Lighter Steps Than These

The evening before the Masquerade found Ginny sitting, comfortably curled up in her bed, drawing an Arithmancy chart on a large piece of parchment.

Unfortunately, Liatris soon stormed into the peaceful room with another room mate, Ascella, trailing behind.

"Ginny, what are you doing?" Liatris sounded exasperated.

"My Arithmancy homework." Ginny answered distractedly, biting the tip of her quill as she tried to puzzle out the charts in front of her. She didn't even look up.

"But you promised that you'd go to the Masquerade! You're not backing out, are you?" Liatris narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"Oh, for goodness sake. It's not for another two and a half hours!" Ginny avoided the direct question as she put down her quill, not too reluctantly, as it was a difficult assignment. She glanced up at the two girls in front of her, and had to stifle a giggle at what she saw.

They had clearly both been in the bathrooms. Ascella's dark hair was now dark green with some sort of pink powder sprinkled through; it looked like some sort of anti-frizz potion mixed with a curling potion. She was wearing nothing but a slightly stained towel that seemed to be held in place by some sort of charm. Her eyelashes were longer than usual, and she had used some sort of face softening potion earlier, but she hadn't yet used any makeup charms. Liatris's hair was completely covered by an old rag, though tiny beads of some potion-- it appeared to be Sleakeazy's Hair Potion-- was dripping down her forehead. She was dressed in old Muggle clothes that usually she wouldn't be caught dead in-- an old, stained, ripped pair of jeans and a large, grey shirt.

It was Ascella who answered. "Lots of beauty potions take a long time to work! You have to start getting ready early. Come on." She grabbed Ginny's arm to haul her out of bed.

"It's not like I've never attended a dance," Ginny pointed out, pulling her arm away from Ascella. She was feeling more than a little put-out. "I've always looked just fine, thank you, and it only takes me an hour to get ready. Besides, this is a masquerade. Why do you need makeup? Isn't the point that you have a mask on?"

"Ginny, I know for a fact that last Valentine's ball you spent two hours getting ready," Liatris was quick to point out.

Putting aside for the moment exactly why Liatris remembered how long it took her to get ready for a dance more than eight months ago, Ginny answered, "Well, I wasn't wearing a mask then, was I? Anyway, I had someone to impress."

Ascella and Liatris shared a look with each other.

"Ginny, you aren't usually this thick," Liatris was halfway between amused and exasperated. "You were dating Dean. You don't have to impress guys you're dating. You have to impress the ones you aren't-- yet. What's up with you?"

Ginny took her Arithmancy homework and placed it on the bed next to her and then, still trying to find something to do other than talk, leaned over to put the quill back in the inkwell. Soon there was no more fidgeting she could do, and she found no course of action besides to reply.

"Everything's just... different this year." There was no other way to put it. Liatris and Ascella both knew what Ginny was talking about-- everybody was feeling the strain of the impending war. Hogwarts had never been so tense and explosive in all the years Ginny had been there, and it was far from boring most years. The two girls standing above Ginny nodded sympathetically.

Liatris changed tactics, placing a hand comfortingly on Ginny's shoulder. "We know. But having a little bit of fun can only help, you know? I'm sure you'll feel better after going to the dance. Much better than if you did homework all night while everyone else was having fun."

Ascella nodded encouragingly.

"You know how much dances always drive me crazy," Ginny pointed out. "I've taken so many dance classes, I hate that clumsy shuffling that most students call dancing."

"You always seem to have a good time anyway," Ascella pointed out quietly.

"Yeah," agreed Liatris, squeezing Ginny's shoulder. "You complain like all hell, but you always seem to be smiling and happy through them, anyway. Come on, you promised. Besides, you could meet your true love there or something. Think of what you might be missing by not going."

Much as she doubted that anything spectacular might happen at the Halloween Masquerade, Ginny had to admit that they had a point. Shaking her head bemusedly, she crawled out of her bed. "I surrender myself to your mercy, then," she quipped, trying to sound cheerful. "Do what you will with me."

