Author's Note: This story was inspired by 'The Wink' by Aria327. I'd also like to thank Rumaan, whose recent contributions to this fandom have aided me in finding the ending.

Standard Disclaimer.

Gossip

It was a grand party. Everyone who was anyone was there, mingling and laughing, drinking and dancing. A grand celebration of life, bringing together the cream of the new society with an evening of culture and entertainment.

Draco emptied his glass and grimaced. Whichever of the low budget Ministry hacks had organized the catering should be cursed. It was unbelievable the swill they were inflicting on everyone. Why hadn't anyone made a fuss yet?

He left his spot by the wall, aiming for the bar where there was, no doubt, something a little more palatable, when he was knocked backwards. A smaller person stumbled back from him and he steadied himself against the wall.

"Malfoy!"

"Granger?" He stared at her. "Well, you scrub up nicely."

The way her eyebrows arched upwards was quite amusing, though she obviously couldn't take the compliment. That was alright with him. He could just as easily change the tone.

"All things considered."

"Ah, thank you. Never a pleasure, Malfoy." She replied snippily and she stormed away from him, disappearing into the crowds.

Draco shrugged and continued to the bar.

"Barkeep, something better than whatever this was meant to be."

Hermione dusted off her dress as she stood next to Harry, idly listening to one of the ministry's higher ranking bureaucrats waffle on. It really was a nice dress. And so comfortable now that she'd charmed it a bit. Not that she'd ever tell Ginny or Fleur that. She enjoyed living, now.

Harry nudged her with his elbow, a strained smile on his face. She plastered a matching smile on her face and changed the topic to something slightly less boring than finding folders filed by the newest interns under first names rather than family names.

"How about that match last week, with the Falcons…"

Hermione deliberately left that hanging because she had no idea what she was talking about, but could admit to herself that seeing Harry's grin made it worthwhile.

As the two men began a detailed discussion about the Falcons (was that even a Quidditch team?) and their chances for the cup (must have been, go Hermione!), she let her attention lapse once more.

And her traitorous mind turned to Malfoy.

It was strange, she thought, that if Ron had said what Malfoy had, she would have felt complimented. It wasn't a particularly good compliment, more like a throw away statement but with good intentions behind it. Sort of what you expect from a guy who wasn't really thinking about the impact of his words.

She'd never taken Draco Malfoy as one to speak before he thought.

"Are you kidding? There's no way the Falcons would lose that match!"

She looked up in surprise as that oh so familiar voice interjected. She couldn't follow his logic; she'd never been able to follow Quidditch, but he seemed passionate about it. She stared at him, unable to comprehend the topic yet fascinated by his statements.

He glanced over and noticed her gaze was fixed on him. It didn't seem to faze him. Even as she thought that, she mentally shook herself to break it off.

Before she could join the conversation, and possibly make a fool of herself with her utter lack of knowledge on the subject, she heard her name called.

Turning away, she found her supervisor beckoning; obviously wanting to show her off to the wealthy socialites he was standing with.

She sighed in resignation and politely took her leave from the group. Harry acknowledged it with a nod, and she turned away, but not before she'd caught Draco's eye.

Draco watched as Hermione left the conversation, walking gracefully across the floor to the beaming old chap who had called her. He tilted his head, trying to figure out what had him so fixated on her, before another interloper announced that the Chudley Cannons were likely to win the championships because their only competition was the Hollyhead Harpies. Unable to leave that unchallenged, Draco dove back into the conversation.

The Quidditch talk was broken up when a polite request was made for volunteers to start the dancing, accompanied by a steely glare from an elderly woman who was, no doubt, related to Minerva McGonagall.

He managed to avoid being roped into the first set but found himself ambushed by Pansy and the Greengrass sisters. Although all three were now off the market, they seemed intent on terrorizing more men than they had officially laid claim to.

Giving in to the peer pressure, he endured the first dance with Daphne, the nicer of the two sisters, and overall more bearable than Pansy. Then he was forced to join Astoria for a waltz, handing her off to her jealous other half gratefully only to find Pansy waiting for him to take a turn with her.

He was fortunate, however, that this particularly dance included swapping partners. At least he thought so, until he came face to face with Hermione Granger for the third time that night.

"Malfoy." She said politely, curtseying briefly before gliding into the next step of the dance.

"Granger." He replied, stepping up behind her and taking her hand.

Hermione felt slightly uncomfortable dancing with him.

It wasn't that he'd once fought against them, or that he'd spent their entire educational experience together making fun of her and her friends, and everything they stood for. It wasn't even the dislike she held for him, built up over all those years.

It was more to do with how easy he made the whole exercise look. No doubt he'd endured hours of dance lessons as a child, preparing him for events such as this. That was beside the point.

