Chapter 6: Dancing in My Dreams
Hermione flopped down on the common room couch, grabbing a pillow to rest her head on. Seraphim soon followed suit, groaning.
"What's wrong?" asked Hermione, rolling over to face her friend.
Seraphim mumbled something incomprehensibly; Hermione caught the words 'blonde', 'brat', and 'imbecile.'
"Malfoy?" Hermione prompted.
Seraphim just growled.
"If you hate him so much-" Hermione was cut off.
"But I don't hate him. I think. I don't know," Seraphim admitted disgustedly. "It's like… I don't even know. He's a…he's just such a pain in the ass sometimes, but. I don't know; I want to get to know him. I want to make him a good person. And, and I kind of want to, well, but…I don't and… Do you see me?" she pointed to herself, "I haven't acted like this since I was eleven. I have not been this confused over a part of the male species for five years. And now…" Seraphim continued to mutter furiously to herself.
Hermione cleared her throat. "Ahem, well. If you don't not like him the what's the problem?"
"I don't know if I don't not like him," Seraphim replied. "I don't even know if I don't not dislike him."
Hermione thought a moment, figuring out the meaning of Seraphim's last two statements, before opening her mouth. "Er…"
"Exactly," Seraphim sighed. "It's... It's like being forced to dance with someone you hate and realizing that, together, you have the perfect rhythm. It defies…everything."
Hermione pondered the new information. "Lovely," was all she could think to say.
"It's unfair. He doesn't even seem fazed. Of course he probably wouldn't be romantically interested in me anyway," Seraphim began to pace around the room. "I swear; if I ever find a way, I'll make the whole male half of the species wish they'd never been born." Her energy reaching its zenith, she toppled over.
Harry and Ron, who had just walked in, looked at the two girls, then at each other, and wisely went up to their dormitory.
"Well, I've got to be going to Charms and you've got History of Magic," Hermione stood, gathering her books.
Seraphim groaned. "This day keeps getting better and better."
"Don't I know it," Hermione waved goodbye as they parted in front of the fat lady.
Seraphim made her way to the History of Magic classroom, ready to be bored to tears by Professor Binns' lecturing technique. Sighing, she picked a seat in the back left-hand corner and plopped down. Taking out a notebook and a quill, she proceeded to copy the notes Professor Binns had written on the board.
Soon the lecture began. Professor Binns was going on about some peace treaty between dwarves and goblins five hundred years ago. Seraphim could not see the relevancy. Who wanted to know if the goblin leader had four kids or six? Why was it important to know that the color of the royal family was fuchsia?
Slowly, her head sank to the desk. Looking from the corners of her eyes, Seraphim saw Professor Binns write something on his blackboard. She should really copy it down. It might be somewhat important; but she was tired… 'Five minutes,' she told herself; that was all the catnap she needed.
Two hours later, Seraphim was freaking out in her bedroom with poor Hermione as her comfort. A strange dream in History of Magic had thoroughly unnerved her.
"I was in the great hall," she began, "but the tables were all gone. It must have been the middle of the night because the ceiling was filled with stars. The moon was slightly covered by some wispy clouds.
"Then I noticed that someone was with me. There was a boy, or a man perhaps. He was tall with broad shoulders, but a lean build. I couldn't see the rest of him because he was a silhouette of the night sky. The only things I could see were his eyes. They were like mercury.
"He held out his hands to me and there was music. It was like bells and the wind and laughter. But it was also like violins and tears and loneliness. We began to dance. It was a slow dance, a waltz or something like it. He was a wonderful dancer, I felt like we were flying. It was exhilarating. Soon, we began to rise off the floor.
"I noticed then that each of us had wings. They were large, like angels' wings, but clear as glass. They reflected the starlight like bubbles, or the way oil bends plain white light into a rainbow of colors. We floated up until I was sure we would hit the ceiling.
"Then, we floated up through the first cloud bank. Our feet brushed the tops of the clouds; they trailed after us in wisps like smoke. The music stopped.
"He was far away from me, maybe the width of this room, and every time I stepped toward him, he stepped back. It was like he was waiting for something. I started talking to him but he wouldn't answer me. Then to moon went out.
"He began walking toward me, slowly. When he was right in front of me, he stopped. We were almost touching but he wouldn't come any closer. He held out his hand to me again, the faint starlight gave it a ghost-like quality. They were strong hands, with long, slender fingers. I took the one he offered me and clasped the one at his side.
"At that moment, color began to spread from his fingertips to the rest of him. It was like dropping ink on a piece of parchment and seeing it spread. Before the color reached his face, he leaned in to kiss me on the cheek. It was a light, soft kiss.
"When he stepped back, I saw immaculately kept blonde hair, the mercury eyes, high cheekbones, and an aristocratic nose. Oh my God, Hermione," Seraphim put her face in her hands as a sign of defeat, "it was Malfoy."
Hermione merely nodded at her friend and, after a moment's debate, excused herself. Two minutes later, she returned with either Ron's or Harry's divination textbook.
"I don't want a scientific explanation," Seraphim stated. "I want it to stop."
"Well you can either accept that you are somewhat attracted to the little slimeball or you can torture yourself by being in denial," Hermione said.
"I know I'm in denial," Seraphim pointed out. "Does it still count as denial if I know I'm in denial?"
