Hallo, my dear Readers,
I'm sorry that I didn't upload the next chapter already yesterday, but I was offline for three days. Ungh, incredible how much you can miss something like the internet.
But now, off to Hogwarts. And even if we have something like an early summer in the moment, and therefore snow isn't not so easy imaginable, we are nearing Christmas in my story.
There will be several sweet scenes in the new chapter, especially concerning our two Head-Students, while the tension between them is becoming more and more fiery.
Have fun, thank you so much for the last reviews,
Yours Lywhn
Chapter 37 – Advent
The raised stadium seating was crowded with the students, yellow and black, blue and gold, green and silver, and red and gold banners fluttered in the chill wind everywhere, the arena now filled with excited voices, screeches and shouts. The players stood on the Quidditch pitch, ready to take off.
Ron, now standing behind Harry, grinned at his sister beside him. He was glad to be released for one day to play for Gryffindor, even if he had to thank Malfoy for it. Well, Harry and Malfoy. How the two had arranged the deal that he – Ron – would be allowed to skip Detention today if he apologized properly to Hermione was still beyond him, but he wasn't about to examine that proverbial gift horse in the mouth. He knew that he deserved what he got, and he attended Detention without complaining, but still he hated it.
Of course McGonagall was properly dumbfounded when Draco knocked politely at her door Friday evening, and informed her of the agreement with Harry concerning Ron Weasley. She held her tongue, wondering what had inspired this bit of skulduggery. But, a Head-Boy's word given to another student was his bond, and so the headmistress agreed to dismiss the grounding for one day. (Another part of her, the Gryffindor that lived deep in her heart, was relieved, knowing that their team now had a chance to win this game.)
Hermione, positioned beside Wilhelmina, applauded and whooped with all the others as the two captains down on the pitch shook hands. She wasn't a big Quidditch fan, but as soon as she stepped into the audience and watched a game, she couldn't resist the enthusiastic atmosphere. Then her gaze wandered along the rows beneath the green and silver banners and her glance landed on the blond head in the front row. Across the pitch, grey and brown met, and even over the distance she could see him grin. She knew his meeting with McGonagall had been uncomfortable, but he had kept his promise and she was, once again, grateful. The Ravenclaw team was in fantastic condition and she knew that Gryffindor would have no chance at all without Ron there as Keeper.
Madame Hooch gave her typical little speech about fair play, Harry and his rival shook hands, then they mounted their brooms and took to the air. Luna's dreamy voice echoed sweetly through the arena and you could tell she was neutral about reporting the action – she ignored both sides equally; seeing a Wrackspurt darting over the teacher's stands, or forgetting the players' names, or spotting a Augurey shape in the clouds. The commentary was almost as interesting as the game, and the players had to concentrate while trying not to laugh.
Neriman, two seats away from Hermione, wrapped in two comforters, shouted to her, "The teams are well matched!" Hermione – who had been avoiding the Egyptian students as a precaution – shouted back: "Just wait until Harry sees the Snitch. His Firebolt is amazing!"
The game continued, one goal after the other was made by both teams, and Ron performed admirably, blocking many more than made it through. The match was fast and fair, with brilliant strategies. And then, after two hours in the icy air and the first snow drifting down, the words they'd all been waiting for came.
"I think Harry has seen the Snitch!" Luna's voice floated over the Quidditch pitch, and the Gryffindor stands erupted in cheers and shouts, pointing as Harry careened after the little golden ball at breakneck speed, following its erratic path high above the field, his Ravenclaw rival immediately behind. Harry sped after the Snitch that darted higher and higher into the skies and vanished in the snow clouds, pursued by the two Seekers. Gulping, the Headmistress prayed that both would come out unharmed, raising her wand in preparation for a possible fall. Not to worry. A minute later both Seekers flew neck and neck out of the clouds again, the Snitch just in front of them – still the game was on.
Draco watched his former school enemy with rising tension. 'Damn, Potter is in top form.' And as the snitch suddenly reversed its course, the boy-who-lived made and impossible turn, the Golden Snitch and the Ravenclaw Seeker suddenly beneath him. Malfoy was vividly reminded of his rescue last May in the Rooms of Requirement – Harry Potter was not one to give up. Harry suddenly wrapped his legs around the broomstick, and fell beneath it, dangling by one hand, echoing every twitch and dodge made by the Snitch, while the sharp expletive shouted by the Ravenclaw seeker was drowned out by a gasp from every voice in the stands.
