Written at the request of an amazing Dramione author who actually exists on another site, dedicated to Dramione fanfiction. And… I couldn't pick what to name you out of the two options you gave me… so I'm calling you a mix of both, Imane Draco Nikkabraxas. Yeah…

There is nothing amazingly interesting; this is just Drabble to be honest because I fail at epic plots, so… there isn't REALLY a climatic point… Sorry.

Disclaimer: You would be insane to believe that I own Harry Potter, so is there any need for a Disclaimer?

Written for Imane Nikko.

Just for tonight

"HermioneHermioneHermione"

"No, Ginny. I am not going shopping with you. You drag me round, I never like anything and then I sit while you incessantly change clothes."

The small, bouncing, red head scowled and pouted.

"But- the Halloween costume ball!" Ginny whined.

"Hogwarts has never had one before; I don't see why we have to start now…" Hermione Granger grumbled into her breakfast, decidedly avoiding eye contact with the annoyingly excited Ginny Weasley.

"So… What? You're just going to... go into Hogsmeade with Harry and Ronald, go into the nearest Wizard Costume shop and pick up the first thing you see?" Ginny rolled her eyes as if this were the most preposterous idea she'd ever heard of.

Hermione muttered something under her breath along the lines of not even caring what she looked like because it was a ridiculous idea anyway. Ginny rolled her eyes for, roughly around, the tenth time that day.

"Hermione Jean Granger. You are coming shopping with me today, Friday, in two hours, for the ball tomorrow night. Whether you like it or not," Ginny said firmly before turning on her heel and striding off with her nose in the air.

Hermione sighed.

"I'm going to have to get a lead for that girl."

She sat and mumbled into her toast as she nibbled on the corners absentmindedly. It's not that she didn't mind dressing up, for a dance maybe - Secretly, all girls don't really mind dressing up – it was just the last minute fuss… the effort… Ginny getting overly excited… and the whole costume concept…

Hermione sighed again and decided to leave the rest of her toast to go and re-find Ginny, to ask if they could go earlier, and maybe get it over and done with quicker so that she could forget about it for the rest of the day. She pushed herself off of the bench and away from the Gryffindor table, exiting the Great Hall at as fast a pace as she could manage whilst walking, without breaking out into a run.

"I know this sounds ridiculous," commented a stuck-up, silky, female voice from the far side of the room, watching Hermione leave, "but, after the Yule Ball incident a few years back, I'm interested in what the Mudblood'll wear."

"Why are you wasting your time thinking about that, Pansy?" Blaise Zabini arched a single brow.

"I don't know, it's just an interesting thought, isn't it… She was almost, and I mean almost," the girl emphasised with a smirk, "…pretty."

To her left, Tracey Davis scoffed.

"Really? Are you blind?"

Pansy raised her eyebrows.

"Davis, you weren't at the Yule Ball, stop pretending you were. It didn't get you a date with Jones, and it won't work now."

Tracey pouted.

"What's going on?" Draco Malfoy slipped onto the Slytherin bench next to Blaise after sauntering in to breakfast late.

"The Halloween Ball." Blaise stated, as if those three words explained everything. Draco grimaced, so apparently they did.

"Really? I thought I'd skip it..."

Pansy pouted.

"No, no you may not," she responded.

"I 'may' not?" Draco raised an eyebrow, "I wasn't requesting permis-"

"No."

"But-"

"No."

Draco grumbled to himself in silence, deciding the best policy was peace, especially where Pansy was involved.

Hermione sat, picking at her nails, in the dressing room of a Wizarding costume shop… bored. Exactly how she had predicted. Ginny was on her eighth… ninth… eighth… costume? Hermione sighed, which she noticed she'd done a lot of today. She just wasn't in the mood. She watched out of the window, wondering what everyone – anyone – else was doing right now.

"What about this?" queried Ginny, as she flounced out of a changing stall and watched herself in the mirror, twirling slightly.

