A/N: Thanks to Alenerien who pointed out I had, in fact, skipped a chapter! haha Good catch! Anyway, thanks for your patience guys. Enjoy!

"How did we get here?
I used to know you so well.
How did we get here?
Well, I think I know." – Decode, Paramore

Chapter 11 – Shall We Dance?

The next week passed in a blur for Hermione. It amazed how her time seemed to fly whenever she was dreading something. Just two days after the Gryffindor Quidditch match, McGonagall had sent her a letter regarding the upcoming dance lessons. It wasn't until she read the letter did the truth really sink in. There was going to be a Halloween Ball. Hermione had to take dance lessons. And she had to go with Malfoy.

Ever since Dumbledore had announced the ball a couple of nights ago, the students found it hard to focus on anything that did not involve masks, dates, dresses, or make up. Ron was beyond furious, ranting about the ball to anyone that would listen. Hermione had the suspicion his anger was not geared toward the prospect of him going to the ball with Padma, but something else entirely, because really, Padma was rather nice.

Hermione sat on her bed, flipping through the pages of Advanced Potion Making while periodically glancing at her desk, focusing in on the ivory parchment of McGonagall's letter. She couldn't seem to look at it without glaring or scowling. She had read it so many times the words were burned to memory:

Miss Granger,

As you already know, the Prefect's will open the Halloween Ball on the thirty-first of October. This should not be too unfamiliar to you, considering you opened the Yule Ball with Viktor Krum two years previous. The opening dance will be the same style, and I shall be giving lessons starting Monday, September 23rd at 8 o'clock sharp. We will meet at 8 o'clock, every Monday, until October 27th in the Great Hall.

I trust you and Mr. Malfoy to behave at the level we here at Hogwarts expect from Prefects and future contenders for Head Boy and Girl. If you have any questions, do not hesitate to ask. Otherwise, I will see you on the 23rd at 8 o'clock, in the Great Hall.

Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

The words "future contenders for Head Boy and Girl" still haunted Hermione. There was absolutely no way Malfoy would become Head Boy, but she had dreamed of becoming Head Girl since her first year. McGonagall surely knew this. Using that as leverage to behave civilly was just low, Hermione thought.

But it worked.

Hermione was not nice to Malfoy, but she made a point not to be completely nasty to him, either. They were able to be in the same room without throwing around insults, so she supposed that was some progress. If tolerating Malfoy for a year put her in good graces of becoming Head Girl, she'd swallow her pride and do it.

Hermione suddenly slammed her book shut, unable to read any more. She had her first dance lesson in a few hours; potions couldn't distract her from that. She needed to get out of her room, and a swift glance at one of Hagrid's letters on her desk gave her just the idea.

She stopped by Ron's room on the way to Hagrid's hut. He answered on the third knock.

"I'm going to visit Hagrid before our lessons," she said eagerly. "Want to come? I was thinking we could ask Harry, too."

"Why not," muttered Ron, shutting the door with much more force than necessary.

They walked in silence to Gryffindor Tower. Hermione hated not living with all the other Gryffindors, but at least both common rooms were on the seventh floor. Malfoy and Pansy were used to the dungeons; the change had to be worse for them.

Hermione was so absorbed in her own thoughts that she nearly plowed right over a tiny first or second year.

"Excuse me," started Hermione, taking a step back, "I'm so sorry! I didn't even see you."

The girl looked as though Hermione had sprouted another head. She dropped her books, and they clattered to the floor. The girl stared down at them in horror, long black hair falling in front of her face like a velvet curtain.

A little startled, Hermione bent down to pick them up.

"S-sorry," the girl stuttered. As soon as Hermione handed over her books, the girl stormed off down the corridor.

"What d'you reckon that was about?" Ron asked after a moment.

"I don't know," said Hermione, frowning.

A couple minutes later, they found themselves in Gryffindor Tower. Harry was in the common room, talking Quidditch tactics with Ginny and Demelza.

"D'you want to come, Ginny?" he asked, standing up.

"I would, but I'm doing dreadful in Potions and Dean said he'd help me." Ginny shrugged nonchalantly. "We're supposed to start studying tonight."

Hermione couldn't help herself. "Why didn't you ask Harry? He's just the prince of potions."

Harry flushed, and she almost felt bad. Almost. Not enough to take back her words, though.

"I guess we'll see you later, Ginny," said Ron.

"Later? What do you mean later?"