Hermione screamed in shock and Draco heard it over the noise, but his attention was captured by Gryffindor's hero. Harry's free arm shot forwards and then the elusive Golden Snitch vanished into his fist.
"Well, it looks like the game has ended. Harry Potter caught the Golden Snitch, winning 150 points for Gryffindor. The match is over," Luna said mournfully, but her voice was drowned out by the roars and shouts of joy and triumph coming from the red and gold rows, while McGonagall's legendary control slipped, and she whooped in exultation. Rearranging her face, she collected her headmistress neutrality and smiled benignly at the teams congratulating each other on a "good game!" Clearing her throat, she straightened her tartan coat and applauded politely. Slughorn, who was in the row behind her, tapped her shoulder and chuckled: "Minerva, you aren't fooling anyone. We all know that you're a Gryffindor through and through, so let it out!"
And those students who glanced up at the teachers' tower almost choked when they saw Minerva McGonagall, the stern, reserved headmistress of the School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, jumping up and down and cheering like a fourteen-year old-girl.
The party lasted the whole afternoon and late into the night. Hermione had to leave the feast after dinner, because she, Malfoy, and the eldest Prefects had to oversee the finishing touches for the Advent celebration. Ginny and James Corrley, who were the seventh year Prefects, accompanied her, but seeing their condition, she dismissed them after half an hour, sending them back to the Gryffindor tower to continue the celebration.
"Are you sure you can manage without them, Granger?" Malfoy teased, as she pointed her wand at some candelabras to decorate them with non-melting ice. She looked up at him. "Why not?"
He smirked. "Well, after that party and all that wine and butterbeer…"
"I am not drunk!" she retorted.
"Shame!" he stated with a sigh. "It would be so much fun to see you 'under the influence'."
Shaking her head, she smiled sweetly. "Oh, I witnessed a very pointed example of a fellow student who was 'under the influence', and useless for some time after, so I decided to never touch alcohol again." She saw his expression fall and turned her back on him, grinning, pointing her wand again at the candelabra, but was interrupted by someone pressing himself against her back, warm breath on her cheek, while the scent of her Head-partner enveloped her.
"No fear, my Kitten, I would carry you to bed and make certain that you're comfortable!" he whispered in her ear. His left arm wrapped around her waist and his right hand reached out and cupped hers, the one holding her wand, and Hermione gulped at the soft touch. His hand was warm against the cool air around them, and it sent new shivers down her spine. "And I would hold you all night, sheltering you against the winter cold," he mumbled, his cheek brushing hers. He concentrated on his own magic, sending it through her wand, whispering: "Glacius!"
A stream of a white cloudy substance flowed from from the wandtip and floated around the arms of the candelabra, encasing it with a thin layer of clear ice. As she watched, she saw the glittering icicles form, and then freeze solid, where it would stay until released.
Hermione glanced at him and met his grey eyes, wearing an expression that took her breath away. Then his gaze wandered to her lips and her heart began to race. Would he… Would he really… Here? Would he…
"Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy, are you finished?" squeaked a voice from behind them and as Draco turned his head, his face and movements calm, he found Flitwick near the entrance.
"No, Professor, I was just showing Hermione how to coat the candelabra in ice," he replied smoothly, while he felt Hermione flinch.
Filius Flitwick knew what he had interrupted – or prevented. He had no problem with the older students developing a romantic relationship, but seducing one out in the open? Well, that was going too far.
"Well done, Mr. Malfoy. Would you please accompany me to the Great Hall? And, Miss Granger? Your presence is required on the second floor. I think, Miss Horthwood has a problem with some recalcitrant armour."
Narrowing his eyes, Draco stepped away from Hermione, forcing a neutral expression on his features. "Of course, Professor." But inwardly he was cursing the tiny man.
Hermione didn't know what to think. She was relieved and disappointed by the interruption. Then she sighed.
She felt Draco squeezing her hand, before he followed Flitwick, winking at her. Rubbing her forehead, the Gryffindor-Queen sighed again – and then jumped when she heard Luna's thoughtful comment.
