One Dance - Part 2

Hermione stood there, speechless. She felt full and…fuzzy. Out of focus. The world wasn't quite real, it was merely a drifting dream. The part of her that had been screaming to duck and fight and dodge a moment ago had evaporated into a shadow's whisper.

There was blood on the ground, she dimly realised. She might slip in it. A spell whizzed past her ear. She needed to get out of the way…

But she stood motionless.

What is all this for? She thought dreamily. People had died, people were dying, and people would die. Not fighting wouldn't stop dying, she supposed. But people could feel. People could float. Just as she was doing now. She wasn't here, she was above the stars, dancing on a moonbeam…

A killing spell flew passed her, lighting the face of an unknown girl before smiting her down. Hermione couldn't tell whether she was from the Order or a Death Eater, but the lifeless body brought her senses rushing back. The weight resettled around her shoulders. The weight of war.

She had no right to be so happy. She had no right to feel so warm. There were people dying, and she was acting like a silly little schoolgirl, melting inside because of a silly little kiss. Malfoy's kiss, of all people. The enemy. He had probably added to the piles of bodies and the blood pooling around…

But he let you live.

That was another thing. How dare he? She would have won, pure and simple. But he turned the tables around. And Hermione Granger hated losing.

Suddenly, she buckled over, throwing up the remains of a scanty breakfast. Odd, thought the cool, careless voice in her head as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She hadn't seen that coming.

Then a spell hit her in the back of the head, and she blacked out.

She woke up with her eyes still closed.

She didn't want to open them. It was cool and dark under her lids. There were no bloodstained corpses or faces concealed behind rock-solid masks for fear of death. The darkness here was comforting. Like returning to the womb.

Then she noticed there was a stretch of cloth against her skin. She wasn't lying on the ground either, but on something slightly springy. Reluctantly, she opened her eyes.

She was in a room that she clearly recognized as the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts. This confused her for a second, until she realised that the Hospital Wing had probably been the model when they'd conjured up the Healer tents for injured Order members. The shadow of a smile flickered over her face. It was nice to find herself in a familiar place, even if it was only a copy.

She was at the end of the room, and a curtain separated her from the next bed. As she peeked through the crack between curtain and wall, however, she could see a figure with red hair, his eyes closed, his breathing shallow. Ron.

"I see you're awake."

Hermione's eyes met the Healer's, a rather dumpy little witch with a bright smile and sad eyes. She carried a potion that she handed wordlessly to Hermione, who drank it immediately. She shivered at the cold, slightly metallic taste as it went down, then handed the empty glass to the Healer.

"Will he be alright?" she asked, nodding her head towards Ron.

The Healer nodded. "He's only resting. He should be fine in a few days."

"And Harry? Harry Potter?" Hermione continued. "What about him?"

"He defeated You-Know-Who, didn't you know? Quite a battle, they all say…"

"Yes, yes," Hermione said impatiently," but how is he?"

"He got a rather nasty cut on his chest….it'll leave a scar, but there's nothing life-threatening."

"Ginny Weasily?"

"In coma."

"Neville Longbottom?"

"Safe and sound, thank the Lord."

"Luna Lovegood?"

"Dead."

Hermione closed her eyes, remembering the eccentric witch. She had been so bright, so beautiful, so cheerful. Nothing ever brought her down….

Her eyes snapped open.

"Draco Malfoy?"

"Draco Malfoy?" The Healer repeated in surprise. "A Death Eater, wasn't he? He was the one who killed Luna Lovegood. Luckily he was rounded up with the rest of them. The majority were sentenced to death, you know. For murder. So don't worry dear, you don't have anything to worry about from him…"

The cell was small and dark, the only light came streaming through a little barred window. Despite this, it wasn't the dungeon she imagined: filled with cobwebs and slime and a foul stench. It was merely a little cold, a little gloomy. She supposed that normally they wouldn't need a horrible setting, because the dementors would take care of that. A shiver ran through her spine. They hadn't been in Azkaban for years now, but with Voldemort dead, they would soon come flocking back, leeches seeking victims…

Then she remembered she only had about fifteen minutes. Ernie Macmillan, both an old school friend and the jailer, had only let her in because she was both The Boy Who Lived's sidekick and one of the smartest witches he knew. She knew he was doing a lot by letting her in at all. Ernie had a strong urge to abide by the rules.

