Disclaimer: I don't own this, if you don't get that then you are dumb.
AN: hey kids, i deleted all my bad old stuff and am starting over, feel free to leave some input if you like, or rather if you don't like. thankee much.
Chapter One
Ink
When she dances she becomes someone else. No one can touch her, stop her, be her. It's her only freedom, escape. They refer to her as the Waif. Main reason being her slight form, but also the way she moved. She moved like a silk kerchief, dancing, twisting, bending like the wind. Pure motion. Not at all the awkward girl she was known as at school.
School, the torturous bliss she endured and cherished, the place where she was known but not regarded, where she was befriended not beloved.
It was the week before school was to start, and the last day she would have at home before she went to the burrow, her last few hours before she was no longer the Waif, her last bit of tantric luxury. It's never too late to feel the beat and pusling music that defines the soul, at least that's what she tells herself, it took her fifteen years to figure that out, and this last moment before her seventh year was the most bittersweet. She would never get to come back alone now.
Ron and Harry hadn't ever really wanted to send her home after the first year, they knew she was unhappy at home, had her stay at the burrow whenever they could. Yet, after she turned fifteen she would try to make up any excuse to stay at home, not go, not leave her world of wispered fame. Hermione couldn't just tell them, wanting to stay home and dance isn't exactly the most sane of ideas with an unstable father and a now deceased mother.
Hermione never drank and danced, and since she was always dancing, she never drank. She wanted to remember and savor every moment, to remember every face that watched her, every person whose eye she captured. And yet. Tonight was special, and there are always exceptions. So Hermione drank.
"Hey, Amir, absinthe over here. Please and thanks." Hermione stated.
"Anything for the Waif. It's free." Amir said as he slid it across the bar to her. He had always offered Hermione drinks when she came to Ink, but she had never taken him up on his offer. He had kindly overlooked her inability to provide ID, as had the bouncers, her underground identity was all they had ever needed.
"Cheers" she said to herself, and then downed the suspiciously radioactive colored liquid. Wow, she thought, now i know why they say not to let it touch your tongue.
With that she made her way out onto the floor, twisting lithely around the countless other bodies who looked at her with glazed and desirous eyes, the colors streaming and melting away in seamless beauty. Only for an instance was she distinguishable from the throng, but in the blink of an eye she melded in more fluidly than liquid mercury.
"5" the music was still pounding "4" the beats skipped and then reconnected "3" just a bit more "2" the crowd began to vacate the center of the floor "1. Ah, right on time." Precisely upon his count, Hermione, the Waif, began to dance like she was known to, defying logic and reason in her ability to move as she did. Where she had learned it no one knew, but this male, who had watched her everytime she came into Ink wondered. Wondered as so many did, but he knew precisely how to throw her off, which was more than anyone else knew.
So in one smooth motion he stood and slipped through the crowd with ease making his way to join the Waif. A few had tried to dance with her before, always too slow and too uncoordinated to keep up. Too stupid in their movements. That was about to change. Drastically. At least this testosterone driven youth thought so.
With resoulute certainty he slid behind her and followed her movements, barely inches from her, yet never once touching or missing a beat. Had it not been for his breath on the back of her neck, and his hands flowing past hers, she would never had known he was there at all.
Amazing, she thought, he's keeping up... Not for long. And so Hermione sped up, and began to twist and turn in ways most people would think unhuman.
This particular male kept up though, anticipating her speed change, he broke free and began to dance on his own, just praying that she would turn and face him. That she would see him and falter, as he knew she would.
And she did, though she didn't falter as he had hoped for. Rather she smiled smugly as suprise showed in his eyes.
"Oh come now Draco," She purred as she continued to move, "You couldn't have really thought I didn't know it was you, did you?" That's when Draco Malfoy, evil or all evils, the unsurpasable Slytherin, faltered, and fell.
With that the crowd cheered and engulfed the floor once more. Their champion had once again proved her worth, and they had to celebrate. The Waif was flawless yet again.
Upon righting himself Draco realized Hermione had vanished. "Damn her," he muttered as he made for the door, "Damn her."
AN: that's it for now, more soon.