"Ooh, dirty." Liatris waggled her eyebrows, and Ginny thumped her arm. "Ow! Just for that, I'm going to make you wear some of that skin-softening potion."

"But that stuff burns," Ginny whined good naturedly.

"Should have thought of that before you hit the woman you surrendered yourself to, then, shouldn't you?"

Later, of course, Ginny would look back on that night and wonder what course her life would have taken if she had declined to go, if she had decided to have a cozy evening by herself catching up on work, curling up by the fire with a cup of cocoa. It is impossible to know exactly how one's life might go with only the tiniest difference; yet Ginny would try, again and again, to figure out what might have been.

But the facts cannot be changed, and Ginny would never know what would happen if she had not gone to the Masquerade.

* * *

Ginny entered the Great Hall a little early; only a few people had arrived yet. As predicted, she had finished with her preparations quickly, and had grown tired of sitting in the Common Room, trying not to muss her nice robes, and so she'd come down to the transformed Great Hall. There was no band playing tonight, though Dumbledore had rigged some sort of device for playing music. Ginny idly wondered if she could ask him for regular use of such a device.

She thought that she looked rather nice. She wasn't dressed as anything in particular, decked out in a very Gryffindor red-and-gold gown and a half-sun golden mask covering half of her face. Her red hair was lightly curled and piled on top of her head, a few tendrils framing her face.

Ginny looked around at the others already in the Hall. Almost everybody seemed to be dressed in his or her house colours, even more so than usual at Hogwarts Balls. She supposed that it was because they all wanted to be sure that they at least knew the House of their masked companions.

As she stood at a wall, waiting for more people to arrive, Ginny pondered why Dumbledore didn't cast a charm of some sort to prevent everybody from recognizing each other at all. Of course, to be unable to figure out who someone was after you'd seen them getting dressed in your Common room would be very disconcerting; such deception might even be classed Dark magic.

More students filed in as she was thinking, and pretty soon the lights dimmed and the music started up. Ginny relaxed against the wall as the guys who had come without dates awkwardly came up to girls and asked them to dance, while the dates fell into an uneasy shuffle.

To Ginny's surprise, Harry came up to her as the second song started and asked her to dance. Having nothing else to do and not fancying spending the entire night on the wall, she agreed readily enough to sharing a dance with him.

Ginny found that she actually didn't like dancing with Harry, but she grinned and bore it.

It wasn't that she didn't like Harry. She indeed liked him quite a lot and thought she could consider him a good friend if only he would see her as an equal. No, what Ginny didn't like was exactly what she'd been complaining about to Liatris and Ascella earlier. Like all other boys at Hogwarts, Harry. Couldn't. Dance.

Okay, so he wasn't as bad as Neville. He didn't step on Ginny's feet all the time, making her wince. But still, all he did was just shuffle around!

Did nobody know how to ballroom dance anymore?

Ginny sighed. She already knew from experience that no, they didn't. Nobody seemed to know how. She ached to exert herself, to throw herself into the music, to be so lost in the steps that time scarcely seemed to pass and in the same moment whizzed by as though it didn't exist at all. The heartbeat, the exhilaration, the connection one can only experience with a dance partner-- she yearned for these things so much more here at the Balls, when it was so near yet just out of her grasp.

But alas, the only place she could have an enjoyable partner dance was in dance class. There weren't any of those at Hogwarts, Ginny thought huffily. If there were, she might appreciate these balls more.

Ginny didn't usually think about dancing much besides during the summer holidays. Not much occasion for thinking about dancing at Hogwarts, really, besides the Dances. It was pretty difficult to play music inside of the castle, and it was pointless to practice without any music. She found that it was easier all around to just forget about dancing entirely though the school year.

For some reason, though, it was bugging her particularly tonight. Probably because dancing would have been a great release for all of the horrible feelings she'd had lately.

The song ended, and Ginny smiled at Harry. "I'm going to rest from dancing a while," she told him. "Do you want any punch or anything?"

Harry turned down her offer, and Ginny tried not to look too relieved to stop dancing with him.

