Only This Moment

A One-Shot

There was a mystical fog floating just above the dance floor, engulfing the dancers in such a way one had to believe in magic. The twinkling white lights illuminated the beads of sweat on people's foreheads, arms, necks and chests as the light flashed onto their blissful faces. Women clung to their partners in a heated passion as the music swept them across the glaringly colorful floor. The men held their women close, their hands at the small of their back, pressing their partners into their own chest. As the dance floor flickered, several blue-masked men carried around dry martinis on silver trays, offering it to resting dancers or aristocratic men standing together in a corner, dressed fashionably in black with an elegant black mask on. Many of the women were dressed lavishly in bright outfits that stretched against their fine skin, like a second layer of flesh.

The DJ stood at the stage, playing several mixes that made the floor thud like a heartbeat, made the rhythm for the dancers to crush their pelvises together to. The young men and women on the dance floor were the new faces of the bright generation.

Hermione sat against the leather sofa that was pressed into a perfumed corner on the platform about ten feet high, a railing around it as she stared down at the bodies on the dance floor. The Ministry was holding its Masquerade Ball for the fifth time, marking the Defeat of Voldemort five years ago and the rise of a new administration. The New Minster of Magic was indeed her, who was nominated and voted for, immediately achieving public adoration. The Masquerade honored her rise to power, and the meaning for it all towards the Wizarding World—that a new and younger power was patrolling the magical world.

She had come to the ball alone and well masked. She had intended to go with Ron, but he had apologized and told her he was going with Susan Bones, his new girlfriend. She and Ron had taken a break almost five months ago, and it still irked her that he was back on the dating field. Harry was of course taking Ginny, so she had decided to come alone. She was dressed in a silver gown, not at all tight like the women on the floor. It was flashy and delicately cut to accentuate her figure. It came just above her knees in flirty ripples, and the top was crossed behind the neck to cut across her chest, exposing her breasts in the large v-cut, firm and developed. In her hands the dress felt like liquid. Her hair was pinned up in a twist, with her wild curls crowning her head, tiny diamonds sparkling in the light. She wore a silver mask encrusted with diamonds also, her neck adorned with a single tear-drop crystal necklace. A long elegant feather was tucked behind her ear, giving her a seductively mysterious look.

As she sat against the sofa, several men approached her to dance but she turned them down while slowly sipping from her sour green apple martini. Other men simply stared at her; they would smile awkwardly at her, temporarily out of breath at her beauty that was radiating off of her. She would smile at them, and they would give up and walk away.

She was finishing her second martini when she was him. He was wearing a white top hat and a white tuxedo with a silver shirt underneath. She shivered at the sight of him. He was slowly making his way through the mass of dark bodies dancing around him. Hermione held her breath as she watch him make his way to the bar, ordering a scotch.

She stood from her seat.

.

Draco wasn't much of a dancer in an informal sort of way. When he heard that there was a new Minister, and that it was actually a twenty-three year old woman, he had come back from America, where he had spent five years living after the war. With the Malfoy name tarnished and ugly, Draco had gathered all the belongings his Father and Mother had left behind and moved to America. He had lived in a lavish apartment in Manhattan, his wand lying forgotten somewhere at the bottom of his suitcase. He didn't know what a house elf was anymore compared to his maid, and didn't know what magic was compared to what a phone call and a hundred dollars could get him. But when he had heard from Blaise Zabini, the only remaining Slytherin beside himself to escape prosecution from switching sides, that the Wizarding World had elected a female Minster that was only twenty three; he knew he had to come back. However, no one had told him the woman would be Hermione Granger.

He had visited the Ministry of Magic a few weeks into his return to change his address from America back to England when he came across the hallway with portraits lined with past Ministers, and then the present one. Her portrait had given him a peculiar smile. It was small and taunting; almost as if the two of them shared a secret that would shock the world. She had grown since the last time he saw her, at the young age of seventeen. She was tanner, definitely, and her hair wasn't unruly but fell down her back in loose curls that were lit with blonde, brown, and caramel. Her eyes were still an amazing honey color. The portrait left him wanting to see her badly.

He was living a life that wasn't what his Father had wanted. When Dumbledore fell, Draco had ran. He ran for such a long time he thought he could never come back to the Order's good graces. Finally, nearly a year after the break-in at Hogwarts, he was captured by his distant cousin Tonks, who brought him back to the Order, bounded. Draco remembered looking into the mirror that was in his locked room at Grimmauld. He was incredibly thin, his face gaunt and filthy and his hair touching his shoulders. His school robe was tied around his shoulders and was literally drenched in dirt. What happened to him at Grimmauld that summer would change his life forever—it gave him a reason to live. Ultimately, he was given a fair trial, where they told him that he would be sent to death if found guilty.