"For those ruddy dance lessons."

"What are you talking about?"

Ron shot Hermione a look.

"Don't you have to take dance lessons, for the ball?" she hedged, but the look on Ginny's face gave her a sinking feeling.

Ginny laughed. "Not that I'm aware of. It's only you lot, isn't it? Just sixth years and the Head Boy and Girl."

Ron scoffed loudly, ears blazing red. "That's not bloody fair! D'you even have to go with someone from another house?"

"No, we don't." Ginny flashed a brilliant smile. "Sixth years are showing unity by living together and all that—not us. I suppose next year I would have to."

Ron threw his hands up in the air and stormed out the common room, rambling incoherent curses under his breath.

Hermione looked sheepishly at Ginny. "He's thrilled, as you can see."

"But what about you, Hermione? You have to go with…Malfoy." Ginny shivered.

Hermione sighed. "I know. Believe me, I know. But what choice do I have? McGonagall basically told me I have no other option. She also thinks Slytherin is the odd house out, the one that needs to unite with the others."

"And Malfoy is the solution," said Ginny, looking skeptical.

"I know." Hermione's shoulders sagged.

"Malfoy will never change," said Harry sternly. "His father's a Death Eater, that says enough and you don't know about—" He stopped abruptly at the look on Hermione's face.

Ginny didn't miss the look that passed between them. She smiled slyly. "What are you not telling me?"

"Nothing, Ginny," said Hermione. "Harry, we need to go. Ron and I have to be in the Great Hall in an hour."

Harry nodded and they bade good night to Ginny. Ron was waiting outside the portrait, still red in the face, talking to Neville.

"Wish you'd start the DA again Harry. I learned loads from you last year. Luna said she'd come to," said Neville, his voice full of hope.

"What's the point? Umbridge is gone, isn't she?"

Neville nodded, not bothering to hide his disappointed. Hermione tried to give him a reassuring smile as she passed, though she wasn't sure if he saw or not.

Hermione, Harry, and Ron walked through the familiar grounds of Hogwarts toward Hagrid's cabin. The small vegetable patch near his hut glowed warmly against the dusky skies of autumn. The wind was starting to pick up, and Hermione tugged her scarf tighter.

"Hagrid, it's us!" yelled Harry, after knocking twice.

The door opened to reveal Hagrid, standing as large as ever, wearing an apron and clutching a kettle.

"Glad yeh came," he said happily. He moved aside and allowed the three to enter.

Hermione smelt a mixture of smoke, herbs, and…was it blood? Oh, she hoped not. But she couldn't help notice the familiarity in the rust and salt. She surveyed Hagrid closely, and that's when she noticed a large bruise forming on his right eye.

"Have you been seeing Grawp again, Hagrid?" Hermione asked, slightly concerned.

"Wha' makes you say that?"

"I dunno, seen your face lately?" said Ron, fighting a laugh.

"How is Buckbeak doing, Hagrid?" asked Harry. He blinked up at Hagrid, wiping the smoke from his glasses on his shirt.

"Great, actually. Couldn' be happier back in the forest."

"That's good," replied Harry. Something in his voice made Hermione look at him. He was staring out Hagrid's only window, his eyes focused on something far away. It took her a moment to realize he was thinking of Sirius. She changed the subject.

"And how are the Thestrals?"

"Nosy, I tell yeh. Can't keep at bay for long, they be wantin' to wonder the forest. I'll show yeh sum other time. Righ' now they're sleepin'. Don't wanna mess with a sleeping Thestral." Hagrid poured what smelted like tea into three mismatched cups. "And how bout' you lot? How's the new Prefect's gettin' along?"

"Bloody brilliant," scorned Ron.

"I'm sure you already know about the Halloween Ball. Well, the sixth year Prefect's and the Head Boy and Girl have to open it with a dance," said Hermione, wincing at the thought of her lessons, which were happening very, very soon.

Hagrid blinked in surprise. "Wha? You're joking."

"I wish I was…" muttered Hermione.

Hagrid burst into sudden laughter. "But Malfoy? Can you 'magine the look on everyone's faces Hermione when they see you and Malfoy together."

"Thanks for your sympathy," said Hermione coolly.

"Sorry, Hermione," said Hagrid, sobering up. "Didn't mean no harm. All I'm sayin' is a Pureblood and a Mudblood s'not somethin' you see every day. Well, a Slytherin Pureblood at that."

