Draco Malfoy and his Unknown Fate:
Author's Notes: *hums* Love is in the air… *Coughs* Never mind that. I picked up all the dancing info from the net on fairly reliable sites since as a pureblooded aristocrat Draco is most likely very skilled at ballroom dancing. This chapter is so cute! You'll see what I mean.
Warnings for this chapter: Mild swearing. I think that's it.
Disclaimer: The characters in this story belong to J.K. Rowling. I'm merely borrowing them for the time being. This will be slash (eventually). Don't like it? Don't read it. Otherwise, enjoy.
February fourteenth arrived with a fanfare of pink, red, and white streamers as well as floating hearts in the Great Hall. Then there was the glitter, which for some reason had taken to appearing over Snape's head. Draco had thought it hilarious until it had done the same thing to him seconds later. There was a profusion of Valentines, some of the singing variety while others were actually edible. During breakfast the air was so thick with owls Draco had to pick seven different feather's off his plate. He received a hefty pile of Valentines, mostly from girls. One from a seventh year Slytherin contained a pair of silk knickers and he studied them with wide eyes. The skimpy black garment looked like it would barely cover anything at all. Draco carefully avoided making eye contact with the dark haired girl leering at him from the end of the table and managed to get Goyle to wear them on his head, just for laughs.
Draco was thankful for the sweets he received, but the rest of it was trash as far as he was concerned. He used a few well aimed Incendio spells to reduce his pile of drivel-spouting, glittery Valentines to ash. The look on Snape's face when he received the anonymous Valentine A.S.H had thought up, complete with the sappy voice to read it out loud, was more than worth the risk of getting caught. Snape received about a total of three Valentines, which was odd considering the other two weren't pranks as far as Draco knew, (one might have even been from Pansy) but that was nothing in comparison to the fifty plus dumped in front of Draco.
If Draco's amount of mail was sizeable, Potter's was absolutely humongous. The other Gryffinors helped the Boy Who Lived pick through the large pile of Valentines, tossing out the scary obsessive ones while Granger tested the sweets for love potions. Draco approved wholeheartedly of her efforts.
After all, one could never be too cautious.
Draco had bought new dress robes earlier that month for the Ball at Pansy's insistence, though why his appearance was of concern to her was beyond him. It wasn't like she'd do more than laugh her arse off at him if he looked funny. They had the day off, ostensibly to prepare for the ball, though he suspected it was because there was a staff meeting. Draco spent his time on the Quidditch pitch practicing with his snitch to avoid Pansy's 'helpful advice' or in other words her critical comments about everything from his hair to his shoes.
When five o'clock rolled around he went to bathe in the prefects bathroom, ducking inside just when Hannah Abbot rounded the corner. Her face fell when she saw that he'd beat her to it already. Laughing at the disappointed expression on her face, he cleaned himself up and then retired to his room to get ready. He didn't bother to gel his hair back as he was aware of Potter's preferences.
His attire consisted of white dragon hide boots, white trousers, a white dress shirt, a white brocade vest embroidered with silver and gold thread in a pattern of overlapping feathers, a gold tie, his opal tiepin and cufflinks, and an iridescent white over robe made of sumptuous silk velvet that opened in the front. He clasped it shut near his collar bone with his silver dragon pin, the one with diamonds for eyes he had gotten for his fourteenth birthday from his mother. The sleeves of the robe were a bit fuller than Draco was used to, but they did go well with the rest of the outfit. For the final touch, he put on his Ever-Changing cloak and was delighted when the material changed into thick, snow leopard fur. He spent the next fifteen minutes fiddling with his hair, finally settling for a style that let his short platinum hair fall in a stylishly tousled manner around his face without looking ridiculously messy. As far as Draco knew only Potter could pull off that look successfully and some mornings when the ridiculous cowlick near the back of his head popped up and refused to be moved even that was debatable.
Draco took one last look at himself in his mirror and nodded in satisfaction. "You look absolutely perfect." It simpered at him and he left his room without bothering to thank it because of course he did. He was Draco Malfoy after all.