But Blaise, who had pledged his allegiance to the Light before his seventh year, had come to his rescue. He had somehow retrieved and brought in the Portrait of Professor Dumbledore who explained his last words to Draco. He was innocent, corrupted by his Father's teaching—merely a child trying to walk in his Father's too large shoes. He did not correct them of the image created of him.

He knew that events held for the Ministry were usually dark-colored clothing, but Draco felt that he should be the thorn at the party, wearing a sleek white tuxedo and matching hat. Several women stared at him with curiosity and lust, wanting to de-mask him. He had simply walked pass them. He was making his way to the bar when he saw her.

She was putting down an empty martini glass when their eyes locked for the briefest of moments. He turned away from her, a small smirk gracing his lips as he leaned forward to order a scotch. He could tell she was coming over to him.

He waited.

.

Hermione felt her stomach twist as she made her way to the man leaning over the bar with his scotch in hand. She slid into the stool that was beside him and leaned back onto the cool counter of the bar and smiled her million-dollar smile. Immediately, the masked man turned to her.

"Hello there," he said in a deep smooth voice. Her bones rattled at the tone as she tilted her head sideways to give the man an alluring smile. She raised one slim, exposed shoulder in a half shrug that made her look dazzling and innocent.

"Hello to you," she said, turning around to face the man. She folded one leg over the other and placed her folded hands at her knee, leaning slightly back.

"Can I buy you a drink?" the man asked. Hermione didn't answer; instead, she turned to the bartender and ordered a cosmopolitan. The bartender stared at her glossy lips with a desired smiled, and quickly turned to make her drink. As he handed it to her, he tried to slip her his business card.

"I get off at five…" he said. The masked man beside her smirked and whipped the card from out of the man's hand.

"Sorry mate, not tonight…" he drawled. Hermione stifled a giggle and turned away from the bartender, sipping her drink as the masked man stood incredibly close to her, staring down the length of her body.

"You're quiet the beauty. Are you a model?" the man asked. Hermione shook her head.

"Absolutely not…" she said with a laugh.

"What a shame…someone of your impeccable beauty should be flaunting it."

"Why thank you, but I'm fairly conservative."

"Again, what a shame."

"I have a feeling you know that isn't a shame, but I'll allow you to humor me with your complimentary remarks," she said with a small smirk that teased him over her glass. She caught the flicker of amusement that went across his cool grey eyes.

After a rather pregnant pause, she placed her half finished drink back on the counter and stood from her seat, walking away from the masked man. Immediately, he followed after her, putting money on the bar. She loved playing cat and mouse.

As she walked deeper in to the mass of bodies she couldn't help but let the base of the song playing consume her. She found herself swaying to the music in the throe of withering bodies. She lifted her hands above her head as she allowed the music to flow through her and make her move. Suddenly, a pair of arms encircled her small frame and she was gently pressed against the front of the masked man. With a laugh, they began to dance in-synch together. She eventually turned around and placed her arms around his neck, slow dancing to the song that had begun.

Stay or forever go

Play or you'll never know

Your spirit's divided

You will decide if I'm

All you've been waiting for…

Before she knew it, they were kissing. He ran his hands up and down her back as they clung to each other in a frantic effort to capture some part of their past. She loved playing cat and mouse, but now the game was coming to an end. She had caught him again. He knew this and was comfortable having her back in his arms once more.

Suddenly, there was a loud explosion from above the dance floor and a million pieces of confetti filtered down onto the people dancing. The chaos around them was gorgeous as the confetti poured down over the two of them. Draco had pulled her to him, his pink lips muttering words she couldn't understand. He cupped the back of her head with his hand, tilting it back as he pressed his lips against hers, emitting passion at once. The masks came off a long time ago.

Five long years had passed since that passionate night they had shared together in silence when he had been brought to Grimmauld. It was a passion that had been kept in their own bodies since they were children—a passion that was put to rest and stirred when they met again. Here, in this mass of bodies, they had found each other once more.

"I knew I would find you again," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck. He kissed her neck in silent agreement, holding her tightly to him. "I knew you wouldn't stay away forever."

"I didn't mean to leave; I just had to learn…I just had to learn how much it hurt to be away from you. What you gave me I can never forget, Hermione." He pulled her into another kiss. "You gave me passion; you gave me a moment that I relived over and over in my head for the last five years."

She wrapped her arms around his neck once more, resting her head on his chest and once again swaying to the music. "I waited for you. And you promised you'd come back to me with a clean slate—a white light. And you did," she said with a smile, running her hand down the front of his tux.

They kissed again, allowing the music to sweep them across the dance floor.

Yes, if you all must know, this was inspired by a scene from Just My Luck. The movie wasn't one of my favorites, but this particular scene at the ball was fantastic.

Song italicized in this chapter is from the duo Royksopp, and so is the title of this short one-shot. Thank you for reading, and please let me know what you thought about it!