from them giving a slight jolt of hope in Draco’s chest that perhaps Granger would hesitate on accepting Potter or Weasley as company to the Yule Ball.  

Professor McGonagall swept over to Draco and Pansy just as he led his dance partner into a spin. Pansy floated back into his arms and Professor McGonagall glowed, happy that Slytherins weren’t a lost cause at portraying the traits of what real noble wizard should have.  

The majority of Slytherins, Draco would assume, knew how to dance. Even a simple waltz was required from a young age for most pure blood students, since it is expected of them to know once they have a proper introduction to their society. 

The thought of having to be introduced in such a manner seemed like an ancient idea but Draco would never go against his mother’s wishes, at least not vocally. So, Draco, like any other good pure blood, knew the basics of waltzes and quadrilles and was not shy about being confident in them. Unlike the most timid of fourth years (including some very curious third years, hoping to receive and invite to the ball), who still possessed the talent of dance, but lacked the grace of self-assurance. 

Speaking of lack, Professor Snape, head of Slytherin house, refused to put himself on display fully recognizing his own shortcomings. He must have also recognized the eagle eyes and sharp tongues Slytherin students possessed if they saw anything worth critiquing. Professor Snape tried his best to demonstrate the waltz by conjuring a clever spell that graphed the steps with a glow on the marble floors of the Slytherin Common Room. However, after a few jeers from the Slytherin boys, who asked for a real demonstration, Snape folded and sent for McGonagall to step in for him to avoid the embarrassment of having to admit he wasn’t exactly a skilled dancer.  

After about ten minutes of a lesson, Professor McGonagall was pleasantly surprised that her small corrections had her surrounded by elegant couples orbiting around her. If there was anyone that really needed a few lessons it was Snape who, on occasion, had stepped on McGonagall's feet from an early demonstration.  

Draco took two steps backward to twirl Pansy around and bring her back to hold her close once more. The pugged face girl had grown into her harsh features, but still didn’t look quite right to Draco. She had been staring at him intently as if she was waiting for something. 

“You’re quiet lately, Draco.” She pointed out.  

“I have lots on my mind.” He mumbled.  

“Is it plausible that I, too, am on you mind?” She asked, fluttering her lashes at him. 

“What?” He stupidly said without thinking. Pansy tightened her grip on his shoulder.  

“Are you not thinking of asking me to the Yule Ball? You were far too eager to take me as a dance partner at the beginning of this class.” She narrowed her eyes at him and then, as if she was suddenly disgusted by a thought, she loudly blurted out, “Who else would you go with?” 

Ever since the announcement of the Yule Ball a few days ago, Draco had noticed a few girls trying their absolute best to take hold of his attention during classes, in the corridors, and even in his place of refuge: the library. A lot of them were third years (even some second years) who would unbutton the tops of their shirts, stick out their chests, and tilt their chin up to expose more of their decolletage.  

Draco even had a run in with a Ravenclaw girl who came out of the quidditch showers in a miniature towel looking far too ecstatic and feigning embarrassment finding her in such a state when he was putting away the school’s quaffles in storage. Draco stopped joining his friends on their regular friendly matches on Sunday afternoons.  

Even at the start of this dance lesson, he couldn’t avoid the hunger in some of these girls’ eyes, waiting with bated breath, to snatch him up the moment they had a chance.  

Pansy cleared her throat, noticing the absentminded face Draco now had thinking of the struggles of being watched so closely. He gave her a curt smile to assure her. In all honesty, he didn’t have anyone in mind that he thought wise to ask.  

There was one girl on his mind, however, that seemed completely absurd but not as absurd as asking Pansy.  

She had always been so keen to be agreeable towards him and as flattering as it was when Draco was eleven and twelve, Draco wasn’t exactly looking for the approval of someone who didn’t question themselves at all.  

“I’m not quite sure.” He honestly replied.  

“About me?” She raised her voice, causing some pairs to look over at them as they continued to waltz around their elegant common room.  

