love is not always a compromise, sometimes it’s a complete surprise.
It was a quiet Saturday in the library—one of those days where the weather was halfway between rainy and foggy such that there was this cloud of drowsiness enveloping the entire castle. Many of the students were indoors this particular day, cozying up in their common rooms with friends or just milling about the grounds but staying close so they can duck into a dry place once it starts drizzling again.
Hermione Granger, however, spent this particular Saturday with a book in the library. It wouldn’t be surprising to anyone else—after all, Miss Granger did have a reputation of being one of the more bookish people in her year, which also contributed greatly to her other reputation of being the smartest witch of her age and possibly even the smartest witch Hogwarts had ever seen.
But no, what was surprising was that instead of picking up a large tome about the thirty-seven uses of salamander scales or reading about elvish rights at the turn of the nineteenth century, Hermione Granger had her nose in Pride and Prejudice, one of her favorite romance novels.
If her friends Harry and Ron saw that their best girl friend was reading a book that had absolutely no relation to class or development of the world and the people who live in it, they would have probably fainted. Which is exactly why Hermione preferred the isolation of the library as the setting for what she felt constituted a last Saturday afternoon.
It had been trying, to say the least, to balance everything that had been going on in her life at the moment. Coming back to Hogwarts after the defeat of the Dark Lord was fairly easy, but what was difficult was trying to piece back together what once was as she maintained her position as Head Girl, aced her NEWTs, and occasionally helped out in reforming the Wizarding World starting with inter-house unity.
It was just as she turned the page when she heard a noise from the front of the library disturbing her peace. She took her time reading the first paragraph of the next chapter before lifting her eyes to meet the rather irritated gaze of one young Draco Malfoy, Head Boy, war-hardened Slytherin, and Hermione’s dorm mate.
“Hello, Malfoy,” she said pleasantly, putting down her book and gesturing for him to sit. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“Granger,” he started, grey eyes intense as he looked at her with the same annoyed expression. “I told you that if you wanted to read, you could do it in our common room. I had to go around the whole school looking for you,” he ranted as he sat down next to her.
Hermione hid a smile and shrugged. “You know as well as I that the last bit is a lie,” she pointed out. “Everyone knows that if I’m not at the dorms, I’m at the library. Simple as that. You of all people know this.”
Draco rolled his eyes and propped his feet up on the table, crossing his arms behind his head. “That’s not the point. The point is that I was looking for you.”
“Okay, so you found me. Now what?”
Draco was silent for five seconds as he looked at the girl next to him. “Shit, I forgot.”
Hermione giggled. This was typical Malfoy, at least the Malfoy she had gotten to know in recent months. They had formed some sort of a tentative friendship when the term started, and found themselves enjoying each other’s company even if they had moments where they were basically bantering like little children.
“Oh Malfoy, what ever will we do without you?” Hermione sing-songed, shaking her head and nudging his legs away from the table.
He smirked at her. “For one, you wouldn’t be able to live without me. Without my devilish good looks and charming personality, you would have absolutely no reason to get up in the morning.” He ran his fingers through his halo of fine golden hair, mussing it up slightly to fall in a sexy way in his eyes.
Hermione fought the urge to blush but failed miserably. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to lie?” she groaned. As much as she had this tiny crush on the handsome Slytherin, she really hoped he never found out lest she look like a pining fangirl.
Draco smirked. “Exactly, so it’s not my fault if you can’t handle the truth, my little Gryffindorkette.” Hermione rolled her eyes.
“And second, which was the reason I was looking for you in the first place is the fact that you wouldn’t be able to handle the Halloween ball without me,” Draco continued, thankfully changing the subject.
Hermione’s eyes widened. “Oh right, the ball!” she said in surprise, remembering why she needed the break from all the stress. “Aren’t we pretty much covered with everything through?” she asked Draco, a small frown on her face. “Decorations, food, invitations, band,” she began ticking off each one off her fingers.
“Yes, I’ve already asked some of the prefects to supervise decorations tomorrow afternoon. The Weird Sisters are supposed to arrive tomorrow afternoon as well,” he informed her to quell her worries. “I presume food and invitations have been taken care of from your end? It would be a surprise if the great Hermione Granger didn’t get her work done,” he teased.
Hermione scoffed and punched him in the shoulder. Draco pretended it hurt. “Why are you always violent around me, woman?” he exclaimed, rubbing his shoulder and pouting. “You are a witch so why can’t you just…” he trailed off. “Oh wait, I take that back, punching is fine.”
Hermione shook her head and smiled slightly. “So is that it then for the ball tomorrow?” she asked him. “We didn’t forget anything right?”
“Actually, we did.”
This bit of news was a bomb dropped on Hermione Granger’s head. How could they have forgotten anything with so much careful planning? Just as she was about to formulate a plan to remedy this oversight, Draco produced a red rose and held it out to her.
Hermione was taken aback. “Wha—what’s this?” she stammered, looking at him, then at the rose, then back at him. “Are you under the Imperius curse or something?” she blurted out.
Draco sighed, exasperated. “Granger, this is taking a lot of bloody Gryffindork courage to do, so please accept this rose?”
When she did, she noticed that a small tag was attached to the long stem of the blossom. Opening the folded card, she read “Will you go to the ball with me, Granger?” in flowing emerald script. She looked up in surprise, biting her lip and meeting Draco’s eyes.
Draco gave her a rare genuine smile, tweaked her nose and stood. “I don’t take no for an answer, Granger. I’ll pick you up at seven.” He jammed his hands in his pockets and gracefully exited the library, whistling a tune as he did.