Hermione, Harry, and Ron left Hagrid's hut twenty minutes later. Hermione had barely listened to Hagrid prattle on about Grawp's latest verbal advancements; she was far too concerned with her upcoming dance lessons.

After saying goodbye to Harry, Hermione and Ron took off toward the Great Hall. She tried a new tactic to ease her nerves. Maybe by avoiding the idea of dancing itself, it wouldn't be as big of deal when the time came around. Obsessing over it was definitely not helping.

Or maybe she would get lucky. Maybe Malfoy wouldn't show up. The idea faded as quickly as it came; Malfoy wouldn't want to surrender his badge and lose the privilege of bullying first and second years.

Hermione stopped just outside the front doors to the Great Hall and took in a shaky breath. She could not do this. Having to live with Malfoy was hard, but being forced to attend a ball with him and open up with a dance? It was too much for anyone, let alone Hermione, the girl he probably hated more than anyone. Ron was not helping either; he stood frozen at the doors, staring at the ground.

"Guess we better go in," she said, hopelessly.

"Guess so," muttered Ron. He opened the door with reluctance and they filed inside.

Padma was the first to greet them, offering a nervous half smile. Hermione's attention, however, was quickly all on Ernie. He was attempting to demonstrate dance moves to McGonagall, whose mouth had thinned to the point of disappearing. Katie and Eddie were already dancing playfully, laughing with every twist and turn. For a moment, Hermione thought that maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

Five minutes later, Hermione's hopes were crushed when Malfoy entered the Great Hall with Pansy. He was wearing his green Quidditch robes, a positive sign he had just finished practice. His face, though, caught her attention. Dark shadows hung under his eyes, his cheekbones sharper than usual. He looked ill and cold all over.

Good, Hermione thought.

"Gather around," McGonagall ordered, once Malfoy and Pansy took their place.

Hermione shuffled closer to Ron, almost surprised he didn't flinch from the loud pounding of her heart. This was it. This was the moment she had been dreading for the past week. As her arm brushed Ron's, it was only then did she realize what she was dreading most. It wasn't the fact that she had to dance with Malfoy—yeah, that was bad—but it was the fact that she had to do it in front of Ron. She would give anything to be Padma right now; to be dancing with Ron instead.

"Professor Dumbledore has granted the wishes of Miss Bell and Mr. Carmichael on several conditions," said McGonagall. "One: you must plan this event in a timely manner by working together. Two: we are shifting inner house prejudices into the unification of the houses; hence, why you were paired to live with a student of another house. By opening the ball with a dance, you are showing the school you are not afraid to stand together." McGonagall's gaze swept them over with a force that could rival a tidal wave. "And lastly, that each and every one of you has a wonderful time."

Hermione tried to smile, but her jaw was clenched too tight. The ball would bring many adjectives to Hermione's night but she was sure wonderful was not one of them.

"Please stand by your partner," said McGonagall, fluttering her hands with impatience.

Hermione groaned and forced herself to Malfoy. Each step felt like fifty pounds. It reminded of her winter, trudging through the snow with each agonizing step. She walked slowly; slower than what was deemed appropriate. She kept her gaze on the floor, not bothering to acknowledge Malfoy, even when she finally stopped next to him.

"We will be opening the ball with a basic Waltz. Before we begin, I would like to merely point out that the gentlemen will be leading—ladies, you will follow. With every move gentlemen, you will begin with your left foot first. Ladies, you will begin with your right foot, because we are always right."

Hermione burst out laughing. Maybe it was the nerves, but McGonagall had told a joke. That never happened.

"Proper formation for the ladies," McGonagall went on, as though she did not hear Hermione's outburst, "is like so." She held up her left hand as though it were resting on an invisible shoulder, while holding up her right very slightly.

"Gentlemen, you are to place your left hand in your partners, while your right hand rests on her left shoulder blade, like so," said McGonagall, now demonstrating the boy's form.

Ernie nodded enthusiastically and asked a few questions. Ron gaped like the incompetent gorilla he was and tried to overhear what McGonagall was saying to Ernie. Hermione decided to spare her partner a glance. Malfoy was looking around the room, a dead pan expression, obviously bored.

She leaned toward him and hissed, "Pay attention!"

"Shut up, Mudblood. I know how to dance."

Hermione couldn't decide if she should laugh or die from shock. So, the rich Pureblood knew how to dance, did he? Well, we'll see about that.

