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Rule number one: never, ever, ever, leave your date.
That was the one rule Draco always obeyed. There was never a moment in his life where he ‘so suddenly’ had to excuse himself, only not to return. It wasn’t common, to leave your witch alone on the sides while she watches you laugh and flirt with another woman.
Yet, there was a very, very, odd sight in front of him.
Hermione Granger was standing alone in the corner of the ballroom, glaring at her now-ex-boyfriend. She held a flute full of champagne, her left hand balling into a fist while she politely smiled as people began passing by.
Draco could not believe his eyes. She was standing, alone. Weaslette and Potter were nowhere in sight, the Weasel himself was making it very obvious to the public eye that he was flirting with this—new witch. One that was not Hermione.
“I cannot believe my eyes. Merlin, Draco do you see that?” Theodore Nott strolled up beside him, his hands shoved into his pocket, looking as though he’d just saw a pair of ants dancing.
“Nott.” He grumbled.
“What—why the bloody hell is Granger standing alone?” asked a certain black-haired witch.
Before Draco got a chance to answer, his ‘friend’ beat him to it.
“Pretty sure the Weasel dumped her,” Blaise responded, taking a sip from his glass filled to the brim with Red Wine. Pansy turned towards Blaise, shock plastered all over her face.
“You mean to say, that—that red hair boy, the ugliest Weasel broke up with Granger?!” If the ballroom had not been noisy, Draco was sure the entirety of the room would’ve heard Pansy’s thought—question rather.
“I think Blaise has a point,” Theo added. “She looks miserable. I’m going to go talk to her, you coming?” He turned to look directly at Draco.
Draco muttered profanities under his breath, making sure Theo hadn’t heard.
Merlin, he loved yet hated his friends. Rolling his eyes, he walked in-step with Theo, looking anywhere but the brown-haired witch.
When they approached, Granger stared right at him. “If it isn’t Hermione Granger! Theodore Nott, but of course, you can call me Theo,” he winked at her. Draco slapped him on the back.
“Nott… how—lovely to meet you,” she replied tightly. Her lips were in a thin line, hair pulled back tightly into a bun.
From behind, Draco could hear a second-person approach.
“Cut to the chase. Hello Granger, I’m Pansy Parkinson,” Pansy put her hand forward to shake, her red manicure standing out with her black dress.
Granger reached for her hand, shaking it firmly before retreating. “Parkinson, you look good.”
The witch rolled her eyes and huffed, “thank you, I’m well aware.” Pansy looked at Theo, sharing a look Draco knew was not good. “We need partners for the dance now. Draco you didn’t bring a date; take Granger.”
Draco gaped. Granger? He was supposed to dance with her? What?
Granger let out a chuckle and tilted her body towards him. “That sounds like a lovely idea, don’t you think Malfoy?” He hummed in agreement. “Seems like a very efficient way to have a partner that doesn’t ditch their witch,” she grinned. “We’ll be off on the floor,” Granger grabbed his hand, pulling him closer to the floor where all the couples were doing the Waltz.
Quickly, they came into position before the next tune began to play.
Draco was quite surprised Granger knew how to dance. Yet he wouldn’t comment on how she knew exactly when to twirl or move in line. She danced—quite exquisitely.
“Malfoy, just follow with whatever I say. Okay?” She asked him for confirmation. He quickly nodded, hoping to ignore the piercing gaze of her brown eyes. “Ron dumped me, I’m making him jealous. Showing him what he lost,” she said while giving Draco a sad smile.
Draco grinned, “you chose the right man to dance with Granger. Let’s show him, not to dump witches when the most eligible bachelor is in the room.”
He pulled her closer, her arms coming to wrap around his neck, his hands on her waist, feeling the silky red fabric.
He leaned down to whisper in her ear.
“He’s red in the face.”
Draco could hear the fact that she had to stifle a giggle. She sighed while they slowly moved around the floor. For a second, he thought Granger had been staring at him.
What would’ve she seen? The angular shape of his face? The structural cut of his cheekbones? The grey in his eyes? The blonde hair?
Perhaps she’d seen him as a Death Eater, maybe she still did. But at this time, nothing mattered.
“Why don’t we do something, something spontaneous?” Granger looked up at him with wide eyes, a wide grin splitting across her face.
“What are you thinking?” She asked. He shook his head.
Smirking, he replied. “How about I show you?”
Before she had a chance to reply, Draco bought her face up to his, pressing a kiss to her lips. Everything was water around him, and he was drowning.
While their lips crushed together, the pair could hear Weasel cursing and calling her names, looking extremely red in the face, and of course, his friends. Blaise, Pansy, and Theo were cheering and whistling as the whole crowd cheered for the pair.
She pulled back, out of breath. “I like spontaneous. I like the way you do it.”
He smirked, “so do I, Granger.”
Rule number two: never regret an act out of spite.