dramione one shots

29 | slow dancing

"What's wrong with you tonight?" Draco asked finally, when Hermione lost the fifth game of Wizards Chess in a row and watched as she threw the pieces scattering them all across the floor.

They were holed up in Draco's room, playing games whilst he smoked. Only tonight, Hermione had seemed distracted and fidgety and unlike herself. She kept making mistakes in her game, and she flushed whoever Draco looked at her.

"Nothing's wrong with me," Hermione replied too quickly, sighing and pushing a hand through her rumpled chocolate  hair which had come out of its messy bun while she'd clutched it in her hands during their last chess game. Across the room, the the sound of the gramophone blared from the desk. Hermione has brought it in from her room as they always seemed to end up in Draco's.

Draco raised his eyebrows at Hermione's stammered reply, but said nothing. Instead, he pulled his wand from his pocket and lit a cigarette. He never pushed things with Hermione— he didn't want to risk their friendship.

"It's just..." Hermione broke off, shaking her head and frowning. She swept her hair out of her eyes and looked up at Draco, her hazel eyes flickering uncertainly from the scattered chess pieces to Draco's unwavering gaze. Her cheeks were still slightly flushed. "I... I want... R- Ron wants to dance with me," she blurted, and the colour on her cheeks darkened.

"What's so terrible about that?" Draco asked coolly, exhaling in a plume of smoke that curled up into the air above them of the dimly lit room. "Well aside form the fact it's Weasley?"
Hermione was squirming uncomfortably the way she always did when she wasn't quite telling Draco the whole truth. It was strange, he noted, how Hermione could lie outrageously to Harry or Ron about their secret friendship without flinching— but she could never seem to lie to Draco.

"I— I can't slow dance," Hermione muttered, putting her hand against her lips and not meeting Draco's gaze.

Draco blinked. "You've never slow danced with a boy before?"

"No," Hermione said, through a cloud of smoke. Draco fleetingly wondered why Hermione felt the need to bring it up now, but the thought was eclipsed by the surprise that someone as painfully beautiful as Hermione had never slow danced before.

"Well, it's not difficult," Draco raised his eyebrows, tapping ash into the little glass ash tray that sat between them on the floor. He glanced up at Hermione, who was still fidgeting uncomfortably, her gaze fixed somewhere behind him.

"Can you teach me?" Hermione blurted, hazel eyes flickering to capture Draco's for a split second before Hermione ducked her head, taking a shaky breathe, her cheeks flushed. Draco swallowed uncomfortably, his heart beating painfully fast in his chest, and looked away himself.

"I'm really not sure that's the best idea, Granger," Draco said evenly, although his heart ached to dance with her. It was awful how often Hermione asked things of him that were so impossible because they were what Draco wanted more than anything. Being friends with Hermione had never been easy, but it was worth it. It was better than the alternative. Better than been thrown out by his family, and scrutinised by the public. But he wanted more than friendship and he was certain she knew his intentions towards her.

"Oh, but please, Malfoy," She protested, gazing imploringly at Draco. "Just once. I'll buy you Fizzing Whizbees next time I'm in Hogsmeade."

Draco exhaled wearily, dropping his gaze. He could never stand up to her— that was his weakness, and Hermione knew it.

"Alright," he relented, taking another drag of his cigarette and looking at her. "But just this once."

A wide smile broke out across Hermione's face and she jumped up, pushing her tousled brown hair out of her eyes and straightening her white blouse; her robes lay in a crumpled heap on the bed beside Draco's.