Chapter 2: The Happenings Of A Ball

A few days later at dinner it was announced, that for Professor Sprouts birthday, there would be a ball in her honor. Draco himself wasn't that excited about the idea of a ball, but as he looked up and down his table, he could see excited faces and whisperings. Professor Sprout got up from her table to add a few words.

"Thank you! Thank you…" she started, "Now as you all know there will be a ball held in my name," she blushed, "I shall define the details for you, one: all years are invited, but separate curfews will be set for each one," the younger students groaned, "two: formal attire is compulsory and three: attendance isn't!" she waved and smiled as she turned to sit back down at the staff table. Over the applause, Dumbledore raised his voice to say,

"The ball will be held in two weeks time! Trips to Hogsmeade will be made later this week to buy new dress robes for those who wish to attend but do not have any." The Headmaster sat back at his table after allowing dinner to resume.

But dinner did not resume in the slightest, the Hall was filled with excited whispering and laughter, students from different tables were talking to each other, it was the first ball since the TriWizard Tournament. What he was surprised to see, was that one Slytherin leant back to talk to a Gryffindor, it was Aimee.

Jealousy tug at Draco like an angry bulldog on a pant leg, it swelled when he saw Potter laughing with her. It seemed to him that they were discussing the ball – he would not let them go together.

Over the next few days, Draco thought over how best to make sure that Aimee accompanied him to the ball and nobody else. If Potter thought he would be going with Aimee, he had another thing coming. Draco stopped himself. Why did he care so much? Then he remembered and smiled to himself. He was Draco Malfoy. And he got what he wanted. Whenever he wanted.

Draco knew exactly what he was going to wear to the Ball, so he knew that he didn't need the trip to Hogsmeade, he would spend that afternoon completing homework. But as he was studying in his common room he could hear girls giggling about what dress they were going to wear, what color it would be, how their hair would be styled, etcetera etcetera. Even the boys felt the need to dwell on the subject of the Ball, and who they were going to take. His cold, grey eyes swept the room, in search of Aimee and they found her, sitting in a corner with her back to the room. Isolated. She was scribbling on parchment; he assumed it was for their Charms Essay.

He envisioned escorting her to the ball. She was wearing a yellow, satin, floor length dress that wrapped her shoulders... no the dress was a sapphire blue, to match her eyes…

But he did not have the chance to finish his day dream, for a gruff voice interrupted his thoughts. It was Goyle.

"What was our homework from Defense?" he slurred, he was exceptionally slow at most things. Draco was surprised he'd been accepted into Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"Practice." He replied irritably.

"Practice what?" Goyle asked again, scratching his head.

"Non-verbal spells…remember?"

"Er… yeah" though Goyle looked unsure, he obviously didn't want to seem stupid to Draco, yet Draco thought that Goyle was stupid beyond help.

"Good luck," Draco muttered as Goyle left, "You're gonna need it."

Draco directed his gaze back to where Aimee was sitting. She had since stopped writing and was now re-reading her essay; Draco wanted to know if she was planning on going to the Ball with anyone. He tore off a piece of parchment and wrote down his question. Before scrunching it up in a ball he debated with himself whether or not he should sign the note. He decided it would be better if he didn't, he proceeded to scrunch the parchment into a ball and throw it across the room to where Aimee was sitting, it hit her in the back of the head and bounced off right next to the fire, so close to the flames they were threatening to engulf it.

Draco watched intently from his seat. Her head popped up only a moment later. She turned her head to look around her, searching for something. At last she spotted the parchment and reached for it, but she couldn't. She sighed heavily as she put her stuff to the side and crawled to where the ball was. With a curious expression plastered across her face she picked it up and walked back to the corner on her knees.

This time she didn't have her back to the room. She sat down, cross legged, opened the ball of parchment and began to read it. He smiled when she wrote something down and scrunched the already crumpled paper back into a ball again. She looked up, faced him – scowled- and threw the parchment back to him with perfect aim. He opened it so quickly he almost ripped it. He read:

Sod OFF! You pompous prick.

It's none of your business who I go with.

Because it's certainly NOT with you!

Draco re-read the note. Why did she have to be so difficult? It's not like he was planning to marry her. He just wanted to take her to the Ball, snog her behind the castle and that would be the end of it. All she had to say was yes.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Aimee turned back to face the corner again. Oh how accomplished she felt at that moment, she knew she struck an off chord inside Draco. The last thing she would be doing is being his date to the Ball. To be honest, she wasn't even sure if she was going. "But it'll be fun!" her friends had exclaimed this morning when she told them about her change of mind. Even if she did go, there was no way she could buy herself a dress, unless she made one. But she wasn't gifted in that area of creativity; unfortunately.

And still, she didn't even know if she could afford to buy a dress, her aunt and uncle had only given her the minimum amount she needed, nothing given to her exceeded its limit. She sighed heavily. Even if she did go, she'd be restricted with her outfit and she didn't know who would be accompanying her. She sighed heavily, all this homework stressed her out; she couldn't wait until she graduated from Hogwarts.

She begrudgingly took out a textbook, opened it to the chapter they were studying and started to read.

But she couldn't. She couldn't take in one word and found herself rereading the exact same line over and over again. I just need to clear my head, she told herself, and I'll get out of this stuffy common room and clear my head. She quickly made her way out of the Slytherin common room. She skipped through the dungeons and passed through many corridors when she passed a room with the door open, her curiosity getting the better of her, her opened it and walked into the room.