"Oh, are you two an item now? It was sure to happen, living so closely together, you know. Daddy wrote an article about in the Quibbler several years ago."
Hermione whirled, but any retort caught in her throat, and Luna returned to decorating, humming an unfamiliar tune to herself.
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The next day was the first Sunday in Advent. When the students awoke, they found the castle shimmering with thousands of candles, evergreen swags winding the balustrades of the staircases and placed above the doors. Small golden figures of angels waved or winked at them, candelabras and columns glistened mysteriously, covered with 'permanent' ice, and bunches of mistletoe hung from the arches, specially enchanted. The first to fall prey to one of them were Harry and Ginny on their way to breakfast. Suddenly neither could move any further. One of the fourth-years pointed at the mistletoe above them, laughing. The decidedly floral voice whispered, 'Standing beneath me brings you a kiss's glee'.
Ginny, immediately taking the hint, pulled Harry, who looked dumbfounded, towards her and kissed him – right there, in front of the crowd of students and Professor Slughorn. The mistletoe reacted by sprinkling the couple with gold dust, then giggling, 'You're free to go!' Of course this new development immediately became common knowledge, as only gossip can, and soon any student with a secret crush on someone used the opportunity to get a kiss.
By Tuesday, McGonagall, who had acted on the idea given by Dumbledore's portrait, was ready to pull her hair out (figuratively speaking). Albus Dumbledore, the greatest headmaster that Hogwarts ever had, maintained a prankster's sense of humour, even in death, and she wished she'd never heard of mistletoe.
Of course the enchanted mistletoes gave the Prefects and the two Head-Students plenty of work. It was one thing to be caught by accident, and entirely another to walk into it fully on purpose – especially as evening approached and later. As a result, Hermione and Draco had more patrols, breaking up the love birds whenever they caught them, but there were too many enchanted mistletoes and, even worse, they shifted locations. If one was in the Entrance Hall one day, it might turn into a harmless plant after a few hours hours, while one level above, an ordinary mistletoe took on the enchantment. Draco and Hermione learned quickly that the plants only caught students aged fifteen and above, and that the younger ones could pass under them without being bothered. It sometimes resulted in the most unusual pairings.
By dinner Monday, Hermione groaned: "One more excuse of mistletoe for a disgusting display of snogging in the hallways, and I'll rip the bloody things out and burn them all myself!"
Draco chuckled, enjoying the bright sensation of teasing her. "Lighten up, Granger. Kissing is fun, as you know by now. And if you can't remember, I'll be happy to refresh your memory." She glared at his smug expression, while he wriggled his eyebrows. In an instant, every episode of his lips touching her ran through her mind, including the brief, intense, and very protective kiss on her forehead in Hogsmeade. It occurred to her that the two of them could be caught together under the mischievous decorations while they were on patrol. And, she readily admitted to herself, she wouldn't mind it at all. She was hoping to feel his mouth on hers again soon, but she didn't know how to tell him that without feeling like a loose bint.
Clearing her throat she lifted her chin. "I'll keep that in mind, Malfoy. Maybe later."
He cocked his head. "I'm so looking forward to later!"
Blushing she grumbled something to herself, rose and headed for the door to go to dinner. "Look forward to it all you want, Draco-"
She was cut off as he reached her by the portrait door, spun her around and stole a kiss from her – quick, fierce. "It's 'later' now," he joked and held the door open for her. "After you, Kitten."
Slightly dizzy, willing her heart to return to a more normal pace, she crossed the threshold. Malfoy, congratulated himself, and licked the taste of her lips from his own, the flavour for which he had hungered for days.
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The weather only grew colder and the snow deeper. The academic demands for the seventh-years increased. It seemed as if the teachers were cramming an entire month's work into every week and homework was piled on. Every free period was needed for study, while the Prefects and the Head-Students still had to patrol the hallways for those targeted by the mistletoes.
The upcoming Christmas ball needed additional attention. The two music groups performing – The Jolly Witches and The Swinging Harpies – kept changing their song lists and staging requirements. Flitwick was using the large room beside the Great Hall at every possible opportunity to rehearse his new orchestra. And, unbelievably, McGonagall disclosed that there was to be an opening dance for the Prefects and the sixth- and seventh-year students.
