Change Partners

romulus lupin

Rating: G
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Draco & Ginny
Book: Draco & Ginny, Books 1 - 4
Published: 08/06/2003
Last Updated: 08/06/2003
Status: completed

Another Yule Ball ... but someone is watching Ginny as she dances with someone else.

Chapters

1. untitled

1. untitled

Change Partners

Title: Change Partners
Author name: Romulus Lupin
Author email: galigad@yahoo.com
Category: Romance
Sub Category: Angst
Keywords: Draco Ginny Yule Ball
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: CoS,
Summary: She should be dancing with someone else. She should be dancing with him.
DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author notes: Dedicated to my favorite jailer, Lils (Hermione L. Granger), to whom I promised a birthday fic at a time when I was suffering from major writer’s block. As a side note, this is my first D/G fic, so please be kind! Reviews are welcome, flames are not; if you wish to flame, my e-mail is posted.

Change Partners

The moon cast its iridescent light over a slumbering earth, turning a landscape covered in brilliant snow into an enchanting scene that would have seen many an artist scampering for his paintbrush … and would find many a couple cuddling together at their windows, arms wrapped in each other, warm breaths mingling as their faces touched, everything that was to come or had come forgotten as they contemplated the winter scene.

The light from the silver moon also shone brightly through the enchanted ceiling in Hogwarts’ Great Hall, lending an enthralling radiance to the glow of a thousand or more candles floating in the air. The moonlight provided a silvery backdrop to the candles’ warm yellow glow … the occasional cloud which passed lending a dramatic air to the lights within the Hall, which flickered and wavered … turning on and off in time with the hard driving beat of the music, sending a strobe-like effect down on the gathered crowd -- turning the normally staid Hall into a huge discotheque.

The Hall throbbed with the energy of hundreds of bodies dancing to the frenzied beat of the wizard band – a band which had caused the jaws of the many Muggle-borns to either drop to the floor or to waggle in shock. They had grown up in blissful ignorance of the wizarding world until their Hogwarts letters had arrived; ever since their introduction to the alternative universe they were now a part of, they had always assumed that the Muggle world was not the wizarding world, and never the twain shall meet.

To learn that one of the biggest names in the Muggle music world was actually a wizard was a shock akin to poking their fingers into a nuclear-powered electric socket. (In fact, Harry Potter was heard to have said that the announcement was enough to straighten out Hermione’s hair – a comment that had him running to the library to find the counter-curse which would turn his hair back to its natural color of black!)

The announcement of the Yule Ball and who would provide the entertainment had been enough to cause a groundswell of cheers that threatened to crack the roof of the Hall … and to cause looks ranging from downright sickly green to outright looks of horror on the faces of those seated on either side of the Headmaster at the teacher’s table.

The teachers’ protests never made it past their lips, however; Albus Dumbledore sent up a barrage of fireworks from his wand which quickly silenced the Hall, and announced that another group was going to alternate with the first so that, as he said with a twinkle in his eyes, “Your poor teachers will have a respite from the noise that you young people call music.”

The statement was greeted with laughter from the students, and wry smiles from most of the teachers (Professor Snape’s face would have curdled milk whatever the announcement was, anyway) … to be followed with a barrage of cheers from the students and grateful applause from the teachers.

And now the party was in full swing, the frenzy of the finale number from the rock band reaching feverish proportions as young and nubile bodies jumped and swayed, many of them (pureblood and muggle alike) joining in singing (shouting?) the chorus, adding to the primeval heat of the Hall while the teachers looked on in amusement (many of them had cast a cone of silence around themselves, which allowed them to enjoy the sight of their students’ antics without damaging their eardrums).

With a final crash that would have blown the roof to the moon, the music ended – and a roar of applause and cheers from both students and relieved teachers filled the sudden silence.

With a cheeky grin, the wizard-turned-muggle entertainer took his leave, apologizing for an early departure due to a previous engagement that could not be broken (to the groans of the students and the silent cheers of the teachers). His leave-taking was marked, however, with one of the strangest remarks ever to grace Hogwarts’ walls: “The next group has always been one of my favorites … any group that can actually melt the heart of Severus Snape deserves inclusion in every musical Hall of Fame in the world!”

The shocking statement caused everyone’s eyes to dart around the hall, looking for the target of the remark … followed by the audible sound of hundreds of indrawn breaths and shocked gasps at the sight of the ever-pale but darkly moody Professor with his normally constipated face actually smiling … and holding up a clenched fist with the middle finger protruding straight up in the air.