Draco sauntered through the corridors, feeling quite arrogant at his elegant appearance, and into the Slytherin common room where Crabbe was suffering through Millicent Bulstrode's attempts to button the top of his robes and almost choking the poor sod in the process. Zabini and his girlfriend were snuggling on the common room couch and Goyle was shuffling nervously from foot to foot, looking anxiously in the mirror in the corner that was trying to help him slick back a stubborn tuft of hair. The rest of the Slytherins were either running about frantically taking care of last minute things or sitting quietly around the common room and waiting for their counterparts to finish up.
When Draco entered everyone turned to look and see who it was as he posed negligently in the doorway. A few whistles and catcalls sounded, which made Draco laugh delightedly. "Now, now ladies. Enough of that. You wouldn't want your dates to get jealous, would you? Is Pansy ready yet?" Crabbe swatted Bulstrode's hands away unbuttoned the first two buttons of his dress robes again as he replied.
"No, 'course not. She's fixing her hair. You know how long she takes."
Blaise groaned. "We'll be here forever! Tracy, love, why don't you tell her Draco's here and waiting impatiently for her to finish up? That might get her to hurry up a bit."
"Of course darling." She stood up and brushed a kiss across his cheek before making her way towards the sixth year girl's dorms in a graceful flurry of swishing robes. They were a dark crimson color that looked good with her dark hair, not to mention Blaise's gypsy coloring and black formal dress robes. Crabbe and Goyle's outfits were black too, the color Slytherin boys favored because they couldn't go wrong with it. Draco on the other hand, avoided it as often as possible, especially for formal clothes. Black robes washed him out and made him look funny, as he'd learned to his chagrin from the Yule Ball during his fourth year.
After what seemed to be ages, Pansy and Tracy finally appeared. Pansy was dolled up in low cut dress robes of dark royal blue that brought out the color in her eyes and showed off her cleavage. Her hair was done up elegantly in curls. Draco was pleased his date looked so sophisticated. "You look lovely Pansy." He held his arm out for her and she took it, smiling up at him.
"Why thank you. And you have outdone yourself, haven't you Draco? Is everyone ready?" There were grumbles and murmurs of agreement as everyone prepared to depart. The Ambitious Slytherins of Hogwarts and their dates (minus Goyle's) filed out of the common room, leaving early in the hopes of getting good seats near the punchbowl. The furor from the common room died down the farther they walked until there was only the dripping of the dungeons to be heard.
They chattered together on the way to the Great Hall, Tracy and Pansy giggling to each other while Millicent scolded Vince for slouching. Zabini spent his time gazing at his girlfriend with a stupid, moony look on his face. Goyle was fiddling with his sleeve and looking unusually nervous. Draco rolled his eyes at them all and straightened his shoulders, silently hoping his hair was behaving itself.
The Great Hall was even more gaudy than it had been that morning and Draco blinked in the hopes it would prevent the sight of all that glitter becoming permanently burned into retinas. They strolled into the Hall, looking around at the decorations and laughing at the sillier things as they made their way towards the corner near the punchbowl. A good number of Ravenclaws were already there as was all the staff. Draco looked around for Potter, but apparently he hadn't arrived yet. "Here we are. Let me get that for you, Pansy." He pulled out her chair automatically for her before taking his own seat to her left. "And look, there's Snape brooding near Madame Hooch. And Merlin's beard, those robes of hers are short." Pansy spotted her beloved Potions professor immediately and laughed.
"Oh, the poor dear. You can tell he just wants to go back to his dungeons. And just think, as prefects we're required to dance at least two times with members of the staff. I'm going to try and corner him for a dance before he leaves to patrol the gardens for snogging students."
"Try a waltz." Draco advised as he removed his cloak so it swirled around him before setting it on the back of his chair. "Anything else is probably too trendy for him."
"I certainly can't see him doing the polka." Blaise chipped in dryly, causing everyone to laugh at the mental image his words brought to mind. Soon everyone was there and Dumbledore made a few announcements Draco proceeded to ignore. He got himself and Pansy some punch before someone decided to spike it and then asked her to dance.
