Disclaimer: I think we all know they're not mine.

Rose favored the bench under this particular window both because she could stretch her legs out and because it was hidden down a corridor most students didn't know existed. If she was going to mope, she wanted both comfort and privacy. She sighed and let her head rest against the glass. The coolness of the pane chased the worst of her headache away, but nothing could stop her thoughts from bubbling to the surface of her mind.

She had never once considered that none of the boys in Professor Mehta's dance class would want to partner with her because of her height. Most of the time, Rose enjoyed being tall. It was great to be able to see over her classmates' heads in a crowd, and her size and reach were certainly assets on the Quidditch pitch. She had been the tallest girl in her year since she was twelve—the tallest girl in the whole school, now—and she didn't usually waste much thought on the matter.

It was just…being a 6'1" girl apparently made it difficult to find a dance partner when all the boys were shorter than you. Professor Mehta had come to her rescue by making her his demonstration partner, but she was even taller than him. She reached up and covered her cheeks, feeling the heat rising there. She hadn't missed the way her housemates had tittered as she and the professor danced before them, his head practically tucked under her chin.

Rose felt like an ungainly giant and hated her height for the first time ever.

Her mum swore that she was almost done growing, had medical data and references to back it up, too, but Rose imagined for a moment what it would be like if her mother were wrong for once. By the time she graduated Hogwarts, she'd be the tallest witch in Britain. She'd have to duck to get through the average doorway. She'd be taller, even, than those Wookie creatures from Hugo's beloved Star Wars. She pictured herself as a Wookie-Rose, covered in frizzy, red hair, terrifying normal-sized children as she thundered through Diagon Alley—

"Why the long face, Stretch? Get it? 'Long face?'"

Her scowl was firmly in place before she turned. Of course it would be him. Scorpius Malfoy was the only one who ever seemed to bother her here. She regretted ever showing him and Al her favorite hiding spot. "What was that, tiny? I'm afraid I couldn't hear you because of your itty-bitty mouse-like voice."

It was a weak comeback, she knew, since it was no longer completely true. Scorpius was still shorter than her, but he had grown a lot this year, and his voice had dropped a few octaves. She assessed him through narrowed eyes. He had the nerve to be the size of an average 14-year-old boy. She couldn't even compare him to a Chihuahua anymore, like she had in their second year. He was outgrowing her worst insults while she just grew into a bigger target.

Scorpius just smiled and shoved her legs out of the way so he had room to sit. "Never mind. I already heard all about it from Kinney," he said, naming one of her housemates. "The Ravenclaws had their dance class, but no one wanted to dance with you on account of you being tall like a mighty oak tree." His face twisted with mock sympathy. "Now you're worried no one will ask you to the Yule Ball, and you're mad at the world and wanting to crush it beneath your massive feet."

Rose could feel herself blushing hotter, and tucked her feet under the bench. "For your information, I don't even want to go to the ball," she lied.

Her parents had sent her to school with the most beautiful dress robes. They were floaty, feminine, and a luscious caramel-apple color, which she thought warmed her skin and eyes while making her hair shine like fire. She had fallen in love with them as soon as she spotted them in Madam Malkin's, and her father had shelled out the Galleons without complaint. He wanted her to have nice robes, he said, and her mother had given her a bottle of Sleekeazy's to pack in her trunk and promised her that she would have a wonderful night.

What would they think when they heard she didn't even attend?

Scorpius pulled one leg up onto the seat and turned until he was facing her. "Afraid of sitting against the wall all night? Your cousins are already making plans to keep that from happening, not to worry."

If she blushed any harder, Rose feared she would rupture a blood vessel. What would be worse: to miss the ball completely or to go and spend the night shuffled between James, Al, and Louis? Too bad Hugo and Fred were too young to attend. That would make her humiliation complete.

"Who knows?" he continued airily as he brushed some invisible speck of lint from his red and gold tie. "If you ask nicely, I might dance with you, too."

"Be still my heart. I'm not interested," she muttered, as she tried to keep the thought of them—her in her caramel dress, him in blue, maybe—from entering her mind. "Though I'm sure you're a wonderful dancer." She infused her voice with the maximum sarcasm allowed by nature.

"I am wonderful," he agreed.

"And modest."

"When necessary." He rose abruptly and held out his hand to her. "Look, I'll show you."

She pulled back as much as the window would let her. "Show me what?"

"How to dance. I bet Mehta's as hopeless as Professor Longbottom. Probably steered you around the room like a broomstick, right?" He tsked and shook his head.

Rose frowned at the dig against her Head of House, but she had to admit that between her own embarrassment and Professor Mehta's technique, she hadn't learned much.

Scorpius continued. "My grandmother taught me over the summer when we heard there would be a ball this term." He circled his hand in the air impatiently. "Come on, Weasley." When she continued to just look at him, he rolled his eyes and said, "I don't bite. In any event, you have the security of knowing that, if I try anything out of hand, you can always snap me in two with your Amazonian strength."

She chuffed in annoyance and slapped her hand into his, letting him pull her to her feet. "Well, at least that's something to look forward to."