With a shout of laughter and a blast of smoke, the musicians and their lead disappeared from the stage … leaving behind one final remark to float in the air … “Merry Christmas, Sev!”

Those closest to the Potions Master would forever after swear that they heard him saying, “And many happy returns, you asshole!” – a statement which many disputed, but none could discount. Before any discussions could erupt, however, a diversion came with the sudden appearance of liquid refreshments and finger foods at the tables around the Hall – quickly followed by a near-exodus of sweaty young females going off to the girls’ bathrooms and toilets for a quick repair of their make-up and hair, while the male students started converging on the tables to grab at mugs of butterbeer or other, more potent, drinks.

* * *

The party had settled down to a less frenzied beat, although the passion and heat were in no way dissipated by the music coming from the all-wizard orchestra on the stage. To the surprise of the students (and this was rapidly turning into a night of surprises), the orchestra had launched into a series of pieces that sounded eerily familiar … for many of the muggle-borns (especially the girls), it brought back memories of dance lessons in their near-forgotten childhood … for the rest (especially those born to wizarding families), the music evoked memories of parents or grandparents – and quiet stories of falling in love, of realizations … of destinies entwined.

It was the music of a bygone era for those younger than 40 … but it was music which was hauntingly familiar, and everyone – from Dumbledore to the Terrible Two (whom Harry and Ron had invited as their “dates” so they could have a chance to watch the Ball) – were soon tapping their feet in time with the slow, lovely beat of music to dance by …

And music to fall in love to.

If one were inclined to.

The silvery light from the full moon combined with the soft golden glows of the floating candles to render the Great Hall in tones and colors that would have been exceedingly difficult to capture on canvas or paper. It was truly a magical night -- one which only a Pensieved memory could capture in all its vibrant detail, as the dancing couples swayed around on the dance floor, the lights of gold and silver glancing off a shimmering robe … a flushed face … the sparkle of a flashing smile … even the iridescent glow from the various ghosts who had also joined in the dance.

But not even magical light can penetrate dark shadows and hidden corners ... or someone bent on keeping himself from the light.

He wasn’t there in the shadows in order to sneer at the dancers or at the music, however … in truth, he needed the darkness to hide the overwhelming revulsion that was riding his stomach and his guts … to keep his loathing of a particular scene hidden from everyone’s view …

Because he knew no one would understand why.

Or even how.

If anyone had noticed and asked, he would have been quick to reply with a barrage of responses: that he had felt sickened at the very idea of his mentor and Head of House dancing with the enemy -- specifically, a smiling and blushing Minerva McGonagall (although in truth, he found it rather cute) … that he was revolted at the way the rule-breaking Potter and his sidekick the Weasel managed to bring in the Terrible Two, who were now staring like wide-eyed yokels at the festivities (but then again, he actually found it endearing to see the obvious affection that Potter showed towards the two brats. He could sympathize with the loneliness of being an only child … and he smiled at the image of the two young Gryffindors fawning over their older “brother” -- and felt nauseated at the thought of his two hulking “siblings” who were stuffing their faces at the Slytherins’ table).

Those would have been exceedingly believable explanations of his current position in the shadows … what no one would believe or accept or understand was the intense feeling of sickening disgust at the sight of a particular witch dancing with a specific wizard

But then, why was that happening to him in the first place?

Why should he feel … appalled at the sight of her dancing with him?

Because it felt wrong.

No. It wasn’t that it felt wrong.

It was … simply … wrong.

She should be dancing with someone else.

She should be dancing with him.

* * *

“Not dancing, Mr. Malfoy?” He started, and quickly composed himself, determined to appear as normal as always at the sound of that familiar voice. Face impassive, he turned to face the Headmaster with his trademark sneer in place – and a contemptuous eyebrow raised, thinking, “He may be the bloody Headmaster, but he’s still a lousy Gryffindor.”

Before he could retort, the Headmaster interrupted him, “I would have thought that this music is familiar to you … your mother was partial to this, if I remember correctly.”