"I don't know. The point is you are in denial and, until you are out of it, you will continue to have this little problem with Malfoy," Hermione replied.
Seraphim opened her mouth, thought a while, and shut it again.
"Perhaps you would have a better grasp on your acceptance of your feelings for Malfoy if you knew his feelings for you?" Hermione suggested.
"I don't know. I didn't tell you about the morning at the lake, did I?"
Hermione shook her head.
"You know the morning he gave me that look?" Seraphim asked.
Hermione nodded.
"Well, I was out all night and I climbed the hill by the Herbology greenhouses to watch the sunrise. All of a sudden, there's this cloak on me and Malfoy is settling down next to me to watch. Then we have a civil conversation before he slips up and insults me and I stalk back to the castle," Seraphim finished miserably.
"Aha," Hermione raised an eyebrow. "And did you enjoy the conversation?"
"I don't know. I guess I could get to like him if he were like that all the time but…"
"So you did enjoy talking to him," Hermione pointed out.
"He says we judge him by his family," Seraphim said after a long pause. "He says he judges us by our company because that's how we judge him."
Hermione rolled her eyes, "I doubt it."
"You should have seen him. He said it so sincerely. But then, he's such a well, you know, to me sometimes," Seraphim growled. "I don't know how to interpret him at all."
"Then don't try." Hermione said it so simply that Seraphim did not believe her ears.
"How do I not try to interpret him? It's almost my job."
"It is not your job," Hermione reprimanded. "It's just something you try to do because that's the way you are. You like to know things, like me."
"That still doesn't change the fact that I have no idea what to do about the whole situation," Seraphim sighed.
"No, it doesn't," Hermione, agreed, looking at the wall clock. "Well, let's talk it over at dinner, I'm starved. And I'm sure Ron and Harry would love to help."
"Not," Seraphim rolled her eyes, rising.
Hermione giggled. It was nice being one of the guys, but having a close girl friend was a definite plus.
Sitting at the Gryffindor table, Seraphim and Hermione exchanged several looks which Harry and Ron ignored, passing it off as a decidedly female thing.
Professor Dumbledore rose as everyone was seated. "Ahem," he cleared his throat. "I'm sure you all have heard from your other Professors that this year's Halloween Celebration will be quite different. As the Yule Ball during the Triwizard Tournament was vastly enjoyed, we have decided to replace the Halloween Feast with a ball. Costumes may be worn but are not necessary. I hope you will all find it enjoyable." He smiled at the students, some of who were whispering fiercely with their friends. "And now, let's eat."
The murmur that had carried underneath the professor's voice turned into quite a commotion as students excitedly discussed costumes and who would go with whom. Seraphim smiled softly, she'd attended the previous Yule Ball as a spectator. It was nice to see everyone dressed up and she looked forward to going to the Halloween Ball.
Seraphim's thoughts were interrupted when Hermione elbowed her lightly in the ribs, "Why don't you ask him to the ball?"
Hermione was met with a stare that was half disbelief and half horror. "What?"
"I said 'why don't you ask him to the ball?'" Hermione repeated slowly.
Seraphim blanched and shook her head. "No. Call me a coward or call me old-fashioned, but no."
"Why not?" Hermione leaned forward.
"Because," Seraphim bit her bottom lip and looked away, fiddling with her glasses.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Come on, why not?"
"He's a boy and it's traditional for boys to ask girls," Seraphim stated, trying to think of a good explanation.
"Yes, maybe ten, fifteen years ago. Now it is perfectly normal for a girl to ask a boy out," Hermione said reasonably.
"But I don't want to," Seraphim replied giving Hermione her patented puppy-dog eyes.
Hermione pursed her lips and thought a moment. "Why don't you go with someone else and make him jealous?" she suggested, grinning quite deviously.
Seraphim raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you supposed to be the good, angelic one?" she asked.
"Only part of the time. Besides, living with those two," Hermione gestured at Harry and Ron who were obliviously talking about what kind of costumes might be good for a Halloween Ball, "kind of corrupts you."
Seraphim nodded, raising the other eyebrow. "What kind of someone else?" she inquired curiously. She rather missed the mischief of Darius, Lillian, and Jesse, a chance to be an imp for a while was very intriguing.
"A good-looking boy. Maybe someone Malfoy doesn't like very much," a smile crept to Hermione's lips.
"You do realize that you haven't really narrowed it down much, right?" Seraphim pointed out. "I mean there are maybe a total of seven boys that he tolerates."
"Who are good-looking?" asked Hermione.
"Well…" Seraphim thought, "That's still a lot of guys."
"Think about it, someone who is single. It should be someone who Malfoy really doesn't like, maybe bordering on someone who he hates. Someone who is good-looking and popular enough to pose a threat to the 'silver prince of Slytherin'," Hermione watched Seraphim's face intently.
A smirk slowly spread across Seraphim's face and a thoughtful look lit her eyes. "The 'golden boy of Gryffindor'?" she asked.
"Bingo. And I'm sure that once you tell him what's going on, he'll be delighted to help you," Hermione was ecstatic at the prospect of matchmaking.
Seraphim looked from Harry to the Slytherin table and grinned. "I think it's a great idea. I'll ask him tomorrow."
The two girls clinked goblets and smiled. It was going to be an interesting Halloween.