A/N:: I came up with this chapter after listening to "Dance With Me" from the Cheetah Girls 2 Soundtrack a few times too many. Yet another un-betaed chapter. This is the longest chapter I've written in a loooong time. So no complaints, ya' hear! Well, read and review, my dears! Without further ado, I proudly present----
Chapter 15
Dancing
"You're coming, and that's final," Ginny's voice resounds from my fireplace, "There's absolutely no way I'm dealing with all of Draco's stuffy, rich boy business associates by myself."
After a half hour's worth of arguing, my resistance to her pleas is wearing thin. Tonight, Draco is hosting a gala at his and Ginny's estate to honor yet another successful year of his company, Malfoy Enterprises, which coordinates and funds the research of magical medicine. Many big-time philanthropists have donated millions of galleons to his cause, eager to earn an invitation to what is possibly the biggest annual social event to hit the magical world. I've never attended the party, though I've had to strategically dodge Ginny's begging every year. This year, however, I don't have the energy to lie about a busy schedule or long-made plans.
"I don't have anything to wear..." my voice trails off.
"Nonsense. You'll wear something of mine! Just pop on over and we'll fix you right up!"
"Maybe later, Gin. I mean, I've got to finish some paperwork, and the flat is a mess..." I ramble, my last futile attempt at escape.
"Don't give me that bull, Granger. With all that's happened lately, I'm sure that house is spotless, and you're probably a week ahead at work."
I sigh in resignation. She's right, of course. When I get frustrated, angry, or downright sorrowful, I clean; fanatically. Before Ron and I broke things off, I was known to take my post-fight provocations out on the Prefects' Bath.
Ginny's victorious smile lights up her face, and she reaches out a hand to me.
"Well, budge up then."
Shaking my head, I take her hand and step into the flames.
*
"You can't honestly expect me to wear this," I say flatly, holding up the designer dress from Ginny's closet.
"Of course I can. It's not as if I can wear it right now, and it deserves a night out."
"Where's the rest of it?"
"What do you mean `the rest of it'? That's how it's supposed to look! You act as if it's completely tasteless!"
"Well, how do you think this is going to stay put? One slip, and I'll be in some serious trouble-"
"Magic, my dear. Sometimes I think you forget you're a witch."
"Oh," I reply stupidly. Magic. Of course.
"Here, let me help," she offers, taking the dress from my hands, her dress rustling around her ankles.
I train my eyes on her as she waves her wand over the seams. She looks exquisite. As usual, Draco has spared no expense. Her Greek-styled, off-the-shoulder ivory dress drapes over her in layers of sheer material, flowing gracefully over her swollen stomach. A satin, bone-colored ribbon weaves through her loosely plaited hair, highlighted by the fifteen-thousand galleon string of cultured pearls around her neck and the matching studs in her ears. Her white moccasin covered feet peak out from under her skirt. She wears no makeup, since it "just doesn't suit her complexion." But she looks amazing nonetheless.
"There you go!" she states proudly, holding the dress out to me and admiring her invisible handiwork, "Just step into it, so it won't mess up your hair. There's a rack you can hang your things on in the corner. I put your heels on the footstool. Don`t take too long; `tails start at eight."
She reaches for the door knob, stepping out into the hallway, but turns around at the last minute,
"Oh, Hermione--"
"Yeah?"
"That's a `no knickers' dress."
She smiles wickedly and shuts the door behind her.
The woman is positively evil.
Sighing heavily, I bring the dress behind a Chinese-type partition, shed my t-shirt and sweats, and slip into it. After that small feat is accomplished, I turn to Ginny's full length mirror to assess the damage.
The bodice of the dress fits like a second skin, the smooth black material conforming to every curve, cutting in sharply under my breasts. My right arm and shoulder are covered by the dress's only sleeve which clings to my arm until it flares slightly at my wrist. My other arm and shoulder arm bare, save for an elbow-length, black satin glove. The neckline slants down and to the left, then slopes directly toward the floor along my ribcage, stopping just above my hip to curve around my bum. The dress is completely backless, and I shiver slightly as a light breeze flits through the open window and around the room. The material splits just past my hipbones into multiple layers of sheer material. The top layer is the same black as the rest of the dress, but the bottommost layers are different shades of blue that flutter around my calves when I walk. With my hair spun into a complicated knot secured only with a rhinestone chopstick, I nod at my reflection. Not half bad.