He was about to let loose a typically Malfoy reply when the musicians let loose with a series of chords on their instruments, and the witches who were doing the back-up chanted the first words of the song:

In Napoli where love is king

When boy meets girl here's what they say

The sound of Draco’s jaw dropping to the floor was lost in the sound of hundreds of other jaws waggling as Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master and the Terror of generations of Hogwarts students, stepped up, leading a flustered and giggling Professor Sinistra to the dance floor as the portly, rather red-faced wizard singer (who seemed to have been enthusiastically snogging the butterbeer) launched into the song …

When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie

That's amore

When the world seems to shine like you've had too much wine

That's amore

The song was suddenly drowned out by a roar of enthusiastic clapping and cheers from the assembled crowd as the two professors swayed to the lyrics of the song … people shook their heads as Snape swung past (was that a twinkle in his eye?), black robes swishing as he led his partner into a sudden dip that saw her head nearly touching the dance floor and then swung her up back into his arms …

Bells will ring ting-a-ling-a-ling, ting-a-ling-a-ling

And you'll sing "Vita bella"

Hearts will play tippy-tippy-tay, tippy-tippy-tay

Like a gay tarantella

Professor Dumbledore joined in the clapping, ignoring the silent student beside him whose face had turned blank at the scene before his eyes. He knew better than to ask what Draco was thinking about; with that special magic that he possessed, he somehow knew that the Slytherin’s mind and memories were a thousand miles away from the Hall…

He was almost correct. Draco’s mind was a thousand miles away … and just about a decade in his past …

* * *

High, tinkling laughter … a bright, sunny room with feminine touches all over – a sharp contrast to the generally dark and gloomy atmosphere of Malfoy Manor. The sound of a scratchy old record player … the remembered memory of his beautiful, laughing mother as she danced around the room with him …

When the stars make you drool just like a pasta e fasul

That's amore

When you dance down the street with a cloud at your feet

You're in love

Narcissa Malfoy’s clear, laughing voice as she sang along with the record in an atrocious pseudo-Italian accent … as well as his own laughter and giggles as he danced with her, trying to understand what the song meant … but bubbling over in mirth at the seldom-seen happiness of his mother …

When you walk in a dream but you know you're not

Dreaming, signore

Scusami, but you see, back in old Napoli

That's amore

* * *

She was so happy then, the now-fifteen year old Draco remembered … and he was enjoying himself, basking in the glow from his lovely mother and joining in her hard-to-remember laughter. He heard the witches on the stage taking up the song, and his eyes focused for a moment … watching his Head of House and the Astronomy Professor continuing their spin around the dance floor …

When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie

That's amore (That's amore)

When the world seems to shine like you've had too much wine

That's amore (That's amore)

For a brief, startling moment, the scene in front of him changed … and he saw a younger, laughing Snape twirling his younger, more beautiful mother around as the other students watched, and clapped their hands … for a second, he saw Potter with his arms around the fiery-haired Ginny Weasley as they swayed to the beat – he shook his head at the sight, but he realized that Potter had his arms around Granger, not Ginny (‘what was that he thought he saw?’) … another shake of his head and he could see his young mother and a young Snape dancing – while he (‘was it he?’) stared at the laughing couple with a cold look and an even colder sneer in his eyes …

Bells will ring ting-a-ling-a-ling, ting-a-ling-a-ling

And you'll sing "Vita bella"

Hearts will play tippy-tippy-tay, tippy-tippy-tay

Like a gay tarantella

(Lucky Fella)

And he heard a crash in his ears … closed his eyes and tried to will the memories away -- but felt himself held in the grip of their power … felt the darkness of his nook closing around him as he fought back …

* * *

Against the powerful arms of his father, who had grabbed him around the waist with one arm while the other – his wand arm – was pointed at the record player which his now-crying mother was trying to block. He struggled … fighting the grip of his father … wanting only to run to his shaken mother and protect her from the raging Lucius Malfoy.

The latter was shouting, hoarsely, “I will not have my son listening or dancing to that filthy Muggle music, Narcissa … do you hear me? Do you understand me? I will not have my son turned into a pansy by you …”

A frightened Draco finally broke away from his father’s hold and hurtled towards his mother – but the sheer force of his hug rocked her back a step, and his father grabbed the opportunity presented. A powerful curse exploded out of his wand … in the next moment, the record player burst into flames … followed soon after by acrid smoke as the records melted …

Draco buried his face in his mother’s tummy, tears of fright streaming down his face … only to hear his father’s cold, sneering voice proclaim, “Good boy, Draco … I knew you wouldn’t fail me.”

Horrified at the blatant lie, he stepped back from his mother’s arms to protest … to apologize for inadvertently pushing her out of the way – only to be met by her cold, lifeless eyes, tears still streaming down her face … to see her give him a look of sheer hatred for one fleeting moment before she turned away to flee to her room.

And there was no more music in Malfoy Manor.

* * *

The song ended and the orchestra shifted into another song; Draco turned away from the hall and noted with relief that Dumbledore was gone from his side. Surreptitiously, he swiped at his brimming eyes and fought back a sniffle.

