Dramione Drabbles

Don't Mess With The Curls

The idea of Draco getting mad whenever Hermione's hair gets straightened wouldn't leave my head
Wrote a drabble about it
Bon Appétit

Pansy Parkinson lounged against the mahogany bar, a smug smile playing on her lips as she watched Hermione Granger make her entrance. The ballroom was ablaze with the glitter of chandeliers and the rustle of high society, but it was Hermione who drew the eyes tonight.

The gown Pansy had chosen shimmered under the lights, hugging Hermione's figure in a way that was both elegant and daring. But what truly crowned the transformation was the hair – those notoriously bushy locks now tamed into a sleek cascade that rippled down her back.

"Look at you, Granger," Pansy murmured to herself, sipping her champagne. "Who would've thought?"

Before Hermione could spot her, Draco Malfoy cut through the crowd like a storm about to break. His glare was unmistakable, even from across the room, and it landed squarely on Pansy before he zeroed in on Hermione.

"Malfoy, don't you dare ruin this for me," Pansy hissed under her breath, but it was too late.

"Granger!" Draco's voice sliced through the hum of conversation as he reached Hermione, who turned towards him with an exasperated roll of her eyes.

"Malfoy, I'm really not in the mood for—"

"Is this Pansy's work?" He interrupted, an accusing finger jabbing towards Hermione's hair. "You look... different."

"Thank you," Hermione replied, sarcasm lacing her tone, though a blush crept up her cheeks. "I do own a mirror, you know."

"Clearly a defective one if it let you walk out looking like a—" Draco never finished his sentence. With a flick of his wand, water spouted from its tip, drenching Hermione head to toe. Gasps filled the ballroom as another flick sent a gust of wind that whipped around Hermione, her once-straight hair springing back to life in untamable curls.

"Draco!" Hermione screeched, now looking like a drowned cat at a beauty pageant.

"Oops," he said, the corner of his mouth twitching into a self-satisfied smirk. He turned back to throw a pointed look at Pansy, who couldn't help the cackle that escaped her. Draco mimed watching her, his fingers to his eyes then back at her, the universal gesture of playful surveillance.

"Come on," he said, taking Hermione by the hand, which was met by her confused but unresisting grip. "We're dancing."

"Like this?" Hermione protested, but she was already being led onto the dance floor, leaving a trail of water behind her.

"Consider it... character building," Draco quipped, pulling her close as the music swelled.

"Only if by 'character' you mean 'vengeance,'" Hermione quipped back, but Pansy could see the reluctant smile fighting against Hermione's scowl.

"Happy birthday to me," Pansy whispered, toasting the air with her glass as she settled back to enjoy the spectacle of Draco and Hermione's latest escapade. Their bickering was better than any present money could buy.