Every other partner she'd danced with had stumbled slightly, gripped her hand a little too tight or shifted their hand to inappropriate areas of her body.

Malfoy effortlessly led her through the steps with a confidence and ease that made her feel clumsy and awkward. And all she had to do was follow him. How unfair.

"You're quite good." She murmured.

"Thank you." He replied, without even a hint of humility.

The dance came to completion and he spun her round gently to finish with a bow. She fell into a curtsey and then stepped forward, colliding with him as he moved to do the same.

"Sorry." She stepped back to go around him.

"Don't mention it." He muttered, but before they could go their separate ways, the band struck the opening notes to a waltz.

As the new dance started, the press of the other participants forced them back together. With a sigh of resignation, Draco took Hermione's hand and began leading her through the steps, yet again.

She didn't know where to look. At least the last dance had them facing the same way; she'd been letting her eyes wander over the rest of the room while her mind panicked at his skill and proximity.

Now the panic had been kicked into overdrive because, while his skill was still evident, his proximity had been increased.

Oh, he smells nice.

"You alright, Granger?"

The question jolted her and she looked up to see him looking down at her. His eyes seemed almost closed because he'd kept his head up and was glancing through his eye lashes. They were surprisingly dark, considering the colour of his hair.

"Granger?"

"What? Yes, I'm fine." She replied hurriedly, suddenly realising that her mind had wandered.

"You sure? You seem a little," He leaned down, his mouth oh so close to her ear, "flushed."

She froze and he all but dragged her through the next series of steps before her mind and body re-established their connections. He was right; she could feel the heat in her cheeks.

"I wonder how far down that goes." He mused, a smug smirk on his face as he glanced pointedly at the neckline of her gown.

Her mouth thinned and her eyes narrowed.

"A harmless thought." He stated, turning his head to scan the room.

"Well, you'll never find out." She replied hotly.

"Never say never, Granger." He smirked again, as the last notes of the waltz petered out. Then with a wink, he turned on the spot and disappeared into the crowd.

The table with the light refreshments was his destination. He'd had enough alcohol for the evening; and that dance with Hermione had him feeling a little hot and bothered. Perhaps one of those artful little canapés or a tiny glass of punch would ease the heat. So long as nobody had spiked it.

He was two steps away from the table when he ran into a barrier. It took the form of Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini. His old classmates hadn't really been among his nearest and dearest; they weren't even close enough for friendly joking. Yet it seemed they were going to attempt to rectify that issue.

"Nott, Zabini. To what do I owe the pleasure?" He asked politely, if coldly, as he tried to sidestep them.

"Granger, huh?" Theo asked with a grin. "I can admit she's looking foxy this evening."

"Yes, she's managed to tame her hair." Draco replied, finally gaining access to the food, "Like a nice fox pelt should be."

"Deliberately misunderstanding the statement. Blaise, my friend, what does that suggest to you?"

"Could be a hidden attraction." Blaise said quietly, "There's definitely unresolved tension between them."

"That's unresolved sexual tension, Drake." Theo added.

"My name is Draco." He responded in a dangerously low tone, "And I don't believe we share an intimacy that allows you to converse with me on this subject."

Theo pulled back; a little shocked, a bit frightened and a tad more insulted. Blaise caught his eye and shook his head.

"No one does." He stated, "But, if you ever want to change that, you know where to find us."

Draco eyed the two men before dismissing them with a nod and turning back to the food. Nothing looked overly appealing. Yet another fault with the Ministry's caterers. Could they do nothing right?

By the time he'd perused all that they had to offer; he had shaken off his attendees and could make his way back to his brooding corner. There, hidden partially by a large potted fern, he surveyed the room and eavesdropped on conversations.

"No, I don't agree with that ruling…"

"I heard they'd changed up a bit since then…"

"But wouldn't it be such a shame…"

"…Young Malfoy on the dance floor."

His ears perked up.

"A bit surprising, really. Who would have thought those two together?"

"I agree. But he danced more with her than those other young ladies." There was a wistful sigh. "If I was twenty years younger…"

"Yes, he cuts quite a dashing figure, doesn't he? Takes after his father."

"Lucius was such a heartbreaker." Another wistful sigh, "I was ever so jealous of that Narcissa."

Draco grimaced at the thought of his father's popularity with the fairer sex and was about to tune into another conversation when a clear voice cut over the dreamy sighs.

"As all these young ladies are now jealous of Hermione Granger."

Hermione shivered as she splashed cool water over her face. She moved her hand down her throat and looked at her reflection in the mirror. The blush was fading but then she recalled his words and her skin began burning up again. She glanced down at her chest, curious to see exactly how far down it did go. She'd never really thought about it.