“I meant about going.” He lied, jaw tightening up, “I don't really see the point-” 

The sound of plump flesh being slapped echoed louder than the music that was playing. Pansy stormed away, pushing innocent spectators out of the way. The scratch of the record player filled the air with another thing: awkwardness. Draco stood there, clutching his throbbing cheek.  

As the rejector.  

He spent the evening hiding his red marked cheek. He figured perhaps people would talk about him and Pansy but was confident he’d fly under the radar in the latest run of rumor mills. 

He didn’t.  

Not really.

The funny thing about rumors was the way the truth gets twisted around. By the end of dinner, most of the school heard that Draco had to peel Parkinson off him after being rejected when she asked him and had locked herself in her dorm room, wailing. Pansy tried to correct the truth, but it only looked like she was desperate to try to rewrite the narrative around her, causing more doubt from the delighted gaggle of girls still hoping to get a chance of being asked by Draco.  

Draco only corrected the rumor if he was asked upfront and not many were interested in knowing exactly what happened.  

What most girls heard was that Draco was a single agent and from what Crabbe and Goyle told him, he was one of the ideal dates girls wanted to go with, aside from the very obvious Triwizard Champions.  

Draco knew he had options. Plenty of them. It was simply down to who he would choose if he decided to go at all.

Although he would be stupid to deny that Crabbe and Goyle were right about being a top choice for a date, it still surprised Draco how brash girls were becoming. Even those he’s never really spoken to suddenly were trying to get his attention. Hannah Abbott had approached him before Herbology one day with her skirt hiked far up hidden from underneath her robes on a chilly early December. A bold choice coming from a Gryffindor, despite their claims of hating the idea of being asked by Slytherin.

Draco had received lots of long looks from Ravenclaw girls during lessons, so he entertained a few chats with those in his year. After being publicly shunned by most of the Slytherin girls who rallied around Parkinson, Draco thought it was weight off his shoulder to consider anyone from Slytherin in his year. That said, privately, some girls still tried. During Lunch, in the midst of his conversation with Crabbe, he felt the very heavy hand of Milicent Bulstrode on his upper thigh while she coyly looked the other way.   

A Vivienne Dumont, from Beauxbatons also approached Draco one afternoon, with a horde of intimidating friends behind her. Draco shrunk into a corner of a corridor, trying to block the view of a few curious eyes that were watching the interaction walking by.  

“You are quite attractive for a ‘Ogwarts boy,” She opened up. Draco, snapped his muggle book shut shoving it into his bookbag, turning to the voice that pulled his attention away. He stared stunned and wide-eyed at the sudden appearance of blue uniforms in his peripheral vision.  

“Hello?” 

“Do you speak French?” The tall leggy girl crossed her arms, bringing her ample chest into focus. Draco gulped, avoiding the curious looks of her support of friends. 

“Je parle un peu de français?” He responded, in a bit of strained unrehearsed French.  

She huffed, “I am Vivienne Dumont.” 

Draco paused, “Uh, pleasure. Draco Malfoy.” 

“I know.” She pouted haughtily, “I ‘eard your family is quite influential, no?” 

“Uh,” Draco cleared his throat, “Yes?” 

In fact, it was something that Draco was brought up to take pride in yet, at this very moment, he had no desire to leverage it. 

“Good.” She said with finality as her six identical friends behind her nodded in unison, satisfied. Draco was very confused.  

“I’m sorry but what is good?” 

“You will be asking me to the Yule Ball, of course.” She scoffed, looking off into the distance as if she had made her point.  

Draco blinked stupidly trying to rack his brain if the Dumont’s were also an influential French family. He had visited France plenty of times. Surely, he would have some sense of who they were if his mother had introduced them before.  

But, even if he had been introduced and he was willing to take himself off the market, it only took a glimpse of a pair of brown eyes who walked by with Potter and Weasley on their way to Care of Magical Creatures for Draco to solidify his spine.  

“I will not.” He cleared his throat. 

“Excuse me?” Vivienne Dumont gasped out, her friends looking horrified.  

