Dancing With Draco

Chapter 5 - The Ball

MacGonagall sent them out of the classroom first. She told them she had to stay to tinker with the phono-blast, but what was more likely was that she knew how volatile a goodbye between them alone in this room on the last day of dance lessons might be.

In the empty corridor outside, Draco draped Hermione's robes over her head and shoulders. "Keep it all covered," he said. "No one else gets to see. It's just for us." He glanced over both his shoulders, meant to kiss her quickly but ended up in a crushing, breathless embrace somehow, and then set to winding up his disillusionment charm for his lonely walk back to the dungeons.

Dinner had already started by the time she got back to the tower. It meant her room was empty and she could look at herself in the glass one last time before taking off the dress. He had liked how she looked in it -- loved it, that was what he had actually said. That was one thing she could count on from Draco -- no false compliments. She examined her neck as best she could before letting her hair down. Lavender had warned her about it being prone to retaining traces of kisses. There was nothing. She was both relieved and a little sad.

In the Great Hall, the meal was Christmas fare. The boys gorged themselves while some of the girls remembered the fit of their gowns and only looked wistfully at the piles of roast potatoes and gravy. Hermione wasn't bothered, eating as she usually did but laughing much more, nudging Ron and Harry on either side of her as she chattered at them.

"I forgot that Christmas-Hermione is brilliant. Good mood, no nagging, no fussing, not even a word about my table manners," Ron said to Harry, talking across her plate, teasing by pretending she couldn't hear them.

She laughed and pushed him out of her space. "Remind me, Ronald. Who is your date for tomorrow?"

"There," he pointed across the hall. "The other half of your Parvati, Padma Patil."

Hermione was pointing too. "Where? Right there? Sitting at the Ravenclaw table? Back to back with the Slytherin table? With all those Slytherins? I don't see."

"There," he repeated more firmly, pointing again. "With all the black hair, looking exactly like your roommate."

"That's no help. Everyone's hair looks dark by candlelight."

"Honestly, Hermione. Right, you can see Malfoy's brassy head there, can't you? Padma's behind and three down from him."

"Malfoy -- yeah, there he is. Near Padma."

"Stop -- what're you doing, waving at him? Now he's looking over here. And waving back. Look, no -- I take it back, Christmas-Hermione is barmy."

"She's just giddy about tomorrow, making her grand entrance with her champion," Lavender said, leaning over the table, nearly dragging her hair through her plate of dry peas and carrots.

Ron was flushing red at the idea but Harry was nodding. "I, for one, am glad you're going with Krum, Hermione," he said. "It'll be nice to have you out there with us, for that nightmare of a waltz."

Parvati rolled her eyes, but Lavender was leaning over her plate again. "All the dance practices must have given you lots of chances to get to know him better, yeah Hermione? Is he any good?"

Hermione swallowed her punch in a gulp so big it hurt her throat. "Viktor is not the kind of student McGonagall can order around to dance practices. He and I haven't danced at all."

Harry jumped. "Hermione, the Epicur-, the Episke- -- er, whatever it's called, it's not a simple dance. You've got to practice."

Ron was laughing. "Oh, I can't wait to see this. Have you noticed the feet on Krum? Well spotted, Hermione. There'd be no point practicing at all, up against feet like that."