T R A I N E D T O S I N | dramione

Five

It was approaching 7 o'clock and Hermione stood, admiring herself in the mirror. It was the first time she had put the dress on. No doubt, it was a princess dress, tight at the waist before bursting into multiple full layers of thick fabric. The vermillion cloth hugged her waist and chest, accentuating her breasts as the shape dipped down in the centre. The straps were mesh, hanging lazily off her shoulders.

Ginny burst through the door, a makeup bag in one hand and hair wands in the other,
"We're doing this the old fashioned way." She dropped the equipment onto the bed and then turned to face Hermione, cutting her speech short, "you look incredible, Hermione."

Hermione faced back to the mirror, "Thankyou Gin but it's just so big." The girls chuckled and Ginny reached into one of her bags, "the bigger the better." She pulled out a curling iron, a hungry look in Ginny's eye. Tilting her head, Hermione sighed, "do I really have much of a choice?"

-

By the time Ginny was done with Hermione, it was 8 o'clock and they were late. Hermione's hair landed just short of her waist, Ginny had given her a small amount of mascara and then started getting ready herself: the purple dress clung to her figure until turning to a fairly like skirt nearer her hips.

"Harry and Ron said they'll meet us down there." Ginny slipped on her flats while Hermione struggled with her shoes, wobbling on one leg. With one last look in the mirror from them both, they darted out the door, tripping over the bottoms of their dresses on the way.

The halls were empty as the majority of students, most likely, would already be at the ball. Christmas was over a month away and yet they still chose to hold it now, though Hermione was grateful, it was just what she needed; an escape. Light music started to surround them as they neared the hall, along with mumbling and laughing from the students. Both the double doors were spread open and as Ginny and Hermione stood at the top of them, their hearts beat fast, almost in time with the music being played at the back of the room.

Pansy rolled her eyes scoffing at something behind Draco and he frowned, turning around to face the stairs. There, stood at the top was Granger. She wore a red dress;  talk about house pride and her hair was curled, resting perfectly around her waist. She didn't look like her self, not the usual messy, stressed witch he was used to seeing every evening. She looked serene.

"Griffindor's princess." Blaise switched his focus between Hermione and him, raising an eyebrow before looking her up and down.
"I would gladly have a bit of Granger." His mouth was agape, tongue pushed against his teeth. Draco's eyes were sternly focussed on his friend who should've stopped talking at the end of his first sentence.

She began to walk down the stairs, hands keeping her dress raised slightly so she could just about see her shoes. Ron waited for her at the bottom, awestruck and speechless. Hermione took his hand in hers. "Ron." She curtsied and he bowed his head, "Hermione." They both laughed, returning to their usual posture, "you look amazing. Not that you don't always look amazing." He flushed, speaking quickly.
"Thankyou, Ron. You look rather fetching yourself." She grinned at him, in all honesty, he looked nothing near to fetching in his ghastly dress robes.

"Can I get you a drink?" He gestured to the table to her right.
"That would be lovely."

-

Ron stood leant against the wall, drink in hand and watching his sister with Harry.
"Ron, it would be better if you didn't watch them, you know." She laughed reaching for his arm and squeezing it. The couple at the other end of the room had been kissing all night and though he was aware of their usual antics, had never really seen them like this before.

The lead singer of the band began to speak, earning theirs, along with most of the rooms, attention, "now, I want everyone on the dance floor, partner up, you'll know the dance." Without a second thought, Hermione grabbed her boyfriend's  arm, dragging him towards the centre of the room and into the mass of people. The beginning to a song she recognised began to play and, in instinct, two lines were formed; boys and girls. The lines bowed to each other before taking their partners hand, swapping places with them and then pulling each other to the middle and back out again.

Pansy grinned at Draco as he looked anywhere but at her as Blaise danced next to him, practically undressing his date with his eyes as they spun in circles, her dress often rising slightly too high.

Ron firmly gripped Hermione's waist, lifting her into the air and her dress inflated with the air under her. Her hair became disheveled as they spun, keeping eye contact and as the song slowed down, they released each other with a parting smile.

Draco practically pushed Pansy off of him, hearing the slowing of the song and as he found himself back in the line, a new partner was staring back. He looked at her and she stared back, her curled hair swept messily over her face and her mesh straps offering scarce support to her dress.

She watched him, unsure of what to do. He gave away nothing, watching her intently as if waiting for her to move. She wouldn't. If he had really thought of her as small and helpless, something to throw around and treat however he liked, this was her way of proving him wrong.

She wouldn't back down and nor would he. Too stubborn you could say.

Draco held out his hand, eyes still glued to hers and as Hermione placed hers on top, her heart rate quickened. She had been expecting him to recoil away, frown in disgust and yet he didn't. Draco closed his hand over the back of hers, guiding them in a circle before the music quickened and so did he. He slid his hand down from her shoulders, following each curve of her spine before resting it at the small of her back. Their hands were elevated in line with their heads, firmly gripped onto one another's as their feet danced below them with ease.

Draco took hold of her waist, hoisting her into the air, much higher than Ron had, and carefully lowering her back down. He was treating her like an ornament, something fragile that could break if too much pressure was applied or force was used. Their eyes remained lost in each others, brown in grey, fire in rain. They grew breathless, Hermione was pulled towards Draco as their bodies collided, completely pressed up against one another and their rising chests in sync. Their short breaths merging. Their foreheads were almost touching, their scents mingled; mint and raspberry.

It was the type of smell picked for a perfume or cologne, unexpected and different yet so perfect, contrasting with each other in such a way one would crave it. They hadn't lost eye contact since the beginning of the sequence and, looking into one another's eyes now, faces so close together, they knew, no matter how small, something had changed.

The guitar abruptly stopped and Draco pushed Hermione away from him, walking down the room and out of the side doors. Stumbling backwards, the flustered witch looked around, Ron had been watching her dance with him. He shook his head before setting to leave through the large doors at the peak of the stairs. She chased after him, grabbing his arm as he reached them.

"Don't." Ron turned away but She frowned, tightening her grip on his arm as he tried to shake her off.
"Ron. I had to dance with him, he was in front of me, I had no choice."
"When we changed partners, do you know who stood in front of me? It was Lavender." Hermione swallowed, suddenly feeling as though she was at the losing end of an argument.

"Just as Malfoy stood opposite you, except I didn't dance with her. There's always a choice." He yanked his arm away from her, leaving through the doors. Hermione sank down on the stairs where she was left, burying her head between her knees.

What he saw was two rivals made to dance with each other under unfortunate circumstances. Nothing more, nothing less. Perhaps he was making things up to explain her distancing and their faulty relationship, justify her behaviour and using Draco as an excuse. But it was him. It was Ron and he wouldn't allow himself to think that possibly there wasn't a specific reason for the fall of their relationship, just that they weren't right.