“No,” He corrected, “Excuse me , I have my History of Magic class to get to.” 

 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

It was a wild week of gossip, one that Draco found his name always being thrown into thanks to the updates of Crabbe and Goyle. Draco simply tried his best to focus on his lessons. 

Draco found solace in the stillness of a quiet library late at night. It was the perfect place to stick his nose into a book and ignore everyone around him who was obsessing over this stupid Yule Ball. Although he had been completely honest with Pansy, the desire to attend was low. Draco wasn’t sure if it was because it was, after all, a bloody ball or if because Draco knew he couldn’t possibly ask- 

Draco coughed in surprise when Granger walked by him and sent a polite nod in his direction. It wasn’t a smile but the acknowledgement was sufficient to make him think it wouldn’t be too far fetched... 

Hermione sat at a table next to him, facing Draco. She did her best to pretend Draco didn’t exist as she pulled out an ungodly number of books out of her bag, cracking one open and diving deep into her studies a second later.  

So deep in fact that she didn’t take note that Draco kept stealing glances at her, taking note of new things he noticed about her like the faint freckles on her nose and the soft curve of her cupid’s bow. Hermione also didn’t notice when she had a spectator standing right next to her for a full minute until she set her book down to turn a page.  

Draco witnessed, with a look of disgust, Viktor Krum who formally greeted Hermione. She smiled politely up at him as if he was close to the likes of Neville. 

“I haf a question I vould like to ask.” He grunted out loud enough for Draco to hear. He took noticed that Krum’s hands, that were behind his back, fumbled around with a tiny flower. 

Oh, for fuck’s sake, Draco inwardly groaned. 

“Yes?” Hermione blinked up. 

Please no.   

“Vould you go to the Yule Ball wid me?” Krum mumbled, looking as confident as he was flying. He finally presented the small flower to her. 

Judging by the look on Hermione’s face, she hadn’t expected such a proposal. She couldn’t seem to get the words out of her mouth, but she nodded before she let out the smallest giggle when she accepted the flower.  

Draco’s heart sank.  

Draco wasn’t stupid to convince himself he stood a chance if he had the courage to ask Granger. He would have received a hex for an answer, perhaps. Perhaps she would have laughed in Draco’s face and swore that he was pranking her, that he was out of my mind.  

And perhaps he was out of his mind. He must be if the thought had been floating around when he found himself daydreaming. The one thing Draco would never allow himself to admit was that he was jealous that she happily accepted another man’s offer.  

It made him a bit upset he couldn’t make her glow the way she was now. Granger seemed so distracted that she couldn’t seem to concentrate on her books anymore. The display had put a sour taste in his mouth watching Krum proudly walk away after placing a kiss on her hand. Draco was sure he couldn’t be able to read more of Beauty and the Beast . Not when he had the sudden motivation to find someone to ask to the Ball.

The sudden curiosity to see her and make sure that Krum didn't cross the line with her... He wanted to see what Hermione would look like if he had been the one with enough courage to take her by the hand and asked- 

“Get a grip,” Draco hissed at himself. Exhausted, he didn’t want to wrestle with his own thoughts anymore. Thinking of her was draining. Despite knowing that Hermione was left alone, he couldn’t enjoy this ruined moment any longer. He was sure his disapproval was written all over his face. Quick to fix it, Draco promptly cleared his throat quietly, and relaxed his face. Fully concentrating on not having such a fridged appearance, Draco had to reread the same page ten times before turning the page, only to immediately regret it and flipping back to read once more.  

Perhaps I could convince Parkinson...   

His fingers lightly grazed the crisp pages of his book about to turn the page again when he recalled the sting of Parkinson’s slap and decided against it. There were a few Beauxbaton girls that had caught his eye, but Draco wasn’t sure if he truly wanted to spend the entire night brushing up on his mediocre French. He let out a sigh, closing his eyes to rub the stress out of them.  

