HPOV
He's hovering. Which is quite impressive, seeing as we're meant to be dancing together. After he treads on my toes for the third time, I roll my eyes and can't help saying something.
"Draco, I know Tom. He will come find you. But for now, can we just dance?"
"But it's been four dances already!"
"Yes, I know. And I hope he comes soon. Not least because you've trodden on my toes three times now. Please stop worrying."
"What if people look at us dancing and they don't approve?"
"Approve of which aspect?"
"Two blokes. One being an acquitted Death Eater. Who they all think is an actual Death Eater."
"Come on, Draco. If they can handle me snogging Blaise, they can handle you dancing with another man. And if anyone does give you grief, Tom is a very persuasive, charismatic man. I've no doubt he'd be able to deal with it."
"I wonder if he ever wonders about sharing a name with the Dark Lord."
"Not that many people knew Voldemort's real name, you know. And I honestly don't think it bothers him. I'm not sure if he even knows. That isn't one to bring up."
"Oh, God, what if I say the wrong thing? When I'm dancing with him? If he even shows up!"
"OK, that's it. I can't listen to this. I'm going to dance with Blaise for a bit. Keep Ginny company." I lead him off the dance floor and sit him with Harry and Ginny, who are taking a little break. I tell Ginny to keep an eye on him and when a tall, dark, dashing man with blue eyes comes along, to shove him into the arms of said tall, dark, dashing man. Ginny laughs and agrees, and I turn to my own tall, dark, dashing man. He whirls me off to the centre of the dance floor, but makes sure we can still see the table where Draco is lurking.
"You are shameless," Blaise murmurs, pulling me close and whispering in my ear. A delicious shiver runs down my spine and he only aggravates the situation when he cups my shoulder in one hand, placing his other firmly in the small of my back. We're not so much dancing as just swaying together. "Oh-oh. Is that him?" He turns me around, and I stand on tiptoe to peek over his shoulder.
"It is! Oh, they're talking! Oh for God's sake, he's blushing again!" I tut, exasperated.
"Blushing is good, it show's he likes him." We revolve again, both taking turns to look at the interaction going on by the table. "I so want to know what they're saying," he mutters.
"We can bother it out of him tonight."
"Tonight?"
"If you come and stay."
"Stay where?" There's a very obvious challenge in his voice.
"Somewhere in my house. Exactly where, of course, entirely depends on how you behave. If you're a good boy, the sofa. If you're a bad boy, I suppose we could upgrade you."
"So, Granger, you like bad boys?" His mouth is very close to my ear now, and we're very close to each other. This isn't so much dancing as foreplay.
"You have no idea. Oh, they're coming onto the dance floor!"
"Really?" His head snaps up, and we watch them find a little spot and spend a few seconds awkwardly arranging their hands. Draco ends up as the woman in that little dance.
"Do you think he bottoms?" I ask Blaise, who screws his face up.
"I really don't want to imagine one of my closest friends having any sex, never mind which position he'd be in." I laugh, and rest my head on his shoulder. But we're not allowed to just dance in silence for very long. A reporter materializes.
"Uh, Miss Granger, Mr Zabini? Could I perhaps ask you some questions?" Blaise sighs, and has to release me from his beautifully warm hands. I consider hexing the reporter and just leaping back into his arms.
"If you're quick."
"I'm Lily, from the Daily Prophet. Can I ask when you became a couple?"
"The day Minerva McGonagall died. He was there at a time I really needed comfort, and it made me realise how much I valued him."
"And why did you keep it a secret until tonight?"
"We didn't think it appropriate to announce our relationship at a funeral. We thought tonight a more fitting setting. And now we can openly spend midnight together, celebrating the New Year." He smiles at the reporter, who smiles right back at him.
"How lovely! Do you hope there will be many more New Year's together?"
"I think it's a bit early on to comment on the future."
"I agree. I think it's just about taking things one day at a time for now, and seeing where it could lead us." He's nothing if he isn't charming. The reporter thanks us warmly, and melts unobtrusively back into the crowd.
"That's the Prophet down. Who else is here?"