Good and Bad. Black and White. Their meanings had faded slightly, but the words were still clear and visible. Both sides had killed, she thought. Both had fought. Then why did she still have an instinct to do something noble?

"Malfoy."

He looked up, but she couldn't read his expression. It wasn't hate, it wasn't happiness, it just was. Like he had expected her to come, but didn't really care now that she was here.

"Granger." A statement.

He didn't waste his words with a why are you here? He knew she would tell him eventually.

"You killed Luna." she said softly. It was almost a question.

"Yes." There was no point in lying anymore.

"Alright...that's all I wanted to know." she turned away, biting her lip. So it really was him. She had known it all along, but to have the words cut into the air made it realer, more vivid. Harsher.

She should have never come. She had wanted something, something she couldn't yet define. But what had she expected, after all? A reassurance? A moment of passion? A sudden connection? This was Draco Malfoy for Lord's sake! The arrogant ferret. Her enemy. Her arch-nemesis. Her-

"Give me a dance, Granger."

She whirled around. "What?"

"You heard me. Give me a dance." He was looking at her intently.

"But I –"

"Just do it Granger."

His voice was fierce, demanding. Slightly confused, she took a reluctant step towards him, and he caught her up: one hand placed on the small of he back, the other grabbed her hand. Hermione took in her breath sharply. They were so close. ..

"There's no music." She mumbled foolishly.

"We make the music."

And then they were off, waltzing in the small cell.

It was awkward at first. The silence was only broken by the clack of feet and Malfoy was steering, she trying to keep up. But soon she caught the pace: the rhythm of his steps, his steady breathing.

And then she heard the music.

A single slow, mournful note played out of the darkness. A perfect sound. She stopped abruptly.

"Did you hear that?" she asked excitedly.

"Shut up and keep dancing."

She did so obediently, sashaying across the floor. She understood that this wasn't the time for chatter. She finally understood. And now she really did dance.

A wild, fierce, graceful sort of dance. She closed her eyes and let the music flow over her, washing the grime off her skin. And he was there, right with her. Flawlessly keeping time with the music.

She wore a dress of light. Shining and glimmering and glowing. And it was snowing. Fat fluffy flakes that weren't cold and didn't melt, but settled gently on his hair. As their bodies moved, flurries danced along.

How long had it been?

She was always down-to-earth, her feet always planted firmly in the soil. Hermione was a very rational person. And the logical part of her mind was telling her that it was impossible to have snow in a covered cell. Dresses made of light were physically impossible. Malfoy murdered one of her closest friends. The music was all in her head.

But for once in her life, she didn't really care.

How long had it been since she last danced?

Too long.

She flitted, she floated, she flew. She felt more graceful, more beautiful, simply more. She marvelled at the way Malfoy fit perfectly against her, how he was so in tune with her music. The missing piece of the puzzle. How had she not noticed?

The music rose and fell in gentle waves: first soft, then loud; intense and passionate, then smooth and warm. A heavenly sonata that was impossible to write, impossible to capture with simple instruments. You couldn't find this music in paradise, because it was theirs. Only theirs.

Warm caramel eyes never left grey rain-storm ones as he twirled her around reverently, solemnly. As if he had been holding his breath for his entire life, and was afraid to let it out.

She saw now that they had done something unspeakable, something she did not have the words for. Things would never be the same now. Things would never feel the same. How could anything ever give heat, ever make her heart pound after this? Now that she had tasted the forbidden golden fruit, sweet and savoury, everything else would have a dry, woody flavour. Like spaghetti without the sauce: bland and rubbery.