"I think you could buy any of the costumes and still look amazing, and that all this interchanging is unnecessary," Hermione stated, matter-of-factly, without even looking at her friend.

Ginny groaned.

"Well you're no help."

"Fine," Hermione turned to face Ginny, who was adorned in a Seventeenth century, very Muggle looking, cliché pirate's outfit… Except, it had clearly been designed with girls in mind - all corset, heeled boot and darted jacket.

"Really?" Hermione asked, "It's a dance..? Aaaand, I wasn't aware the wizarding world even knew what Pirates were?"

"Sure we do," Ginny shrugged, "Loads of Pirates were wizards, that's how they got away so quickly." She tapped her nose and grinned.

Hermione was unconvinced, but went on.

"But it's a dance?"

"Hermione, just because you want to be all traditional with the long ball gown, et cetera," the redhead rolled her eyes, "besides, I want to be different."

"Well get that, then, it's all…" Hermione paused, "…sepia colours, it'll match your hair. Can we go now? I'm bored."

"But what about your outfit?"

Hermione sighed. Again.

Harry, Ron and Hermione all traipsed down to breakfast on the morning of the Halloween ball, all feeling particularly apprehensive about what was to come later.

"So, do you boys have outfits?"

Harry and Ron exchanged glances.

"Well, Ginny got me a matching out fit to hers-" Harry began.

"Really? I didn't think you'd be into a corset and heels?" Hermione raised a brow.

Ron snorted. "You walked into that, mate."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Very funny. What have you got, Ron?"

He shrugged. "Lavender wanted to do something that matched, too."

Hermione's heart sank a little. Lavender. Of course. Well, it was the day of the ball, if Ron had been going to ask her, he'd have done it by now. She trailed off in to thought.

"What about you Hermione?" Harry asked.

"What I'm… wearing..?"

Ron laughed, "No, who're you going with?"

"I thought I'd just go on my own, you know? So that I don't feel… tied down… or whatever," Hermione shrugged.

Harry frowned slightly.

"Oh, okay… Well, if you want, Ginny'd let me have one dance with you?"

"Yeah, no, Lavender wouldn't let me do that," Ron shook his head, "Woman is like the Giant Squid. Honestly."

Hermione gave a weak smile.

Yes. She definitely wasn't looking forward to tonight.

Draco was lounging in the common room, doing his best to fend off Pansy's over-excitement, which always bubbled to the surface whenever a dance, ball, or evening dinner popped up that she had to dress up for.

"Oh, and Draco? We could wear matching outfits!" she crooned.

He laughed scornfully at the idea. "Uh, no."

"What? Why not?" Pansy pouted.

"I already have my outfit. Besides, I do not want to be tied down by… you…" he threw her an irritable look.

She rolled her eyes.

"Get over yourself, Draco. I'm going as Cleopatra-"

"Oh, Salazar, you're going to ruin Egyptian history."

"-and you can choose whether to join me or not as my Mark Anthony."

"That is definitely not happening. I would rather dress Crabbe and Goyle up as twin girls and go as their mother."

But Pansy ignored him, and flounced up to the girl's dormitories.

Lavender was giggling insanely and babbling on to Parvati.

"And I've got him to wear this amazing Warlock robe, and I'm going as HIS witch."

"Oh my Gosh, Lav, that's so sweet, I couldn't get Seamus to match me! He said he wanted to be more 'independent'," Parvati rolled her eyes.

"Seriously, can I kill them now? Would anyone miss them?" Hermione muttered to Ginny as they both pulled on their outfits, Hermione struggling more than Ginny.

Ginny laughed.

"Is it because they're irritating you now or does it have something to do with my brother asking Lavender instead of you..?"

Hermione's cheeks tainted pink and she said nothing. Ginny threw her a knowing smile and returned to using her wand to attempt to tame Hermione's ever-so-unruly hair.

"What did you use for the Yule Ball?"

