Draco lounged casually against the wall with his arms folded over his chest. Cool silver eyes surveyed the room, taking in all of the livery. He hadn't been here long enough to observe yet, and he wanted to do some people watching before he did any mingling or dancing. He hadn't recognized anyone yet, but he was positive that he would.
He turned to his left to see a curtain of copper hair swinging around a feathered mask, and arched an eyebrow beneath his own mask. Her body was decent enough, but the hair was a turnoff. He'd never be able to look at the Weasley red without thinking of her brother, and he didn't like thinking about other men in conjunction with a woman he was looking to seduce.
Ginny Weasley was officially off limits.
His eyes wandered to a bright orange figure twirling a more slender figure in circles, and his eyes widened slightly. The snowy garment clung to her hips, although it was loose everywhere else, and she looked very much like a Goddess. When the couple turned, he got a glimpse of red hair, and realized that it must be yet another Weasley. He snorted. It seemed that there were enough Weasleys in existence to stage a small hostile takeover of the reunion, if they so chose.
It was only moments later that he realized that the woman Weasley was with had to be Granger. He eyed her appreciatively, wondering why she would keep a body like that under shapeless robes all day. He turned his eyes back to the female Weasley, and took in her date. Something about the man made the hair on the back of Draco's neck stand on end. Before he could get a better look, however, a woman with long, silvery hair stopped in front of him and blocked his line of sight.
"Want to dance?" she asked, her melodic voice washing over him. He blinked, silently appraising her. Her body was admirable; she was wearing a top that looked like nothing more than a brassiere with gauzy sleeves attached. Her tanned midriff was bared, with her gauzy pants beginning just below her navel, and she was barefoot. Pale pink nail polish was on her finger and toenails. Her eyes were visible just over the piece of fabric that covered her nose and mouth.
Something about her eyes was so familiar, but he couldn't quite place it.
He nodded and took her hand, allowing her to lead him out onto the dance floor. A slow song began, and he automatically wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close against him. She rested her hands lightly on his shoulders, and he could tell by the way the corners of her eyes turned up that she was smiling.
He waited for her to speak again, so he could try and place her voice, but she remained silent. He didn't want to speak and give himself away, but he was getting impatient. She seemed content not to speak at all, and rested her head against his shoulder while they swayed to the music. When it was over, she dropped a quick curtsey to him, and made to walk away, but he reached out and grabbed her arm, effectively spinning her back around to face him.
"Who are you?"
"Why, Draco," she said, surprise evident in her voice. "I thought you knew who I was." He blinked. So she'd known who he was when she'd asked him to dance.
"How did you know who I was?"
"No one else in the free world has eyes like yours," she said softly. His lips turned up in a smile.
"Don't they? Not even in America?" Her eyes widened, then she laughed.
"I gave myself away, didn't I?" she asked. "I was never very good at keeping compliments to myself." He put his hand on her elbow and guided her towards a table, pulling out a chair for her. She sat down, and he took the chair next to hers.
"How's life been?" he asked pleasantly.
"Decent. It's been pretty good, actually," she admitted, nodding. "Look, I wanted to apologize to you about all of those owls I sent, asking you to come and see me. I was really lonely, and I just wanted a familiar face nearby."
"What did you do to your voice?" he blurted. "It used to be really nasal and whiny."
"I took up smoking while I was in America," she said, giving him a wry smile. "I've quit now, but I'm afraid it changed my voice. Deeper than it used to be, but hopefully it doesn't sound as bad as it used to."
Draco didn't say it, but he thought it was a vast improvement. She sounded almost sexy now - what with the deeper voice and her slight American accent.
"Doesn't bother me," he said coolly. She eyed him thoughtfully, then turned to look back out across the dance floor.
"Did you see Potter?" she pointed to a regally garbed man swirling around with the Weasley girl, and Draco sniggered.
"A King? Does Saint Potter really still have that high an opinion of himself, after all these years?"
"I heard that he caught Bellatrix LeStrange," she murmured. Draco turned to look at her, and was surprised at the stab of jealousy he felt, watching Pansy watch Potter. There was a strange look in her eyes that felt foreign to see not directed at him. He cleared his throat, and she turned back to him.
"Who cares about Scarhead? Tell me more about you." She laughed softly and shook her head.
"I'm afraid there isn't much to tell. I've been-" she stopped talking abruptly when a werewolf approached their table and extended his paw.
"Care to dance?" his voice was gruff, and Draco could tell immediately that he'd used a charm to change it. He looked from the werewolf to Pansy, and was surprised to see her blushing beneath the fabric of her mask. She nodded and slipped her hand into his, throwing Draco an apologetic glance over her shoulder as she went.
Draco leaned back in his chair and sulked.
"I warned you that I wasn't a very good dancer," Ginny laughed. Harry was sitting with his trampled foot propped up on the table. He grinned at her.
