The Silver Envelope

Dance with Me

Chapter Notes

TW: emotional and verbal abuse

See the end of the chapter for more notes
"Ouch!"
Hermione winced as Ron's shoe briefly crushed her toes.
"Sorry!" he gasped. "I'm out of practice, I guess."
If he had ever practiced dancing in his life, it would be a shock to her. But to say it would start a fight, and if there was one thing she didn't want to do tonight, it was that.
She'd tried to find a way to say no, but Ron had been waiting at the edge of the dance floor, pouncing on her and Krum as soon as the last song ended. It was only one dance, she told herself.
Afterwards, she would find an excuse to beg off, and hopefully avoid him for the rest of the night.
Self-consciously, she noticed a photographer snap a picture of her while they danced. She hoped it wouldn't land her in the paper again. The last thing she needed was for the world to think she was getting back together with Ron.
Someone wearing a bright green dress caught her eye nearby. Luna, with her long, scraggly blonde hair was performing a graceful twirl with her dance partner.
With a jolt, Hermione saw her partner's face.
She stumbled, nearly bowling Ron over as she stepped the wrong way. It took them a few beats to right themselves. Hermione felt an embarrassed flush on her cheeks.
They were an unexpectedly attractive pair, Draco and Luna. Hermione covertly watched them as Ron shuffled her around. Draco's eyes didn't leave his partner as he deftly maneuvered her around the dance floor, twirling and dipping her with ease. Luna was surprisingly graceful in his arms Hermione forced herself to look away from them. Her chest felt hollow.
"Why did Ginny even invite him?" Ron grumbled.
He had noticed them too, then.
"I haven't got a clue," Hermione said.
"He said he did her a favor," Ron said with a scowl. "Probably a lie."
Hermione's eyebrows raised.
"Oh! Then I suppose I do know. He got her an appointment with the witch who designed her dress," she said.

