Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Chapter One
Of all the Yuletide festivities at Hogwarts, none was more eagerly anticipated than the Yule Ball. However, out of all the preparations for the event, none could possibly be less anticipated than the joint Gryffindor-Slytherin Yule Ball dance practice. A month before the ball, all fourth through seventh-year students from the two houses were summoned to the Great Hall at 8 p.m. sharp, where the house tables had been Vanished to reveal a spacious dance floor. As the students arrived they kept near the walls and stayed clustered in little groups: Gryffindor stayed on one side, Slytherin on the other. All of them waited apprehensively for the lesson to begin. A gramophone was stationed at the head table where Dumbledore usually sat, and Filch was clumsily placing a record on it.
Professors McGonagall and Snape made their entrance and the hall quieted immediately.
"Good evening," said McGonagall as she and Snape made their way to the front of the hall. Snape looked just as sullen as the students. "Tonight we will be continuing our lesson of the waltz. Now, if you would please find a partner" – there was a flurry of excitement as the students tried to group together—"from the opposite house."
An audible groan filled the hall. The two houses glared at each other from their opposite sides and no one dared to move.
"All right then, school unity, come on!" she said as she started to push pairs of students together. "Let's see, Mr. Goyle and Miss Patil, over here, please. Miss Brown and Mr. Zabini, here… Ah! Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger." Ignoring the shocked looks on both of their faces, she steered them together.
"B—but Professor!" Malfoy stammered. "Surely you can't expect me to dance with this Mu—"
"You would do well not to repeat that vile word in my presence, Mr. Malfoy. If I hear it from you again I will take fifty points from Slytherin and give you detention for a week. Now where was I?" McGonagall continued to pair up the students.
Hermione and Draco glared at each other, brown eyes into blue.
"What is this school coming to? I shall tell my father straightaway." Lowering his voice, Draco said, "I can't believe I'm being forced to dance with a Mudblood."
"Filch said they outlawed torture here a long time ago, but clearly they've brought it back, making me dance with you," retorted Hermione.
Soon all the students were matched up and an elegant, melodic waltz began to play. McGonagall walked among the students and observed their skills, shouting words of advice and encouragement. Snape said nothing to the students of his own house but sneered at the Gryffindors, saying things like "I see your dancing skills are not even half as good as your mediocre Quidditch skills, Potter," and "Weasley, that is the second time you have stepped on Miss Parkinson's foot. Ten points from Gryffindor."
Hermione looked over at Ron's scowling face when she heard that statement, but Draco reached up and turned her chin back to face him.
"Worried about your little boyfriend, eh, Granger? Don't you worry—I'm the best dancer you'll ever be with. You'd better enjoy it while you can. Savor the moment, y'know?"
Hermione had to admit that Draco was indeed a very good dancer. He knew how to move and when to turn, and with one hand on Hermione's waist he was guiding her as well. She had expected him to be cold, but his hands were warm. So warm… was that a bead of sweat under his hairline? She could feel her cheeks getting hot as she realized Draco was sweating. Her heart beat faster as she realized that underneath the calm façade, Draco looked quite nervous!
"You're blushing," he said, color creeping into his own face as he did so.
"So are you, and you're all… hot… and sweaty…" said Hermione. She had never looked into his electric-blue eyes so closely for so long.
"Must be the heat," he said, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. "They've got the fireplaces on too high."
"Yes, I suppose that must be it." Oh—that blue—she couldn't even look at him now. She didn't know where to look. He was wearing the same shirt-and-vest school uniform as always, so why couldn't she look at him all of a sudden?
The rest of the lesson was a blur, with the two of them glancing at each other and looking away quickly, flustered, hoping no one around them could notice what was going on. It was hard to pretend not to care, Hermione thought, while finding herself wishing that they could stay like this, taking in each other's heat, forever…
Then the music stopped and the two of them stayed together for just a second too long.
"I have seen much improvement today," announced McGonagall. "After Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff practice tomorrow I daresay the entirety of Hogwarts will be ready to show off its formidable—er—dance moves," she said with a rare half-smile. "Now, off to bed!"
Harry and Ron caught up to Hermione as the students started to leave the Great Hall.
"Bloody hell, that was awful," said Ron. "Didja hear Snape yelling at me? I'd like to see that greasy git try to dance with Pansy. She was crushing my hand on purpose, I swear." He held it up for them to see. "I'm lucky my bones aren't broken!"
"Are you okay, Hermione?" asked Harry. "Malfoy didn't… harass you too much, did he?"
Hermione's face grew even redder.
"No, um, I'm fine. I mean, I'm just tired, I guess. I'll see you two tomorrow, okay?" She scurried off to Gryffindor Tower ahead of Harry and Ron, leaving them exchanging confused looks.