Summary: Hermione and Draco both love to have fun. DracoxHermione.

A/N: I posted my first fanfic on the other day and got some lovely reviews, so I've decided to be brave and post another one! I wrote this one recently after listening to MIKA's new song 'We Are Golden'. It's not really a songfic, just inspired by the cheerfulness of it!. Lyrics in italics

Would love to hear what you think!

~Ash

We Are Golden

Teenage dreams in a teenage circus,

Running around like a clown on purpose,

Who gives a damn about the family you come from?

No giving up when you're young and you want some.

Hermione loved to have fun.

She knew this was not what people expected of her, but that was only because they never took the time to get to know her. It was true she possessed an ability to study for hours and, to the mystification of her fellow students, even spent hours in the library when no homework was due. She much preferred a night curled up on a sofa in the Gryffindor common room to all-night drinking matches involving endless supplies of Firewhisky and pounding heads the next morning. And of course, she could never resist producing perfectly memorised answers to the majority of teachers' questions during school lessons.

This was how people thought of Hermione Granger. A bookworm, a know-it-all and more than a little dull. She was sure even her best friends, Harry and Ron, would agree to some extent with that characterisation – although she hoped they wouldn't emphasise the last point too strongly. But in all truthfulness, Hermione simply adored having fun.

As a prefect, she obviously had to be strict on the Weasley twins and their preparations for going into the joke shop trade. That did not impinge, however, on her appreciation for their amusing tricks. After confiscating joke items from Fred and George she had often tried them out on Harry and Ron, stifling the giggles as they accused everyone but her for their bright pink hair or outbreak of pimples.

She had a quite childish sense of humour – she wasn't afraid to admit it. A bruise glared angry and purple from her shin for three weeks after she hit her leg on the edge of a four poster bed whilst trying to jump in a full circle from mattress to mattress around her dormitory. She still laughed at the memory of Ron, sopping wet with clumps of mud and weeds in his hair after she had slipped an arm round his waist in third year and he had jumped in embarrassed shock – right into the lake.

Draco loved to have fun, too.

It was tough work, bullying first years, coming up with new insults for Potter (Scarhead was his particular favourite) and generally maintaining an icy demeanour towards those who tried to befriend him. Sometimes a little bit of fun was required.

Crabbe and Goyle were the unfortunate sources of much of Draco's amusement. Both were so perpetually dumb that even the most ridiculous of requests tended to be performed willingly by the pair. It wasn't bullying, of course. If Draco hadn't of taken advantage of their comedy value, somebody else would have, he assured himself.

Flying was the best though. Soaring across the Hogwarts grounds, either alone or perhaps with a companion, was an unbeatable feeling: dipping down to skip across the lakes surface before twisting and swerving through the Forbidden Forest. It was joyful and, as much as he tried to preserve a blasé look upon his features, a smile was always stretched across Draco's face as he flew.

It hit her right in the face.

Hermione had been wandering down to Hagrid's hut to wish him a merry Christmas when from out of nowhere a snowball had come flying through the air and landed with a crisp smack in her face. Blinking the ice from her eyes, Hermione quickly knelt down to mould her own snowball – but unluckily not before another one collided with the back of her head.

Laughing, she turned and caught a glimpse of the blond perpetrator running towards the forest. Her quick footsteps crunched in the snow beneath her as she chased after him. The sound of chortling met her ears and she spun round, taking aim and hitting her target. A look of shock briefly crossed Draco's face, followed by a grin and another scooping up of snow.

Both revelled in the fun they were having. Sure they were meant to be enemies but it somehow seemed irrelevant in the glistening white ice filled with unashamed laughter and the whizzing of snowballs.

After many minutes of furious battle, Hermione spotted Draco running towards a frozen portion of the lake. His elegant deportment soon diminished as unsteady feet met the slippery surface, his legs wobbling comically and arms splaying wildly before he fell over completely. Hermione, racked with giggles, followed him onto the ice and promptly met the same fate.

Side by side they lay on the frozen lake, smiling and chuckling. To each of them the other looked radiant, their chilled and cheerful faces absorbing the dazzling brightness of the snow surrounding them. Propping himself up on his elbow, Draco tilted his head down and pressed his lips to Hermione's. It all seemed so natural that neither was as shocked as they felt they should be. His mouth tasted of chocolate and orange and roasted chestnuts, no doubt all remnants of already-forgotten Christmas gifts. His gloved hands stroked Hermione's hair, leaving traces of icy particles amongst the waves. His lips were cold but his warm body pressed lightly against her more than compensated. A smile could be felt through the kiss, present on both their lips. The moment was soft and sweet and utterly perfect.

Until suddenly Draco felt a block of freezing snow heaped on top of his head, followed by the brush of Hermione's fingertips against his cheek before she got up and ran across the ice, giggling. Her dark silhouette glimmered and danced before his eyes, a stark contrast to the pale environment, before darting into the forest. Draco waited for just one moment, savouring the tingling of his lips, then jumped up and raced after her.

We are not what you think we are.

We are golden.