The students had started to chat, and McGonagall quickly got hold of their attention with a snap of her fingers. "Now," she said, "please get into proper formation with your partners."

Well, here we go.

Hermione took a deep breath and turned to face Malfoy. She was almost surprised, at first, because she did not remember him being so tall; she had to crane her neck back just to look into his face. When she placed her left hand on his shoulder, though, she did not dare look at him. Her right hand slid into his, a hand wrapping around her waist.

She couldn't help it; she flinched, and his hold only tightened, making it worse. It felt, suddenly, like all the air in the room had been sucked out. Hermione was beyond her comfort zone, suffocating in this iron grip that would not let go. She closed her eyes and tried to tune out the world.

Hermione was so close to Malfoy that she could feel his cool breath on her face. She could almost hear his heart beating. Thump. Thump. Thump. Or maybe it was her own heart, echoing in her ears.

"This is humiliating," she murmured, unable to help herself.

"Obviously," said Malfoy. "And painful."

Hermione couldn't even return an insult. She just wanted Malfoy to let go. His hold was so tight, so strong, that it almost left her breathless. She did not expect this. She expected a loose, somewhat lazy hold from her partner. Not this.

McGonagall walked to each set of students, adjusting their hold and giving them a critique.

"Good lord, Mr. Weasley. Bring Miss Patil closer. No, Miss Parkinson, you cannot switch partners. Mr. Goldstein, what are you doing? You're using the wrong hand."

It seemed like a year had gone by before McGonagall finally reached Hermione and Malfoy. Hermione had finally opened her eyes, and stared at the base of Malfoy's throat because she wouldn't look him in the eye. She finally wrenched her gaze away to look at McGonagall.

Their professor surveyed them closely for what seemed like another year.

"Fine," she finally said, and said no more, turning to Katie and Eddie.

Hermione snuck a look at Malfoy. He had that same bored expression, a lazy contempt in his eyes. This behavior started her a little; she expected some sort of protest or disagreement. Malfoy was never one to do things he didn't want to without a fight.

"What's wrong with you?" Hermione finally asked, unable to stand his silence.

He blinked down at her. "What do you mean, what's wrong with me?"

"I mean, why aren't you glaring, sneering, or even smirking?"

"You'd prefer me to sneer at you?"

"I'd prefer you to be you."

Hermione did not know why she said it. She hated Malfoy's disgusting behavior and attitude. But in some strange way, she would rather see that than this dead, walking zombie of a Malfoy. She was good with insults. She wasn't good with silence.

"—as irritating as that may be," she added, for her own benefit.

"Whatever, Mudblood," said Malfoy, looking away from her, at something over her shoulder. "Just don't step on my feet; these shoes are new and are worth more than everything you own."

"Now that we are in formation, we are going to go over the basic step to the Waltz," said McGonagall. "A box. Gentlemen, you will step forward with your left foot; ladies, back with your right. Proceed."

Hermione attempted to step backward—only to find she couldn't. Malfoy's hold was strong, not allowing her to move. Her eyes flashed to his.

"What are you doing, Malfoy?"

"You don't move until I move, Granger."

Hermione shot him a look of annoyance but waited, tapping her foot in impatience. He drew out the moment, being the prat he was, before finally making the first move. As soon as he did, Hermione mirrored the movement with her own step. He stepped to his right, and out of instinct, Hermione followed, allowing her left foot to step to the left. She brought her right foot over to meet the left so they were back together.

She had no idea what was going on and shot him a look of bewilderment. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Leading," he said simply, a smirk now forming on his lips.

This did not go unnoticed by McGonagall.

"It seems Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger has moved onto the next step. If you would be so kind, please demonstrate for the others."

"Just follow my lead," Malfoy whispered. The words seemed to brush the back of her neck, somehow, as odd as that seemed.

Hermione bit her lip, but allowed Malfoy to have it his way. She didn't have much to argue with. She had very limited experience with formal dancing. It had been two years since she danced with Viktor, and to put it honestly, he had two left feet. They had barely made it through the opening dance at the Yule Ball without colliding into the other couples. Even Harry and Parvati looked more organized than they did.

Hermione held in her amazement as Malfoy lead them into a perfect box. She felt the steps begin to familiarize, as they repeated them over and over: right foot back, left foot left. Together. Left foot forward, right foot right. Together. Right foot back, left foot left. Together.