He’d made it up to his mother, he thought. He’d made it up to her … although it had taken him years to do so. Years during which he had to appear indifferent to her indifference … years of silent breakfasts when his mother looked straight at him as if he wasn’t there … days when he’d bring home some achievement or other from the wizarding primary school he attended, only to meet her apathetic response, “Your father will be proud of you, Draco.”

It had pushed him closer to his father – or as close as anyone could be to that self-centered sod! … and he shook with fury again as he remembered the events of his second year at Hogwarts: the rude remarks about his grades, and his father brushing off his explanation why Granger had the best marks … his exhilaration at his father’s donation of the Nimbus Two Thousand and One brooms to the Slytherin team and his appointment as their Seeker – followed by wounding, abusive words when they had lost the match with Gryffindor (Granger’s insulting statement about buying his way in had stung – all the more when his own father repeated those words to him but in a far more cutting tone) – which was the reason he didn’t go home that Christmas …

He finally forced himself to stop shivering in anger, forcing a calm over his body that he couldn’t really feel. He turned back to the Great Hall, and the sound of another song washed over him – and again, he wanted to turn his head away from the sight of Ginny Weasley dancing with that clod Colin Creevey …

Some day, when I'm awfully low

When the world is cold

I will feel a glow just thinking of you

And the way you look tonight

Oh but you're lovely

With your smile so warm

And your cheeks so soft

There is nothing for me but to love you

Just the way you look tonight

And she was truly lovely, he thought … her fair skin glowing against the periwinkle blue robes she wore (even though he knew that those robes were Granger’s, they gave Ginny Weasley’s skin an ethereal sheen of their own) … the fiery red hair falling down her back, shining with an inner halo of their own …

And he could feel a glow warming his insides as he thought of her … remembering the look of shock on her face when he walked into that empty classroom where she was playing that very record in the middle of that cold November day when everyone else had gone to Hogsmeade except for himself …

He’d been on the way down from his personal hiding place in one of the towers … needing the few moments when he felt he could be himself, and not a Malfoy, when he heard that hauntingly beautiful song – another of the songs that had been his mother’s favorites, before his father had blasted everything away …

He followed the music until he came to that classroom … unthinkingly, he’d walked in and froze at the sight of the beautiful girl in her school robes, eyes closed and dancing by herself to the song, arms held out as if holding an imaginary partner …

With each word your tenderness grows

Tearing my fears apart

And that laugh that wrinkles your nose

Touches my foolish heart

For a fleeting moment, he again remembered his mother dancing slowly to the music while he watched her, fascinated … enchanted by the song, and his mother’s soft, glowing face as she danced to the song … holding an imaginary partner in her hands … a wistful smile on her face – the exact same expression that he could see on Ginny as she danced by herself, eyes closed but a sense of longing vibrating in the room …

Lovely , never, never change

Keep that breathless charm

Won't you please arrange it

'Cause I love you

Just the way you look tonight.

Her eyes opened wide when she sensed his presence, and she stood there like a doe caught in the headlights of an on-rushing car. Her mouth had opened … to curse him or hex him, he didn’t know -- and he had steeled himself to duck, to block or to counter-curse … or even just to turn around and leave her to her dreams and fantasies about Potter, no doubt.

But the song had held him frozen … bringing back childhood memories of laughter and warmth … the unselfish care and concern of his mother … the carefree days of his younger years when he was simply Draco – not a Malfoy, not a Slytherin -- an ordinary boy who craved for the attention and approval of his parents … finding much of it from a mother who had granted him unquestioning affection and no expectations …

“That’s a lovely song,” he heard his voice speak, and he could see the shock on Ginny’s face at the words. He could understand the reasons why, but the girl had steel … otherwise, she’d have dropped dead right there at hearing a Malfoy say that about a Muggle song. He quietly walked over to a chair and sat down, saying at the same time, “Are there any more that you can play?”

She’d stared at him as if he were insane … looking as if she were wishing for a squad of St. Mungo’s attendants in their pumpkin-colored robes to come crashing out of the woodwork and carry him off to the Mentally-Disturbed Ward of the wizarding hospital and share a room with Gilderoy Lockhart…

“Please?”

It was that single, unexpected word which unfroze her. Without a word, she waved her wand at the contraption she had set up, and a rich baritone voice filled the room:

Unforgettable, that's what you are

Unforgettable though near or far

Like a song of love that clings to me

How the thought of you does things to me

Never before has someone been more

They’d spent hours in that room, listening to her records … he’d cast a Silencing Charm so that they wouldn’t be disturbed, and he’d spent the time re-acquainting himself with the music that his mother had loved … and which, he now realized, was something that he’d missed for far too long.

