Harry Potter: That Time May Cease And Midnight Never Come
Title: That Time May Cease And Midnight Never Come
Author: papered
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters/Pairing: Draco/Hermione
Rating: PG
Word Count: 849
Summary: Hermione's dragged to a masquerade after much pleading on Ginny's part, only to meet someone surprising.
Notes: Written for the St. Valentine's Day 7 Kisses Challenge; day 6 prompt: secret kiss. This is also the first time I've tried to rearrange and tell the story out of chronological order, and I'm not quite sure if the effect worked out or not, so feedback is greatly appreciated.
"Just listen to the music and follow my steps. I feel like you're trying to lead me sometimes."
Parties had never been Hermione's thing, and if she was perfectly honest, she most likely wouldn't have shown up if it hadn't been for Ginny's insistence. As it was, she couldn't help but feel silly, dressed in the uncomfortably high heels and strapless scarlet gown that the redhead had managed to dig out from somewhere.
The only redeeming feature to this whole affair was that it wasn't just a party - it was a masquerade. So whatever humiliation Hermione would have to suffer, at least no one would know it was her. She'd found her mother's old Halloween mask in the back of her closet, and although Hermione thought it looked ridiculously fairytale-esque, she'd brought it out anyway since she certainly wasn't going to spend money on a fancy mask she'd probably never use again. As long as it hid her identity, it would do.
"Do you know who I am?" She looked up at the white mask suspiciously, trying not to stumble.
He looked amused. "I'm afraid I do, Ms. Granger. I've known all along."
"How?"
"I've known you for years, after all - and your face might be hidden, but I know all of your mannerisms."
She'd found herself standing awkwardly at the edge of the ballroom, cocktail in hand, without a clue as to what to do. Ginny had immediately been swept off by Seamus Finnigan (his identity had been obvious from his Irish accent), leaving Hermione once again regretting her decision to come.
She'd just been wondering if she could get away with leaving early (Ginny had been having too much fun to stop her anyway) when her thoughts had been interrupted by a smooth voice.
"May I have the pleasure of this dance?"
The man had the most interesting shade of eyes Hermione had ever seen. She wasn't one for waxing poetry, but they were one of the most stunning features of the masked man. One moment, those eyes were the clear grey of the winter sky, and the next, they reminded her of a brewing storm. Hermione wished she could capture that colour on camera.
Standing to her right was a tall man, dressed entirely in black. The outfit contrasted greatly with his white mask and his hair. The man had the lightest coloured hair Hermione could ever remember seeing.
That hair. There was something oddly familiar about it that she couldn't place.
Realizing she still hadn't responded, Hermione nodded uncertainly. Immediately, she was pulled into the crowd of dancing couples.
A few stumbles and near-accidents later, the man chuckled. Hermione tried to keep the rising blush at bay, but her cheeks pinked. Dancing had never been her forte either.
"Don't like dancing?" Those eyes smirked at her. "What are you doing here then?"
Whatever embarrassment she'd felt vanished as quickly as it'd come. Eyes narrowing, she stepped back, fulling intending to leave the dance floor. She hadn't come to be laughed at.
She felt an arm on her wrist as she turned. The man's tone was apologetic when he spoke again. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that as an insult. I was genuinely curious."
The grandfather clock started to ring, signalling the arrival of midnight. Around them, people started pulling off their masks, and Hermione could recognize the several familiar faces that appeared. But the man she'd been dancing with all evening simply looked at her.
Before leaning down to press a kiss against her lips.
The night passed, and Hermione was surprised to actually realize she was enjoying herself. The blond had an acid tongue, although she'd found herself unexpectedly entertained by his sarcasm. Some of his comments made Hermione pause in shock that anyone could be so insensitive, but a second later, she'd inevitably burst into laughter. His bluntness was refreshing.
The clock rang on. The sixth ring. The seventh.
"Aren't you going to tell me who you are?" Her lips tingled from the unexpected kiss. Heart thundering, she looked up and met those eyes.
The man shook his head wordlessly.
The eighth.
"Not even a hint?" Hermione had always hated not knowing things, and that hadn't changed since she'd graduated from Hogwarts.
The ninth.
A flash of those white white teeth. "What would be the fun if I told you straight away? It's a secret, Granger."
The tenth.
What was it about the blond that was so familiar? The entire night, Hermione had felt as if she ought to have recognized the man. There was something about his mannerism, his posture - she was reminded of someone she couldn't pinpoint.
The eleventh.
"I'll figure it out, you know."
She narrowed her eyes at him, and he shot her one of those infuriating smirks.
"I wouldn't expect anything less."
As the grandfather clock rang for the twelfth time, the crowd surged towards the ballroom exit, and Hermione temporarily lost sight of the masked man. When she got outside, there was no sign at all of blond hair or white mask.
Finis.
NOTE: And in case the out-of-order chrnology ended up being completely confusing, I'll explain. Basically, the non-italics text section happens first, until we get to just before the last paragraph - and then the italics section happens. The last paragraph occurs at the very end, time-wise.
+ Feedback would be greatly appreciated.
