On the Dance Floor
It was strange, and it was awkward, dancing with Draco Malfoy. And in some strange way, it felt right; in a way Hermione hadn't felt right for a long time. She didn't register which songs the band played as they danced. She didn't hear the sounds of the people around or notice their stares. Just enjoyed moving to the music, enjoyed the feel of Malfoy's warm hand on her waist.
It's so nice to dance with a competent partner. The uncharitable thought popped into her head.
Hermione loved dancing. Had loved it since she was a little girl and her dad had her stand on his feet, while he waltzed around the living room, her mom laughing at their antics. Thanks to Voldemort, her school years hadn't exactly given her a lot of chances to enjoy dancing, but after the war ended, she had been so excited to go dancing again.
She had tried to get Ron to go dancing with her. The few times she had convinced him to go, he had whined and complained the entire time. If she managed to actually get him on a dance floor, he had stomped around, stepping on her feet, all the while telling her how bored he was and that he'd rather be anywhere else. Never mind all the stupid quidditch games I sat through for his sake. And never mind the fact that he apparently didn't mind dancing now, if all the pictures in the Daily Prophet's celebrity spotting pages were anything to go by. So I guess it was just dancing with me that was the problem. The thought made her sad. She had tried so damn hard to be the woman he wanted to be with. And she had never been enough for Ron.
Suddenly Malfoy spun her around faster, keeping step with the music, and startled her out of her train of thought. Hermione gave a surprised laugh. Grabbed his arm a bit tighter and noticed with some insane part of her brain how nice his biceps felt under the dress robes. He wasn't buff. If anything, he seemed a bit gaunt. Not quite underweight, just a little thin and worn out. Tired maybe, if a body could convey that just by its stature. But he still felt strong as he effortlessly led her around the dance floor. Oddly enough dancing in his arms made her feel safe. I wonder if this is a delayed reaction to some curse that has hit me at some point? Her mouth quirked in a half smile.
"What's funny, Granger?"
Right. Like she was going to tell him that she liked his biceps and he made her feel safe. She snorted out loud imagining his face.
"Nothing. Just…this seems a little surreal, is all."
Looking down at her face, he quirked an eyebrow at her. "I'll take surreal any day. The real real isn't as nice as this."
She didn't know what to say to that. She wasn't quite ready to admit out loud that her real wasn't as nice as this surreal moment either.
When the music stopped, and the band announced they were taking a break, it felt like she was coming back from a different reality. The sounds from the other guests crashed back into her ears, the chatter buzzing all around them, glasses clinking. Someone dropped something behind her. Someone else laughed. Hermione shook her head. She felt oddly at a loss, like she was suddenly missing something vital.
She looked at Malfoy standing next to her, his hands in his pockets. He was looking down at the floor. His jaw was clenched, his shoulders tight. He looked about as lost as she felt. And he looked like he was bracing himself for something. Something dark. Negative. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. She had to fight the urge to reach out and brush a lock of hair out of his eyes.
She shook her head, as if trying to get rid of the errant thoughts. This was nuts. Where would she even go from here. How did one wrap up dancing with a childhood nemesis? How did one wrap up having enjoyed dancing with her childhood nemesis?
She wondered again if this urge, she suddenly had to spend time with Draco Malfoy, was a symptom of some kind of mental break. Even if she ignored the war, his family, and everything they had supported- which in and of itself was pretty darn hard -this was the guy who had mocked her mercilessly all through school. And not just her. Her friends. Family. Name calling. Bullying. Rubbing his wealth and privilege in their faces. And then of course there's all the other stuff too…
She hesitated. The right thing to do was probably to thank him for the dance and say goodnight. And never speak of this again. And possibly seek counseling.
"Uhm, Malfoy….I…"
"It's all right Granger." He looked up. The corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile. "I don't know what possessed you to dance with me, but I want you to know I appreciate it. It sure made this fundraiser better than anything else I've had to attend for a very long time. And…" He paused. "Granger, I…" Another pause, as if the words he needed wouldn't quite come to him.
She looked Malfoy. Noticed his grey eyes searching her face as if he was looking for something in her expression. Over his shoulder, she spotted her friends at their table, every one of them staring at her and Malfoy. Going back over there would just be fun, wouldn't it? Questions galore. Probably accusations. Yeah, the interrogations would be such a blast.
"I…I was such a wanker in school. And after…The rubbish I said to you. Things I did…There's not even a way to tell you that I'm so bloody sorr…"
"Hey, Malfoy, I think I am going to ditch this place and go somewhere to get a pint." She interrupted.
Briefly her mind revisited idea that she was having a mental break, and then she shrugged it off. She couldn't remember last time she had enjoyed herself this much. What the bloody heck have I been doing with my life that the happiest I've been in ages has been dancing with Malfoy? But that hadn't been all of it, had it? Shrugging off the pressure to conform, to do what was expected had made her feel good. And a little high on freedom. But yeah, dancing with him had made her feel happy too.
In for a penny, in for a pound, I suppose. She took a deep breath.
"Do you want to see how the other side lives? I know a great little muggle pub in London."
