Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, I merely want to write my brief version.
A.N.: For now, this is only a one-shot fic. I have had this nagging to write a scene like this, among others. Suggestions are always welcomed. I haven't written any HP fic until this.
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The blue lights flickered over her skin; smooth, like a silky glass reflection. My eyes held her hand in mine with a fascination that rivaled the greatest mysteries. Her touch was light, as though a ghost had taken the embodiment of her form for this brief interlude; hardly a moment later, she was as firm and real in my grasp as the floor under us. My arm seemed to move of its own will; caressing her side and pulling her closer, holding this woman against my body. Could she feel me?
Couples dance around us, cloaked and masked. The beauty of this dance will never go unnoticed. It was a time to be an unknown; to shine without introduction or recognition.
I tried to resist the urge to finger the satin material of her crystalline dress. As I forced my eyes to leave our hands I could feel her inquiring eyes travel my features. The mask curved against my face, remarking the structure just slightly enough to make her question. The music settled into an entrancing pace, calling for movement. How could we resist? Our bodies moved to the soft, sorrowful tones that flowed in the air around us. There was us; only us, as the orchestra played. There was no distinction from the movements;
She didn't know me. How could she? But I knew exactly who held my gaze; chocolate against ice; despite her purple locks and silver mask. I discovered the details before this night. I always do. I had taken care to hide my hair, to hide my features, but my eyes would forever be open to her. I would never hide them---if only she looked deep enough.
The music came to a stop and I found myself breathing deeply. It had not been an exhausting dance.
Her hand released mine, and I found myself longing to be back in that touch; to be back in the comfort of her stillness. My desire was sedated as her warm, slender fingers glided over my cheek. Her touch was no more than a whisper of air, but it was enough. They traced the deep blue satin of the mask I wore, her eyes holding mine with a firm intensity that I could only dream of experiencing without the confines of this disguise; this shield from reality. She would never know how she was an angel from behind my eyes.
I wanted her to see me, not this dark-haired man who had captivated the romantic ideals of a young woman behind a mask. But she would never see me. Not with a mask, not without. I was and always will be nothing to her. That is how it must be. To be a Slytherin can mean a number of things. Evil, betrayal,---secrecy. To love her would be a vulnerability, and that could never be acceptable. I will not let the training I had experienced all these years be for nothing. To live as a spy means to be alone. That was always the first lesson.
I want more---but she deserves more.
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The music continued through the large room, never missing a beat at the couple parted. The young man disappeared into the mass of students; disappeared as though it were only a vague dream, or ghost of an encounter.
Hermione remained in place, longing to be back in the stranger's arms. The once warm air grew cold as her eyes desperately scanned the active floor. She knew those eyes, so familiar and full of life.
"Draco---?"
The name was whispered as though afraid of the answer. The laughter and music overpowering any that could have come.
With a soft sigh, she looked down at her hands as they entwined with each other; If only they could be held once more. A wave to the side caught her attention and a smile found its way on her lips. It was hardly a moment before she was on her way to greet the friends, never noticing the blue eyes that still held a longing gaze over her form; or as they turned away.