Rose let him maneuver her into position, obediently placing her left hand on his shoulder and leaving her other clasped in his. She kept her face turned to the right, looking at their joined hands. She reminded herself that this was not the first time she had been this close to Scorpius Malfoy, nor was it the first time she had held his hand. There was that time back in first year when they had been lost and looking for Al in the Forbidden Forest. They had slept in the same tent in Al's garden one weekend a couple summers ago. They were also both aggressive basketball players on the Muggle Sport League, where Rose dominated the court for Ravenclaw, and Scorpius had once taken her hand to help her up after knocking her down. He had held it long enough to compliment her shot before letting go and streaking after the ball. She tried not to notice that his hand was surprisingly…large. Bigger than hers, at least, with clean, short nails, a strong grip, and more callouses than she thought there would be. The faint dampness of his palm surprised her.

Or maybe that dampness was her, she thought, horrified. She suddenly felt like she was sweating all over. His height placed him level with her nose and mouth, and she longed for a breath freshening charm. His hand rested just below the middle of her back, and she was so conscious of her bra band under the tips of his fingers. This wasn't helping her feel less like a giant. Even her breasts felt too big now, all intrusive and in the way and really too close to his chin.

"—helps if you move, you know. It also helps if you don't stare to the right like you're in a trance."

His voice, sharp and slightly tense, made her jolt and felt his arm tighten around her in reaction. She swallowed and realized he had been swaying and talking for some time while she drifted off thinking about his hands and her bra. Really, this much blushing had to be medically dangerous.

"I wasn't paying attention," she stammered. "I was—"

"Cataloguing your shortcomings?" he smirked.

"Har-har. You're one to talk, little man." But she smiled and felt a little less nervous.

She was relaxed enough to pay attention, and she had to admit that he was both a good dancer and a better teacher than Professor Mehta. He explained the physical clues she would get from her partner as he led her where he wanted her to go. She listened and followed his direction as he took her through the steps of a few traditional wizard dances. They took turns humming in accompaniment, and he made her laugh when he taught her how to fast dance while humming the Hinky Punks' hit "She's a Long Tall Drink of Gillywater."

After two hours, they were both sweating from exertion and laughter, and Rose's feet hurt. They swayed in a slow circle while Rose hummed a Beatle's song her grandmother liked to sing. Her hand had long since migrated up from its rigid position on Scorpius's left shoulder to the back of his neck, and she enjoyed the warmth of his skin where his temple rested against her cheek.

"Now you have to go to the ball," he said quietly. "Otherwise, all my fine instruction has gone to waste, and surely your swotty Ravenclaw heart can't bear to let that happen."

She stopped humming and straightened until she could look him in the eye. "That would be a shame, I guess." They spun in another slow circle. "What's more pathetic," she asked, "to not be asked to dance and console yourself that you can't dance anyway or to not be asked to dance and be sad because you really want to?"

He frowned and stopped leading her in their lazy dance. "Anyone who would be embarrassed to dance with you just because you're taller isn't worth your time."

She shrugged. "I'm sure you're right."

His frowned deepened. "You can dance with your cousins." He paused. "You'll dance with your friends, too. James says these things are one big free-for-all after the formal dances end and the better music starts."

She moved back to her bench and sat, slipping her shoe off and pulling her foot into her lap so she could rub her arch. "Sounds like fun." She summoned a smile. "Thanks for the lesson. I swear I'll put it to good use."

He sighed and his face twisted that way Gryffindor faces did when they were thinking hard, but she looked down at her toes and thought about Professor Mehta's lesson. Maybe her housemates were just laughing because she was forced to dance with their nervous, fidgety Head of House. Or maybe the sight of a tall girl and a shorter boy dancing was a little funny simply because it reversed people's expectations. The unexpected made people uncomfortable, Mum always said. Even Rose was uncomfortable with it, at least at first.

Once she concentrating on dancing, she forgot all about being taller.

"You'll spend most of the evening dancing with me, of course," Scorpius said abruptly.

Rose's head shot up. "What?"

"Yes, yes, it's the best thing. I'll pick you up outside your tower before the dance." Scorpius nodded like he had found the solution to a great problem.

"Look," Rose slipped her foot back into her shoe as she stood up. "My pity party is over. You don't have to ask me to the dance because you feel sorry for me."

He made a disgusted sound. "Who says I feel sorry for you? Malfoys never feel sorry for anyone. It's practically our family motto. Besides," he looked her up and down, considering, "this is the only way I can ensure the safety of everyone at the Ball."

"How's that?" she asked, knowing he was winding her up and not caring.

"I know how you move now, you see." He took her hand, wound her arm through his, and led her down the corridor toward the tapestry that concealed it from busier parts of the school. "If I sense you're about to fall on your face, I can push other dancers out of your path." He smirked. "Or at least yell 'timber!'"

"Sounds like a plan. Oh, by the way," she paused and reached out to pat his head, "maybe you should wear tall top hat. Or maybe carry a flag. That way, if I lose you in the crowd of big people, I can find you again."

"I'll carry my wand and send up a signal flare if that happens," he said very seriously, despite how the corner of his mouth was twitching, and she laughed.

As she reached for the edge of the tapestry, he asked, "What color are your robes? Just in case I bow to tradition and bring you a flower or something." And she could swear he was blushing, though Malfoys appeared to blush far more delicately than Weasleys.

"They're golden brown, like caramel." She smiled, thinking of them. "What about yours?"

"Hmm?" He followed her out from under the edge of the tapestry. "They're dark blue. I don't think we'll clash."

"No," and in her mind's eye she could picture them, she in her golden gown, he in blue, his blond head against her cheek, and who cared if she was taller? "We'll look great together."

Written for the following HPFC prompts:

Chicklets Game Challenge—dancing

Prompt Relay Challenge, Section 10—caramel