Checking the time, I hurriedly plop onto the antique bench next to the door and slide into the four-inch high strappy sandals. The string of rhinestones that runs along the ankle strap exactly matches the ones that line the seams of the dress, and they sparkle in the low light, distracting me for a moment with their glittering facets.
"Hermione! C'mon!" Ginny's voice urges from the hallway, just outside the door.
"Coming!" I reply, slipping a teardrop diamond into each ear before opening the door and striding into the hall.
Draco stands next to Ginny, her arm tucked into his, and he lets out a low whistle.
"Nice legs, Granger."
My eyes dart downward in confusion to find that the panels of material in the dress's skirt split when I walk, revealing an ungodly amount of my leg, stopping about three inches below the tops of my thighs.
"Ginny!" I gasp, tugging at the material, "I can't wear this around all those people!"
"You can, and you will. You are Hermione Granger, the girl with a big brain. It's about time the world saw you as Hermione Granger, the girl with a nice rack."
"Ginny!"
"--and really nice legs," Malfoy interjects.
"Draco!" This exclamation comes from Ginny who eyes her husband with an openmouthed expression.
"Not anywhere as nice as your legs, love."
"They'd better not be," she mutters huffily, trying her best to look angry when he lays a soft kiss to her temple.
"Well, let's not keep our guests waiting."
"Your guests, Draco," Ginny replies, "After all the formal mumbo jumbo is over, Hermione and I are going to find a nice quiet corner and veg out on hors d'oeuvres, and leave the professional talk to you."
Draco simply smiles and pats his wife's hand, her wedding set gleaming obscenely atop her elbow-length gloves, with his white-gloved one as he leads her down the staircase to the ballroom.
"Coming, Granger?"
"Yeah, just give me a moment."
"Well don't dawdle..." Ginny's voice trails off as they venture downstairs.
After tugging on the dress for a solid minute, I realize that there is no way that it is going to get any less revealing.
Suck it up, Granger, a voice that sounds eerily like Malfoy sneers in my head.
Steeling my resolve, I lay my hand against the banister and descend, my heels tapping as they hit the stairs. Somewhere in the middle, the ballroom opens up before me, a sea of gowns and dress robes. My eyes scan the crowd looking for a familiar face among the Wizarding World's elite. A few of them nod or smile in greeting, recognizing me as a member of the Golden Trio. Others cast me lingering glances or ignore me all together.
I catch Ginny's eye near the center of the crowd, and she beams at me, shooting me a thumb up. I smile back, rolling my eyes at her antics, and continue my scan. Just before I reach the bottom, movement in the mostly empty seating area captures my attention. There, Danielle perches daintily on the edge of a footstool in front of a man in navy velvet robes. His blue-gray gloves rest on the arm of the couch he sits on, his hands in Danielle's hair, twining it into two braids. I freeze, relief and fear bombarding my muscles simultaneously. I'd recognize that hair anywhere.
I step onto the marble floor, seeking out Ginny's eyes. She shoots me a pointed look and turns away from me to have her hand kissed by a debonair looking old man with a precisely trimmed mustache.
My eyes lock back onto the sitting pair, reveling in the sight of him.
It's been an entire month. A month without a letter, a phone call, anything. A painful ache settles in my chest, and I want nothing more than to fling my arms around his neck and apologize for everything. But I know it won't be that easy. With Harry, nothing is ever that easy.
Harry secures the second braid with a baby blue ribbon, and Dani stands up, looking like a china doll in her delicate blue and white nightgown. Her matching slippers pad against the tile when she spots me.
"Aunt Minnie!"
Harry's head snaps up, and he stops in the middle of replacing his gloves.
"Aunt Minnie! Look! Uncle Harry braided my hair! Mummy let me come downstairs so he could do it. I got to stay up a whole hour after my bedtime! Don't tell Mummy, but she can't do it good like Uncle Harry. She never ties the bows right..." Dani rambles, carrying on the conversation all on her own.
"Miss Dani! You must be getting to bed now!" Tessie, the Malfoy's house elf bustles to the girl's side, taking her hand.
"Hello, Miss Granger. Tessie doesn't wish to be rude, but Miss Dani needs to be getting to bed."
"Of course. Have a good night Tessie. Sweet dreams, Dani."
"G'night, Aunt Minnie," Dani replies before being escorted back up the stairs to her room.
