A/N (Edited) This started as a one-shot that has been rattling around my brain for months. I can't seem to let it go, so it looks like it's going to turn int a longer fic. Changing the rating just in case for future chapters.

Inspired by the song "Castle" by Halsey. Disclaimer: I own nothing - Sadly, or Dramione would have been a done deal starting in book six.

Update: I was kindly informed that somewhere in the lengthy site agreement, which I of course read thoroughly and in detail (cough cough), it is stated that song lyrics are not allowed in a fic. Story is now updated with not a lyric in sight. Thanks for the heads up anonymous reviewer. ;)

Another Ministry Fundraiser

The band was loud, playing some popular song about love potions. The chatter around her had turned into an incessant hum that she had been tuning out for a while now. She looked around. The Great Hall was decorated with floating candles, the ceiling charmed to resemble a night sky, like it had been so many times, while she attended the school. People were laughing and chatting, sampling the many tasty dishes that kept appearing on the tables around the hall.

Another year, another memorial gala. The witches and wizards surrounding her were parading around in fine dresses and robes, dancing, drinking, socializing. Placing kisses on cheeks while faking enthusiasm at greeting an old acquaintance. Pretending to be there for the good of war orphans and the reconstruction of ruined homes, but mostly present to be seen as important in society. She knew some people were here because they genuinely cared and wanted to make a difference. She could see Harry on the dance floor with Luna, her lovely long blond hair swaying as he spun her around. Ginny was across the room in an animated discussion with Oliver Wood, probably quidditch related. Then, somewhere in the crowd, she heard Ron's braying laugh, clearly trying to impress whatever which he was dating tonight, and she realized no amount of punch could make her feel better about tonight.

She hadn't wanted to come the first year. Or any subsequent year after. She had definitely not wanted to come tonight. Kingsley, Harry, Ginny, all of them telling her how her absence would make people talk, how it would be interpreted as criticism of the ministry and its efforts to rebuild had changed her mind.

"Did you see the article in The Prophet about…"

"Did you hear she…."

"Ron's new…."

Sure seemed like people were talking anyway. Instead of her absence, they dissected her clothes, her job, her breakup with Ron. Ron's affairs that somehow had become public knowledge. Why she hadn't been enough for him. Too smart? Too cold? Too little of something, too much of something else? Stilted pauses in conversations when she passed groups of people. Stares to see how she would react when Ron danced with his lovely, blond, non-bookish date.

Her seat at the small table felt a million miles away from her friends next to her. They were laughing, drinking. Reminiscing and celebrating the anniversary of the end of the war. She was quietly contemplating what she had done with her life to end up here, alone in a crowd of hundreds. And wondering how soon she could get out.

She looked around for an escape and saw him across the room, in a corner by himself. A condition of his pardon, she'd learned a few years ago, when she had wondered out loud why he bothered showing up when he was clearly unwanted. Apparently, he had to publicly show his support for the winning side by attending the annual fundraiser that raised money for witches and muggles alike. Show his previous friends and acquaintances that he distanced himself from his choices before and during the war. He came every year. They all shunned him every year. His former friends out of fear that if they associated with him, people might remember their families' choices too. His former enemies out of contempt; suddenly everyone forgot that they may also have wavered and questioned Dumbledore. History was so easily rewritten, and of course they had all been behind Dumbledore from the beginning, giving them a right to judge anyone who was unlucky enough to have been public about their mistakes. She found the demand that he come to this event cruel. It was a public punishment, an emotional flogging. Like stocks in the market square dressed in modern clothing. Punishment for choices made a decade ago, choices made by a scared teenage boy backed into a corner. This repeated humiliation seemed against everything she had fought for in a war for equality and against hate.

She stood abruptly. Hesitated for a split second, then started walking across the busy dance floor. She could hear her friends when they noticed. "Where is she going? What is she doing?" Ginny's excited soprano. Luna's calming slightly deeper voice. Harry's surprised tone.

People were staring. She was pretty sure they had expected a break-down. Tears. A fight perhaps. Definitely some hexing and hysterics. I bet they hadn't expected this. She straightened her back and smiled. She was Hermione Granger and she'd be damned if she sat there feeling lonely and sorry for herself. Or sat there and allowed society to determine who was worthy and who should be punished for ever.