It was familiar and soothing, after all he'd learned how to dance with Pansy as his partner under the instruction of his etiquette coach, Narcissa, and Pansy's mother. They moved gracefully together, anticipating one another's moves and avoiding less skilled couples. Draco snickered when Longbottom ran into the refreshment table and got pudding on his robes. He danced three times with Pansy, twice with Tracy because Blaise knew he wouldn't make a move on her, and once with a fourth year Slytherin girl who was pretty, but had been sitting on the sidelines like a wallflower for some reason. After Draco danced with her the other Slytherin boys were clamoring around her admiringly, suddenly made aware of the fact she was worth a second glance.
He even danced once with McGonagall and was surprised when she thanked him for the turn around the floor. Draco loved to dance because it was something he was exceptional at. Not to mention it was simply fun. He also danced with Madame Pomfrey to fulfill his requirements as a prefect and even though she was plump, she moved like she weighed nothing at all. He had briefly considered dancing with Madame Hooch before he had spotted Pomfrey, but those robes of hers scared him something awful. Though he supposed if she had the legs it only made sense to flaunt them, not that he was in a position to really appreciate them.
Draco took his seat, but his fellow Slytherins were on the dance floor and he hated to sit alone like some sort of loser. The Slytherin made his way towards the Gryffindor side of the room, ignoring the looks he garnered at his approach. He sidled up next to Granger, hiding a grin at the weird face Ron Weasley made once he saw Draco. "Miss Granger, would you care to dance?"
"Listen you slimy Slytherin, she doesn't want to dance with a ferret like you! Sod off!" Weasley shouted, his face becoming a violent shade of red.
Granger, who actually looked quite nice in her light blue robes, addressed her angry friend. "I can speak for myself, Ron." Having put him in his place, she turned to Draco. "Why should I dance with you Malfoy?" It was said calmly enough, but there was a scornful undertone lurking behind her words.
Draco inclined his head respectfully, smirking a little. "Because I won't step on your feet for one. I want to dance with an interesting conversationalist and Pansy's busy cornering Snape. I won't even say the M-word, I swear."
Granger pursed her lips thoughtfully, obviously undecided. The Weasel was almost apoplectic. "Are you MAD?! He's Malfoy! You can't dance with him!"
"I can't?" She said sharply and Draco, well versed with the way the female mind worked thanks to Pansy, had to hide a smirk. The Weasel was just burying himself deeper and deeper. "I can dance with whomever I please Ron, even if it is Malfoy."
"He's a slimy git Hermione and he probably just wants in your knickers!" Granger's eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared, her hands fisting at her sides. Draco took a step back, just to be cautious. He knew that look; that was look he had seen right before she'd slapped him their third year.
Granger's voice was very cold when she spoke and oddly enough it reminded him of his mother in a snit. It made him feel a burst of warmth towards her, mudblood though she was. Anyone who could sound that disdainful deserved a modicum of respect. "I know this may seem like a foreign concept to you Ron, but some boys actually care about what's in between a girl's ears, not what's in between their legs. Come on Malfoy." Draco let her lead the way and followed, grinning at the Weasel who was busy pounding his fist into the table and muttering obscenities. She turned on him, next. "Don't bother looking smug. This has nothing to do with you. I'm just proving a point to Ron."
"I know. It's not that. His face has turned quite an amusing shade of plum."
She craned her neck around to look and rolled her eyes when she caught sight of the other Gryffindor. Draco took her hand and automatically fell into the proper stance, leading her skillfully when the music started again. "Did you really want to dance with me or were you just baiting Ron?" There was genuine curiosity in her voice. Draco grinned at her, guiding her around the bumbling Longbottom.
"To be completely honest, both. And I have a few questions about your most recent Arithmancy essay. When you were discussing the fine points of Sissleby's Rules of Equality, did you realize the fifth rule contradicts the ninth? I didn't quite get that."
