Right, sorry it's been so long. Okay, this is un-betaed and i wrote it last night when inspiration hit at three-four o'clock so i hope it makes sense. As you can see im setting up a fantastic event and an impending meeting. Have fun reading and i'm expecting reviews. Lol. Bye guys.

Oh and for those of you who wanted to know, i now have two new chapters written for my old story Always and Forever, although i don't really like it anymore because it's not mature enough for me now, i will continue to write short simplistic chapters for it. So here we go.


I Hope You Dance : Chapter 3

Following the completely overdramatic 'episode' of the Neanderthals that they would soon be sharing a dance studio with, Draco's mobile had started to ring rather obtrusively into the tense silence, effectively breaking the curse the scruff-ball had left behind him. His group had an hour to wait before they could force the trash to depart, so he flippantly gestured for the rest of the troop to get lost and stepped back into the stairwell to answer to damned machine. It turned out it was his father. His very unhappy father. His very unhappy father who had just gotten wind of his dropping grades, newfound and unavoidable association with Weasels and actual friendship with one Miss Parkinson. This was not shaping up to be a good day.

He absently listened to his father droning on about what benefits such things could have, the practicalities he should be thinking about due to his lifestyle and how some diseases could not be brushed off with a simple flu shot. He much preferred to watch with a half peeked interest as to where his dance group would go with this free time than listen to the old man prattle on.

Greengrass strode overconfidently out first, her hips swinging like there was no tomorrow, with Blaise following in her wake like a love sick puppy. Draco had warned him that no good would come from this infatuation but had, as usual when it came to Blaise, been ignored. How Greengrass managed to ignore his blatant show of emotion was beyond him but then someone as dense as her when it came to sensitivities such as this should be given a little longer before one began to snarl down one's nose at her with disdain, Draco supposed. Next out the door were Nott and Bulstrode, who headed up towards their old studio, apparently on their way to inspect the damage being repaired because their curiosity had gotten the better of them. What, did they think he was an idiot, it was painfully obvious they were climbing the extra flight of stairs so they could spend their free hour making out. And Draco was happy for them, really he was, who else would be desperate enough to accept them anyway, it was better for everyone this way and at least they were discrete. Crabbe and Goyle wafted out like precariously heavy bad smells after about ten minutes of probably the most boring dance show in the history of dance. For Draco there was no need to waste his time watching where they were heading. The Café. Obvious choice for two oversized pigs. Pansy trotted out delicately last, wincing as a particularly loud shout came from the device in Draco's idle hand, and offered his a small smile before skipping down the stairs after Crabbe and Goyle. Draco often wondered where she disappeared to whenever they had a break but, as it was none of his business, he never bothered to ask.

His attention was brought back to his phone when his father snapped a particularly vicious comment down the line concerning Pansy and he almost retorted back reflexively, just managing to catch himself; who knew what punishment his father would impose on him if he were to do such a thing. God forbid he turn into a normal, rebellious teenager, of course. No, if Draco Malfoy wanted to be a rebellious teenager he had to go about it in the true Malfoy style; using cunning, wit and all the underhanded techniques he could muster. Though, said points actually counted for most things in life, not just hormonal revolting against his father's firm hand.

As it turned out, his father did actually have another reason for calling him. He had arranged for Draco to accompany him to dinner at a prestigious restaurant that night to meet a multitude of his business partners, one of whom was apparently the mother of one of his possible brides-to-be. It was at these words that Draco wanted to whine for all the world to hear. Where was Blaise when you needed him? For years now he had been unloading his troubles on the dark boy, receiving the same treatment in return, but it was oddly comforting to know that there were people around you in trouble and hiding it as well. Comforting in that it reassured him that he was not alone in this world of the rich and soon-to-be famous.

Once his father was done with berating him, he slammed the phone down, probably with quite a bit of malice, and Draco was left to go in search of his friend. After an impatience, aggravating five minutes of searching, he found Blaise sitting with Pansy on a bench outside the centre, of all things, people watching.

"He's just lost his job." He heard Pansy mutter as a tall man in a long trench coat, decidedly bitter scowl and posture like a Giraffe to match shuffled by, fighting against a sudden wind that picked up. Draco sank into the last remaining seat beside the two and smiled softly at the familiarity of the nod Blaise gave her in reply. The man glared at them as if it were their fault they did not have a care in this harsh world and then disappeared down a half hidden side alley.

"What did he want?" Blaise questioned, leaning back so that Draco could see past him to look at Pansy and gauge her reaction as well.

"The usual. Pestered me about Pansy for a bit. He's found out my grades are dropping at school too. And he's not too pleased with the close distancing with Weasel either." He shrugged nonchalantly, or what he hoped was nonchalantly. Then he cursed when Pansy scowled at him, annoyed and Blaise spoke through his disbelieving look.

"And?"

"And what?"

"You wouldn't come and find us if that was all, Draco." It was a times like these that Draco regretted having people close enough to him to see through any disguises he might try to throw up. He shrugged noncommittally, watching them slyly from the corner of his eye. Pansy had raised an eyebrow, which really was far too thin, and Blaise looked like he was about to yowl in frustration.

"Fine, fine. I'm meeting …someone tonight." He shrugged again. "Another parent. Another hopeful." Immediately, he was secretly glad to see, their faces turned from hard to sympathising and gentle, offering a kind of comfort that would not have been obvious to anyone looking in on the conversation from the outside world.

"Oh Draco," Pansy positively squealed in protest at his situation. "I'm so sorry. I'm sure you'll do fine though. Just have fun throwing her off." Draco looked back at her doubtfully.

"Lucius might notice. He's starting to get suspicious that none of his meetings are going as planned. It doesn't matter if I'm cunning, sly or underhanded, I'm always like that. He'll figure it out soon. He's not stupid."