They’d listened in silence, and he was grateful for that … he’d never have believed that the youngest Weasley was so comfortable with a silent companion, having grown up with that rowdy brood, and being friends with the talkative Granger – but then, he wouldn’t have expected a pureblood like her to be familiar with this sort of music.

Unforgettable in every way

And forever more, that's how you'll stay

That's why, darling, it's incredible

That someone so unforgettable

Thinks that I am unforgettable too

Except that her father was Arthur Weasley, who he had often called a Muggle-loving fool, in blind imitation of his intolerant and bigoted father. But the memory of his mother’s music remained with him … and he admitted to himself that not everything about the Muggle world was wrong, or bad, or ugly …

At some point, he’d walked up to her and, with silent gestures, asked for a dance … and it was with admiration that he watched her stand up, take his hands in her own, and spun with him into a slow dance that he could easily follow.

By silent agreement, they decided to end the impromptu party … just as silently, they’d agreed to meet again soon in the same room and listen – and dance – to the music of an era long past. As she was about to leave, however, he spoke … the only other words ever spoken in that room that day, aside from the words he’d spoken at the start:

“Ginny? Please … don’t tell anyone about this.”

She’d stared at him in surprise, and he realized that she had made that promise to herself, knowing that such an encounter would not go down well with either her brothers, or Potter, or Granger. But he wanted her to understand that it was not her bloody brothers, or the Dynamic Duo, or even the damned Gryffindors that he was worried about –

“It’s just that … if word of this gets to my father,” and he took a deep breath, “he will have me out of here and sent to another school where there will be no music.”

He looked into her brown eyes and whispered, “And no one to dance with.”

She looked at him for a long moment, before silently nodding. As she was about to turn away again, some impulse drove him to grab her hand … as she turned back, trying to pull her hand back, he’d bent over it like some European aristocrat and she relaxed …

Instead of kissing the back of her hand, however, he’d turned it over and kissed her palm … straightened up to look into her stunned eyes once again, and turned away – a total absence of his patented smirks or smiles evident in his body and posture.

* * *

“Not dancing, young Malfoy?”

Once again, he pulled his established persona over himself at the sound of that familiar voice – but a voice that, oddly, seemed to have lost its underlying sneer or unctuousness. There was no need to look up to see who it was … and he felt no need to say anything in response to what was, he knew, a merely rhetorical question.

“And how is your lovely mother this Christmas? I trust she is doing quite well?”

He turned to face his Head of House, wondering what was behind that statement – and his pale grey eyes met with the obsidian eyes of his mentor and, if such a statement could ever be said, the only real friend that he had in the school.

A small smile could be seen tugging at his teacher’s mouth. “We still keep in touch … an occasional owl to keep her informed of your progress. And lunch during the Christmas break whenever possible.”

Draco nodded and turned back to watch the dancing – and allowed a sneer to cross his face at the sight of Ginny dancing with Potter, while the Weasel danced with Granger … and smirked as he saw the surreptitious looks and hidden smiles that Potter and Granger were exchanging over their partners’ shoulders.

“Your mother was most … touched over your gift, Draco.”

His thoughts interrupted, he turned to his mentor in surprise – but couldn’t see his face clearly, as he had turned away to watch the couples on the dance floor. “She told me that it was the most thoughtful gift that anyone could have given her … and that she would have gladly given back all the gifts that your esteemed father had ever given her just so she could listen to those records once again.”

He didn’t respond to that. What was there to say?

* * *

He was extremely grateful for his father’s absence when he arrived home from Hogwarts. Doubtless some meeting or other with his Lord and Master … another opportunity to kiss his boots and grovel on the ground like some house elf, dropping his pants for a kick whenever the mood struck Voldemort …

He shook the thought off. There were other, more important matters to attend to. He’d opened his trunk in the privacy of his room, enlarged the large package that he’d reduced to an unobtrusive size in case his father wondered at what he’d brought … transfigured the brown paper wrapping into a gaudy Christmas package … and went to his mother’s sitting room.

She’d opened her door to his insistent knocking – and gazed down at him with the contemptuous sneer that Potter had once described as looking as if she had dung under her nose – and he had silently handed the package to her before turning and returning to his room.

