Dancing Shoes

Chapter Three

Hermione shivered slightly as she was lead down the dark road of Diagon Alley. There were people passing them, young wizards and witches holding hands, looking quite happy, smiling gently, underage teenagers stumbling around in an all too random way to be entirely sober and middle age witches giggling slightly, gossiping on their way. Hermione smiled gently as she walked through the cool air, her arm linked through Blaise's. He seemed to genuinely want to make up for his comments, but a small part of Hermione wasn't all that angry. A very small part forgave him, she knew it was in his nature to be somewhat blunt and unforgiving, but she certainly did appreciate his effort to make it up to her, even if she was slightly nervous.

"Here we are," Blaise murmured from her side, bringing Hermione out of her stupor. She looked up to see a dusty, somewhat grubby building with a large wrought iron hanging sign almost so dusty and cobwebbed that it could not be seen what was written on it. He lead her in swiftly, Hermione peering over her shoulder, trying to read the sign in vain.

The inside of the building was something quite different to the exterior. Unlike the shabby uncared for look the outside had held, the inside of the building was clean and brimming with light and laughter. There was a long polished wooden bar on the left hand side and no small amount of comfy looking couches behind it. The entire rest of the building was a blank polished black floor, on which people were dancing somewhat enthusiastically to what sounded to Hermione like muggle swing music.

"What is this place?" Hermione asked as Blaise steered her over to a seat at the long wooden bar. It was half full and every so often with a crack or pop people appeared on the bar stools and with a laugh or wave ran into the dance floor.

"A dancing club, private," Blaise murmured. "Would you like a drink?" Hermione was still processing " private dance club," and didn't say anything for a few seconds.

"Erm, a cherry tonic please," Blaise murmured to the barman and turned round, taking a seat next to her, watching Hermione watch the dancing couples. He grinned slightly, almost, she seem quite entranced, a slight flush to her cheeks. Gently, he began to undo her cardigan buttons.

"What are you doing?" Hermione's sharp voice cut through Blaise's actions.

"Taking your cardigan off, you're flushed, Granger," he undid the last one, letting Hermione slip it off with a frown. Passing her the drink which had arrived she was once again aware of his eyes sweeping over her in the calculating way she was now used too.

"It's a… lovely dress," he said softly.

Hermione sipped her drink and grinned affably, "Ginny transfigured an old evening dress of mine. I believe the excess fabric is still all over my bedroom." For some reason Blaise shifted on his stool.

"Would you like to dance?" Hermione shot him a sharp look and her eyes flicked to the couples dancing exuberantly. HE sensed her fear almost immediately.

"This is not set steps Hermione, even if you're awful you don't get laughed at," he smirked in a way which plainly said 'apart form by me.' "It's just about having a good time."

Hermione stared at the dance floor for a second, before setting her glass down.

"Alright then," Blaise was not surprised and took her arm, steering her over. Hermione Granger never refused a challenge.

Hermione took a deep breath and took Blaise's hands somewhat hesitantly, she was somewhat surprised when he gently twirled her around to the fast music, and even more so when he pulled her up against him in the motion of a slow dance.

"Er, Zabini…"

"If you're nervous about a faster dance this is the easier place to start," he purred into her ear. Hermione flushed, why so damn close?

He steered her around, and Hermione was totally unaware of the sighs letting loose form her lips or the tension disappearing from her shoulders, all she felt was Blaise's hands gently on her hips, guiding her through a sea of fast moving opponents which she could not catch up with. For once in her life she was grateful of relaxation.

"Better?" he murmured a few minutes later in her ear. Somehow he knew he'd got her to loosen up, maybe it was her renewed posture which gave it away, Hermione thought vaguely.

"Yes," she whispered back and without thinking lay her head down on his shoulder. She felt reading to drift around in that motion for hours and had no idea, or care, of for how long they'd been going. Right then, at the moment, she honestly didn't care. A few minutes later he released and pulled her through the crowd back to the bar.

"Keep drinking something it's hot here," he said quietly, plonking onto a barstool. Hermione turned her head to one side and stared at him for a fraction of a second.

"Two waters please," Blaise called across to the barman, who nodded. Hermione sat and accepted her water a minute later.

"Do you come here often?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Only when I have someone to bring. So no, but I would like to come more often," he shot her a look from the corner of her eye which Hermione totally missed.

"It's a lovely place," she agreed. It seemed that people really were only there to dance and have fun, no one was getting drunk everywhere and it wasn't too crowded.

They finished their waters in silence and this time it was Hermione who pulled Blaise to the dance floor, grinning. He laughed gently and pulled her into a twirl, spinning her back out with seeming ease. They began to dance again, faster paced and free, Hermione was grateful for the change of tempo, she could honestly say that she had unwound before and now was up for some fun. Blaise was no amazing dancer, and she was sure she wasn't either, but she didn't think she'd ever seen him smile of laugh so much or herself blush. It really i was /i fun.

A few minutes later a slow song came on and Hermione pulled closer to Blaise for a more intimate dance.

"I think I better go," she muttered halfway through the song. She was sure, so sure that for a second she felt his shoulders sag.

"Why?"

"I'm awfully sleepy," she pulled away gently, knowing she wouldn't be able too if she left it any longer.

He smiled slightly and pulled her back in to talk, "Thank you for a lovely evening, Hermione."

She smiled, "Thank you."

He frowned, "Let me walk you back to The Leaky Cauldron, it's late."

She nodded and he lead her from the dance floor, past the bar and out into the chilly air. Hermione hurriedly buttoned her cardigan.

They walked in silence, shoulders touching, smiling. Hermione didn't know what it was but she honestly felt rather giddy. When they reached the door of The Leaky cauldron Hermione smiled and kissed Blaise's cheek.

"You aren't the total idiot I thought you were," she grinned cheerfully as Blaise's mouth twitched.

"And you aren't the totally stuck up witch I thought you were," he tilted his head at her.

Hermione didn't move.

Blaise leaned closer.

"We should do this again," he whispered in her ear and pulled away sweeping another calculating glance down her body.

Something hit Hermione with the force of a particularly large stampede of hippogriffs. All the glances in the meetings, the constant faults he found in her work, the side along glances… hadn't been testing her. No. Far from it. He'd been trying to get close to her. And had misjudged it, totally misjudged him. She felt highly bemused.

"We need to talk," she grabbed his arm and twirled on the spot and a second later they were gone.