McGonagall beamed as the other Prefect's, as well as Katie and Eddie, stared in shock. Hermione shot a nervous glance to Ron, unsure what she'd find, but he only stared at her, dumbstruck.

"Excellent, well done," said McGonagall approvingly. "And that is how the box will look. I want everyone to try…"

Her voice faded away as Malfoy continued to lead Hermione around the Great Hall.

"So where did you learn to dance?" Hermione had to ask. She half expected Malfoy not to reply, but she was surprised once again when he did:

"It's all part of being a Pureblood. Mother and father hosted many parties, not to mention the ones I've gone to. They found it necessary I learned."

"Ah," said Hermione, unsure what else to say. She couldn't think of Narcissa without remembering Diagon Alley, and she couldn't think of Lucius without thinking of Azkaban and Death Eater's.

"Well, you're not too bad, for an arrogant Pureblood," said Hermione.

"Only because you're so good at following."

Hermione scowled at him. "I could lead."

"Really?" Malfoy looked amused. "I'd love to see that."

Hermione started to smile—and stopped. Her eyes landed on Padma and Ron. While Ron was about as graceful as Viktor had been, he was laughing with Padma. Malfoy followed her gaze and frowned.

"Why do you even bother with Weasley?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Hermione replied, a little too late. She cleared her throat. "So, why no sudden act of hostility? You've been uncharacteristically not so nasty today."

"I might ask you the same," Malfoy said coolly.

Hermione bit her lip; she didn't know what to say to that. She heard McGonagall reprimanding on the other side of the room,

"For heaven sakes, Mr. Goldstein, you need to be strong to lead. Tighten your grip, grow some backbone…"

Malfoy went on,

"Whether we like it or not Granger, we're stuck together in more ways than I ever wish to believe possible. I can either fight you or deal with you. I'm choosing the easier route, even though I don't like you." He paused, and then said, "Besides, I can't afford you in my way."

"In your way from what?"

"Keep your damn nose out of other people's business."

"Don't tell me what to do, Malfoy!" she snapped, and stepped hard on his left foot. He winced and tightened his grip to the point of pain; she clenched her jaw but remained silent, not giving him the satisfaction of causing her discomfort.

"You filthy Mudblood," he scorned.

"You are pathetic. And you know what? You never even said thank you!"

Malfoy's mouth dropped incredulously. "For what?"

"For saving you in the Dueling Room! I could have let you bleed to death. Maybe I should have, with how ungrateful you are, you nasty prat!"

Hermione had not realized it but they were now veering off from the rest of the group. Malfoy had somehow made their box rotate, though Hermione wasn't sure she remembered moving her feet like this.

"Malfoy's don't say thank you," he said coldly.

"Then Malfoy's better learn or they won't have help the next time."

"Malfoy's don't need help!"

"Malfoy's don't need help or you don't need help?"

She wasn't sure what it was about what she said, but Malfoy just stared at her and stopped dancing, dropping his hold completely.

McGonagall's voice filtered to Hermione's ears. "Mr. Malfoy, Miss Granger, please return to the group. I am quite pleased to find you lot taking this matter seriously. I see potential, yet there is room for improvement. Next lesson, we will hopefully proceed to rotating the box around the room. We will meet again next week, same time, same place. You are dismissed."

Hermione caught up to McGonagall after the room cleared out. She wasn't going to say anything, but it nagged at her too much.

"Professor, may I ask you something?"

"Of course, Miss Granger."

"Is there something going on with Malfoy?" The words tumbled out of her. "I know you've spoken to him about being civil with me but I can't help but wonder. He seems so…off. Is there something I should know?"

McGonagall gave Hermione a level stare.

"Miss Granger, as long as I have known Mr. Malfoy, he has been able to tell a lie as confidently as the truth. And the truth, he hides most deeply. If there was anything going on Mr. Malfoy, I assure you, I would not know."

A/N: Thanks for reading! The next update will be quick; probably a few days. :D For those asking about Wanted: I will probably post it eventually, but not for awhile. I've got too many other stories going on. :P Also, I am NOT abandoning this, I promise! I go through these phases where a certain ship dominates my creative juices. Right now it's Zuko and Katara from Avatar, so they're getting most of my attention. This story is complete though, so I will put a good effort into updating more quickly. I try to update based on days and review responses. ;) Stories with high demand get quicker updates. It just works out that way.