Thoughts about the Ball. Draco's POV
It had all really started when they had announced the Yule Ball last year. Draco had, of course, been given extensive dance lessons when he was younger- it went with the etiquette and useless things one learned when they were a rich, snobbish family like the Malfoys. So it wasn't the dancing that scared him.
It was the girl.
There could only have been one girl he could possibly have imagined dancing with that year- Granger. Her wild hair, that used to give her a rushed appearance, now framed her face perfectly- it seemed somewhat tamer; and her pale skin glowed when she was praised or flushed, both equally alluring to the teenage boy.
Draco had hung around the library every day, claiming extensive extra potions in order to watch the Gryffindor. He had desperately wanted to ask her, but the coward within him had held fast.
Victor Krum had got the girl.
Draco got a heartache.
It had been the night of the Ball, and Pansy had forced Draco to go to the Ball with her. He had grudgingly agreed to go, expecting Pansy to go off with some Durmstrang boy before the end of the night.
But she hadn't.
And so Draco had been forced to watch as Hermione, beautiful in a periwinkle gown and her hair sleek and shiny, floated away on the arm of an international star. And she had had a bloody good time, too.
All Draco got was a forced dance, a rather overly enthusiastic kiss from an undoubtedly drunk Pansy, a kick in the shin when he had retired from a 'bad headache' and a long bout of name calling, followed by another long snog.
Draco had felt terrible as he stared miserably after the pretty muggleborn, twirling and laughing with Krum- oh, how he wished he could make her laugh like that, and that smile! Gorgeous.
And he was powerless to do anything but watch.
Hence the fantasizing over the summer.