But he had, and her face grew hotter at the memory. If only she could purge that from her head. She splashed more water on her face and resolutely marched from the room, determined to ignore those troubling thoughts.

"There you are, Hermione." Percy Weasley called as he hurried over to her. He took her arm and began ushering her through the crowd, "Come and meet Maria Stradbroke. She's very interested in meeting you."

"Oh and why is that?" She asked, feeling like she could go the rest of her life without attending another one of these functions.

"Because you fascinate me, my dear." The middle-aged Maria smiled as she gently took Hermione's hand and shook it. Hermione stared at her for a moment, overwhelmed by her appearance. It was like looking at a female version of Lucius Malfoy.

She shook herself a little, bringing her attention back to the conversation as Maria and Percy laughed over some comment that she'd missed. She couldn't seem to follow them at all, distracted as she was by Maria's clear grey eyes.

"Pardon me for interrupting, but are you related to the Malfoys?"

"Oh, yes. Well, you'll find that there are a great many families related to the Malfoys, dear. Even young Percy here." Maria gestured to Percy who coloured a little but said nothing.

"But as it were, I am a little more closely related than others. My grandmother was a Malfoy."

"Oh."

"That isn't something I'm ashamed of." She said proudly, "It is an old family and, until recent times, always held in high respect and good stead."

Percy was staring at the floor and Hermione had a growing feeling of embarrassment, made even more so when Maria leaned towards her and whispered conspiratorially, "You seem quite fond of my cousin's son, yes?"

Hermione could feel the heat returning to her face, flowing down her neck and gaining momentum. She pulled on her politest smile and squeaked out an apology as she fled back to the room she'd just left.

Draco paced in a side room; all he'd heard for the last half hour was how nice they'd looked together, and what a charming couple they make, and other such nonsense. What was wrong with these people?

He'd run into her a couple of times tonight and they'd spoken to each other; how on earth did that suggest a romantic involvement? He hadn't even stood up with her; they'd simply been forced together as part of the dance. Was it his fault he was a talented dancer?

These idle gossipers annoyed and frustrated him. He was sure their wild theories would be splashed across the papers tomorrow, along with suggestive photos of them dancing.

There was only one thing for it; he'd destroy their theories by creating a scene that left them in no doubt as to his feeling towards Hermione Granger.

Decision made, he turned to set the plan in motion.

"You don't want to do that, mate." Blaise stated, preventing him from leaving the room. He pushed Draco backwards and Theo followed them in and closed the door.

"Do what? Leave the room?" Draco sneered, "What's dangerous about that?"

"For your own good, take a step back and look at your plan." Theo advised, "You'd be spoiling a lot more than the gossip."

"What are you talking about?"

"We may not be friends, Draco, but we spent six years dealing with you."

"Your point?"

"We know your personality. Don't go out there and make a scene just to stop the rumours." Blaise said, "You would do better to just ignore them and go home."

Draco eyed them speculatively, "Are you protecting her?"

"And you."

"Why?"

"Because she's just as much in the middle of this as you are, and we," Theo looked over for Blaise's nod before continuing, "feel that she's been put through enough. With the war and everything."

Draco considered this. "I suppose it wouldn't be fair to make her the scapegoat."

"Exactly." Blaise sighed in relief.

"Besides," Theo continued, "we all know you fancy her."

Hermione was doing the rounds, saying good bye to the people she knew and making polite farewells to her new acquaintances. She was doing fine, so long as she didn't dwell too long on him.

Unfortunately all the nice old ladies seemed obsessed with their sharing the dance floor, and her blushing was adding fuel to the fire.

Not that she could understand why they seemed so intent on the non-existent relationship between herself and Draco. Plenty of other non-couples had danced together. What made it so special between the two of them?

Was it because she blushed?

Was it because he winked at her?

No, those seemed like pretty flimsy reasons.

Oh, what did she know? The inner mind and hidden motivations of the gossipy socialites had always been beyond her scope of experience or comprehension. Better that she didn't strain her brain trying to make sense of their mentality. That brain power could go towards solving issues from work or finding a cure for a terrible disease. It would be much more efficiently used for that.

She glanced around, but couldn't see anyone else that she needed to talk to. There was an open door nearby that led out into the gardens and the designated apparation point, so she slipped out.

Draco stormed from the room and down the hallway only to come to a dead end. Blasted Muggle venues, with the restrictions on arrival and departure and stupid hallways that led nowhere! He held his head up and ignored Theo's sniggers and Blaise's smug smile as he stormed back up the hallway passed them and into the ballroom.

The celebrations were starting to wind down and he noticed that people were leaving. Not many had left but that they had at all meant he too could depart. Those that were left stepped out of his way as he headed for the closest door to the gardens; a path that took him straight across the dance floor.

