Title: Dance
Author: Arawna
Disclaimer: Anything pertaining to Harry Potter and Co. does not belong to me, rather to JKR and anyone else who has stuck their hand into this cauldron.
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter
Summary-A/N: This series - well, I don't know if you'd call it a 'series' per se, more like group of random one-shots that may or may not have references to each other, but are otherwise not related - is in response to TheOriginalHufflepuff's Twelve Fics of Christmas challenge.
Dance:
Gray eyes scanned the dance floor, watching everyone in their sickly-sweet couples, sneering as those same couples held each other close to sway together with the slow beat.
He hated the Yule Ball, and all the merry feelings that wafted from others because of it. It had nothing to do with the fact that no such merry feelings were directed at him. Nope. Not at all.
Okay, maybe just a little, but he wasn't about to admit that to anyone. Especially that green-eyed boy right across the room from him, staring at the couples with the same disdain in his own eyes. However, making an oath not to admit anything to the Gryffindor didn't mean that he couldn't look at the boy.
After finishing his third glass of eggnog - spiked, of course, as only the Slytherins would do - when he finally noticed his stare being returned. He quickly glanced away, only to revert his eyes back to meet his opponent's.
Draco hadn't known exactly how long Harry had been staring at him, but there was a look in those green orbs that didn't tell of hate or disdain, or wanting to pound the Slytherin's head into the nearest wall. Instead, it held something that Draco couldn't quite make out; something between hunger and … rage? The hunger he could understand, but why mix it with rage? What did the Gryffindor have to be so upset at the blonde for?
Oh, stupid question.
Still pandering this question when he lost sight of the other boy. He glanced over at the table piled with finger food of all sorts, thinking that he had probably went to refill his spiked eggnog or to grab a Christmas treat. The boy made no appearance at the table. Draco shrugged. Perhaps he has gone to use the loo - it happens - and he would wait for him to return.
However, the blonde waited for many minutes without the other boy reappearing in the great doorway that was the entrance to the Hall.
"Whatcha lookin' at, Malfoy?"
If not for his extensive training in Malfoy etiquette, Draco would have jumped ten feet into the air at the sound of that deep voice sounding by his ear.
"Nothing, Potter," he sneered back, not even turning to look at the other boy. He took a sip of his eggnog. "What do you want?"
Draco felt Harry's fingers come up to play with the fine hairs at the nape of his neck.
"Nothing, Malfoy," Harry mimicked, without the sneer. "Just wondering if you would like to dance."
All the etiquette training in the world couldn't prevent Draco from showing a reaction. His eggnog didn't survive.
"What!?" exclaimed the blonde, turning to face the Gryffindor.
"I asked," the other boy said slowly, as if speaking to a child, "if you would like to dance. With me."
Draco sighed heavily. "I heard you the first time, Potter; that was merely a reaction. I'm sure Granger would agree with me on this."
"If 'Mione heard me asking you to dance, she wouldn't have time to agree with your point. She'd be too busy sending me to St. Mungo's, then quickly try to find a counter-curse for whatever curse had been placed on me," Harry explained.
"And that's not the case?" the blonde inquired. Harry shook his head. "Then what is to blame?"
"Hormones." The Gryffindor shrugged.
"So hormones are the reason you're asking me to dance?" Draco now stood in front of the other boy with his arms crossed over his chest.
Harry shook his head again, taking a step toward Draco. "No, hormones are to blame as to why I'm fascinated with you." He brushed a lock of platinum blonde hair from over the Slytherin's left eye. Draco shuddered. "It's that Gryffindor courage that can be blamed for why I'm asking you to dance."