"Witch Weekly, I think there's someone here from the American press. Oh, and Lovegood from The Quibbler is here too." he says. Over the course of the night, we give a brief statement to those three, and agree to let a photographer take a series of photographs. A couple of which are very coupley. Oh well. A picture is worth a thousand words, and news has been slow. I wonder how much coverage we'll get. I have a dance with Kingsley, a dance with Harry, and finally have to sit down, feeling champagne fizzing in my veins and more than a little giggly.
"Hey, sweetie-pie," I say, plonking myself down next to Ginny.
"Sweetie-pie," she snorts. "How many glasses of adult beverage have you consumed?"
"Five? Six? Maybe more."
"Drunk," she says, clearly amused.
"I am not drunk. I am pleasantly tipsy. And contemplating letting Blaise come home with me."
"Oh yes?"
"Good God, don't say it like that. I'm not sure yet."
"Finally going to have some meaningful sex?"
"Perhaps. D'you think it might be too soon?"
"I slept with Harry two days into our relationship," she says, shrugging. "You can sleep with him whenever you want, as long as you feel comfortable and you both want to. It's entirely up to you how soon you have sex with him."
"Hmm. Where have they gone, anyway?"
"Well, Blaise and Harry have gone to get us some nibbles. And I do believe that that is Draco and Tim -"
"Tom."
"Draco and Tom sneaking out of the Ballroom over there." We exchange glances. "It would be extremely nosy to follow them, Hermione. Leave them to it. Even if I'm bursting to know what they're going to be doing in whatever hidey hole they find."
DPOV
I suppose I shouldn't have had those three glasses of champagne while I was waiting for him to put in an appearance. As he leads me off the dance floor, towards a door leading out, I trip a little.
"Whoops," he says, laughing, holding onto my hand a little tighter. "Come on, let's get some air. I know a spot." He leads me out of a door, across a deserted hallway, and through a door that I think, briefly, is a broom cupboard. But he casts a muttered Lumos and I can see a flight of dusty stairs leading up.
"Where are we going?"
"Up." He drags me on, further and further, getting higher and higher.
"Feels like going up the Hogwarts Astronomy Tower," I say, laughing. He chuckles.
"Merlin, the amount of Astronomy classes I skived off because I was too damn tired for all those stairs."
"I don't remember you at Hogwarts."
"I was a couple of years above you. I remember you, though."
"Really?" I ask, a little breathless.
"Nearly there! Yeah, I remember your Sorting. Skinny little blonde kid, full of arrogant confidence."
"Oh, you got that right."
"I was in Ravenclaw."
"Probably explains why I didn't know you."
"Likely," he says, laughing again. I decide I really rather like his laugh. "Alright." We stop climbing, and in the light of his wand-tip, I can see a second door, as nondescript as the first. He pushes, and it swings open very easily, almost as if it's been so long forgotten, it's never needed to be locked. We're standing behind some material.
"Where are we?" I ask, confused.
"Above the Ballroom. You know all the drapes and tapestries at the very top? We're behind one of them. I reckon, years ago, it was some kind of Muggle theatre, and we're in what used to be the boxes. Look," he says, gesturing towards a small hole. I apply my eye, and can see the whole Ballroom. We must be very high up, everyone looks tiny. But I can see Hermione and Ginny - her glittering skirt, and Ginny's distinctive hair are visible even from up here. Suddenly, I'm aware of a warmth behind me, a flutter of breath on the back of my neck, ruffling my newly-cut hair. "It must be nearly midnight. The Minister's about to make a speech."
"Does he always do that?"
"Every year. We could go back down, I reckon we'd be there in time for the countdown."
"I need a bit of a rest first," I murmur, hoping I've read his statement right. "You could go -"
"You might get hurt going down those stairs in the dark. Let's stay here. For a bit." We can hear Kingsley from up here, but I'm not really paying that much attention. Tom smells tantalisingly good, and I'm very aware that he's very close to me. It's very distracting. I hope Kingsley doesn't have anything very important to say. Suddenly, warm hands are on my hips, pulling me back into a very solid chest. "You know, when I asked Hermione to introduce us, I thought it might be a little awkward, a little strange - that maybe we could make it worth a chance, but it'd take some work. But it's so easy with you."