"Doesn't bother me," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "You were pretty good until you decided to do Swan Lake on my toes." She covered her mouth with her hand to suppress a giggle.
"Thank my Mum," she said, reaching for a glass of punch on the table. "She's the one who pulled me out of dance classes when I was seven."
"Ah, too talented for the world of ballet?"
"Something like that," she nodded, smiling. He watched her drink and contemplated all of the changes that time had wrought in both of them. They were both more confident and more relaxed around each other. He was totally at ease, which was something he hadn't been since he'd left Hogwarts. "Knut for your thoughts," she said finally, raising her eyes to his. He grinned.
"I was just thinking about you," he said honestly. She blushed but held his gaze.
"Good thoughts, I hope. Or at least, nothing too bad, considering I may have just put you out of commission for the rest of the night. Oh, won't all of the other ladies be sore at me," she sighed melodramatically. He laughed.
"I don't see any swooning or anything," he said, looking around pointedly.
"Well, just because you don't see something doesn't mean it isn't there, Harry Potter," she pointed out. His smile faded and he stared intently at her. He wondered if perhaps she was making a reference to his not noticing her during his Hogwarts days. "Besides, I think that Little Red Riding Hood over there looks a bit out of sorts." He craned his neck to look.
"D'you reckon she knows the Big Bad Wolf is here?"
"We really ought to introduce them, wouldn't you say?" she asked, her eyes twinkling.
"Ah, you'd have to do it alone, I'm afraid," he sighed. She laughed and threw a napkin at him. "You see, I was dancing with the most lovely peacock a few moments ago, and she managed to maim me, so I am stuck here, immobile."
"Do they teach you flattery in Auror training?" she winked. "Is that how you get prisoners to come with you, by using your natural charm?"
"Do you think I'm charming?" he arched an eyebrow at her.
"More importantly, do you think you're charming?" He laughed.
"It's good to see that you two are getting along so well," Hermione breathed, flopping gracelessly into a chair beside Ginny. Ron sat next to her and grinned at Harry as she fanned herself with her hand.
"There was never a time when we didn't get along," Ginny said, shrugging.
"Yes, but -" Hermione was cut off when Ron stomped her foot under the table. She let out a yelp and hugged her knee to her chest to inspect her wounded foot. "Ron!"
"What is it about Weasleys and injuring the feet of their dance partners?" Harry asked, his eyes twinkling. Ginny rolled her eyes but laughed.
"Maybe if we had decent partners," she began. Hermione snickered.
"I didn't see anything wrong with Harry's dancing," she said, removing her sandal to massage her foot. Ron sighed noisily and motioned for her to put her foot in his lap. She hesitated, then extended her leg. The snowy white of her gown fell away to reveal a slender leg, and she rested her heel lightly on his knee. He began to massage her foot gently, and she sighed. "Oh, that's nice."
Harry covered his grin with a cough. Ginny quickly averted her eyes. Ron's ears turned scarlet.
"Why don't the two of you go and have another dance?" Ron suggested, his voice breaking. Harry laughed.
"Well, I would, but I'm nursing an injured foot. Some cow on the dance floor trampled it." Ginny guffawed and smacked playfully at him.
"Cow, indeed!" she huffed good-naturedly. "Well, you might be stuck here, Harry, but my feet work just fine. I'm going to go and ask that flobberworm for a dance." Hermione bit her lip to hold her laughter in. Harry's jaw dropped slightly.
"Surely you jest? You wouldn't leave the man you wounded here to watch you run off and wound someone else?"
"And with a flobberworm, no less?" Ron laughed.
"It's very rude to leave your date, Ginny," Hermione said, matter-of-factly. Ginny gave her an odd look.
"So you're saying I should stay with Ron, then?" she asked. "Because you know that Ron is my date, don't you?"
"Here, now," Harry interjected, his cheeks pink. "Ron with two dates?"
"Care to take one off my hands there, mate?"
"Sure, I'll take Hermione. We can be injured together," he teased. He watched as Hermione's cheeks flushed and Ron sputtered indignantly. "Fine," he sighed, as though he was put out. "I suppose I'll take Ginny off of your hands, then."
"And if I don't want to trade dates?" she asked, her voice thick with amusement. Harry raised his eyebrows.
"Then I suppose I'll have to stop faking my injury and throw you over my shoulder, like a cave-man."
"But you're not dressed for the part," she paused, then burst out laughing. "Faking your injury? Oi, Potter, you are so melodramatic!"
"How else was I supposed to get you alone, fawning over me, I ask you? Your pillock of a brother ruined it for me, you know. I was getting plenty of attention until he and his secondary date came over here and mucked it up but good." She laughed again.
"Well, why don't we go mingle, or something?" she suggested, standing. He stood and winked at Hermione, who giggled and blushed.
"As long as we don't have to dance again - my poor feet have been abused enough."