~ A Happy New Year's gift to dramione shippers! ~

Hermione feels his fingers tangle in her hair. His lips are on hers— hungry, inelegant, not at all the smooth, suave movements one might expect from the man voted by Witch's Weekly as the year's most eligible bachelor three years and running. Hermione is breathless, unable to fully digest how it is that she's sharing this moment… with him.

The shouts around them are euphoric, joyful. No one turns to view them, so caught up are they in their own revelry. Not that either Hermione or Draco notice.

Hadn't they just been sniping at each other?

There is an urgency in his need to feel her response. A palm at her lower back pulls her closer. His mouth against hers swallows her needy whimper. He smothers a masculine groan himself when he feels her moving more aggressively against him.

"You are the biggest git in all the Wizarding world," she'd earlier spat. "I wouldn't kiss you if you were the last wizard left on the face of this earth."

"And you are the most infuriating witch this side of— "

"Just shut it," she hissed, placing her hand over his mouth to quiet his aggravated retort. "Understand, that I think your suggestion is simply impractical, if not a little selfish. You aren't thinking, Malfoy!"

She'd looked about them to ensure they weren't raising too much of a ruckus. The last thing she needed was someone noticing.

His lips against hers are unrelenting. Hermione's arms snake around him. Traitorous hands cradle his jaw, eager fingers grip the fine hair at his nape. His hands grab her up more closely and their tongues enter a battle both are determined to win.

Prior to their squabble, they'd run into each other at the bar. She'd wanted to turn around as soon as she spotted his fair-haired head. But his gaze met hers and she propelled herself forward simply out of principle.

"Why are you avoiding me?" he'd asked irritably, nursing his drink. She noticed that his tie was slightly loosened, nearly as much as his tongue was, anyway.

"That would be far too much work," she'd drawled lazily, lifting to her lips a drink handed to her by the bartender. "You credit me with caring, Malfoy."

"You're gorgeous when you're in denial, Granger," getting close enough to whisper this against her very sensitive ear. "You don't have to keep up the act with me."

"And you're quite outrageous when you're sauced, Malfoy," she retorted, stiffening at hear nearness.

"You don't know what you're missing," he called out to her retreating form. His gaze admiring her bare back and curvaceous backside, tottering on the sort of heels he'd never expected to see on her usually practical feet.

His teeth nip at her lower lip as he ends their kiss. Her mouth tilts forward, reaching out to close the distance left at his withdrawal. She feels his lip quirk at her reflexive movement.

"I didn't agree to dance with you," she'd groused as his hand adeptly swept her away from her elderly dance partner. With a stately nod to the genial man, Malfoy effectively cut in without so much as a how do you do.

"Keep stepping, Granger," he muttered under his breath as he moved her gracefully across the dance floor.

"That was rude, Malfoy."

"You're the one who walked away before I'd finished speaking," he reminded her. "Consider it behavior paid in kind."

"We're at a party. I fetched my drink. As far as I was concerned, we were done."

"That's not what I'm talking about and you know it."

His scent is intoxicating, a combination of expensive cologne, full-bodied wizard, and something very unique to Malfoy, a touch of haughty arrogance that drives Hermione quite wild with the need to put him in his place.

His stubble roughened jaw against her soft cheek is a study in contrasts. Meaning to complete a more thorough examination of it, she closes her eyes and she is instantly transported back to her memories of earlier that afternoon.

"Let's go public, Granger," Draco had urged, his arms wrapped around her waist, his front to her back, catching her against him as she made to walk out the door . "Why do we have to keep sneaking around like this? This isn't Hogwarts. I'm a likable, respectable bloke. Everyone says so," he teased, placing a light kiss at her temple.

"We've been through this before, Draco," she'd cried, pulling out of his embrace. "What we have is not going to last. Why pretend that it will? Why not have our fun and let it fizzle out when it does? Why drag everyone else into it?"

"He did a number on you, didn't he?" he said quietly.

"What are you talking about, Malfoy? I don't know what you mean!"

"There's no need to get defensive, Granger," Draco replied dryly.

"I'm not being defensive!"

"Then, why not tell our friends about our relationship, Hermione? Are you ashamed of the feelings you have for me?"

Ashamed? No. Afraid? Yes.

She didn't reveal her thoughts, only turned to stare up into his face and that's when her courage failed her. She hadn't expected this. He looked so confused, so expectant. She didn't want to add hurt to that mix. She'd entered this affair believing that being with Draco would, at the very least, allow her to preserve her heart.

She couldn't stand looking at the hope in his eyes any longer, it too closely echoed her own. The last time that happened with someone else, she'd nearly died of heartbreak when it ended. So, like a coward, she ran… right out of his office.

And now, here she is, and there is no more denying it. That stupid owl he'd sent had all but ordered her to show up at the company party and, what's worse, she'd obeyed. And if that wasn't enough, she made sure he remained in her sight all night. Now, she is in his arms and had chosen to allow him to kiss her where witnesses to the event abounded.

She loves Draco Malfoy. More than she's loved anyone… ever.

The hurt girl in Hermione wants to escape his arms again. The Gryffindor within forces her to stand her ground. Fortunately, the Slytherin in Malfoy uses all means necessary to ensure she remains in his arms.

So, he'd mounted his offense with a kiss, added a defensive move by firming his grip at her waist before parting lips. He is, after all, not easily daunted by her skittishness.

"Let me make myself perfectly clear, Granger," he whispers against her ear. "I am not Weasley, and I don't appreciate being compared to that git in this matter. I recognize your worth. And a Malfoy does not speak lightly of these things. When I tell you I love you, Granger, understand that I mean forever, Hermione."

Her eyes go wide when she spots the ring he offers in the palm of his hand, a most beautiful gift— a representation of his love.

"Say, 'Yes, love.'"

And that's when the clock struck midnight.

"Yes, love."

Her soft, affirmative reply is rewarded with his handsome grin and an unexpected kiss that steals her breath away.