When he opened them back up, there was a small piece of folded parchment that just landed softly on his open book. Surprised, he looked up to find Hermione looking hopefully at him, her smile was weary.  

Open , she mouthed. 

He did.  

In the familiar handwriting he’s seen once before, her neat scrawl said: 

Please, I beg, don’t tell a soul Malfoy.   

Sensing her desperation, Draco grinned back up at her, grabbing his own quill and ink from his book back to respond with: 

I wouldn’t dream.  

She kept the note that he sent over. Hermione seemed more disturbed than before.  

Deciding that attending the Yule Ball wouldn’t be the worst idea, Draco thought it best that it would be much easier to make a list of girls when Granger wasn’t in front of him as a form of distraction. Draco began to gather his things, recalling the girls that had shown an invested interest in him.  

He weighed the possibility that a majority would have already been snatched up but Draco thought he still had a fighting chance with someone decent in his year.  

Draco walked out the library mentally listing who wasn’t a friend of Pansy, someone who wasn't desperate or in Hufflepuff. Draco was deep in thought a few steps exiting the Library when a pair of light footsteps came rushing over to him.  

Both of Hermione’s small hands lightly gripped his arm and he knew it was her before he had turned around. That familiar scent he caught in potions once hit him before she reached him. Despite knowing his heart registered her way before his mind caught up, Draco was still in shock she had chased him down.  

Her brows were upturned in worry.  

“Malfoy.” She begged.  

He stared at her hands, feeling wisps of a tingle sensation penetrating his skin. The feeling was exhilarating. She looked down at her hands and immediately removed them, as if she had just released an insect. Clasping her hands together, Granger brought up her concern again.  

“Really, Malfoy,” She insisted, “I know you are the last person who would ever do me the favor but please, I really would like to keep this a secret.” 

“Why-” 

“I’m not daft, I know my name will be tossed into the school’s gossip and I know everyone will eventually find out,” She explained, “But I’m not sure if I’m ready, you know? I’m not sure if I could handle being talked about if it’s not over grades or related to Harry...” 

Draco blinked stupidly, “I- uh, I meant to ask why you think I would be the last person to grant you a favor.” 

The pair both fell silent because they both knew exactly why that would be.  

However, Draco was surprised that he had been able to ask such a bold question. Hermione was probably shocked by such a stupid question to ask. Of course, it was completely acceptable to expect that Draco wouldn’t be willing to make the lives of the Golden Trio easier, especially Hermione. Yet, here he was offering his genuine compliance. 

“How hard did Parkinson hit you?” She suddenly asked.  

He licked his lips and turned away. As embarrassing as it was to know she had heard of his misfortunes, he was still surprised Hermione wasn’t completely immune to the gossip that surrounded them. 

“Forget I asked, Granger.” He cleared his throat, “Like I said I wouldn’t dream of spilling your secret.” 

“Malfoy.” She sighed as he began to step away from her. Frowning, Draco had to figure out what in the world he was going to do with these feelings of the slight sting of her hesitation. It was more pronounced than having to witness her accept Krum’s offer. Surely, his feelings couldn’t be developing, right? 

“Malfoy?” Hermione called out again. Draco focused ahead of him, hoping his feet would catch up to his plan of running away as quickly as possible.  

Is this what Snape had warned him about? How complicated could this really get? How easily things could grow? 

“Malf- Draco! ” She shouted after him and the boy froze, midstep. He turned to face her, shocked that she had said his name. His heart paused briefly as if it was holding its own breath. Hermione looked as clueless as Draco was confused.  

Her eyes fluttered, chest rising up and down. Draco could only assume it was panic she was displaying, otherwise he could have fooled himself that it was passion and that was not going to help him at all. Draco bit down on his lip to force his gaze on her face. 

“ Yes ?”  

“Will you promise?” She quietly asked, still unsure of what she had just ignited in him, “It’s just that, well, Ronald has been temperamental lately and Harry doesn’t need any more unnecessary distractions-”  

“I promise,” He confirmed with a stiff nod, “ Hermione .” 