Happy to be off the Ron subject, Hermione quickly dove into the, only slightly less unwelcoming, subject of girl products.

"Well, it was a potion…"

Draco tightened his cravat in the mirror by his bed, and then gave his reflection a disgusted look.

"Why, in the name of Salazar almighty, am I bothering?" he groaned and stared at his ridiculous outfit.

"Oh, Draaaaccooooo! Why aren't you wearing your Mark Anthony outfit? I picked it up and laid it out for you!" Pansy whined as she bounced into the room, flailing towards a pile of clothes on Draco's bed.

"Oh, is that what that was?" muttered Draco under his breath, before saying loudly; "Remind me again why you're allowed in here, yet the men –"

"Boys." She smirked.

"-aren't permitted in the girl's dormitory?" Draco finished with a sigh, not even looking at the pug faced girl.

Pansy pouted, ignoring his query.

"Draco!"

"What?"

"Why are you dressed as a… as… a… What are you dressed as?" Pansy frowned.

"A Prince?" Draco supplied with the raise of a brow.

"Yes… You don't even look like one."

"Because, you insufferable nuisance, I wanted to dress as something that people would not pair with you." And with that, the blonde 'prince' strode past the scowling girl and down into the common room, pulling on a black and silver mask as he went, and, as a last minute thought, charming his hair to a warm brown colour, to deter a not-so-intelligent Pansy into not following him.

"Cinderella."

"What?"

"Cinderella."

Ginny's brow creased again.

"I'm sorry, Hermione – Is that a… disease?"

The muggle-born witch rolled her eyes.

"No. She was a fairy-tale princess – ask Harry, it's a muggle story." Hermione answered, brushing her friend off.

"It sounds like something Madam Pomfrey warns us against in her lectures," Ginny laughed, "So… this Cind-ella… She wears blue ball gowns?"

"Sometimes."

"Why?"

"To... Balls."

"Right… You have some very strange stories in your muggle world," Ginny shook her head like Hermione was mad and went off to find and ask Harry. Hermione decided not to point out that 'The Warlock's Hairy Heart' was by far the strangest story she'd ever heard. Hermione began to follow Ginny out of the dormitory and down the girl's stairs to the buzzing common room below. Ron let out a low whistle upon seeing her.

"You've done it again, Hermione," he laughed.

"Done what?" Her face was a blank mask of confusion.

"Stunned us with your ridiculous hidden beauty or something," Lavender cut in, rolling her eyes and tugging on Ron's thoroughly unimaginative wizard robe costume, "Come on, Won-Won, we need to put on our masks before people can tell it's us!"

Ginny scoffed and Hermione muttered something along the lines of, 'It's your whiny voice that needs a mask… masking tape, even…' before they both pulled on their own masks, Hermione's in blue, Ginny's red and gold.

Draco was bored already. He'd charmed his hair colour to get rid of Pansy, but realised that, to keep her away, he'd have to sit away from his usual Slytherins. So he was alone with nothing to do, and no one to snicker behind his hands with, and he was sure as hell not going to be dancing any time soon.

The ceiling was a murky violet which actually looked rather dramatic in contrast to the bright suspended pumpkins, floating freely above the moving heads. There was a buffet, a dance floor, tables, and the Great Hall was filled with masked people; some very recognisable, some less so. He could pick out most of his fellow Slytherins, Potter and his lot of losers, a few of the others he knew…

His eyes widened slightly upon seeing her. He wouldn't have known it was her, had she not been with Potter and the Weaslette… He shouldn't have been as shocked as he was; he knew she was capable of it, especially after the Yule Ball… But, still… He was allowed to appreciate wasn't he?

Appreciate… Watch… He was watching a little too much now…

Stop it, Draco, you're not allowed. It's wrong. She's wrong. She goes against everything you stand for.

There was a little niggling at the back of his mind. The same niggling from a similar ball a few years ago. The same thought. Same. Same. Same.

Is it really what YOU stand for? Or is it his?