They both glanced over to where Ginny was now dancing with her father. Her dress was undeniably exquisite.
"Oh," Ron said. "I didn't know that."
Hermione didn't think that now was a good time to mention that her dress was from the same designer.
Ron glowered at Draco again.
"He still shouldn't have been invited," he muttered. "This was supposed to be for family and friends only."
Hermione huffed with annoyance.
"Just ignore him, Ron. He's got nothing to do with you," she said.
Ron glared at her.
"Why are you always defending him?" he said in a tight whisper. "Have you forgotten what he's like? I swear, Hermione, sometimes I think you accidentally confundo'd yourself. He was the first person to ever call you a mudblood! Or don't you remember that?"
Hermione mashed her lips together. She had no response. Even if she could explain the strange draw Draco held for her, Ron would never understand it.
Nearby, Draco led Luna into a dramatic, sweeping dip, low enough that her hair brushed the floor.
Several onlookers whistled.
"I'm only looking out for you, Hermione," Ron said, shooting a disgusted look at Draco and Luna
"I still care about you.
"I can look out for myself, thanks," she said shortly.
Ron's nostrils flared in fury.
"Fine, then."
He abruptly pushed away from her, leaving her alone on the dance floor while he stalked off in the direction of the bar.
Holding in tears of rage, Hermione breathed in deeply as she stepped off the dance platform and walked away. Just as the last notes of the music held, someone caught her arm.
By the burning awareness that seeped into her skin, she knew immediately who it was.
She didn't turn around. If she looked at him, she might panic.
The last time she'd touched him was in a shadowy room in the depths of a library.
Or, rather, the last time he had touched her. She had been forced to keep her hands to herself.
"Hermione," Draco's low voice said into her ear.
She shivered.
"Come dance with me." She hated how seductive he made the demand sound.
Perhaps she should say she wanted a drink. But then she'd have to go over to the bar, near Ron.
"Alright," she heard herself answer.
It was only one dance, she promised herself for the second time that night.
His silver eyes gleamed with triumph, then he led her back onto the dance floor.
The silky texture of her dress made the slow slide of his hand around her back agonizingly erotic.
Hermione kept her eyes on his tie, avoiding his gaze. His other hand engulfed hers, burning with contact.
Unlike his ostentatious display of a dance with Luna, he kept his movements simple with her, swaying gently and slowly turning her around the floor. She was struck once again by his solidity, his sureness. His confident motions soothed her, allowing her to relax as he took control.
Unbidden, she remembered a recent dream she'd had which involved Draco taking control in a different way. She took deep breaths, attempting to calm the growing awareness in her lower
stomach.
He was taller than Ron by quite a bit. She had to lean her head back a bit when he spoke.
"You look exquisite, by the way," he said quietly, his silver eyes raking over her. "Remind me to send Madame Leroux a bouquet for her work on your neckline. I think she might have designed that bit just for me.
Hermione blushed deeply at his words.
"Pig," she gasped, though there was no heat behind her insult.
Draco let out a dark chuckle, then retreated from her. For a horrible moment, Hermione thought he was going to push her away the way Ron had, but then his arm arched over her head, slowly twirling her around. They came back together smoothly.
He was close enough that she could smell his cologne. Bergamot and lavender. Perhaps sandalwood. She hadn't noticed earlier, when she'd thought she was seconds away from becoming a bloody splatter on the rocks at the bottom of the cliff.
"I'm still angry with you," she reminded him. "You knew I wouldn't like that parasol thing.
He laughed again. She hated her stupid heart for leaping at the sound.
"Add it to the list of reasons you hate me," he said mildly. "I'm sure it's getting long now."
"I can't remember a time when it wasn't long," she snapped.
The hand around her back slowly slipped down, stroking firmly past the curve of her waist, stopping just above an area that would have been entirely improper for him to touch. Her breath hitched.
His voice was dangerously close to her ear as he promised, "I'll make them up to you. Each and every one. Ten times over, if you wish."
Said by another, the words might have sounded innocent. But from his lips, they were evocative,
causing devilish and depraved ideas to flit through her mind, like thumbing through the pages of a banned book.
Weak knees caused her to wobble slightly. He held her tighter, propping her up against his body as they swayed. The close embrace was clearly meant to support her, but it only served to make her more lightheaded. Hermione rested her head on his chest, attempting to focus on breathing and staying upright.
When the song ended, Draco gently extricated himself from her hold and bowed, a daring glitter in his eyes.
Straightening, he asked, "Would you like a drink?"
"Yes!" she immediately gasped.
Smiling, he held out his arm to escort her off the dance floor. He allowed her to walk slowly while she collected her senses.
The sky above was now a dusky indigo, twinkling with several stars. Below their feet, the sand had begun to glow bright gold, lighting their private little cove with an otherworldly warmth. As they walked past, Hermione noticed Teddy Lupin, sitting underneath a table and playing with the glittering sand. Draco politely nodded to Ted and Andromeda, who, Hermione realized with a start, was actually Draco's aunt.
His aunt, who was banished from his family tree.
For marrying a muggle-born.
Suddenly, the astonished expressions of Teddy's grandparents at the sight of Hermione and Draco together made sense.
"Champagne? Or would you prefer something else?" Draco asked.
"Firewhiskey," Hermione mumbled. Draco raised a brow but didn't comment.
He ordered two glasses of Firewhiskey from the barman and handed one to her.
"Wait, I thought-" Hermione started to say, but Draco produced his wand and waved it over his glass. The amber liquid inside fizzled slightly, and a wisp of vapor curled from the glass.
"Alcohol evaporation spell," Draco said. "It changes the taste a bit, but I'm usually able to delude myself into thinking it's the same.
"That's very clever," Hermione said as they walked to find an empty table. Someone had planted their parasol in the sand too near the water, possibly abandoning it after an errant wave drenched their shoes. But Hermione didn't mind a bit of water. In fact, being so close to the sound of the waves was almost as soothing to her nerves as the burn of the Firewhiskey in her throat.
Draco examined her with a strange expression once they were seated.
"When was the last time you ate something?" he demanded.
"Er, I'm not sure," Hermione said. It had been a long day.
Draco used his wand to summon a tray of hors d'oeuvres to their table. He shoved the platter, which was filled with skewers of grilled shrimp and pineapple, towards her.