"If not for the war, the Tri-wizard Tournament would take place again this year, and a selection of you would be in Bulgaria or Paris to represent our school," she told them Thursday afternoon. She had gathered the older students of all four houses around her in the Entrance Hall, including Ron, who was finally finished with his grounding. "I will not allow that dreadful war to turn my students into social pariahs. You will learn how to behave and to dance!"
"But just a Christmas dance, not a Yule Ball!" a sixth-year Hufflepuff threw in – only do visible flinch when McGonagall's piercing gaze found her.
"There is no such thing as 'just', Miss Goodwond! There may not be the scores of visiting students, but we do have four here from Egypt. And this is the first Christmas in several without a threat of destruction hanging over our heads. Most importantly, Minister Shacklebolt and other important persons will be here to celebrate with us." Her stern glance swept over the stunned crowd. "So you all will learn how to move gracefully to the music." Her eyes fell on a gaping Ron, who, unfortunately, was shaking his head. "Including you, Mr. Weasley!" she snapped.
Groaning, Harry rubbed his the bridge of his nose under his glasses, remembering the awkward scene as he and the others opened the first dance at the Yule ball. He wasn't alone in this reaction. Most of the students were horrified to learn that they would be dancing in front of the Minister of Magic. This was a nightmare!
Draco Malfoy only grinned broadly. The old Draco coolly drawled: "Why the fuss? It's something everyone should learn. I took lessons when I was fourteen."
"Of course you did," sniped a Hufflepuff boy.
Harry shook his head. "Not every family has a ballroom down the hall!" he mumbled.
Malfoy smirked. "I would venture to say you would rather waltz on a broom, remembering the perfect loop you did last Saturday."
Harry smirked back. "Surprised?"
Malfoy laughed, and shook his head. "No. Incredible move, Potter, would have made a monkey jealous, but anything's fair when catching the Golden Snitch." Several students around them chuckled, and the two Seekers slapped a high five. Then Malfoy turned toward Hermione, who stood between Harry, Ginny and a glowering Ron. "You know we have the opening dance, don't you, Granger?"
She glanced at him and tossed back her hair. "No problem."
His eyes narrowed and he moved closer. "You ... know how to dance?"
She gave him a very smug look, with a slow sweep of her eyelashes. "Just wait, partner!"
McGonagall cleared her throat, loud enough to stop the banter. "- and therefore our first encounter with the terpsichorean instructor will begin at Saturday afternoon."
The Golden Trio, Ginny and Malfoy groaned. Saturday evening they had to be at Slughorn's annual Advent dinner, which meant that they wouldn't have a free minute after lunch.
Minerva ignored the quiet protests. "Just make sure you're wearing comfortable shoes, and ladies, wear skirts. You'll find it's easier to move in a skirt."
"Ha! Another advantage for the girls!" one of the Slytherins protested mockingly.
The headmistress was prepared. "If that's the way you feel, Mr. Smalwourth, we look forward to seeing you in a kilt," there were loud snickers, "but please be careful in your choice of the tartan. If you choose the wrong colours, the family might take offense, and no twirling!" Laughter erupted around the room.
Draco glanced down at Hermione. "Do you own anything fitting for dance lessons, Kitten?" he asked, ignoring the others' gasps at his use of a pet name for Hermione.
"Just ... you ... wait!" she replied with another sweet smile. Then she sighed. Dancing lessons! As if they didn't have enough work!
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After lunch Saturday, Hermione quickly changed into the dress she would be wearing that evening to Slughorn's little private party: a knee length gown in a warm lilac, wide sleeved, with a fitted bodice, broadening to the skirt, overlaid with lace. The fabric shimmered, and embroideries above the waistline imitated the lace on the skirt. Matching pumps and a warm stole in white silver completed the outfit. In the shared bathroom, Hermione carefully applied her make-up and brushed her hair until it gleamed, then pinned it up, allowing some loose curls around her heart shaped face. Beholding the image in the mirror, she realized that she was no longer the small grey girl from earlier days. The beauty that looked back at her blushed, and she bit her lip as she imagined Draco's expression.
Had she truly worn this dress for him? Was it really so important if he liked it or not? Was she excited because she knew 'the Ferret' would look at her with wide, adoring eyes? The answer to all these questions was simply 'yes'. She wanted his attention. She wanted him to think her beautiful. And she was nervous.