The music reached its crescendo with a burst of notes, blended with a perfect harmony that reverberated in her chest. Tears slipped down her face and touched her lips, bitter-sweet and salty. Was she crying because she was so happy? Or because she knew that at some point every dance must end?

Knock on the door.

The snow melted. The dress withered. The music faded away. Hermione and Draco sprang away from each other.

"Only a few more minutes Hermione!" A voice, startling loud and clear.

"Alright Ernie," she called back "I won't be long!"

They stared at each other in silence, once again two people on opposite sides of a river. Hermione could feel the water at her feet, churning and foaming and roaring, threatening to wash them both away.

"Thanks for the dance, Granger." Malfoy said stiffly, and turned to face the wall.

Slap.

He swerved around angrily, to face an equally lived Hermione. "What th-"

"How dare you!" she screamed. "Don't you see!? Something just happened and all you can do is STAND THERE AND STILL ACT INDIFFERENT! You swollen-headed bleached ferr-"

"Why Granger? Am I not good enough? Was this not the perfect romantic scene you were expecting? What do you want?"

"I want to hurt you. I want you to bleed just like Luna did. I want to wrench your heart out for still being so cold. I want you to suffer." She was trembling, gritting her teeth, crying in half-anger.

"Then why am I still here unharmed?"

"Because what I want most of all is to stop loving you."

She turned to walk away for the second time. Her mind was overloaded with feelings that mixed into one mottled mass of emotion. Anger and Aggression and Sadness and Confusion and Yearning. They all flew in front of her eyes like crows, wanting to peck at her eyes and reach into her brain…

So she hardly noticed when Malfoy grabbed her shoulders and twisted her around and kissed her until it was far too late to do anything but…

Savour the moment.

He tasted like mint. Sharp and tangy. Sharpening her senses. Making her vividly aware of his hands on her back, his mouth on hers...

Wake up. If Ernie came in here and saw them like this, it would mean certain trouble.

It seemed Malfoy sensed this as well, because he withdrew gently.

Hermione looked at the ground, slightly abashed. "I better be going."

He touched his hand under her chin, making her look up. Their eyes met, building a bridge from either side of the river, opening windows to the soul.

What did he see?

He saw the reflection of a little girl, innocent and scared. She wasn't sure what was going to happen. This feeling was new to her. She was in love: a phrase she had read about in books, heard about from friends, but had never really understood. Until now. And she was ready to die for him, to take the execution for him. If he was gone, she would plunge a knife into her heart, drink poison, throw herself off a tower.

He had never really appreciated how beautiful Hermione Granger's eyes were.

What did she see?

She saw a man she had never seen before. He was going to die. He knew he deserved it, because he was a murderer. But it didn't matter, because he had gotten what he'd wanted: one dance. And he wanted, no he needed her to live. He loved her smile, loved the way she moved to the rhythm of the music. And he couldn't just let that life be snuffed away. He was pleading. He was asking.

She would do it for him. She would keep her head up. She would try to dance even when the music was faint.

"Goodbye Malfoy." She said, sticking out her hand to be shaken formally before walking out the cell door.

He never got to tell her what he really thought. But it didn't really matter, because she knew anyway.

A/N: Whew! That took a long time to write. Just in case anybody is thinking, "Wasn't this a one-shot?" read below.

I had been thinking about making a sequel to the first chapter for a long time, because I felt the story wasn't complete. And then swivelchair sent me a review that got me to go out there and DO IT! So thanks. You'll also notice this part is mostly in Hermione's POV, because I thought it completed the Draco POV in the first chapter.

For any of you who read Just Run, don't worry I AM working on it...just a little slowly.

P.S. This is definitely, permanently, finished. Just in case some of you are still wondering.

Disclaimer: All characters and the partial plot belong to J.K Rowling.