'Ginny, who else?' said Hermione, eminently practical. She sighed then, and brushed an errant brown curl off her face.
'Where's Harry?' said Draco.
Hermione rolled her eyes. 'Dancing with Cho.'
'Hostile takeover?'
'No, I think she means well,' said Hermione, and shrugged.
'Anyway, I'm sure he'll get away as soon as he can. Draco — I wanted to tell you something.'
'What?'
In answer, she cocked her finger like a pistol, and poked it hard into his clavicle. 'Ginny-does-not-like- Aidan-Lynch,' she said, enunciating each word clearly. 'She is trying to annoy you. You are a very jealous person even if you don't like to admit it, and she is a very stubborn person, and for goodness' sake just go ask her to dance, or we will all gang up on you and dye your hair bright yellow, and you will have to start seventh year looking like a daffodil and you won't like that.'
Draco cocked his head. 'Creative,' he said.
'Shut up, Malfoy.'
'Ginny and I don't get along together,' said Draco.
'You get along worse apart,' said Hermione. She reached up and patted his cheek, and he saw the momentary flash of darkness in her eyes that meant that this wasn't easy for her, either. 'Just go and do it,' she said, and walked away.
Draco turned around, and found himself facing Ginny and Aidan, who were swaying in time to the music. This was probably not coincidental, he mused, and probably why Hermione had made herself scarce. He stood for a moment, shoring up his confidence. It didn't take long- there was that to be said for being naturally arrogant.
He stepped forward, and tapped Aidan on the shoulder. 'I'd like,' he said evenly, 'to cut in.'
Aidan looked surprised. Ginny looked even more surprised. She did not, however, look displeased. Draco ignored whatever it was that Aidan muttered as he relinquished his place, stepping forward and putting his own arms around Ginny, resting his hands neatly on her waist, feeling the warmth of her against his chest. He looked down into her face, which was flushed from dancing, her eyes alight. Her hair, the color of firelight seen through a glass of red wine, spilled down over her shoulders, threaded through with strands of reflected gold. She had never looked prettier. Even if it didn?t work out with Ginny, he mused, he had a feeling he was at risk of developing a lifelong partiality for redheads.
After a long pause, she smiled at him. 'I saw you dancing.'
'Yes. Thank you for bringing that up.'
'I don?t see why it bothers you so much. You dance well — really well. Look at Harry — he kept landing on Hermiones feet.'
'Hermione,' said Draco, 'would not mind if Harry stood on her feet all evening.'
'And would you mind,' she sad against his ear, 'if I stood on your feet all evening?'
'I'm afraid not,' he said.
Ginnys mouth widened into a smile; he felt it against his neck.
'And why is that?'
'Its the red hair,' said Draco. 'I seem to be defenseless against it.'
'I think Rons available for dancing,' Ginny said. 'If red hair is what you?re after.'
I'm afraid Ron's gone off with that French tart,' replied Draco equably. 'You'll have to do.'
Ginny pulled back a little, looking up into his face with her eyes wide and luminous with mischief. They had stopped dancing now, and he felt that heat, that thickening in his blood that always seemed to happen when she looked at him like this. 'I'll have to do what?' she said.
'This,' said Draco, and bent to kiss her.
But his lips only just brushed hers, sending a shower of sparks through his nerves, when a hand reached out and tapped Draco firmly on the shoulder. Pulling back, he straightened up and whirled around, ready to snap at the interloper, whoever he might be.
But it was a she. Before him stood a slender young woman with long black hair that spilled over her bare shoulders and the extremely low-cut bodice of her ruby-red gown. It was gathered it at her narrow waist with a thick gold chain that rode low over her hips, each link of which was a tiny golden poppy holding a ruby in its center. 'Hallo, Draco,' she said. 'Do you remember me?'
Draco goggled at her. He wanted to snap at her, but there was something about her demeanor that held him back. She looked oddly familiar, and yet he couldn?t place her at all. 'Who are you?'
he demanded, knowing he sounded impolite, but then it had been rather impolite of this witch to interrupt an obviously private moment.
'I'm Rhysenn Malfoy,' she said, a smile teasing the corner of her red-painted mouth. 'Your cousin.'
Draco narrowed his eyes. 'You're from the Singapore branch of the family, aren't you,' he said, recalling that the gold-and-ruby poppies had been the symbol adopted by those Malfoys who had moved east into Singapore in the 1800's to make a killing by exporting illegal Chinese Fireball dragon's blood.
'You do remember me,' she breathed. 'Would you like to dance?'
Draco felt Ginny tense in his arms. 'I?m already committed for this dance,' he said. 'As should be obvious.'
Rhysenns smile widened. 'Oh no,' she said, and held out a slender hand. 'I don?t think you are.'