A none-too-patient pounding at the door leading to Malfoy's chamber interrupted her thoughts. "Granger, are you soon done? There's a bloke here who needs a shave before we leave."
Smirking Hermione glanced over her shoulder. "Why not trying a little charm, oh mighty one?"
"Granger…" The voice was no longer cold and menacing, but teasing and amused.
"Okay, I'm finished!" she called as she went to her own door, undoing the sealing spells. Quickly she slipped back into her room and closed the door behind her. She didn't want him to meet her here, but somewhere ... near firelight. Hermione rolled her eyes, listening to what she had just thought. She had never sought out a beau's attention before, but even Hermione needed some admiration. And right now, she craved it.
Snatching up her small handbag and shawl, she went down to the common room, waiting. It wasn't long before she heard the quick steps descending the short stairs, and smiling she turned around – only to gape at him. Draco Malfoy wore a dark blue suit that made him look even taller, expertly tailored around his shoulders, torso, and hips. Beneath his jacket, he wore a dark blue waistcoat and a silver oxford shirt with a matching bow tie, finished with gleaming patent leather shoes. His hair was simply combed back, a few short strands carefully placed over his forehead.
He was no longer a boy. This was a full grown man.
This realization that had germinated in her subconscious for a long time now, and finally came to fruition. It almost overwhelmed her, and she grew lightheaded with a sudden desire.
Then she met his eyes (which were huge) and saw his expression (which was astonished) and suddenly felt … special. His gaze took her in from head to toe, and as it returned to her face, and she saw a very satisfied and adoring smile spreading over his face, she blushed. Why did she feel almost naked under his approving stare – as if he could undress her with only his eyes (what was he doing in his mind)?
Draco cleared his throat. "Y - you … you're beautiful!" he stuttered, before he could stop himself. When he saw her shining eyes and the beaming smile, he swallowed.
Hermione's heart was threatening to burst out of her chest, it was beating so hard against her ribs. "You … you, too," she whispered, growing a shade pinker.
For a long moment they simply stared, each drinking in the sight of the other.
Then, thinking that the room was growing far too warm, Draco closed the distance to the breathtaking, beautiful girl that happened to be his partner, and offered her is arm. "Shall we?" he murmured, and suppressed a shiver as she slipped a graceful hand into the crook of his arm, smiling up to him. He swallowed again as his trousers grew tight. 'Great God, she is driving me mad already, and we haven't even danced together yet.'
Walking side by side, looking for all the world like a royal couple, they went down the hallway to the large staircase, hearing the other older students on their way to the dancing lessons. Smiling shyly up to her companion, Hermione took a deep breath. She felt strangely self-conscious, but also incredibly alive. The Prince of Slytherin walked with such grace beside her, she wondered if it was training or natural, and hoped that she wouldn't look too clumsy when they danced, then caught herself. Since when did it bother her how she looked to others or if she could impress Draco Malfoy? 'Since he made it obvious how much he wants you and since you fell for him,' her inner voice informed her kindly, and she sighed soundlessly. She really was…
She couldn't finish her thought, because all of sudden she was caught in a soft invisible barrier, unable to move a step. "What…?" she started, confused, and looked at Malfoy, who seemed to be as surprised as she was. Then a tiny bell voice above them informed them of the reason: 'Standing beneath me brings you a kiss's glee'.
Amazed, Hermione looked up and, sure as rainbows follow storms, one of the enchanted mistletoes was directly above them, glistening and giggling. "No!" she groaned! "No, not us, too!" She heard the soft laughter beside her and looked irritatedly into Draco's smirking face. "You did this on purpose!"
His grin broadened. "I wish I had, Kitten, but I didn't know it was there." He gently turned her around. "But, honestly, I'm very grateful to it. Maybe I'll replant it after Christmas so that it can grow, just to say thank you."
"What?"
His grin turned mischievous as he glanced up at the small plant, then back to her, wiggling his brows. "Come on, little lioness, you know what we have to do." The double meaning was as obvious as the sun at midday, and feeling heat rising into her cheeks, Hermione stuttered something no one would understand.