I turn my attention back to Harry, who is standing, his gaze lighting on anything but my eyes. I close the distance between us, and he doesn't move, just glances toward the dance floor.
"Harry," I get out, before I'm interrupted by the arrival of a pixie thin blonde, who slips her hands through Harry's arm.
"I'm sorry I took so long. The crowd is massive."
Her eyes find me, and a smile spreads across her face.
"Harry, aren't you going to introduce us?" she coos.
"Tori, this is Hermione Granger, possibly the most gifted Unspeakable to grace the ranks of the Ministry. Hermione, may I present Healer Victoria Carson. She was just accepted as St. Mungo's Chief of Staff."
"So you're the great Hermione Granger. Harry's told me so many stories," Victoria comments, resting a hand on Harry's bicep. Something inside me flares up, wanting to slap it away.
"Funny, I haven't heard any about you," I shoot back as sweetly as I can.
What the bloody hell is wrong with me?
My gaze falls on Harry, and for the first time tonight, our eyes meet.
"I need to talk to you," I say to him, "Alone, if you don't mind."
His voice and answer are formal.
"Maybe later, perhaps, when things start to wind down."
"Sounds perfect," I reply. I take care in making sure that my answer is as icy as possible before I spin around and head toward the bar.
*
As the evening progresses, Draco takes the time to acknowledge the more prominent members of wizarding society, along with their dates; Harry being among them. Why hadn't I known that Harry was one of the company's main benefactors?
After his speech, the crowd grew around the bar and on the dance floor, dancing to the live band. I dance with four different men during the slow waltz, including Draco. A few faster songs are played, but I sit those out, choosing instead to brood over an apple martini.
The current song ends to a smattering of applause, and the band leader holds his wand to his throat, magically magnifying his voice.
"Good evening, Ladies and Gents. Next for you, we're going to play a tango. Are there any volunteer dancers?"
Ginny smiles from her place on Draco's lap and exclaims, "Harry can tango."
A few of the single men knock Harry's shoulder, snickering.
"Yeah, Potter."
"Show 'em what you've got."
I shake my head at the scene. Harry took ballroom dancing lessons as a part of his physical therapy after the Final Battle. I helped him on a few occasions when he needed to practice at home.
Harry's eyes flick to Victoria, who waves her hand in dismissal.
"I have two left feet. I can barely walk across a stage flawlessly, much less tango."
"Aww, c'mon ladies! Someone here must know!" The band leader goaded the semi-drunken crowd.
"Budge up, Granger!" Draco's voice resounds.
"What?"
"You and Potter. Tango. We all know you can do it. So get up there and wow us."
The crowd seems to agree with their host, unfortunately, and within moments, I find myself in the middle of the dance floor with Harry's arm around my waist.
"What in the hell our we doing?" my voice bites, shooting a contemptuous glare at the Malfoy couple.
"Dancing, apparently," he replies, lacing the fingers of my right hand with those of his left.
The music starts. Deftly, we move across the floor, keeping perfect time with the drummers beat.
"Is she your girlfriend?" I murmur, at one point when his cheek is resting against my temple.
"You know she isn't."
"How would I know? You haven't exactly been around for me to ask."
He spins me out, whipping me back so sharply that his chest slams against mine.
"I've been staying at her place."
"Oh, and I suppose nothing has happened between the two of you. She thought she'd just be a good samaritan and take in the great Harry Potter, with the complete absence of ulterior motives." Sarcasm coats my voice.
"Why are you so jealous?"
My leg hooks around his hip as he dips me backward, my back bending almost in half before I roll back up.
"I am not jealous."
"Yes you are. That's why you've been glaring daggers at her all night."
"I have not--"
"Why won't you just admit that you feel something for me beyond friendship?"
His voice lowers with suppressed annoyance as we cross the floor, our feet a blur of complicated footwork.
"I will if you come home."
The bargain slips from my lips before I realize it. Harry's hands maneuver me so that my back is against his chest. The song must be close to its end. We start to move again, our steps more precise than before, slowing down with the music.
"Deal," he whispers, his lips brushing against my ear. I close my eyes as heat zings through my body at the contact.
Applause brings me crashing back to reality, and Harry releases me.
People flood onto the dance floor, patting Harry heartily on the back.
"Didn't know you had it in you, Potter."
Women bombard me with comments.
"How intense."
"So romantic."
"Where did you learn that?"
But I don't answer any of them. I'm too distracted by the knowing smile on Ginny's face.
-->