He’d had dinner alone with his father that night, listening to him rant and rave about the Ministry and Weasley … the Muggles and Weasley … magical artifacts and Weasley … what will happen to Weasley once Voldemort was in power … making him wonder for a moment if his father had heard something and was trying to trap him. But no … the self-centered git had been completely oblivious to anything but his own ranting – even his quiet remark, “I think I’m in love with Ginny Weasley” had gone unnoticed.

He’d smirked at that – but even that had gone unnoticed, and he’d gone up to his bed soon after, pleading exhaustion from the trip. It was only when he laid down on his bed that he realized the truth of that statement – he’d quickly drifted off to sleep, hearing in his mind the quietly soothing sound of Nat King Cole singing about an unforgettable Ginny Weasley …

Unforgettable in every way

And forever more, that's how you'll stay

That's why, darling, it's incredible

That someone so unforgettable

Thinks that I am unforgettable too

It was at breakfast the following morning that he finally had the chance to talk to his mother in a way that had been denied him for years – openly, confidently, honestly. His father had been called away during breakfast; he had left in such a hurry that they felt sure it had something to do with his Dark Master … he was about to leave the table when his mother had broken their silence: “Thank you.”

He’d sat back in his chair and stared at her. This was the first time he could ever remember her saying that to anyone … she had always acted as if anything ever given her was merely her due, that it was a favor that she even deigned to accept anything from anyone …

She was smiling at him now, the warm smile that he remembered from his childhood and had almost forgotten – and they had talked, the words and emotions flowing and filling in a gap of almost ten years. He noted, but didn’t remark on, the fact that his mother was seemingly well-informed of his activities and actions at school (he now realized that Severus Snape had kept her appraised of what was going on in his life).

She had laughed at his exploits, commiserated over his losses, kept silent as he ranted about Potter, Granger and the Weasleys – including Ginny – and studiously avoided anything pertaining to his father, Voldemort or other such developments in the wizarding world.

And then she had asked the question he was still unsure how to answer: “How were you able to get those records, Draco?”

For a long moment, he didn’t reply and she kept her silence. He knew that she would accept his silence if he chose to do so; but then, he felt that he owed it to her to tell the truth: “They were a gift to me, mother … a gift that I could, in turn, share with you.”

She stared at him in surprise, but didn’t respond. With a sigh, he finally opened up and told her …

… he looked in surprise at Ginny as she handed over the box of old vinyl records to him with a smile. They’d been spending whatever time they could in that classroom, listening to her records and dancing every once in a while. Their relationship was undefined – except to call it a friendship over their common interests of music and dancing. They had studiously avoided discussing anything beyond those two things – school work, friends, relatives, were all taboo in that small room; all that was there was the music and the dancing.

“Thank you,” he’d said as he accepted the box. “But why?”

“So you could play them even if I’m not here,” she’d replied with a smile. He smiled back … at the same time wondering how she knew that there had been times he’d spent in this room alone, waiting for her to come … and leaving with a heavy heart when she didn’t show up.

“Thank you,” he’d said again. “I’ll pay you …”

She had held her hand up at that, and told him no … that it was a gift from her and she didn’t need any payment for it, thank you very much.

He had insisted – she refused, and that had set the stage for the first argument they ever had, as he lambasted her stubborn Weasley pride, and she had snarled back at his Malfoy attitude of “everything has a price.” They had started trading insults after that – everything from his blonde hair that had never seen the sun because he had Crabbe and Goyle to hold an umbrella to protect him from sunlight, to her freckles which were a permanent feature of her face because she probably spent too much time tending to the potatoes in her garden ...

“You Slytherin prick!”

“And what do I call you? A brainless Gryffindor with nothing but a wand and balls?”

“What do you think I am? A boy? Or is that all you really want? A boy?”

That had stopped him cold … he’d stared at her for a long moment before replying, softly, “That’s one thing no one can mistake you for, Ginny … you’re definitely no boy.”

She also stopped cold at his words; blushing slightly, she’d asked, “Why do you refuse a gift, Draco? Afraid of being in a Weasley’s debt? Or you simply cannot accept anything from a Gryffindor?”

“If I accept your gift, Ginny … I cannot, in turn, give it to someone else as a gift. I’d rather pay you for this so I can give it to someone else …”

She’d looked at him curiously … and he told her the story of his mother, her love for the old songs that they’d been listening and dancing to, and the destruction of those records so many years before ...

“So, did you pay her for these records, Draco?”

He looked at his mother with a solemn expression in his eyes. “No, mum … she said that they were her gift for me. But that there’s nothing wrong with sharing the gift with someone I love.”

