Hermione danced around the floor, surprised at how well the younger students knew how to dance. When she'd asked a blushing first year boy, whose head had only come up to barely level with her breasts, he'd stammered, "Lessons. F-f-f-rom age f-f-f-ive." She'd smiled back and returned to concentrating on her feet. The music (mostly waltzes) was lovely, and it was fast becoming clear that the Yule Ball was far more formal than she'd expected. Harry and Ron weren't dancing much, though she could feel their suspicious eyes weighing on her - like an itch on her back.

She wasn't really sure what they were worrying over.

Surely Harry'd done more dangerous things than attend a dance, where Teachers were Supervising? Really.

And, for dog's sake, she was dancing with first years! It wasn't like they'd know Dark Arts or pop her a potion on the Dance Floor!

Hermione curtsied, then she turned to the first second year, a golden-haired child with the most vivid tan.

/~~~~~/

Blaise watched with more amusement than was strictly warranted. Malfoy was seething, and growing more frustrated by the moment. This was a particular treat, as his friend was generally one of the coldest of the Slytherins. Oh, he'd scrabble with Potter, but he never meant those spats seriously - just for appearances sake, almost, except for the fact that Potter invariably got in trouble with Snape. So it was fun watching Malfoy acting like he'd sooner be growling at the second year girl dancing on Hermione's feet instead of the floor. Draco's hands curled into fists - less from anger than to prevent impulsive action. That was training, not emotion. Blaise saw the exact moment when Draco's mind overtook his heart, and he began to plan. He was no Gryffindor, who'd take nerves and wind out punching someone's lights out. No, Draco was a Slytherin who'd plot to seize the opportunity. Goyle and Crabbe drifted over, and so Blaise spoke quickly, "just don't call her mudblood." Draco raised an eyebrow at him, as if to ask if he really thought his best friend was an imbecile. Blaise responded, "It's not polite." It was something Blaise had already said, so Draco clearly remembered. Still... it couldn't hurt. Blaise enjoyed watching his best friend scheme, as Goyle and Crabbe came over, both carrying plates piled so high with food that it was a wonder that they hadn't fallen over.

"Have you tried the canapes?" Goyle asked. Blaise was faintly surprised that he knew the name.

[a/n: No, we aren't getting Draco's dance next. Vince and Greg get a spin...

Yes, Draco will be dancing with Hermione.

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I used the whole "curls hands into fists" in a different story, with Snape. I neglected to tell people about what it actually meant. Do you think it deserves an author's note? Snape, naturally, doesn't think of it as anything more than an unconscious habit.]