He leaned back onto the bar, the bass thumping through his elbows where they rested on the sticky surface. Nodding along slightly to the beat, he flicked open the top two buttons of his collared shirt in an attempt to lessen the stifling heat of so many bodies pressing in around him.
Dropping his empty glass (scotch, on the rocks) back onto the shiny bartop he rolled up first one long sleeve and then the other, baring muscular forearms as he gazed out over the dancefloor, looking for a suitable partner.
There.
Skirting through the crowd, ducking impishly under raised arms and scooting seamlessly between turned-out partners, a petite brunette moved to the beat of her own drum, fluidly and without restraint, eyes half-lidded with the kind of relaxed joy that only a good beat on a packed dancefloor could bring. His eyes raked up and down her lithe body, taking note of the long curls falling down her bare back, her top held up by wire thin straps criss-crossed across her tanned, shiny skin. Yes, she would do just fine.
Weaving around other patrons he made his way towards her as a new tune began blasting through the speakers. Arms above her head as her hips swayed in time to the growing beat he reached a single hand upward and grasped a delicate wrist gently, twirling her away from him quickly as a surprised laugh burst from between her rosy lips. As she faced him from an arms length away, he missed the slight widening of her expressive eyes, but the joke was on him as she stalked toward him, continuously moving her body sensually to the beat of the music.
Eyes trailing from the tips of her dainty toes wrapped in a pair of strappy heels, up up up. Past her toned thighs slightly on display under a flowing skirt with a handkerchief hem, up up up. Past her navel (an innie) visible between the start of her skirt and the end of her top, up up up. Past her breasts and collarbones and delightfully long neck, on which a few strands of hair were stuck against her sweat glistened skin, up up up. To her face, oh her face.
He flashed her a devilish grin and a quirked eyebrow before he stepped closer yet, hands barely touching her waist as they fell into what would be very loosely classified as a salsa. Moving together in tandem, only millimeters between their bodies as they gyrated and swayed and turned. Together, together, together.
Hands grazing lightly along fluid limbs, her thigh hooking around his, turning and being turned, a large masculine hand spread fingers wide on her toned stomach, thumb grazing the sliver of bare skin and drawing goosebumps to the surface. His chest to her back as he moved her thick mane of hair to the side, spilling over one shoulder so that he could reach her ear as the music began to die.
"Drink?" he asked, huskily.
She turned to look him in the eye, almost nose to nose now, sharing the same breath.
"Sure," she replied breathlessly, chest still heaving from their dance, heart fluttering strangely at his proximity. She hadn't seen Blaise Zabini in years.
One hand resting lightly on her bare lower back, Blaise turned her slightly, guiding her back towards the bar as he leaned down to speak into her ear again.
"You'll have to tell me all about when you learned to move like that, Granger".
* Fin *
AN: This little scene came to me when I was listening to Water by Tyla. If anyone wants to use this and expand on it, be my guest.