He's your father, Draco. What he stands for, you stand for.

But, is it? What about this one night... It's just one night… Just for tonight… right? Nothing would change, he'd never know. Because that's all you care about, right? Him knowing? It's not her, it's not them, it's him.

Draco shakily stood, and turned his back on her, and walked over to the buffet to grab a drink or something.

Hermione was quite happy; emphasis on quite. She loved spending time with Harry and Ginny, but she felt like the third wheel right now. She could see Ron, laughing with Lavender, dancing with Lavender, bending down to kiss Lavend- Now she felt sick. Ginny stopped for a second and followed her gaze, before scowling and physically turning Hermione's head away.

"No. Go… Go have fun," she ordered.

Hermione let go then, her lip wobbled and she shook her head. Harry frowned, and put a hand on her shoulder, tilting his head.

"I-I can't," she looked down, mumbling, "I'm… I'm going to get fresh air."

"Need me to come..?" Harry offered, looking to Ginny, who nodded encouragement.

Hermione shook her head and bit her lip, gathering up her skirts to hurriedly walk outside.

He saw her go. He didn't know why she had, he looked around, not understanding why one of her friends hadn't followed. He was focused on her for a few seconds, forgetting his own mental predicament.

It may have got rid of Pansy, but charming his hair was probably the most idiotic thing he could've done. If he was still Draco, he could've had the Davis girl or one of the Greengrasses by now. So now, he had nothing better to do, so he followed her.

"Well, at least I wore the correct outfit," he muttered sarcastically.

He found her on a bench, sniffling quietly through her blue Venetian eye mask.

"What's got you down, Granger?"

Her head snapped up, angrily, and then her features softened.

"Sorry, I thought you were someone else," she apologised to the darkened brunette figure, half hidden by the darkness, half illuminated by the moonlight.

He was puzzled for a second… before clicking to what had just happened.

Looks like you have your one night, Draco.

He sat beside her, feeling immensely awkward, being very aware that this was Hermione Granger.

He repeated, in what he perceived to be, or hoped was, a much softer tone;

"What's... err… got you down, Granger?"

She frowned at his free use of her name, she wasn't sure if she'd met him before. At first he'd sounded familiar… but his new tone was more alien.

"Nothing- Have we met?" she narrowed her eyes.

He leant away slightly. "Uhm… no… but everybody knows who you are," he attempted to keep old scorn out of his voice. Apparently he failed because she looked rather taken aback. He tried to cover it up with a shaky laugh. She'd clearly sensed it was false because she joined in nervously.

They sat in silence for a few minutes.

"So… Who are you, then?" she finally queried.

"Just a… person…" he threw her an attempt at a real smile, which felt purely odd on his thin lips when directed at her.

"I want to know."

"I'm not telling."

She laughed a little at his indignation, a real laugh, and tried to look beyond his heavy dark mask, and failing.

"Fine then, Person," she said, standing, "come and dance, since I feel alone and I'm taking advantage of you following me out here."

"Here… or… in there…?"
"What?"

"Dancing… Shall we dance out here or in there?" He repeated, gesturing at the hall, and standing rather seriously.

"Wow, I thought you'd tell me to shove off…" she smiled a little.

"No. This is the one night I get," he answered cryptically, stony faced, "I'm not wasting it. So… Inside or out?"

"In ther- No. Out here," she corrected, not wanting to see Ron, "I just… I ran away for a reason."
She stared at the floor.

He took her hand suddenly and pulled her close, one hand on her waist and the other clutching hers still. She gasped at the sudden nearness, the pace of her heart quickening. Her lips formed a small 'O' and he smirked a familiar smirk.

She laid her head on his shoulder, inhaling his scent.

"You look beautiful, why do you always look beautiful? You're wrong. You're so wrong." He muttered.

"What?" she lifted her head slightly.

"Nothing."