Laughing quietly Draco took her by the shoulders, pulled her towards him, put a hand behind her neck and slowly lowered his head; his gaze smouldering. Hermione's breath caught, her eyes fluttered closed, her mind was reeling with what was about to come. And then she sighed in contentment as his lips brushed over hers in the softest butterfly-wing caress, and the entrancing combination of his aftershave and personal scent enveloped her, and his mouth found hers. And this time it wasn't a quick, heated battle for dominance. Their lips spoke soundless words to one another, then she granted him access, and his talented tongue found his way into hers, and he moaned when he found it sweet. The whole world around them vanished and reality skipped. Helplessly, she clung to him and melted into him, sighing in contentment. They sank into each other until nothing else existed anymore – only the two of them, their arms around each other and their duelling mouths, each devouring the other, sweetly oblivious to anything around them.
From a thousand miles away, they heard another girl's voice. "They must be on their way, Harry, be patient!" The voice came nearer along with two sets of footsteps approaching the corner.
"We've been waiting there for the last ten min - HERMIONE!" Harry stopped so quickly that Ginny almost ran into him. Stepping from behind him, her mouth formed a perfect 'o'.
Harry's exclamation pierced the lustful haze surrounding the Head-Students, and brought reality crashing down on them. Their lips parted, and for a moment they simply looked at each other, out of breath and trembling with passion, then Hermione turned her head to see the shocked expression on Harry's face, and the surprise and then grin on Ginny's face.
Harry was so surprised that he almost felt nauseous, seeing a best friend locked in a passionate embrace with their former enemy, both breathless and glassy-eyed. He wisely clamped his mouth shut before he stuttered one of the hostile questions racing through him, or all of them.
Hermione cleared her throat, finally recognizing her long time friend and her best mate; her face deep red, her gaze sheepish. "Uh… well… ah… mistletoe!" she offered the lame explanation in a small voice; pointing a trembling finger above her.
Looking up, Harry saw the small green plant with the white berries, and frowned, while Ginny started to giggle beside him. There, above the Head-Students, hung a mistletoe, peeping repeatedly, 'You're free to go! You're free to go! You're free to go!…' It had grown hoarse from saying it so often. The golden dust the mistletoes sent down on the couples had coated Hermione and Draco, bathing them all over in a Christmas shimmer as well as the floor around them. The leaves of the mistletoe were withered; the plant was exhausted!
Ginny smiled happily and sighed. "Well, that was a long time coming!" She met the expanding eyes of her boyfriend and tilted her head toward the Head-Students. "About time! ..." she started, then, remembering who she was with, "... that you two showed up. We've been waiting for you!" She jerked her thumb toward the hallway, grateful that her brother was late. What a scene that would have made.
Draco cleared his throat and stepped back, dusting his suit off as best he could while Hermione shook off her hair and dress. Ginny turned to Harry. "Come on, Harry, let's get to practice," and walked to the other two. Hermione avoided her eyes, mumbling, "Nice dress, Ginny," while brushing more of the dust from her dress.
Ginny smoothed her hands over the skirt of her golden brown dress and giggled when she met Malfoy's embarrassed glance. Quickly Ginny pulled out her wand and pointed it at him, whispering a charm. His eyes widened for a moment, then he relaxed when nothing untoward happened except a slight tingling around his mouth. The red-headed Gryffindor whispered: "Lip gloss, Malfoy, a sure giveaway." Then she waved it again and the most of the golden dust vanished. Harry remembered the first day on the Hogwarts train, when Hermione sat with him and Ron and unexpectedly pointed her wand at him, only to skillfully repair his glasses.
Hermione sighed in relief. "Thanks, Ginny," she murmured, finally meeting her friend's sparkling eyes. Oh, she knew that look – that knowing, amused, sympathetic glance – and she knew that Ginevra would bombard her with questions later. Not daring a look at Harry, she quickly walked towards the staircase, followed by her friend – and an instant later by Draco, who did not want to be alone with Harry ... whose expression slowly changed from shock to a very, very stern frown.
They reached the Entrance Hall where most of the other sixth-and seventh-years had already gathered. McGonagall smiled at them in approval. Hermione and Ginny looked elegant in their party gowns, and Draco and Harry stood out in their suits among the other students. And she could have sworn that the Head-Students both looked a bit abashed. They also seemed to glow from the inside. A sparkle of dust told her that the two had fallen prey to one of the enchanted mistletoes, and by the look of them, they had taken advantage of it.