"Well then," Blaise murmured, his grin wicked as it curled up his lips, revealing perfect teeth, "You'll just have to be double as cunning, treble as sly and quadruple as underhanded. We're here to help, Draco."

When the three of them arrived back up at the studio on the second floor, it was to find two figures panting and gasping, sprawled out on the ground. Granger's hair was thrown up in haphazard bun and Weasel's was plastered to his head. They were concentrating so completely on attempting to get their breathing under control that they did not even see the three new comers slipping in to settle amongst the ocean of pillows at the other end of the room.

"One more time, Ron." Frazzle-hair burst out suddenly from between laboured gulps of air that probably burned her lungs like hell-fire.

"Why!? That was almost perfect!" The Weasel whined back.

"Because 'almost perfect' isn't going to convince Harry that this is a good enough choreography for his to work with."

"Awwww, Hermioneeeee. Why can't we just get Seamus to do it, you know he'll do it whatever."

"Because, Ronald," her patience seemed to snap before their eyes and Draco could have clapped to her for holding onto it for so long. She sat up determinedly, her eyes blazing with loyalty and new found energy. "Harry is the best and Harry is our friend. He needs something to keep him occupied and we need a good routine. Now. On your feet!" She ordered and Draco had to hand it to her, she had guts and a good authority. He then proceeded to watch what should have ended in deadly accidents and definitely would never be approved of by his father turn into a warped but mystical version of dance. He was gob smacked, mentally of course, he could never let his mouth hang open like Blaise was doing or his eyes pop out like Pansy but he would do a combination in his mind's eye. And this was to be improved?


Harry ignored the rude and intrusive stares. He ignored the curious glances and the children pointing. He ignored the wind picking up and throwing leaves at him and when the dustbin men trundled around emptying the bins around the park, he ignored them too. He liked to do this; just sit there and pretend he didn't exist in this world or any other. However, what he could not ignore was when a short, podgy little Terrier came up to him and attempted to piss on him. The little bugger would have succeeded as well, were it not for his lightning reflexes. He glared his best ferocious glare at the well dressed woman in her early twenties who came and scooped the dog up from the ground at his feet. It was a good thing she did to, because he had been sorely tempted to squash the git under his sticky, gum covered trainer.

Harry often visited this park when he needed to cool off. It was on the way back to the Dursley's house as well. Therefore, there was no need to ignore it as it would not hinder him on his way to his final destination. It was an empty place, the odd tree was littered around, sometimes with a strategically placed litter bin underneath so that people could see it from as few a directions as humanly possibly. The pathways were narrow and made of simple paving slabs. The only people that really came here nowadays were the people searching for that rare glimpse of solitude or escape from the daily hustle that had become their life. No children, no large crowds, just the occasional dog walker or lonely business man on his break. Harry liked it here for all these reasons and more.

Long ago, on the far side of the park, near the closed off fairground, there used to be a small children's playground. It was never very large and not many people knew it existed when it was there, let alone now that it had been completely demolished. Originally it had been taken down to make room for a new shopping centre but then rumours had started about the fairground, also prepared to be town down, being haunted. The rumours had turned out to be founded. Now, no construction company would go near the place. So while the park was gone, Harry still visited sometimes. He found it peaceful there. It was a place he felt he could be nearer his parents. Not only did he have many happy memories of the place, but also he felt a physical connection with them there more than anywhere else. He would have risked the ghosts next door any day to feel that.

His phone vibrated, again, in his pocket; Harry predicted it was another angry text message from his Uncle spewing angry words in block capitals for him to hurry up and get his scrawny arse home before he had to send 'Duddy-kins' out to find him, which was never a pleasant thing. With the memory of being chased home by a boy barking at him like a bulldog and almost rolling over himself due to his fat, Harry began the short trek back to the Dursley household.

An hour later found Harry gardening in the spitting rain. His Uncle, Aunt and cousin would be going out to some fancy restaurant this evening and, because they couldn't find a babysitter they would have to take him with them so they could be sure he wasn't snatching the biscuits from the cupboard - which, incidentally, he couldn't actually reach. This resulted in the task of completing the weeding in the unfairly large back garden before eight o'clock, at which time, Petunia would snag him by the ear and drag him up to the bathroom. She would then proceed to dress him, once she was sure he clean from head to toe, until she was satisfied he could pass for a servant boy. Then, if she wasn't distracted by her precious son ringing his bedside bell to be doted upon, which Harry actually prayed for at times like this, she would take the comb to his head. This event never ended well for Harry. His hair was not a tamable mass of curls, no, it was a mess that would always remain a mess. Even soaking wet it managed to defy gravity. So, this experience always proved to be painful, and Petunia seemed to making her mission in life to make each session more painful than the last. Harry 's scalp would be sensitive after her onslaught but he could rest in peace for one more night knowing she wouldn't be coming after him for another month at least.

Harry didn't really like going out with his family, especially to these post, expensive places where he didn't feel like he fitted in in the first place, let alone dressed like a slum boy and ordering nothing but water for the entirety of the night. Petunia's birthday celebration was always the worse. He was ignored more than ever because she always chose the highest class, five star establishments she could five. Vernon was happy with a Sunday lunch meal at a pub. Dudley could be satisfied with a trip to the zoo or an adventure park, as his mental age was still that of a small child. And needless to say, Harry got nothing. But Petunia, well, she always like to show off.

It was with these thoughts swirling about dizzyingly quickly in his head that Harry started ferociously ripping weeds from the final flowerbed of the garden and dreading the next tolling of their neighbours grandfather clock, which his young ears could hear from down the street.


Hope you enjoyed, feel free to review - pretty please.

I've already slapped my wrist for taking so long.

Yours

Dark Raven 4426