I Learned Your Pulse

"You could be the one to discover it."

And then his voice was whispering words to hers, his silver orbs meeting her chocolate ones, his steps more fluid, more in touch with the dance. "I thought you were just as guilty as he was," he murmured to her. She opened her mouth to give a smooth retort, but the time had come for her to spin. she did, her hair coming out of its plait and curling and twisting in the air around her. As soon as they were once again moving as one, she replied:-

"Not quite as guilty, as he slept with her because he wanted to and I kissed you to save our lives."

Draco nodded thoughtfully. "Fair enough."

MCGonagall seemed satisfied, if only somewhat, with their dancing, and forced more couples to dance together; Harry and Ginny were first, then Neville and Luna, and then Liccy and Blaise. As for Hermione and Draco,they continued to awkwardly shuffle, and Hermione gave up the silence for good. "Why aren't you asking anybody to the ball?"

He wasn't phased in the slightest. "Theo tell you?"

"Yes."

"I'm not going."

"What?" it was Hermione's turn to yelp. People gave her odd looks, but she was focused on Draco. "Why not?"

He shrugged. "I take no interest in dancing with anybody."

"But you're Head Boy!" she exclaimed. "You have to go!"

He shook his head. "It's not mandatory."

"I'm sure Astoria would go with you," said Hermione. "You're friends, right?"

"We are," he said, a sudden bitterness in his voice, "but just friends. That's all."

"Well all you have to be is friends to get a date," she said, exasperated.

He shook his head. "I don't want just anybody for a date," he said.

Hermione was struck by such sudden inspiration she couldn't stop the words. "Why not go with me?"

Draco stopped shuffling entirely. "What?" he said incredulously.

"Think about it!" she said, embarrassed but sure she was right. "You're Head Boy, I'm Head Girl, I won't make you dance and you won't make me sit out. We'd both have a good night and we wouldn't have to go alone."

He still looked at her as though she was mental, but she saw a flash of understanding flit through his steel-coloured eyes. "Why should I go with you?"

"Why shouldn't you?"

"You hate me."

She leaned forward. "If I had hated you, I'd have cast the Patronus myself."

He paled. "I don't want to go," he said. "Why not go with Weasel?"

"He hasn't asked me."

"He will."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Not if I go with you."

"I told you, I don't want to go."

"Then why are you here?" she challenged.

He had no answer. He opened his mouth to answer; Hermione waited, but she got nothing. "McGonagall made me," he lied. But Hermione knew better; if he wasn't going and truly didn't want to go, he wouldn't have come. He was harboring a secret desire he himself might not even have been aware of at the time, but Hermione was going to make a friend of him yet - she'd befriended every other Slytherin and wasn't failing now.

"Just come with me," she said. "Not romantically, not even friendly, if you don't like that, but as Head Girl and Boy."

He made a sour face, but his eyes were smiling. "Fine, if you won't let it go," he muttered.