Thanks to all those that commented and/or added the story to their alert lists. Here's the next chapter! Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I still don't own the characters, and probably never will, as I don't think that J.K Rowling would relinquish the book and movie rights . . . double damn.
Draco bowed to the pretty blonde once the music ended. It was obvious that she wanted another dance, but he really didn't care. Walking over to his mother, he prepared himself for the barrage of questions and comments.
"She's pretty Draco! Honey I think – " Narcissa began.
Draco shook his head mournfully. "Pretty, sure, but too docile. There's no fight in her, and you know how I like a good argument. If I had a spat with her, it'd probably just end up with me walking all over her, and she just lying there and taking it."
"Well, yes but – "
"'But' nothing mother. I don't want her." Draco tried to soften the blow with a smile. "Come, we'll find someone eventually."
Narcissa smiled wanly, and nodded as her son moved off.
After a number of dances with equally boring young ladies, Draco had decided that his life was just going to end up having a large number of mistresses. He was fine with that, sure, but he knew that his mother wouldn't be, so he kept dancing with every young lady that he saw, hoping to find someone to his liking.
As the evening grew late, he made his way out onto the balcony for some fresh air and some space from the cloying gasps of pure-blooded girls and their mothers. Leaning on the stone balustrade, he revelled in the feeling of the air on his face. After a few minutes, he steeled himself to go back inside. But as he was turning around, a small shadow on the outer edges of his vision stopped him. There was something wrong with the way that the shadow fell, and he knew that because he spent many of his evenings out on the balcony trying to figure out where to go with his fucked up life.
Softly, he walked over to the pot plant, trying to get his vision to adjust to the deep shadows. He stood just in front of a young girl, curled up in the blanket that he usually kept out here for when the nights grew too long for him to endure. He couldn't make much out about her features, but she looked fairly small and fragile, with long hair (was it that dark? Or was it just the shadow?) falling down her back and curling over her shoulders. She hadn't noticed him approach, so he figured that she was either sleeping or was really drunk and had been moved there by a kind-hearted soul.
He cleared his throat, trying to attract her attention. When she still didn't notice him, he frowned, and sat cross-legged down beside her. Gently, he tapped her shoulder, wondering if he knew this girl and had already danced with her – the odds here were very high – or she was one that preferred to keep to the shadows – not so likely, but he'd rather find a new girl to dance with than face the hall alone.
As his fingers brushed her skin and the hair that covered it, he felt something like a premonition. As she proceeded to jump out of her skin, he wondered if it was a good or bad feeling.
"Shit!" the girl gasped. After she caught her breath, and had visibly slowed her heart, she started to tell him off. "Can't you mind your own business? How would you like it if some random just came and tapped you on the shoulder, intruding in places that they shouldn't? You should take better care next time, and just leave the poor girl alone!"
Mutely, Draco got to his knees, and then held out his hand to help her up, slightly puzzled by her reaction. Either he had frightened the poor thing worse than she would care to admit, or she was the one girl here with some genuine spice.
She looked at him suspiciously for a moment and then took his hand, rising gracefully to her feet. Slowly, he walked backwards, drawing her into the light so that he could see her better. She frowned as he moved her, but didn't say anything, as if she guessed his intentions, but didn't really care.
Now that she was in the light, Draco was able to see that she was indeed a tiny girl; any man would be afraid of doing anything too rough in case he broke her, but the spirit he had glimpsed before was evidence that there was something hard and stubborn inside her. Her hair was indeed as dark as it looked in the shadows, flowing down to about her mid back, but with small tendrils of it curling over her shoulders and her chest. Her eyes were one of the most unusual colours her had ever seen; a blue-green with a golden ring around her iris, the dark outline of her eyes and the pale cream of her skin greatly accentuating their colour. "Wow," he breathed. Those eyes of hers sharpened as she heard that, but they had obviously caught what he was thinking, and as he watched, they changed into a misty aqua, the gold almost disappearing and a thick smoky grey outline appearing around the blue. "Shit," he said, awed, and peered closer at her eyes.
She sighed and then stepped back, dropping his hand and looking away.
"Oh! I'm sorry," Draco stammered. "I didn't mean – "
"It's okay," she said, in a voice that was soft and clipped, but he felt, rather than heard, an undertone of harshness. This one was a complicated one. "Um, would you like to dance?" Never had he been so unnerved before to have to stammer out that line.
She looked at him from out of the corner of her eyes, holding him like that for what seemed like forever, but would have only been a second or two. She shrugged, "Why not?"