Hiding her smile, she nodded kindly at the four Egyptians, dressed in their native elegance. The two girls were wearing veils that went from their heads to the tops of the gold and silver poulaines, curling up toward their ankles. The boys wore heavily embroidered sashes around their waists, and all four wore the kohl, reminding everyone of the images on the sarcophagi of the ancient royals.
McGonagall saw Ron Weasley rushing down the stair to join them, and she clapped her hands for silence. "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for coming."
'As if we had a choice!' most of them thought.
"Welcome to your first dance lesson. Every Saturday at this hour, and every Wednesday evening from eight to nine, you will meet here for your lesson. You will learn two dances. I am sure this is a skill which will serve you well for the rest of your lives on the right occasions."
Standing behind Hermione, Draco took a long draw of her perfume before he leaned over and whispered, "Which dance is it that you think you know?"
Her head slowly turned to look up at him – the nerve! – then she pursed her lips. "Which one do you need to practice, Malfoy? Viennese or Slow Waltz, Tango, Foxtrot, Slow fox or Quickstep, Jitterbug, or more the Latin American dances like Mambo, Rumba, Paso Doble, Cha Cha, Salsa or Samba?"
For a moment he looked surprised, then he smirked: "I prefer the samba dance the Muggles came up with, the Lambada. But seeing that would send Wonder-boy and Weasel-bee over the edge, I think a waltz will do it for the start."
Hermione shot him a heated glare. "Arrogant!" she whispered.
"Tempting minx!" he whispered back.
"… then you all will choose a partner for the first lesson!" McGonagall had raised her voice for silence. Hermione lowered her head and Draco smirked, but kept quiet. "Any questions?" she asked.
"Ready?" he murmured.
"Always!" she replied, then added, "Try not to step on my toes too often."
His interest was piqued, and others nearby snickered – until McGonagall's voice rang out once again. "Care to share with us, Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy?" Dead silence. The headmistress' eyes peered over her glasses between the two of them, stopping at the Head-boy, who bit his lips in amusement. "Mr. Malfoy?"
"No, Professor, Hermione seems to feel she's up to the challenge." He caught Hermione's fiery gaze that told him, 'You are so dead!'
McGonagall pursed her lips – and all of sudden the sense of humour she'd kept bottled up in the dark years awoke. "Indeed? Then I think our Head Students should demonstrate what we're here for." She turned around. "Professor Flitwick, is the gramophone ready?"
Flitwick, in the doorway of the Great Hall, nodding excitedly. "Of course, Professor. And the floor has been cleared."
McGonagall smiled, just a touch wickedly. "Then, to our first practice." She gestured toward the Great Hall. "Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy, if you would be so kind, please show us how it's done?"
She knew how much she loved her students, and that the Trio was very fond of her. But just this moment, Hermione Granger shot her a dirty look, and the headmistress nearly chuckled. She was reminded of an episode when she had been her age, and a young man had taken her to the dance floor. Gracious, such a long time ago.
Draco offered his arm to Hermione, who took it after a deep breath. "Please, don't embarrass us!" he whispered and caught her fierce gaze. "If you have any doubts, just tell me, trust my lead, and I can get us through this," he offered.
As they walked into the Great Hall, the ceiling displaying a bright star-strewn sky with hundreds of floating candles beneath, her face was set, eyes flashing and nostrils flaring. "Oh, I'll show you how to dance!"
He moved them into position in the middle of the hall, surrounded by the other students. "Now that's an offer I can't refuse," he whispered, his eyes layering the words with meaning.
"This is a dance lesson, Malfoy!" she hissed back.
Soft laughter rumbled in his chest, sending heat down her limbs. "I know one dance you've never done, and I'll gladly teach it to you!"
She immediately blushed, and she slipped one hand onto his shoulder and her other hand in his; feeling new shivers running down her spine as his arm went around her waist, holding her close to him, his hand deliciously warm on her back in the cool air of the Great Hall. "Rake!" she breathed and he grinned at her.
"Can't help it. You look just too delicious!"
