Beautiful Disaster

He had such a pure look about him: white-blond hair, pale skin, and grey-blue eyes. He always managed to look as clean as water, to glow in a way that rivaled the moon itself. Ginny was attracted like a moth to a flame; she knew that if she got any closer he would burn her, yet his brilliance blinded all reason.

He was damaged. Everything inside him seemed to be twisted, warped into something far too sinister for someone who looks as angelic as he. He was a devil in disguise. She knew it, and she kept watching.

He was graceful. His motions were seamless as he danced. She wondered what it would feel like if those slender hands of his were on her waist, instead of the tart he was dancing with. He leaned down and brushed his lips against the shell of his partner's ear; earning a high-pitched, scandalized giggle from the dancer, and a brilliant blush from the girl who was watching him from across the Great Hall.

Every nod of his head, every curve of his lips, every blink of those long blond eyelashes of his entranced her. Her eyelids lowered slightly as she watched him; a strange sense of calm rolled over her in waves. He was hypnotic, intoxicating. She felt as if she were drugged when she watched him.

He was such a bad, bad boy. As Slytherin as they come. It was so deliciously dangerous, this obsession of hers.

His dance partner was leading him to the punch bowl, though he looked as if he'd rather keep dancing. He was constantly in motion, as if standing still for the slightest moment would throw his world off balance. She liked that about him; all the other boys were so boring.

Suddenly, he looked her way; or rather, at the girl sitting beside her. He walked over to the pretty Ravenclaw; his movements were slow and measure, panther-like and calculated. He said something to the girl, using the same velvety tone he used with all girls. Ginny recorded it in her mind, to play back when he was gone next year. Ginny watched in surprise as the girl turned him down with a forced smile. He scowled and shoved his hands into the pockets of his charcoal-colored trousers; somehow, he still managed to look every bit appealing.

"I'll dance with you." The words tumbled from her mouth before she could stop them. Ginny cursed her voice for wavering and her skin for flushing when he finally looked at her, as if he had just noticed she was there. She felt like crawling under the table as he gave her a slow, amused smirk. That infernal smirk of his seemed to raise her body temperature more than it should have. The Ravenclaw that had just turned him down gave Ginny a disappointed frown, and left the table to join a group of girls from her own house.

"Ah, so Raggedy Anne wants to come out to play?" he sneered, leaning down so he was eye to eye with her. Ginny blinked to keep from searching his hardened gaze; she knew too well what she would find if she looked hard enough. He gave her a wolfish grin, his eyes holding a gleam that could on be described as predatory. "Well, I'm game. Let's see what you've got, dolly," he said, offering her a hand up. Ginny took it, proud of herself for not trembling when their skin made contact.

She felt him place his hand on her lower back; guiding her through the crowd on the dance floor. The sheer warmth of it surprised her so much she nearly tripped. Goosebumps rose on her arms when he whispered into her ear. "Nearly there."

He had maneuvered them so that they were in the middle of the dance floor, the focus of everyone's attention. Panicking, Ginny tried to remember why in Merlin's name she had suggested they dance in the first place. Everyone was looking at them. Ron, Hermione, Luna, and even Harry. Though, the reason was clear enough. It was unusual enough for a Slytherin and Gryffindor to dance with each other, but add on the fact that they were a Malfoy and a Weasley, and it was clear why they were such a spectacle.

She was brought back to the moment when she felt his slender fingers pressing into the small of her back, his arms resting against her waist.

"I say we give them something to look at, eh, Ginger?" he whispered, his lips grazing her ear. He laughed when he felt her tremble; she closed her eyes, pressing her face into his chest. She just wanted to disappear; the whole situation was utterly mortifying. Yet, he was so damn warm and smelt so nice.

It was complete torture, and Ginny decided she rather enjoyed torturing herself. Slow, sweet, delicious torture.

"You're a good girl, aren't you?" he practically growled as he pulled her flush against him, "you're a good little dolly." He was massaging the small of her back, one of his hands traveling to her hip. She bit back the whimper rising in her throat; afraid that it would shatter the fragile bubble they seemed to be in, afraid the world would come rushing in. A world that was now being strangely silent as it stared.

She let her hands rest on his shoulders, her face still nuzzled into his chest. She didn't want to look up and see the glares, frowns, or whatever disapproving looks they were receiving. She just wanted to drink up the feel of him, let herself melt against him. She was aware that this dance was probably going to be the only moment she'd have with him, and she was going to savor it.

She played with the hair at the nape of his neck; recording its texture, imprinting each strand on the pad of her fingers. She traced his jaw line, mapping out the sharp, angled features she had once thought pointy and unattractive. Her head rested on his chest, listening to a heartbeat she'd never thought truly existed. His mouth was right above her ear, his breathing tickling the little hairs there. He had become silent; it was almost unnerving.

He had started the dance as a challenge, a game, and a way to shock people. Somehow she had changed it. Neither of them spoke; her not having the breath, he not having the words.

In that short span of minutes, everything shifted. From then on their feelings were changed, and there was no turning back time to make them as they once were. What had not been spoken lingered in the air, like a heavy chain that bound them together. She could no longer look at him and wonder if he had a heart. It was beating right beneath her ear, and his breathing was echoing in her ear. He was human, though more damaged than most.

The song ended and his hands dropped to his sides slowly, brushing her arms as they did so. She closed her eyes for a moment before stepping away and reopening them. He was looking at her with eyes so empty that they made her stomach clench to feel them on her. He said nothing, and acted as if he were going to walk away; she felt as if a bludger had knocked her in the gut.

In her second spontaneous decision of the night, Ginny grabbed his hand to stop him. She placed her other hand on his shoulder, and used it as leverage to reach his face.

She pressed her lips against his in a kiss that reflected all of the innocence she had left, and all of the innocence he had lost.

"I am a good girl," she agreed as she stepped away. He looked down at her one last time, and squeezed her hand before releasing it.

"Stay that way, yeah?" Draco muttered before walking away.