+ Like what you've read? Please friend!
Author: papered
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters/Pairing: Draco/Hermione
Rating: PG
Word Count: 849
Summary: Hermione's dragged to a masquerade after much pleading on Ginny's part, only to meet someone surprising.
Notes: Written for the St. Valentine's Day 7 Kisses Challenge; day 6 prompt: secret kiss. This is also the first time I've tried to rearrange and tell the story out of chronological order, and I'm not quite sure if the effect worked out or not, so feedback is greatly appreciated.
"Just listen to the music and follow my steps. I feel like you're trying to lead me sometimes."
Parties had never been Hermione's thing, and if she was perfectly honest, she most likely wouldn't have shown up if it hadn't been for Ginny's insistence. As it was, she couldn't help but feel silly, dressed in the uncomfortably high heels and strapless scarlet gown that the redhead had managed to dig out from somewhere.
The only redeeming feature to this whole affair was that it wasn't just a party - it was a masquerade. So whatever humiliation Hermione would have to suffer, at least no one would know it was her. She'd found her mother's old Halloween mask in the back of her closet, and although Hermione thought it looked ridiculously fairytale-esque, she'd brought it out anyway since she certainly wasn't going to spend money on a fancy mask she'd probably never use again. As long as it hid her identity, it would do.
"Do you know who I am?" She looked up at the white mask suspiciously, trying not to stumble.
He looked amused. "I'm afraid I do, Ms. Granger. I've known all along."
"How?"
"I've known you for years, after all - and your face might be hidden, but I know all of your mannerisms."
She'd found herself standing awkwardly at the edge of the ballroom, cocktail in hand, without a clue as to what to do. Ginny had immediately been swept off by Seamus Finnigan (his identity had been obvious from his Irish accent), leaving Hermione once again regretting her decision to come.
She'd just been wondering if she could get away with leaving early (Ginny had been having too much fun to stop her anyway) when her thoughts had been interrupted by a smooth voice.
"May I have the pleasure of this dance?"
The man had the most interesting shade of eyes Hermione had ever seen. She wasn't one for waxing poetry, but they were one of the most stunning features of the masked man. One moment, those eyes were the clear grey of the winter sky, and the next, they reminded her of a brewing storm. Hermione wished she could capture that colour on camera.
Standing to her right was a tall man, dressed entirely in black. The outfit contrasted greatly with his white mask and his hair. The man had the lightest coloured hair Hermione could ever remember seeing.
That hair. There was something oddly familiar about it that she couldn't place.
Realizing she still hadn't responded, Hermione nodded uncertainly. Immediately, she was pulled into the crowd of dancing couples.
A few stumbles and near-accidents later, the man chuckled. Hermione tried to keep the rising blush at bay, but her cheeks pinked. Dancing had never been her forte either.
"Don't like dancing?" Those eyes smirked at her. "What are you doing here then?"
Whatever embarrassment she'd felt vanished as quickly as it'd come. Eyes narrowing, she stepped back, fulling intending to leave the dance floor. She hadn't come to be laughed at.
She felt an arm on her wrist as she turned. The man's tone was apologetic when he spoke again. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that as an insult. I was genuinely curious."
The grandfather clock started to ring, signalling the arrival of midnight. Around them, people started pulling off their masks, and Hermione could recognize the several familiar faces that appeared. But the man she'd been dancing with all evening simply looked at her.
Before leaning down to press a kiss against her lips.
The night passed, and Hermione was surprised to actually realize she was enjoying herself. The blond had an acid tongue, although she'd found herself unexpectedly entertained by his sarcasm. Some of his comments made Hermione pause in shock that anyone could be so insensitive, but a second later, she'd inevitably burst into laughter. His bluntness was refreshing.
The clock rang on. The sixth ring. The seventh.
"Aren't you going to tell me who you are?" Her lips tingled from the unexpected kiss. Heart thundering, she looked up and met those eyes.
The man shook his head wordlessly.
The eighth.
"Not even a hint?" Hermione had always hated not knowing things, and that hadn't changed since she'd graduated from Hogwarts.
The ninth.
A flash of those white white teeth. "What would be the fun if I told you straight away? It's a secret, Granger."
The tenth.
What was it about the blond that was so familiar? The entire night, Hermione had felt as if she ought to have recognized the man. There was something about his mannerism, his posture - she was reminded of someone she couldn't pinpoint.
The eleventh.
"I'll figure it out, you know."
She narrowed her eyes at him, and he shot her one of those infuriating smirks.
"I wouldn't expect anything less."
As the grandfather clock rang for the twelfth time, the crowd surged towards the ballroom exit, and Hermione temporarily lost sight of the masked man. When she got outside, there was no sign at all of blond hair or white mask.
Finis.
NOTE: And in case the out-of-order chrnology ended up being completely confusing, I'll explain. Basically, the non-italics text section happens first, until we get to just before the last paragraph - and then the italics section happens. The last paragraph occurs at the very end, time-wise.
+ Feedback would be greatly appreciated.
+ Like what you've read? Please friend!