Flitwick put the needle of the gramophone onto the disc, and the first notes of By The Beautiful Blue Danube by Johann Strauss floated through the hall. As one, both students took their first steps, and within a second or two, they matched each other's movements and waltzed over the marble floor – light, weightless, as if the music came from them. Every step fit, every pirouette, every movement matched the others, even as Draco changed direction, Hermione felt it in his hands, his legs, and allowed herself be led. Ever since her first lesson five years ago, during the summer break, she never liked not being able to lead, but now, flying in the arms of the man beside her over the dancing floor, she revelled in the feeling
The Headmistress exchanged a quick look with Flitwick, who stared at the couple as the waltz ended with a flourish, and Draco whirled Hermione into a bow and a curtsey. The tiny man happily beamed and changed the recording to another song – a tango. McGonagall looked at him, startled.
Draco recognized the pause in the music and prepared for another dance. And a quick look at the girl in his arms told him that she was ready. Of course! Hermione Granger was nothing but perfect once she had learned something. When he heard the first opening chords and rhythm, he felt a smirk tugging at his mouth. 'Tango – the certainly most erotic dance of all classics.' Thanking the tiny professor inwardly, he telegraphed his movements to his partner with a multitude of invisible signals, and she followed. His movements were smooth and fluid, not choppy as others would perform it. He preferred the sinuous and gentle movements of this dance, and he gratefully realized that his partner was matching his technique, moving as one.
The other students watched the couple with mouths open, barely breathing. The uncontested elegance, the sensuous tension between Head-Girl and Head-Boy were mirrored in every twist, in every pushing away and pulling close, in every step. Harry stared wide-eyed at the girl, so dear to him, and his former school enemy. Yes, both knew how to dance and seemed eager to prove it to each other, but you would have to be blind and stupid, with a stone instead of a heart, to not see that this performance was, in truth, a dance of temptation and enticement. The boys shifted uncomfortably, glad that the girls had eyes only for the couple on the floor. And the way the two looked at each other, eyes never leaving the other, made it clear that this was an encounter that would lead to things best left in private.
Harry tore his gaze from the two and turned his attention to his girlfriend, who looked oddly satisfied at the Head-Students. And he again had to ask himself what Ginny knew that he obviously didn't, and what was really going on between Hermione and Malfoy?
Ron could only stare at them. Of course that arrogant prick knew how to dance! Being born to wealth had its advantages! But, he never would have guessed that someone who was, in his eyes, so cold, so evil, could move with such grace and sensitivity to music. It was obvious the Slytherin loved to dance. But, wasn't there a saying that the devil has no music in his heart? Then he saw Hermione's face, and he felt a dart of pain, anger. No, not because she was moving with Malfoy as one, or because the two completed each other with such ease. No. It was her expression: the glow, the shimmer in her eyes and the soft smile, the smile so many professional couples plastered on their faces during a competition. But this was joy, delight. It was obvious that she loved what she was doing.
Much too soon for Draco's taste, the recording ended. There was complete silence for a moment, then the students began to applaud enthusiastically. Feeling as if waking from a dream, Malfoy blinked, then his gaze found the sparkling eyes of the little lioness. He lifted her hand to his lips, brushed his lips gently over her knuckles, moved back one step, and bowed. "Thank you for the dance, my lady" he said; his eyes again finding hers.
Flushed, panting, and feeling as if she were standing on pink clouds, Hermione smiled back at him. Then she curtseyed elegantly and replied: "A pleasure, sir."
McGonagall smiled broadly and raised her voice over the applause. "And this, ladies and gentlemen, is how it's done." She waited a moment until the students calmed down. "Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy, my congratulations. That was beautiful." She lifted a brow. "I would appreciate if you could show your follow students some of the steps you just performed and help them learn them."
Draco politely lowered his head, as did Hermione. Both knew that they would have no chance to dance together again any time soon, perhaps not until the Christmas ball, but just now it didn't matter. Both felt light-headed, and strangely energized. While the others chose their partners and prepared to dance, Malfoy looked down at the Gryffindor-Queen and as he met her eyes, he knew that he would not be able to wait one day longer. Tonight it would happen. Tonight he would make her his…
TBC…
Ha, isn't this an entrée for a special thing you're all waiting for? I do think you all are looking forward for the next chapter, aren't you?
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Love you all,
Have a nice week,
Yours Lywhn