He looked away from his mother as he whispered, “It’s not really a gift for you, mother. I’m just … sharing something I own with someone I love.”

They sat in silence after that. A few seconds later, he heard his mother stand up to leave, but he continued to sit in his chair, idly moving food around his plate and refusing to look up. He felt her beside him; and looked up in time to see her leaning over him to plant a kiss on his cheek and whisper, “Thank you,” before she left.

He sat there for a long while, wondering again, as he had several times each day since Ginny had given him the records, how he had found himself in this situation – a Slytherin’s cunning overcome by logic worthy of a Ravenclaw’s, spouted by a Gryffindor girl showing a Hufflepuff’s sense of decency.

He never had a chance to talk with his mother alone after that … and they had both easily fallen back into the pattern of silence and mutual antagonism that they’d established over the years; both of them aware that any break in this routine would raise suspicions and unpalatable repercussions from his bigoted father.

* * *

“We Slytherins often have an undeserved reputation.”

“Sir?” Draco Malfoy glanced at his mentor in surprise, shaking himself of his recent memories, and trying to focus on the out-of-context statement.

Severus Snape continued, a studiously blank expression on his face. “Just because our Founder had a snake for a symbol, we have always been associated with cunning, slyness … a predisposition for the dark and hidden corners where we, everyone assumes, plot our plans, play our games – afraid of coming out into the light of day.”

“The ends justify the means.”

“Indeed, young Malfoy. The ultimate justification for many of our actions as Slytherins. But would you have accepted that statement if the first real victim of the Chamber of Secrets was Virginia Weasley?”

Draco turned to him abruptly, his pale eyes locking on his mentor’s obsidian orbs. A small smile was playing on the man’s lips as he continued, “As I said, I had a long talk with your mother over the holidays … we try to have lunch at least once during the Christmas break, sort of like catching up on old times.”

“And do you indulge in a few dances in honor of those ‘old times,’ Professor?”

Severus Snape’s eyes glinted dangerously at the sally, but his voice remained calm, although Draco could catch the hint of an intense anger held precariously tight as he replied: “Unfortunately, we have been unable to … indulge in those dances of our youth for some time. It was only recently that your mother was able to … secure the music we danced to; but unfortunately, we did not have time to indulge.”

Draco turned away then, watching as Ginny danced with Justin Finch-Fletchley, occasionally wincing as the big boob stepped on her feet. He winced sympathetically, unwilling to meet his mentor’s eyes and inwardly cursing himself for his weakness in confessing everything to his mother.

“You needn’t worry about Narcissa’s discretion, Draco.” He looked in surprise at his teacher’s suddenly humorous tone of voice. “Doubtless, if you had been meeting with Miss Granger, she’d have remarked at how surprising it is that Peeves never once made an appearance in the classroom where you listened to the music of our youth.”

Draco Malfoy’s mouth gaped at that statement … and he swiftly made the connection: the only one who could control Peeves the Poltergeist was the Bloody Baron, who was the Slytherin ghost, which meant that …

“Coincidentally,” Snape continued, “it was in that same classroom some twenty years ago that a few students – and some of the ghosts -- would gather to listen to ‘muggle’ music … listen, and dance to the music.”

He inclined his head for a moment as he listened to the music from the dance floor before continuing, “Of course, for two of those students, it was a perverse pleasure – listening and dancing to the muggle music that their parents so despised. But the music had a quality all its own … “

Draco gawked at the Potions Master, his mind suddenly leaping to the statement made by the wizard-turned-muggle icon: “… any group that can actually melt the heart of Severus Snape deserves inclusion in every musical Hall of Fame in the world!“

The eyes of the professor met his student’s steadily, unblinking and masking whatever thoughts he may have. Before he could vent his thoughts, however, Professor Snape turned back to pondering the dance floor before him.

“As I said, Draco, we Slytherins have an underserved reputation for darkness … but there are some things which are best done in the full light of day.” He paused, and looked up at the roof of the Great Hall. “Or in the light of the moon, as the case may be.”

Before Draco could respond, the music changed and Severus Snape excused himself, saying with a sigh, “I promised Professor Sprout a dance … although the song says it all for me.”

Draco stared at him, his brain half-listening to the opening bars of the song, and pondering over what he had just heard. And then the lyrics of the song swept into his mind, and he realized what his professor, mentor and friend was trying to tell him:

Must you dance every dance

With the same fortunate man?

You have danced with him since the music began

Won’t you change partners and dance with me?

