"Bloody Hell! She's a just a dirt-poor, Muggle-loving fool like the rest of her family!" he argued with himself for perhaps the hundredth time that evening alone. "So why do you find yourself so drawn to her, unable to keep your eyes off of her?" whispered back the other part of himself.



Ah, that was a question he had asked himself numerous times over the past few months. And when he was honest with himself, he knew the answer. Over the past couple of years, the shy, slip of a girl had blossomed, and in more ways than one. No longer was she the meek child that had arrived at Hogwarts, standing in the shadows of her brothers. No, she had come into her own. She moved with a grace and confidence that belied her lower-class upbringing. She had filled out, the lingering baby-fat shifting to give promise of the woman she would soon be. Her hair, not the brassy, harsh red of her brothers, had darkened a bit to almost the rich colour of cherry wood, and shone like spun silk. I wonder if it feels like silk? he wondered, before he caught himself.



Watching her now from across the Great Hall, he found himself drawn to her, yet again. He was somewhat surprised when he found himself standing in front of her, and was glad, again, for the masks they were wearing for the ball. Ah, well, he was here now, and he'd be damned if he was going to waste such a perfect opportunity, especially one that presented itself so perfectly.



With a slight bow, he held out his hand. "A dance?"




Wide, brown eyes flew to his face, hoping to spot a hint of a recognizable feature in the parts not covered by the mask. All she was able to discern was that the speaker had amazingly beautiful, captivating, silvery-blue eyes that were only enhanced by the silken black and silver mask he wore. His hair was fully concealed beneath hood of the matching robe he wore. She was thankful, for not the first time that evening, that she had let Hermione talk her into letting her transfigure her own rather dowdy dress robes and mask into the shimmering emerald ones she now wore.



Slowly, drawing in a shaky breath, she rose to her feet. "Alright," she replied, giving a slight curtsey, as propriety called for.




Inexplicably, his heart gave a lurch, and he let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding as she took his hand and led her to the dance floor. Taking her in his arms, they started to slowly move to the music. To say he was stunned at the utter feeling of contentment, the rightness, of holding her in his arms, would be a grave understatement.



Neither spoke as they danced. Looking down into her eyes, he found himself lost in their depths. Had those specks of golden always been there, only to be enhanced by the shimmering emerald now surrounding them? She was looking back at him with such a bemused expression on her face that it was clear that she could not fathom with whom it was she was now dancing.



Ah, this was too rich. Taking advantage of the situation - that was his nature, after all - he leaned down and brought their lips together for the briefest of moments as the song came to an end. She didn't pull away, confirming his hopes that she felt the same undeniable pull as he, and he allowed a small smile to play about his lips as he bowed to her again before parting.



When the time came at the end of the evening for everyone to remove their masks, he found himself searching for her again, only to find his eyes met by hers. He had to smile to himself as her eyes widened when he removed his mask and lowered his hood. He gave her a smile, and was more pleased than he would ever admit to anyone when, after a moment's hesitation, she returned it with a small smile of her own.



Oh, yes. Things were definitely looking quite a bit better this year.