With that, she understood the complexity of the line that she just blurred. 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

It wasn’t like Draco’s world had stopped in search of this perfect date he had formed in his mind. He still went about his days as normally as possible with one constant on his mind as the middle of December came close: Occlumency.

Draco was due for another round of disappointing Snape as he had done in the first three trials with Snape. 

Oddly, Snape’s threats of having his memories erased were never realized in the months before. However, he seemed to access Draco’s memories surrounding Hermione with more ease. Draco knew it was time to start taking Occlumency more seriously since the very last memory Snape came across on was Draco staring flushed faced at a Wand Whisperer’s cover. A witch in a lacy pair of underwear laying back on a bed of dark green satin with long dark bouncy curls just barely covering her chest made his head spin in the bathtub of his private washroom. Water lapped over the edges as his hand stroked his painfully stiff member.

Draco let out a long sigh and didn’t even flinch at the sight of Snape pacing around pulling away at a very private memory.  

“Remind me what you said again,” He uttered under his breath, pausing to cast a look of contempt. Draco shrugged, petting Aster, glad that Snape hadn’t abandoned the dog they had found over the summer and, better yet, decided to keep him in his office. “Something about being able to keep your emotions in check? I’ve lost count of the number of times I witnessed you fail since November.” 

“So she’s been popping up.” Draco shrugged, “It’s not like I can ignore her when I have lessons with her.” 

“You could focus more on your books than staring at her for hours.” Snape plopped down at his desk. Aster immediately rose, pressing his skinny limbs into Draco’s thighs as he leapt off to scurry over to Snape’s side. Snape didn’t hesitate to pat Aster gently on the head. “Obviously I’m the insane one allowing the ill formed plans of a fourteen-year-old boy to unfold.” 

Deflated, Draco rolled his eyes up in contemplation, “What if I don’t know how to hide my memories? What if I, you know, can’t ? If I lack the abilities-” 

“So you let a silly infatuation deter you?” Snape raised his voice, “You must find a reason to guard your memories for your own protection. Distractions only weaken your concentration! You've allow her to grab hold of you and it has hinder your progress. How well do you think you will fair up to protect yourself when her inevitable rejections threaten to crumble you? If you fail , Draco, then the lives of your parents are in jeopardy, you and I... and by association now, you’ve damned her as well.” 

Draco’s eyes flickered back to Snape who gingerly rubbed his tired eyes and raising brows in defeat.  

“Have you any idea how much I have done to protect you too? I’ve withheld information from both your mother and Dumbledore,” He cleared his throat, “I think you know what would happen if your mother were to discover your little infatuation. She, no doubt, would attempt to have it cursed out of you or even have you sent away. But allow me to say, Draco, that nothing is more brutal than having Dumbledore dive into the power love possess. As you are aware, Dumbledore would jump at the change to encourage you to lean into the depths of your sentiments. However, I believe it’s best to give you the freedom to choose, with no added pressure. Even if you're putting me in danger with your stupid feelings.” 

“I’m not in love.” Draco sneered, “Hormonal at best.” 

“So then, you do not care if you already damned her if the Dark Lord discover your affections and were to use her-” 

Draco insides twisted uncomfortably. 

“Get his hands on her. On top of the fact that she is second to Potter, to know that he could use her to punish you and your family? You've giving him so much ammunition in one single person. He will not hesitate to torture you into submission once he knew you were soft for her.” 

A tight knot pulled at Draco’s throat. Feeling helpless at the thought that his love, no not love, his curiosity could put her in harm's way. That he could be selfish enough to implicate her more than she already is. What an awful thing Draco’s attention brings. 

He has taken the liberty to explore what this interest was in her and looked down the path that he  knew was an impossibility.  

He allowed his mind to wander far beyond the reach of fantasy and that was enough.  

It will be enough.  

It has to be enough. 

