I Learned Your Pulse

"Alright," said McGonagall, "As all of you undoubtedly know, the Yule Ball is a Triwizard Tournament tradition, where the Champions -"she nodded to Hermione "- dance the first dance with their partners. You all have to act classy, intelligent and not like a bunch of bumbling, bambling, babbling baboons."

"Say that five times fast," Harry whispered to Ron.

McGonagall unfortunately heard him and quelled him with a look. "Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy, come here please," she said.

"What?" Draco yelped from the other side of the room.

She gave him a look this time. "Come dance with the Head Girl, Mr. Malfoy. You are Head Boy and will make a good impression.

"But -" he sputtered.

"Mr. Malfoy," she warned.

Hermione rose and moved to the left of Mcgonagall, everyone watching. Reluctantly, Draco walked sullenly to her right.

"Well, take her waist," said McGonagall, not at all patient.

"What?" he yelped again.

"Mr. Malfoy!" she was slightly put out.

Draco immediately reached out to take her waist, but fluttered his hands about, unsure of where to place them. Sighing, Hermione took them and firmly placed them on her hips, putting one arm linked through his and clasping his hand with her other one. He was cold again. Was he cold-blooded, or could he not get warm? She looked at his face, studying it, but other than it being red, he showed no emotion other than irritation. Exactly what every person wants to see after their first kiss with a person, she thought. But then, she didn't like Draco like that and had only kissed him to save their lives, though she knew she could have cast a Patronus herself and wondered if he had feelings for her or if her kissing was just that awesome (she hoped it was the latter) to give him a good enough memory to cast one himself.

"Now," said Mcgonagall, "step, step-kick, step - no, Mr. Malfoy, like this -"

And she demonstrated, walking a step, doing a funny-looking flick with her ankle and motioning for them to try. Hermione could do it; Draco either couldn't, or was really good at tripping over his own feet.

There was a sigh amongst the laughter, and Neville spoke up. "I'll dance with her," he volunteered, sounding dismayed by Draco's lack of dancing skills. Draco himself had turned an even brighter red and had leapt to his feet.

"Thank you, Mr. Longbottom, but we already know you can dance, and you need no practice," said McGonagall briskly. Neville looked both pleased and disappointed and sent her a glance that said 'I tried'. She smiled at him for his attempt to help, and let Draco take her waist again loosely - much too losely. His hands would slide right off the moment they started dancing. But Hermione was not about to argue that.

McGonagall had different ideas, and placed her hands over Draco's firmly, making them grip Hermione's waist with a comfortable strength, not too strong it hurt, but not so soft his hands would slip. Though it was helpful, it was also extremely embarrassing, and Draco's face looked permanently scarlet.

It took a good six more tries before Draco and Hermione could move on to the next step, and then things moved more smoothly. He really wasn't awkward when it came to dancing at all; simply unwilling. It was a very smooth dance, the Laendler, and his feet knew automatically how to move - however, he remained stiff and formal, not looking at her, never letting the graceful music or steps distract him. People watched, but soon got bored, and began to talk to those around them. With the curious eyes averted, Draco relaxed some. Though Mcgonagall kept showing them the steps, it was unnecessary - Hermione knew the dance, and though he'd never admit it, Hermione was pretty sure Draco did too. After a while, her voice becam the background.