There was so much pressure to conform, be who the wizarding world wanted her to be. A hero, someone people could put on a pedestal. Someone who should always make the safe, expected choices as to not ruin people's notion of who she was.

Be nice, be quiet, be traditional, don't have too many opinions, just be sweeter to Ron you're such a perfect couple, maybe if you were home more/ read less/ cooked better…The statements echoed in her head, a collection of some of the helpful suggestions she had been given in the last few months. Maybe even years as Ron publicly expressed his displeasure with her career aspirations and dreams. Couched as jokes of course.

It was obvious, the moment Malfoy noticed her walking towards him. Surprise, panic, fear flashed across his face in quick succession. He probably assumed she was coming over to hex him. Or spit on him. She had seen both happen to former death eaters' families after the war.

She reached him, and he looked up at her, his hand shaking slightly at the effort to not reach for a wand that wasn't there. There was no way the ministry would have allowed him to bring a wand in past security. Hers was safely tucked into her fancy hair-do.

"What are you doing here Granger? I…"

"Dance with me, Malfoy," she interrupted him. He stared at her hand reached out towards him.

"What?"

"Will you dance with me?" she repeated slower, enunciating each word.

"Granger have you lost your mind?!" His voice almost shook. "Or is this a joke? Not even my former friends will be seen with me." He paused. "What the hell is the Golden Trio's princess doing in the gutters with despicable death eaters?" He tried to smirk, but his voice carried too much pain and bitterness to make him sound as arrogant, as he was attempting to.

"The 'Golden Trio's princess' has had enough of trying to fit in and do what everyone expects, Malfoy. I'm done listening to everyone else. Now will you please dance with me?"

It might have been the please, she had added. Or loneliness. Or he was just as sick of the status quo as she was. She saw when determination overtook fear and hesitancy in his expression. He stood slowly, reached out and took her hand. Hesitating at each minute movement as if he still expected her to reveal that this was a prank, an attempt at humiliating him. His hand felt warm in hers. And for the first time in a long time, she felt like she had made the right choice.

They walked side by side from his corner, past the other tables, his hand still in hers. When they reached the dance floor, he hesitated, then placed his other hand on her waist and started moving to the music. She knew people were appalled. She could see the dropped jaws, the disgusted looks. She was aware of her friends when they danced past them, noticed out of the corner of her eye that they were gaping in shock. And in that moment, she couldn't have cared less.

He spun her in time with the music, moving in a traditional waltz to a modern song.

"Dance lessons." He must have sensed her unasked question. "Pure-blood privilege and all." His tone was bitter. All that privilege and look where his life had taken him. They danced in silence for a few moments, turning slowly as the waltz took them around the dance floor. Suddenly she laughed out loud. He stared at her, possibly wondering if she had in fact lost her mind.

"I think my 15-year-old self would have had a stroke trying to imagine a situation where I would be dancing with Draco Malfoy."

"I think my 15-year-old self would have questioned the sanity of anyone who came up with that scenario." The corner of his mouth quirked up in a small smile. "What an absolute idiot that bloke was. You should probably have punched him more than that one time."

She snickered at his comment, and he smiled in response.

The song ended. He stopped moving, looking at her for guidance, his left hand still on her waist, his right still holding on to her hand.

"I don't think I should walk you back to your table, Granger. I might be fast, but not fast enough to avoid all the hexes that crowd looks ready to throw at me."

She turned slightly and looked at her friends. Harry was glaring, Ginny looked shocked and slightly appalled. Neville looked slightly nauseated. She could only imagine what they would say, when she returned to the table. Then she caught sight of Ron who was standing with his date, just to the left of the dance floor. The blond witch was clinging to his arm as if to ensure that everyone noticed that she was with a war hero. He was staring at them with obvious anger on his face.

She shrugged and turned back to face Malfoy. Screw Ron. Screw traditions, conventions, expectations. This dance had made her feel happy for the first time in a long, long time. She looked up at Malfoy, who was watching her face, trying to figure out what she wanted.

"Any chance you have more room in your dance card?"

He laughed at that, a surprised sound that made her smile.

"They're all lining up, Granger, and you will probably have to fight someone, but I can possibly squeeze you in."

"Excellent. As your face might remember, I have a pretty good right hook, so bring it on." Hermione joked.

Draco's mouth quirked in a real smile, and he started moving in tune to the music again.