“You will return home at midnight on Christmas Eve.” Snape announced, “Your mother wrote. She misses you and may I add that she is strongly considering keeping you next summer. As I’ve seen, I haven’t been exactly doing my due diligence instilling the skills that are required for your protection. Surely, something she will notice if I continue to fail you. We will be meeting every Thursday evening to catch up when you return from winter break. I refuse to have your reluctance to comply reflect my work. You will not fail me . Understood?”  

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Draco tried.  

He really did try.  

And it felt like distracting himself with his friends and school was working but it didn’t help with one pressing issue: he still didn’t have a date for the Ball. Considering it was now days away and his mother had sent him dress robes, he made use of an uneventful Wednesday afternoon to walk around the grounds to see who would catch his attention.  

He was advised not to look in Parkinson’s way, although, he wasn’t planning to. Not if he risked another slap.  

It seems like the ever-loyal Pansy Parkinson caught wind of his dress robes package and was in hysterics after classes ended for the day. Draco tried his best to look like he had a purpose walking around school. Lingering behind after classes were finished, casually chatting away, just to see who would entertain his attention. Still, after his late lunch he had no clue who he would take. He was right in believing that the majority of girls that once shown interest in him had now found dates.

In the slight panic, Draco even considered Millicent Bulstrode but after her hand went further North of his thigh when he sat next to her in History one day, he nearly jumped out of his own skin and excused himself to the bathroom.

Draco hid in there for the rest of the lesson, in fear that Bulstrode would jump at the chance of demanding him to take her to the ball. Draco splashed his face with cold water hoping to wash away his concerns with the little time he had left as well as the dwindling pool of prospects. It was what plagued him for the rest of the day. He had less than three days before the Ball and there was no hope in him that he would find someone decent as he’d hoped.

Someone friendly. Someone who understood it was noncommittal. Someone that just made sense standing next to Draco...  

The day went by in a haze, disappointment had taken him up to the library to unload some of the books he had been carrying around. Also, he needed a bit of privacy so he could sulk because in a few hours he would only have two days left and he couldn't believe it was this hard to land a date.  

He was after all, a Malfoy, and a dashing one at that. He was sure he could convince a girl to change her mind on their date but he just didn't want to... He knew he didn't need to put that much effort because he didn't have to. He’s had plenty of girls approach him with intentions to flirt, to date, or for a little bit of snogging before.

Even during McGonagall’s dance lesson, girls nearly wrestled each other to reach him first before he reached Pansy who happened to be right next to him.

Draco was flabbergasted at his sudden misfortune that he had to face. He certainly didn't want to go stag just to make sure Krum didn't lay a filthy finger on her.

Draco stalked away once he had returned some transfiguration books to Madam Pince and stormed up the stairs to find that spot of privacy he was keen to.

It was a magical hidden nook that most students passed by without realizing was there. All that needed to be done was to run three fingers along the first three bookshelves and then peek into the fourth aisle. There would be a slight opening at the very end that shined bright especially on sunny days. It was as if the fourth bookshelf was intentionally placed to hide the cozy circular area from the usual traffic of students.

As Draco approached the opening, that was wide enough to pass through sideways, it had come to his realization that it was currently occupied, and the usual brightness of the nook was hazed with a light veil of smoke. He looked inside, carefully making sure he wasn’t interrupting a serious snogging session when he came upon the likes of Daphne Greengrass.  

She was a quiet girl from his year who mainly kept to herself. With golden blonde hair curled into brushed spirals and a black headband that crowd her doll like face, she was vastly different from her younger sister Astoria. Astoria had straight dark brown hair, had sharp features like he did, and was the life of her friend group in the third year. 

Perhaps he would have extended the invitation to Astoria if it wasn’t for the fact that she had asked Goyle in front of him after Pansy loudly proclaimed that Draco wouldn’t be attending the Ball at all earlier that month.

Daphne had her legs propped up on the small table centered in the nook and her left hand angled lazily away from her as a small stick seemed to be the cause of the all the haze. 