The large room echoed her footsteps as she made her way towards the middle of the room. It was much larger than the Great Hall; she'd wondered why she had never seen it before. When she reached the centre, she carefully examined the object that had drawn her towards it. Once she'd decided that it wasn't dangerous, she ripped off the dusty white sheet covering it. She gasped when she saw a shiny, Grand Piano, bigger than a normal sized Grand Piano.

She slowly walked to the seat, dragging her fingers along the side of the piano. She lifted the lid of the piano and sat down. With her finger she prodded a few keys, taking a deep breath she lifted her other hand and placed it on the keys. She first tried a few chords to see if the piano was in tune, which it was, much to her surprise considering how the piano looked: as if nobody had touched it for years, probably even decades; if not a century.

Slowly she started to play a light, slow melody; humming to herself. After practicing she attempted her favorite Mozart piece, playing it so quickly and swiftly her fingers barely touched the keys. She closed her eyes, absorbing the music, concentrating on the pitch, the sharps and the harmony.

*blup, buhh*

Aimee sighed. She always got stuck on this part. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't teach her fingers the difficult and tricky, swift cross-over movement. Again she continued to play; only it wasn't the same piece. It was different. More modern.

Her own.

It was a vibrant but slow, melodic song. She hummed loudly to the music. Then she started singing, not of her own accord. It was as if her voice had just taken over; as if it was only made to sing and nothing more.

"And oooh,

It's as if this fire wont burn out

And oooh,

This feeling lives without a doubt

This music comes from the heart"

She took a breath, and prepared to hit a high note

"Ooooooooooooooh,

Your beauty is an art

Oooh

This mirror, it lies

It won't tell me what is real

Uh no,

The eyes staring back aren't mi-"

She heard a creak from the door and froze. She didn't dare open her eyes. Aimee could hear someone starting to clap slowly, as if mocking her. After summoning up the courage, she opened her eyes and slowly turned her head around to face the door. Draco stood there smirking, looking mildly impressed. She silently fumed. Of all people, he had to be the one who saw, who heard. She would've given anything to realize that it was someone else, but there was no mistaking the white blond head of hair on the tall, handsome teenager slowly making his way towards her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco could see the embarrassment in the sapphire hue blue eyes, glaring at him. She wasn't happy to see him. He'd followed her from the common room, it was late in the evening and they weren't allowed to wander the grounds, so his curiosity convinced him to follow her.

"Where did you learn to sing like that?"

But she didn't answer. She just sat there, momentarily intrigued by his presence.

"I asked you a question," he growled, "I would like an answer to it."

Her facial expression changed to something like amusement and anger at the same time. She raised an eyebrow.

"Oh I'm sorry, did I offend you Draco?" she replied coldly, "Because if I did, let me know; I might like to do it again later."

She took the lid and slammed it down, causing the piano to make an unpleasant sound in protest. She stood up to leave, but Draco had taken her by the shoulders and pushed her back on the seat. She widened her eyes, not in fear, but in anger.

"How- how dare you?!" she screeched, "You can't just push me like that!"

"I know, and I've been raised to treat a lady with respect, but since you aren't showing me any, I believe I'll make an exception." She wasn't the only one who was angry. Aimee tried standing up again, but Draco, who was significantly taller- and much stronger-, pushed her back down again, even though she tried dodging his grasp.

"Why do you despise me?" He asked gruffly

"I could ask you the same." She arched a smug eyebrow

"I asked you first"

"I asked you second"

He sighed angrily

"Answer the question Hallicraft"

"Oh, back on a second name basis again, Malfoy?"

"Stop playing games and just answer"

"Why I despise you so? With pleasure" And he saw it in her face, she was going to take pleasure in her answer, "I hate you because you are a pompous, uptight, stuck up, arrogant, conceited, spoiled brat and a git and you treat everybody else around you except for your posse like scum, and then some. But then again you don't even treat them with the respect they deserve, considering they've been through so much becoming your minions. I don't know Draco, do you think I've elaborated enough on my answer?" She was now panting; Draco realized she hadn't taken a single breath throughout her entire comeback. But this hadn't offended Draco at all. He knew all this was true, well some of it; he obviously wasn't about to admit it though. All he did was smirk.

"I don't know Hallicraft. Could do with a bit more…" he trailed off, trying to find a suitable word, "oomph." He'd finished; satisfied with his answer. Her nostrils flared, her lips became pursed and for a second he thought he saw a flash of flame in her eyes. She stood up quickly, drew back her arm and slapped him as hard as could. The sound of her hand against his cheek echoed through the room as loudly as it was painful – very. His hand immediately flew up to his cheek. Aimee took this as her chance to leave and did so before Draco could stop her.

"That bitch," he muttered angrily, he checked his reflection in the piano, there was a large, red handprint on his left cheek. He knew he deserved it though. He was quite rough with her.

But still, this wasn't what had actually fazed him. It was her musical ability. She had the voice of an angel, her high notes were perfect, incredible; it had sent shivers up his spine. He'd watched her hands on the piano; they looked like they'd belonged there, like they'd lived there their entire life.

Then he smirked, and remembered her wise crack about offending him. It was brilliant in his opinion, if only he'd thought of it himself. She had the right attitude to match her beauty. He was quite impressed by her, now he really had to make it up to her; he knew she would not come easily. Not as easy as the others. As he wandered back to the dungeons, he thought that the ball would be the perfect opportunity to change her mind, with all the dancing and music – it could distract her from the fact she hated him. And then it hit him – he'd dance with her. Even if she didn't want to, he'd find a way. Girls were always impressed by his ballroom skills. His strong arms, tall body and footwork most of the time swept them off their feet.

"This is going to be easier than I thought."