Granger's interest was captured immediately. "Oh, no. It doesn't at all. It only seems that way because the ninth rule addresses negative numbers." They discussed Arithmancy class and their work in it quite civilly, speaking to each other politely as they danced. He caught flashes of Weasley whose face turned a variety of interesting colors, no doubt because Draco had managed to keep from getting slapped the whole entire time.
After the waltz ended and a fox trot started up, Draco escorted Granger back to her seat. Probably not the wisest of moves, considering the dark look the Weasel was giving him, but Potter had shown up and was sipping his punch while he lounged at the table. Potter was wearing new green robes, though of course Draco's were much more fashionable. Granger shot him a look, one that said 'Why are you still here?', but Draco ignored her in favor of watching Potter lick his fingers of salt from the pretzels he'd been munching on.
That little pink tongue was so very tempting.
"Here you are, Granger. Thank you for the dance." He said, holding her chair for her as she took a seat. Before she could reply the Weasel stood up, grabbed her hand, and pulled her onto the dance floor, muttering curses all the while. Draco watched them go, one eyebrow raised at the red head's odd behavior. He turned to see Potter looking at him curiously. He ignored the Weaselette who was watching him hopefully six seats down and took the liberty of sitting across from Potter. "So, Potter. Why aren't you dancing?"
Potter cast a sheepish look towards Parvati Patil who was busy nursing her bruised foot. "Er, I'm not much of a dancer."
"I can remember that much from the Yule Ball." Draco said dryly, leaning back in his chair. He felt nervous about sitting in the Gryffindor area, but feigned nonchalance, pretending that he belonged there just as much as the Boy Who Lived. The other Gryffindors, scenting a distinct lack of fear, left him alone. "I hope the Weasel isn't going to burst a blood vessel out there." He finally said, watching the red head shouting on the other side of the Great Hall. Potter cast him a sharp glance.
"Don't call him Weasel. And you know that's your fault. He finally worked up the nerve to ask her out, you know."
"Really? I've been waiting for that development for two years. Took him long enough. Anyway, he needs to learn Granger isn't going to take that from him sooner or later."
"Why'd you want to dance with her anyway?"
"Why wouldn't I?" Draco countered quickly. "She's intelligent and a fairly light on her feet. Better her than a Hufflepuff anyway."
"Hmm." Said Potter, studying him for a moment before turning his attention to his cup of punch like it held the secret to defeating Voldemort in its depths. Draco watched him watch his punch, aware that the other boy wasn't quite comfortable. "So, er."
There was an awkward silence on Potter's part, but Draco was actually starting to get comfortable, settling in to alternate his attention between the whirling couples and Potter. On the dance floor, Blaise took the time to wag his tongue at Draco rudely once he saw where the former Malfoy heir was sitting, wiggling his eyebrows in a suggestive manner that made the Slytherin prefect raise one of his own pale eyebrows condescendingly. Draco suddenly had an impish impulse and he took Potter's cup right from his hands and set it down on the table before standing. "Come along, Potter."
"What?" The Gryffindor asked, alarmed. "Come along where? And why?"
Draco sighed in a very put upon manner, ignoring the suspicious distrust Potter was watching him with. "I, in the generous manner I'm known for," He ignored Potter's snort of derision. "Am going to teach you how to dance. For the sake of the wizarding world, anyone you have ever danced with or ever will, and my own sanity. Now come along." He ordered, imitating the sharp commanding tone his father used and surprisingly Potter heeled him instinctively, hesitating once he realized exactly what they were doing.
"I don't know about this, Malfoy. I mean, it's going to look a little funny. We're both boys."
Draco made a curt gesture towards the dance floor. "Look at Finnigan and Thomas. And Finch-Fletchy and that other Hufflepuff. It's not uncommon and I'm not asking you to dance. I'm teaching you how not to trample on your partner's feet. I'm sure Patil will appreciate my efforts. We can't have the savior of the wizarding world on par with Neville Longbottom on the dance floor, can we? Ballroom dancing is the sign of a sophisticated wizard. You might as well learn it from someone who actually knows how to do it properly." He led Potter to the side of the dance floor and ignored the Ravenclaws who were looking at them curiously from the table closest. "Now stand up straight. Straight, Potter. Merlin, you've got bad posture. Like this." Draco demonstrated and nodded approval when Potter copied him.