* * *

She felt her feet flow with the music, her body swaying with the beat and she smiled at the way her partner smoothly followed her moves – aware, at the same time, that he was deftly maneuvering her so that he could keep tabs on Hermione as well as the Terrible Two. She smiled in hidden amusement at his protective nature … and moved comfortably in his arms, although her mind constantly went searching around the dance hall.

She sighed to herself. She knew that there was no way in the world that the person she really wanted to dance with would make himself known … Slytherin ‘cunning and ambition,’ she thought to herself, as she remembered their argument of a few weeks before.

Just another way of justifying cowardice, she’d said.

He had tried to defend himself then, but she’d cut him off … not wanting to bring their discussion into a level where she would have to completely cut him out of her life. They were dangerously close to that unspoken line they had established that first day when he had walked into her sanctum and listened to her records and danced with her.

They tacitly broke off that argument, both of them silently reverting to their pact: all that mattered was the shared companionship of the music and the dancing – everything else was extraneous and immaterial.

Who was she, anyway, to make him abandon his ambitions – whatever they were – but she had pointed out that ambition was nothing without the courage to achieve what one wanted.

And, most especially, to stand up for whatever one believed in.

Gryffindor recklessness, he’d said.

Slytherin spinelessness, she’d retorted.

She’d pondered her own thoughts when he left, carrying the records that she had given him. They were no real loss, in fact – extras of music that she already had, collected by her father who had always been fascinated with all things muggle but, endearingly, often going too far and not even aware that he already had those records from a previous sortie.

This song, for example.

Must you dance quite so close

With your lips touching his face?

Can’t you see I long to be in his place?

Won’t you change partners and dance with me?

For some reason, the song had stuck in her mind …well, why not, she thought to herself? She’d been singing the song in her head for years, for reasons that she well knew …

Ask him to sit this one out and while you’re alone

I’ll tell the waiter to tell him

He’s wanted on the telephone

She pressed her face into Harry’s chest as she snickered quietly to herself … now that, she thought would be something that he understood … typical Slytherin tactics: underhanded, devious, sneaky … rather than going right up to her and ask for a dance ... but then again, there is everything else that he has to consider – his father, his standing among the Slytherins … the history of their years at Hogwarts (from that first snubbing he received at Harry’s hands, to his calling her best friend a “Mudblood” …)

Too much to hope for, she realized. She’ll just have to make do with seeing him in the classroom and hear him singing the song …

“Mind if I cut in?”

She felt Harry freeze and she looked up in surprise … looked into pale blue eyes under silvery-blonde hair, and she felt herself go into the famed impersonation of a beached salmon – and knew that Harry was doing the same.

Draco Malfoy inclined his head towards the dance floor and said, in a soft, almost confiding voice, “Better rescue Granger, Potter … Longbottom’s been murdering her feet.”

Mentioning Hermione did the trick … before Harry could make a protest, Draco had swept Ginny in his arms and swung her on the floor --

“You’ve been locked in his arms

Ever since heaven knows when

Won’t you change partners and dance

You may never want to change partners again.”

Ginny felt her body move to the rhythms and steps of a well-remembered routine – her eyes were locked with Draco’s pale blues which were now shimmering with their own inner fire and there was nothing in her field of vision but those eyes … she did not see a steely-eyed Professor McGonagall staring down Ron and her two older brothers into immobility … failed to notice Professor Snape watching them with a wistful smile on his face … could not see Harry and Hermione dancing close to her, both of them watching Draco’s every move … never even sensed that Cindy and Carolyn had maneuvered their dance partners close by to lend support to Harry in case he had to hex the Draco in her arms …

She never even realized that Harry and Hermione, Cindy, Carolyn and their partners were close enough to hear Draco’s voice, because her field of hearing had closed off the sounds of the Great Hall, leaving her ears with the music of the song and Draco softly singing in her ear:

Won’t you change partners and dance with me?

You may never want to change partners again.

Additional Author’s Notes: Aside from Lils, I would also like to thank the following, whose chance chats with me provided inspiration in the making of this fic: blazefury, whose late-night chat with me once made me remember the song that became the inspiration for this story; Apolla, whose fondness for Dean Martin triggered an idea that became a central element to the plot; erin, my “alternate jailer,” for constantly reminding me of the things that are important; and nicole, just because.

The songs are: “Change Partners,” an Anton Carlos Jobim composition sung by Frank Sinatra; “That’s Amore,” sung by Dean Martin; “The Way You Look Tonight” which was rendered by Tony Bennett (and is part of the soundtrack of “My Best Friend’s Wedding”); “Unforgettable,” by the one and only Nat King Cole.