Fair and Tender Maidens

Hermione could hardly listen to Dumbledore's little speech explaining the rules of the contest. Her nerves were overreacting. These people wouldn't hate her if she screwed up. Honestly, what did THEY care? And since WHEN did Hermione Granger EVER allow herself to be affected by petty gossip! Hmph!

Even so, as Dumbledore introduced her, she couldn't help but feel sick to her stomach. So, enters Helpful Friend...Yes, folks, enter Harry Potter. Harry placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder and handed her a beautiful rose. She smiled up at him, feeling better. "Thanks," she whispered.

He grinned in a foolish way. "Knock 'em dead," he said, and planted a light kiss on her cheek.

She managed to say thanks before he gave her a little shove out onto the stage.

Hermione had not been expecting such a crowd. Yes, about a thousand students attended Hogwarts, but really, where that many really SUPPOSED to come? Ha, no.

There was polite applause and she heard someone (most likely Ron) shout, "GO HERMIONE! ROCK THE SOCKS!" She grinned; Ron would never truly understand Muggle terminology.

She gave a slight nod to the playerless piano. A slow ballad came out from within the instrument, and Hermione took this as a sign to start.

"Some say love it is a river that drowns the tender reed," she sang softly, trying to remember all of the moves and expressions she had rehearsed over and over again. "Some say love it is a razor that leaves your soul to bleed."

She heard four or five male voices whoop. A quick glance proved it to be her Gryffindor boys, cheering her on. Feeling braver, she went on, " Some say love it is a hunger, an endless aching need.

"I say love, it is a flower, and you, its only seed. It's the heart afraid of breaking that never learns to live." Her voice was clear and strong. Just like she had rehearsed so many times.

Draco stared at the brown-haired Gryffindor. He knew she could sing, but he never knew she could do it would such passion. Or, he never knew that it could take him over so. He felt like putty. Hell, he WAS putty. Silly putty. And Hermione was the child to mold him any way she wanted.

"It's the dream afraid of waking that never takes the chance. It's the one who won't be taken who can not seem to give, and the soul afraid of dyin' that never learns to live."

Harry smiled at Ron, with a look of "See, I TOLD you she could sing." He looked back at her, the little bushy-haired witch. How she had changed over the years. Grown up, lost only part of her interest in homework (he was still convinced that she was still married to it, if the ring on her finger was any indication, which glittered in the light...The ring, that is.)

"When the night has been too lonely and the road has been too long, and you think that love is only for lucky and the strong, just remember in the winter far beneath the bitter snows lies the seed that with the sun's love, in the spring, becomes the rose."

As Hermione finished her song, Draco couldn't help but think along the same lines as Harry Potter. (I know; Very shocking.) He was thinking about how she'd changed. How different she was. Entranced by her different attitude, he watched her bow and bow and blush to the applause she was receiving. She eventually went back behind the curtain. Draco followed.

He thought he would've been the first person to congratulate her, but he was not. Someone had beaten him. It figures, he thought. Might as well tie my shoe...

In Slytherin terms, spying, eavesdropping, whatever else you like to call it.

"Hermione, you were brilliant," Harry was gushing.

'What a lovesick puppy,' Draco thought, disgusted. 'Doesn't he realize that he's not good eno---

'Oops...Well, I suppose that was out of line,' Draco's thoughts continued. 'But, while we're already thinking about it...Who IS good enough for her? Me? No...'

Draco pushed away his thoughts and went back to concentrating on...tying his shoe...

"Thanks, Harry. And thank you for the flowers; How sweet of you!"

'Ack, he got her a whole bouquet?' Draco's mind could not let this go without comment. 'Tactless prat...ANYONE can woo a girl with flowers...Hmph'...

Sure, Draco. Sure.

"You deserve it, Hermione. But, there's something else I want to give you."

'And what is that? Love? Children? A new broomstick?' Draco's mind suggested, obviously pissed off.

"Oh, what is that Harry?"

"This..."

Draco jerked up to peek in the room. Harry was placing a kiss on her lips.

'That...that...grrrrrrrr....'

Calm down, Draco..

Harry put his arms around her waist and kissed her again. Hermione gently pushed him back.

"Harry!"

His arms went back to their usual place at his side. He turned beet red. "I...umm....Hermione, I'm so sorry...I..."

She put a finger to his lips. "No, I'm sorry," she said quietly.

"What?" he asked.

She looked up into his eyes. "I'm the one who should be sorry. I can't give you what you want."

Draco strained to hear what was going on. He glared at the other contestant who were giving him strange looks. "Beat it!" he whispered fiercely. "Can't you see I'm TRYING to tie my shoe!?"

Harry stared at Hermione, sadness in his eyes. He didn't want to make her feel bad, but it was hard. "There's someone else?"

"Yes."

Draco vowed to hex this person into the next millennium.

Harry nodded. "Be seeing you, then."

Hermione nodded. "Harry, you're still my best friend. No matter what."

He nodded. "Thanks."

"And..."

Draco cursed. He couldn't hear what she was saying...If he could get his head in the door.

Draco nearly hit the ceiling when he felt two fingers tapping him on the shoulder. Heart pounding, he turned to face the Headmaster.

"Uh, hullo, professor," he said, taking deep breaths to slow his poor heart.

"Tying your shoe, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Uh, yeah..."

"You're up next."

"Okay..."