"They're staring at us." Potter said nervously, peering around at the milling crowd at the tables and then the dancing couples.
Draco rolled his eyes. "They always stare at you. One would think you'd be used to it by now. Alright, I'm going to let you lead, because the other way around will just muddle it all up more in your head and Circe knows its muddled enough in there as it is."
"Er, right then. Here goes." Potter managed a relatively decent form of the closed position and started forward haltingly, obviously uncomfortable. The fact he didn't even attempt to refute Draco's claims about his muddled head proved it beyond a shadow of a doubt. Potter almost never let Draco get away with cracks like that.
Draco sighed, stopping Potter in mid-step. "Okay, first of all. Lead with the left foot. Secondly, carry your weight more on the ball of your foot than on your heel. And when you start, lean forward a bit first to give me some warning. I don't like to be dragged around. Now, try it again."
The next start was much smoother and they stayed near the side, away from the other couples in their own little area while Draco tried to instruct Potter in how not to humiliate himself on the dance floor. He could feel Potter's warmth radiating towards him and the light touch on his hip was very enjoyable. He found it remarkably easy to follow Potter's cues, but then again he did know Potter's flying style and dancing wasn't too far off from that.
Draco instructed him as they moved together. "Potter, your arm is all wobbly. Make it firmer. Like that and don't forget the shoulder too. Now put the palm of the hand that's on my hip slightly under my shoulder blade with your right arm at a ninety degree angle. There you go." Then the Slytherin talked him through the different steps and how to move through the crowd without bumping into anyone. Potter was actually quite quick on the uptake and was graceful enough once he got the hang of it. Obviously, his terrible dancing had stemmed from ignorance, not inability.
"Okay, then. Let's join the crowd."
"Er." Was all Potter had to say, but in a properly brave, Gryffindor-ish way he went out on the dance floor despite his doubts.
"We should be going counterclockwise. And don't look at your feet. Look over my shoulder if you want." Draco said under his breath and the Boy Who Had Two Left Feet moved accordingly, counting the time silently so that his lips moved as they went through the steps. It made Draco want to kiss him, but his control prevailed and he contented himself with watching the other boy's mouth. Draco tapped him on the shoulder whenever they wandered too close to other couples and only had to speak up once to warn Potter about Longbottom who was failing about hopelessly with a mortified Lavender Brown.
When Potter felt sufficiently confident he wasn't going to make an idiot out of himself if his concentration faltered, he started to make conversation. "This isn't too hard. I thought it would be a lot more difficult. Thanks Malfoy."
"Think nothing of it." Draco murmured, enthralled with the way Potter's warm, slightly calloused hand felt in his softer one. He made sure it didn't show in his expression, though he smiled a bit when Potter gave him a lopsided grin. Draco caught a glimpse of Snape lurking in the corner and looking disgusted with the fact his prized pupil was dancing with Gryffindor scum. Dumbledore on the other hand, looked like he'd just heard the world's funniest joke. If those eyes of his twinkled anymore, Draco expected the nearby Hufflepuffs would go blind.
Eventually, the music died down and Draco stepped back. "And there you have it. Etiquette dictates you should walk me back to my seat since you lead the dance, but I'll let you off the hook this time. You might want to help out Granger over there. Weasley looks like he's about to spontaneously combust." Potter turned quickly and groaned when he saw the red head glaring at him fiercely from the table hosting the Gryffindors.
"Right, I better help her calm him down. Thanks again Malfoy. That was actually sort of fun." Draco flashed him a smirk and gave into his baser impulses despite himself.
"Oh, it was my pleasure." He purred, before turning on his heel and walking back to where Pansy and the other Slytherins were watching him approach with shit eating grins on their faces. He felt Potter's heavy gaze on his back, but forced himself not to turn around. And to think, he hadn't wanted to attend the ball at all. What a shame that would have been.
He couldn't wait to see what the rest of the year had in store for him.
To be Continued
Comments and constructive criticism are more than welcome.