To A Ball With My Enemy

Mischief Under The Mistletoe

As the night wore on, the Yule Ball transformed into a whirlwind of waltzes, music, laughter, and of course the ever present gossip. The air crackled with a strange energy, a mix of teenage awkwardness and the thrill of doing something forbidden (like shagging in a broom cupboard).

 Draco Malfoy, to my surprise, proved himself to be a rather entertaining companion, way better than Ron enyday. He traded sugar quills with Seamus Finnigan, much to the amusement of a nearby group of Hufflepuffs and Griffindors. He even complimented Luna Lovegood's peculiar cork stopper necklace, sparking a lively conversation about Wrackspurts. Something I newer anticipated even in my wildest dreams.

However, under his unusual playful facade, I sensed a layer of unease in him. Every now and then, his gaze would dart towards the Slytherin corner, where a group of his friends, Pansy  included, sniggered and whispered amongst themselves.

"Alright, Potter," he said abruptly, pulling me away from a conversation with Neville about the dangers of Mimbulus mimbletonia. "Time for some fresh air."

We slipped outside into the crisp winter night.  Snowflacks fell coating the castle grounds in a  glistening white carpet, which sparkled under the starry sky, the castle looming majestically in the distance. A strange sense of peace and calmness settled over me, a welcome respite from the frantic energy of the yule ball.

"A-Are you okay, Malfoy?" I asked, surprised by the concern in my own voice.

He hesitated, then let out a frustrated snort. "Look here, Potter, just because we're dancing partners for the night, doesn't mean everyone needs to act like the world is ending."

There it was. The fear of being ostracized by his own housemates. I reached out and touched his arm lightly. "Who cares what they think? You know who I mean don't you?" I said, surprised by my own boldness. Well I was a Griffindor after all. "We're having fun, aren't we?"

He stared at me for a  moment, his grey eyes reflecting the moonlight, snow covered castle behind us. "Actually," he admitted in a low voice, "yeah, I am."

Suddenly, a mischievous glint sparked in his eyes. "Speaking of fun," he said, a slow, mischevous smile spreading across his face. "There's a tradition at the Yule Ball you might not be aware of. A must-do wizarding tradition to be more precise."

Intrigued, I leaned in closer. "What tradition?"

"Under the mistletoe," he said, his voice barely a whisper, "anything goes." Before I could react, he pulled me closer, his warm lips brushing hesitantly against mine.

My heart hammered in my chest. Like some kind of bass drum. This wasn't part of the plan. Yet, under the watchful gaze of the moon and the tiny speaks of light, that we twinkling stars, a magical spark ignited between us. It was a forbidden kiss, one laced with a thrill that sent shivers down my spine.

Just as quickly as it began, it was over. Malfoy stepped back a bit to soon for my liking, a mixture of confusion, embarrassment and defiance in his eyes.

"See?" he said, his voice strained. "Even I, can't resist a bit of rebellion at times."

But as his gaze met mine, something shifted. The defiance melted away, replaced by a vulnerability I hadn't seen before.

Suddenly, the sound of multiple approaching footsteps broke the spell. A group of giggling Gryffindors rounded the corner, catching sight of us under the mistletoe.

They erupted in cheers and whistles. "Look who's under the mistletoe!" Lee Jordan shouted, his camera flashing in the darkness.

Malfoy's face contorted in disgust. "Brilliant," he muttered, his eyes flashing with annoyance.

The playful yet romantic mood had vanished. Before another word could be exchanged, a voice cut through the air. "There you are, Hatysa!" It was Hermione, her brow furrowed in concern. "Ron's been looking for you everywhere."

Great. Just great. A jealous Ron was the last thing I needed right now. 

The night, already laced with unexpected twists, seemed to be taking another turn. With a sigh, I straightened my dress, my heart a tangled mess of confusion and exhilaration.

"Looks like the party's over, Malfoy," I said, trying to sound nonchalant. "Thanks for the er ... interesting dance lesson."

He gave a curt nod, his expression unreadable. 

As I walked away with Hermione, I couldn't help but steal one last glance back. The kiss, the stolen moment under the mistletoe, hung heavy in the air.

The Yule Ball was far from over, and I knew, with a deep certainty, that it wouldn't be a night I'd soon forget.