Of course she didn't actually need a rest from dancing. Shuffling her feet around was not going to make her tired. She needed a rest from the frustration of enjoying the music, and wanting to dance all-out to it, but not having a partner who was anywhere near adequate.

Ginny pushed her way through the writhing crowd. Does nobody know what energy is anymore? she asked herself irritably. Unfortunately, being at the dance was doing nothing to make her more cheerful, as Liatris had thought it would.

Ginny ladled herself some red punch and stood there, watching everyone around her shuffle around.

She let the music run through her. They were playing mostly wizarding music-- this particular song was by The Enchancelles-- though thanks to some lobbying from muggleborns and Dumbledore's desire for integration, there were a few random scatterings of Muggle songs. This particular song was a sort of tango-ish rock.

Almost unconsciously, Ginny raised her hands to the one that would rest on her partner's shoulder and the one that would hold her partner's hand. She did a simple tango by herself, adding a little bit of a rock twist to it.

The moment passed, and Ginny realized that she must look very silly dancing by herself. She opened her eyes and looked around, but she could notice nobody staring at her. She reluctantly dropped her arms and picked up her cup, taking another sip of the too-sweet punch.

That song ended, and another one came on. It was the perfect song for a good ballroom dance, and Ginny sighed at the waste.

Just then, as though Providence had intervened, there was a tap on Ginny's shoulder. She turned around reluctantly, sure she'd be asked to "dance" to this song with one of her friends. To her surprise a boy, who was most assuredly not one of her friends, with blonde hair wearing green and black robes was standing in front of her.

"Yes?" asked Ginny warily, trying to get on her guard. It looked like... in fact it looked exactly like... it was clearly... but why would he be talking to her? Unless it was to make fun of her. She stood her ground and drew herself up, bracing herself for the mocking, cruel words she knew were about to follow.

To her surprise, he did nothing of the sort, but instead gallantly bowed to her. "Would you like to dance?" he asked cordially. "I saw you practice and thought that you might enjoy a partner."

Draco Malfoy was asking her to dance? Ginny opened her mouth to refuse, when something behind Malfoy, a little to her left, caught her eye. The dark hair, dark skin, dark eyes behind the Gryffindor golden mask. She only glanced over for a moment, but her stomach gave a bitter twist when she saw Dean dancing closely and laughing with a dark haired girl in Ravenclaw colours. His friends clearly didn't need to drag him to the dance. He clearly had no thought in his head for the girl who so recently he had claimed he'd loved.

"Yes, I'd love to dance," Ginny dimly heard her own voice say. Immediately she regretted the decision. His friends must have dared him to do it, or bet him, so they could play some kind of horrible trick on her. Everyone would laugh at her. Dean and that damned Ravenclaw would laugh at her. Ginny opened her mouth to announce that she'd changed her mind and to tell him to get lost, but it was too late. He had already grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the drink table. Then he turned to her, put his other hand on her waist, and paused for just a moment.

At the next measure of music, he stepped forward. Ginny stepped back. They swivelled. He lifted his hand. She twirled. She grinned with delight; not only did he know how to dance passably, he knew how to lead correctly! He knew the hand signals for each move!

She looked into his eyes and saw similar pleasure at her own ability to follow correctly, which is even rarer than ability to lead. All bitter thoughts of old relationships flew from Ginny's mind as she let herself get lost in the motion and the music. They twirled, they grapevined, they made their way around the room with their elegant dance.

"Where did you learn to dance like that?" she asked when the song ended, slightly out of breath but very happy. She was praying he'd ask her to dance again; that was the most fun she'd had all year. Far from the annoyance she'd felt a mere few minutes before, she was now elated, giddy.

"Everyone in my family learns to dance; it's a matter of class," he told her haughtily. Ginny's mood immediately sunk, quicker than it had risen.

Just when she'd really started having fun, he had to remind her. Ginny couldn't believe that she'd just had the best time of her whole year with Draco Malfoy. I should stop talking to him now and leave, she told herself. Well, come on then, turn around.

She didn't.

