Hermione Granger had a homespun lightness to her step, and a sweetness in her voice, Draco Malfoy thought, listening irritatedly to her laughter. At least, that was the case when she wasn't around the twist angry with you. Draco Malfoy appreciated her ferocity just as much as her mild-manneredness, of course. He was forcing himself to concentrate on that, on how lovely she looked, rather than on the pipsqueak second year just stepping off the dance floor.

/~~~/

Hermione swallowed as she realized that the last of the second years had finished his dance with her. Now it was time for the Slytherins she'd always known, the ones that were cruel to her - nearly to a one. Zambini hadn't been awful, she realized, thinking crossly that she ought not to judge anyone by the color of their tie.

As the next dance started, Millicent Bulstrode took the floor - and Hermione was shocked to realize that the floor wasn't trembling under her weight. (This wasn't hyperbole, either. Millicent Bulstrode had the body of one of those German Opera Singers - the type that you couldn't tell if they turned sideways.) "Would you like to lead?" Mill asked, and Hermione demurred softly. Millicent smiled back, a big craggy thing though her teeth were perfectly straight. "Wise, that. I'm better at leading, anyway." Hermione smiled back, and if her smile spoke more of fire than Millicent's big earthy grin, well - they were two different people, weren't they?

As they spun around the floor for the first time, Hermione realized that she was practically the only girl dancing with another girl. And, not surprisingly, there weren't any boys dancing with boys. Her face flushed scarlet at the thought, and she blinked when she realized that Bulstrode had asked a question. "I'm sorry, what was that?" she asked.

"Just wondering what a girl like you had to do to be stuck dancing with a girl like me."

Millicent Bulstrode had said the line gravely, but it reminded Hermione of a line about gin bars, and so she couldn't help but smile, "Oh, it's silly, but I lost a bet!"

"The wonder isn't that you lost a bet," Millicent said, smiling slowly, "It's that he didn't beg for a kiss."

"Oh?" Hermione said, "I had no idea he felt that way..."

Millicent fairly shook with laughter, though her steps were still sure and steady. "Oh, no, you entirely misunderstand." Millicent sent a crafty look towards Hermione, "He's the most scurrilous cad!"

"Is he now?" Hermione bantered back, hoping for more gossip to stave off the awkwardness. And, in a small corner of her mind, surprised that the perpetually-slow-in-class girl knew the word scurrilous.

"Oh, he's a heartbreaker that one!" Millicent said, "You should have seen Daphne. And her sister!" Millicent giggled, a girlish sound that was strange coming from her large body.

"Oh, dear me!" Hermione said, getting into the role a bit more. "And you? Do you fancy him too?"

"Oh, no, not me!" Millicent said, smiling cattily, "I value my life, you know."

"His admirers are that vicious?" Hermione smiled back, hoping that she hadn't read it wrong. Discussing murder on the dancefloor was a bit risque as gossip goes.

"Oh, no! His mother!" Millicent said, and in a lower tone, "You'll have to read about that story. It shouldn't reach the wrong ears."

"If so, then why would anyone write it down?" Hermione asked, rapt with curiosity.

"Because the mean gossips can't read anything more difficult than the Witch Weekly, of course," Millicent said.

They carried on for the rest of the dance, laughing and smiling, and when Millicent finally bowed to Hermione, she said in a low voice, "Just keep your chin up. We don't all bite."

[a/n: So, um, Millie's apparently an amusing icebreaker. Who do you want her to dance with next?

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