He kept the scowl up for as long as it took to leave the room, releasing it with a sigh as he walked out into the cool evening air. Behind him, he could just make out the nervous titters and curious questions, then the loud voice, that sounded remarkably like Theo, announcing that he'd lost his 'lady love'.

Draco swore and stalked away.

The gardens were quite pleasant, he knew from previous visits. At this moment, he found them to be incredible frustrating as his bad mood and his determination to leave quickly soon had him lost among the pathways. He growled as he found himself at an intersection with very little idea which direction was the correct route. He really couldn't afford to disregard the requests not to apparate from where-ever. He ran a hand through his hair as he looked around.

None of the pathways stood out. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes while he counted to ten. There, on his right, there seemed to be a lot of noise and the distant crack of apparation. He sighed in relief and set off down the right path.

It wound around a large tree and then straightened to a long avenue before curving round again. He started down it, still intending on leaving as soon as possible only to stop in his tracks.

Not too far ahead of him, stepping off a side path was the object of his ire: Hermione Granger.

She stopped and stared at him, seemingly unable to move.

She'd let some of her hair down and it curled around her bare shoulders. She was carrying her shoes and the lack of height caused her to hold her skirt up a little to prevent it dragging along the ground. He could just make out her delicate ankle and foot, peeking out from underneath.

"Malfoy!"

He swallowed, his mouth feeling a little dry, though he had no idea why. He cautiously stepped toward her along the path.

"Do you have any idea what I've had to put up with because of you?" She asked, though her tone lacked heat.

"I do, actually." He replied, still edging towards her.

She blushed; he could see it in the dim light thrown from fairy lights in the trees. He glanced down, watching as it spread south.

"Don't look at me like that." She demanded, turning away slightly, coquettish embarrassment stealing the venom from her words. He smirked and the colour darkened.

"Why not?" He asked as he stepped up next to her, leaning closer as she turned her back on him. "We both know you like it."

"I do not."

"You're lying to yourself."

She shivered, despite the fact that she could feel the heat pouring off him. And he still smelt so good. Her heart was pounding, her face was on fire and there were little thrills running the length of her body. His breath was ghosting over her shoulder as he hovered behind her; not saying anything.

"What do you want?" She whispered, half-terrified of the answer.

"I don't know." He admitted quietly. "You?"

She spun round to face him, her eyes wide. He pulled back a little, surprised to be suddenly facing her.

"Granger?"

They stared at each other in silence, both wondering how they could have come to this when they'd started the evening in indifference. Her mouth opened and his eyes darted down to it. Knowing that he was now staring avidly at her lips stopped her from saying anything.

He glanced back up to her eyes, his brow crinkling as he tried to figure out what was going on. Then, as if he'd weighed the pros and cons and disregarded all sensible thought, he closed the distance between them.

She gasped in shock and he retreated slightly, his mouth agape. She took advantage of his surprise and closed the distance between them. It didn't take him long to become actively involved.

His hand cradled her cheek, her fingers tangled in his hair. He pulled her close to his body; she stood on tiptoes to reach him easier. He adjusted his stance so she wouldn't knock him off his feet and she pulled his head down, leaning into his torso as she gripped his shirt.

They pulled apart, still entwined in each other's arms, breathing heavily as their pulses raced in unison. They were at a loss for words; what does one say after such occurrences? 'Thanks for that?' 'Wow!' 'That was better than I thought…'

"Granger?" Malfoy recovered first, though his heart rate was still high and he was forced to pause and recoup his breath. He frowned slightly as her hands slipped from their place around his neck. "I wouldn't…"

He paused as he grabbed her wrists, not wanting her to escape. She tried to pull away to no avail.

"You wouldn't?" She bit out, glaring up at him as she tugged ineffectually at her hands.

"Mind doing that again." He finished, lacing his fingers through hers as he pulled her back toward him.

She was surprised, her mouth falling open similar to his and he took advantage of that.

She pulled away, halting their descent into realms of passion.

"We're in public." She said softly, turning her head away.

"So?"

"Gossip." She reminded him.

"Let them talk." He declared, "The rumours are true now anyway."

"Perhaps they are." Hermione conceded.

"But?"

"I don't know. The jury's still out on this one." She said, her eyes twinkling with barely concealed mischief.

Draco groaned in annoyance, "You're a tease, you know that, don't you?"

Hermione smiled, slipping out of his grip. She stepped backward, "You know you like it."

She winked at him, and darted off up the path.

He watched her go, with a little grin, moving to follow only to stumble over something on the ground. He knelt down to find her shoes lying where she'd dropped them.

"Well, well, well..." He smirked, "Looks like I'll be seeing you again, princess."