"How about yourself?" Malfoy asked her. "How did you learn to dance so well?"

The fact that Malfoy had just complimented her did not go unnoticed. The next song came on.

"I took a lot of dance classes," she told him. "I really love dancing. I know all sorts of types." She found herself echoing his haughty tone, ever so slightly. She paused, listening to the first opening bars of the next song. It was familiar, and quite good in Ginny's opinion, but not one that they could ballroom dance to. "Do you? Because I'd love to dance more, but this isn't exactly tango or waltz music." She smirked at him, daring, challenging.

As a response, Malfoy grinned, pressed up against her, and stepped forward again, his whole body against Ginny's. Ginny stepped back, turned a pivot, and pressed her back against his. She stepped back, then to the side, Malfoy following her every movement with his. Then he grabbed her from behind, lifted her up, and turned her back around, letting her down slowly as he pressed her body against his.

Ginny laughed and ran backwards from him, then ran towards him in turn. He easily lifted her up above his head, then dropped her down into his arms, and dropped her back down again. The Gryffindor girl was suddenly stunned that she'd just trusted one of her family's enemies with such a manoeuvre. Usually she could only do high-risk moves like that with someone she knew well, and here she was, putting her life in Malfoy's hands.

I told you,

the negative part of Ginny exclaimed as she was above Malfoy's head. Dancing with him was a bad idea.

But it worked out fine; he pulled off the manoeuvre perfectly. They were dancing again, spicing up the music, Malfoy lifting Ginny and the two of them, their bodies seeming to move in one fluid motion together, backwards, forwards, side to side, down, up...

The song ended, and everybody clapped.

It took a second to register. Wait-- clapping?!

The world abruptly became real and harsh again. Ginny looked around in surprise to find that everybody had been watching Malfoy and her. She blushed and looked over at her partner. She'd been so wrapped up in dancing with a good partner for the first time in months that she hadn't noticed what everybody else had been doing.

Unfortunately, everyone watching meant Ron watching, too, as he shortly made clear.

"How dare you take advantage of my sister!" his voice bellowed as he pushed his way through the onlookers and moved towards the two dance partners. Unfortunately for him, Hermione had made him dress up as a character from Shakespeare. Ron in Tights was far from formidable. His face was bright red, veins bulging in his head; but his breeches showed quite clearly another bulge, and they fit closely against his legs. His shirt had lace on it; enough said.

Malfoy and Ginny glanced at each other. Maybe they were still exhilarated from the dance. Maybe they were too tired and light headed to remember that they were enemies. Either way, at the same time, they began to laugh. Not just a snicker, but a nice hearty laugh, holding onto each other for support-- which did nothing to ease Ron's temper.

"GET THE HELL OFF OF MY SISTER, MALFOY!" he bellowed, face becoming redder, if such a thing were possible. He advanced on the pair. Ginny straightened and stared at Malfoy with a dazed look. She blinked as she saw Ron grab Malfoy.

"Ron, don't worry!" Ginny hastened to cry out, pushing him away. "I'm fine. We were dancing."

Hermione hurried after Ron and helped Ginny pull him back. "Don't," Hermione hissed in his ear.

"You were... dancing with him?" Ron sounded disgusted. "Willingly?"

"Yes," asserted Ginny, trying not to glance over at Malfoy to see how he was reacting. "We were just dancing. That's what people do at Masquerades."

Ron's face was still red, but Hermione squeezed his arm warningly, and Ron sagged. "Well, if you're sure..." trailing off and looking as though he hoped that Ginny would suddenly change her mind and give him leave to attack Malfoy.

Ginny nodded decisively. "Everything is fine," she said, briefly glaring at Malfoy, who had neglected to say or do anything through the whole ordeal.

He smirked back at her, looking amused.

Ginny realized that there were still many students watching the scene in interest. She spared one last glance of disgust at Malfoy, an apologetic shrug at Ron, and backed her way out of the Great Hall. She had no idea how she was going to explain this to him in the morning, but she thought that she'd quite fulfilled her promise to Liatris. An early night sounded even more appealing than before.