Draco recalled that it was something muggles smoked from those tiny white sticks. He had seen a few teenagers over the summer smoke and asked Snape if he could try but he had adamantly refused to buy Draco a box. It was just the curiosity. It wasn't as if Draco had taken a puff from his father's pipe before.

“Daphne,” Draco cleared his throat to make his presence known, “I didn’t know you were here.” 

She brought the stick to her lips and like magic she blew out more smoke from her mouth.  

“Draco,” She nodded, acknowledging his presence, “You know about this nook. Not surprising, I suppose.” 

He leaned against the small opening and crossed his arms, “A great hiding spot, isn’t it?” 

“Not what most people intend to use it for,” She smirked, “But yes. A decent place to hide from everyone. Expecting someone?”

Draco shook his head. Daphne didn't press. She seem to understand as she shrugged before using the table to put out her stick. It left a small black circle from the burn of the embers. Daphne took care of the damaged wood with the wave of her wand just as she stood up and presented the nook to Draco.  

Something that Draco appreciated about Daphne was that she never really engaged with much of the pride that has to do with the houses of Hogwarts. It was as if she simply came to learn and left every end of the year.  

A sudden idea struck Draco as she stuck out her book bag for him to grab. It was a tight squeeze to enter and exit the nook, shouldering a bag would make it nearly impossible to squeeze out.  

Another thing to note about Daphne was that she did not expect anything else but the gentle treatment of men to help her out. She was the epitome of what a true Slytherin Princess is. Draco hooked her bag at the crook of his elbow and extended his hand out for her. 

“Excited for the holidays?” He asked, making small talk. She threw Draco an immediate curious look as Draco was now known for engaging in light conversations, a far cry from who he was before. Off in the distance, a pair of echoing footsteps grew more noticeable. Draco paused, cocking his head to the side to figure out if the footsteps were heading their way. 

“I suppose so,” She sighed out. She began making her way out of the short but narrow opening, shuffling sideways. Daphne’s dainty hand darted out for Draco to grab. It seemed like she wasn’t going to question Draco’s sudden openness and was going to entertain whatever was on his mind.  

“I heard you were leaving Christmas Eve?” She cocked her head to the side, “Can't be too bad to have an exit plan just in case the Yule Ball is a dud.” 

Just as Daphne stepped out, she stumbled, and Draco steadied her balance. She had grabbed hold of his shoulders to catch herself and then there was a silence. The footsteps had stopped. Daphne wasn’t looking at Draco’s face when he asked if she was alright.  

There was a pause when Draco noticed her distraction and followed the line of her gaze only to find Granger at the end of the aisle, with Krum appearing behind her. Hermione was stunned as she quickly made up an excuse about a book being in the other aisle. Draco couldn’t possibly imagine that Hermione was leading him to the snogging nook... There was no way Krum could fit through the tight opening. Draco's jaw firmed at even the possibility.
 
Daphne let go of Draco and took back her book bag as she continued to stare at him all the while the emotions trickle back in. The same emotions that he had managed to suppress for an impressive week and some days.  

“Alright there Draco?” Daphne smirked, “Looks like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

“Do you have a date to the ball, Daphne?” He blurted out. His hand immediately flew to the back of his blonde head to nervously scratch whatever phantom itch was there. She looked taken aback. 

“Have you not found a date yet?” She asked incredulously, her big curls bounced when she flicked her hair over her shoulder, straightening herself up. 

“Do you not keep up with school gossip?” Draco responded with my own question.  

“Well, not really.” She said simply, “I only hear from what my sister tells me. She's actually the one who heard you were leaving on the Eve from Pansy.” 

She shrugged and Draco sighed out.  

“Would you then?” 

“Would I what?” 

Frowning that he had to be more direct, he repeated the question on his mind, “Would you do me the honor of coming to the ball with me? That is, unless, you have someone you’re going with.” 

“I don’t.” She shook her head.  

“Then?” 

“I don’t know,” She licked her lips, “I wasn’t planning on going, I don’t have a dress at all and it’s days away now.” 

Draco smiled to assure her, “That is no problem at all.”