She relaxed into him again as he turned them, the music gently seeping out of the doors like it was reaching out to them, wrapping them up. It washed over their bodies and leaked into their ears and smothered all thought patterns…

Suddenly he blinked and pulled away, shattering the stolen moment like the fragile glass orb it was, she stumbled slightly upon release, not realising how completely drawn into him she'd been.

"W-What did I do?" she stuttered out.

"Nothing," he clipped the word, remembering this was wrong, recoiling inside himself, "I think we should both go and eat, I'd hazard a guess Potter and your friends are sitting down to eat their share of the buffet." He strode back across the courtyard and through the open doors.

There was something familiar about the way he said Potter. She couldn't put her finger on it. She tilted her head, watching him leave, before wandering in, completely dazed.

Hermione finished her food much before her friends, since she hadn't spoken a word. Her mind was away somewhere else, on someone else, and she'd missed everything anyone else was saying.

"And she just walked off. Insane girl. I have no idea what she's on about ever," finished Ron.

"That's tough, mate," grimaced Harry, while Ginny was doing her best to hide her glee.

"What do you think of that, Hermione? …Hermione!" Ginny demanded at the muggle-born's attention.

"Sorry, what?" Hermione frowned, shaking her head and turning back to Ginny.

"Lavender walked out on Ron…" Ginny said slowly, hoping to get Hermione to understand her point.

"Did she? Shame…" Hermione answered dutifully whilst absentmindedly searching the room for… Person…?

Ginny hit Hermione's arm softly, bringing the brunette crashing back into reality.

"Yeah? Oh... OH!" Hermione's eyes widened as she snapped round to a confused and staring Ron.

Then Ginny pretended that something had just dawned on her.

"Hey! I know – crazy idea – how about, Ron, you ask Hermione to dance, since neither of you have a date now…?"

"Uh, yeah, sure; Hermione?" Ron grinned.

Hermione nodded, but all she could offer was a small smile, as she took Ron's hand to be led to the dance floor.

Oh, that was just ridiculous.

Draco watched Weasel lead her on to the floor, and watch them dance awkwardly as the Weasel grinned soppily.

He clearly thought he was in there.

Draco scoffed at the thought.

Then stopped himself; she was still wrong. She was still what she was.

It's just for tonight.

So he stood to go and make things right.

Ron spun her round and she laughed a little despite herself. He beamed at her.

"Look, Hermione, I'm sorry," he stopped moving and held both her hands in his, "I should've asked you, first, not Lavender. I'm sorry, will you-" he was cut off by a tap on his shoulder.

Hermione hadn't even seen the brunette swagger over in his usual way, hadn't seen him reach to tap Ron, but she saw the small glint of annoyance in his eye when Ron stared at him blankly.

"Weasley," Draco began, trying very hard, for everyone involved's sakes, to not give himself away by outright insulting or scorning the Weasel, "Excuse me, but I should like to dance with my date, you're sort of… hogging her…" he attempted to keep the sneer from his voice.

Ron frowned slightly and turned back to face Hermione.

"This guy," he jabbed his thumb over his shoulder at the brunette stranger, "is your date?"

Hermione froze for a second, before nodding quickly. "Uh, yes! He is."

"Oh… Okay…" Ron looked a little disappointed before sloping off, "I'll leave you to it, then…"

As soon as he was out of earshot, Hermione whipped back around to Draco.

"Person! What are you doing? He was finally going to ask me out!"

He folded his arms, and there was that familiar smirk again.

"If you didn't want me around, why'd you tell him I was your date?"

"YOU told him that!" she hissed.

"YOU agreed."

She sighed, defeated. She wasn't ready for Ron yet. She didn't want to be second to Lavender, his last resort again. She wanted to feel special, to feel like somebody, somebody like the boy in front of her, had chosen her.

He took her hand.

"We'll look strange if we don't dance," he muttered.