"Not every day I hear that."
"No, I don't suppose you do." Am I mistaken, hearing things, or is there some sadness in his reply? Suddenly, a shouted countdown begins. A clock booms out midnight. I imagine Blaise has just swept Hermione off her feet and into a kiss, that Harry has done the same with his wife. "New Year."
"New Year," I echo, lamely. I have no idea what to say. I have a very definite idea about what I'd like to do. I'd like to kiss him. And on a whim, I turn around in his arms, and take the initiative. He's taller than me, and I have to reach up to kiss him. I make it soft, but lingering. He doesn't pull away, but he doesn't respond either. I pull away. "Sorry," I mutter, feeling myself blush. All I fucking do is blush around this man. What a loser he must think me. "I just -" But before I can complete my sentence, he's cupped my face in his hands, and has bent his head to mine, placing a searing kiss onto my lips. I slide on hand around the back on his neck, the other around his waist under his dress robes, feeling the heat of his skin through his shirt, and let him deepen our kiss. There are very strong hands under my jacket, caressing my back through my shirt, pulling me ever closer. After what seems a very short amount of time, he breaks away, rests his forehead on mine.
"I never kiss on the first date," he mutters, his chest heaving under my hands.
"A 'date' implies some degree of forward planning and a request from one person to the other."
"True. You're something else."
"Thanks," I say, letting him yank me into a hug. We stay like that for a long time, and then, as if she were right outside the door, Hermione's voice filters into my head.
"Where is he, do you suppose?" I jump fairly badly.
"Don't worry. There's a vent there, and it comes out directly below us." He's whispering now, mouth very close to my ear. A delighted shudder goes through me. It isn't fair that he should do this to me, when I barely know him. "If you talk under it, it sounds like they're on the stairs."
"I don't want to go," I whisper back, nuzzling his neck gently. His intake of breath is encouragement enough. If he's going to drive me mad, I'm damn well going to return the favour in kind, and tease him right back.
"I don't want you to go, but I think you have to. Merlin, Draco, you have to stop doing that," he hisses the last, and I smile against his pulse, continuing to tease his earlobe. Something hard and insistent is nudging against my leg, and I shift a little closer, standing on tiptoe, brushing against him. He actually growls, and seizes my hips in an almost bruising grip. I have to actually bite my lips to stop myself outright moaning. "Draco. If we had more time and if I was less - controlled - you'd be up against that door right now."
"Promise?"
"We have got to go." He does pull away this time, but doesn't release my hand, instead pulling me back towards the stairs. Before we leave, he edges the door open, then yanks me out into a still deserted corridor. "I'll owl you. Will you reply?"
"I might," I say, casually.
"Not might," he growls. "Say you will." I smile at him. I like this side.
"I will."
"Good." He kisses me goodbye, and then Disapparates. I don't have time to miss him, because Blaise, Hermione, Harry and Ginny all emerge into the corridor not a second later.
"Draco, there you are!" A very flushed Hermione hurries over to me, looking just slightly unsteady. "Where have you been, you missed midnight! And why are you all dusty?" She doesn't wait for my answer, just brushes me down quite vigorously.
"Are you drunk?" I ask her, quite amused.
"No!"
"She's just feeling a little festive," chuckles Blaise.
"Come on," I tell her, linking her free hand through my arm. "Let's get you home and get you into bed." We all say goodbye to Harry and Ginny, who are going to walk to wherever Harry parked his car, considering Ginny. The cold blast of air as we Apparate to Hermione's front gate seems to go a fair way to sobering her up. I excuse myself the moment we've got her up the stairs, pointing out her room to Blaise, and shutting myself in my own room to leave them to it. I can't help but remember the last time I dreamt of Fred, when he told me I'd find happiness in the least likely place. Was that what he meant? Finding someone at the Ministry, where everyone apparently hates me? I refuse to let myself delve into it too deeply. I wonder instead what is happening down the hall, with Hermione and Blaise. I smile at the thought, and just hope if they do get carried away, they remember what Silencing Charms are for.