She nodded in silent agreement and placed her free hand on his chest and let him draw her close. She inhaled his scent again, letting her mind wander for a moment, absorbing herself back into his bubble.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. His lips were pursed and he was too upright. He softened slightly every time her hips brushed his, every time her hand moved across his chest… Then he felt her relax into him and he heard her breath him in deeply, and he was lost in her completely…

"I know who you are."

It was a whisper, a tickle at the shell of his ear, the warm air of the words tickling the hairs on his neck. He stiffened.

She pushed against him slightly, keeping him moving so that no one would notice.

He stayed rigid, recoiling from her.

She had accidentally made him Draco Malfoy again. And Draco Malfoy knew this was wrong.

"Took you a long enough," he finally replied coldly.

"Don't pretend. You knew who I was. You did this. This is you completely."

He dropped her hand and stepped away.

"Yes, but I was wrong. This is wrong. YOU are wrong," he hissed.

"YOU did this," she repeated defiantly, "You knew, so this," she gestured between them, "was you. So there's a part of you that doesn't think that."

He ignored her and stood silently.

"One night," he finally said, "just for tonight, we won't be… I won't be… Just for tonight. Then tomorrow, you can finally get Weasel. Tell him your mystery date for tonight didn't work, and he can have you. Or something." His toes coiled inside his shoes.

She wouldn't get any better, she knew that. This was the most she'd get, she knew that. So she nodded.

"I like the hair," she murmured, sinking back into his arms.

He almost smiled as he bent his head to kiss her waiting lips.

As one of the last pairs to leave the dance hall to retreat to bed for the night, their walk was silent. They stayed away from each other, almost on opposite sides of the corridor, but always in parallel, knowing they couldn't get closer, for fear of not wanting to leave. They reached the entrance to the Gryffindor common room; he had, unwittingly and by an unhappy accident, walked her back.

They faced each other, watching each other's eyes, both unmoving. She reached pulled off her mask, feeling the cool air as she did. His hair was already paling back to its blonde as he pulled off his own.

The spell was broken, and Draco Malfoy stood opposite Hermione Granger for the first real time that evening.

"Hello, Malfoy."

He nodded curtly.

"Did you have a nice time at the ball tonight..?" she braved.

He nodded again. Once. Curtly.

She stared back, stony faced.

"Goodnight," she said, before whispering the password and starting to climb in the portrait hole.

He was gone before she'd climbed through the other side.

I wasn't sure whether to leave it here or not. I've spent an hour sitting here, staring at the screen… But I worried this ending would pull them from being OOC as Dramione to being horribly annoying OOC as slushy Dramione… So, in the end, I decided to write this optional ending. You can choose to stop reading here, or you can continue with this ending:-

She was stood staring at the fire. The flames danced, glowing, entwining, and taunting her with their ability to be close to each other. But they were eating away at the wood below them, smothering it in their grasp. Really, they were licking away at it happily; it was feeding them, supplying them, making them what they were. It didn't have to be wood, it could be anything.

"This isn't right," she murmured, and she turned on her heel, hurrying back to the portrait hole, pushing it open forcefully, practically leaping out of the hole. The Fat Lady 'humph'ed at the muggle-born's gracelessness and swung shut prudishly. The girl continued hurrying down the hall, her steps echoing, not sure if she'd make it to him.

He was there, standing at the other end of the hall, she froze in her own steps… then ran forward, bolting towards him and freezing just in front of him.

"You… You said… just for tonight…" she panted.

"And tonight isn't over yet?" He finished for her, with an arched silver brow.

She nodded, and he took her lips in his again, but this time it escalated from the shared stolen moment on the dance floor to a passionate fight of tongues and heated bodies tangling together. They could find a room. They could find a place. They could spend hours fighting heatedly for dominance in the tangle of their bodies. They could spend hours exploring, setting a pace, setting a rhythm. Heat.

"But, Granger, did you ever really believe it would be just for tonight?"

Feedback? Should I have continued to add that ending? Or should I have simply stopped after that authors note? Just wondering.

Janey xx