"Cheer up, mate. It could be worse."

"How?" Ron snarled, glaring at his best friend.

Harry inwardly rolled his eyes. Ever since they had seen Hermione hanging off the arm of Viktor Krum, Ron had been in a miserable mood despite having a pretty hot date himself.

As a result, Padma was looking just as glum, and Harry found himself feeling sorry for her as Ron yet again turned down her request to dance.

"Look," Harry muttered, pushing his hair out of his eyes, conscious of the way it fell back down messily over his head, "if you won't dance with her then I will. I'm sure Pav won't mind, we're just here as mates, after all."

As he said this, he found his eyes sliding across the Great Hall to the couples already in full swing on the dance floor, sweeping past Hermione being twirled around by Krum, and Ginny doing the hand jive with Neville.

His gaze, instead, rested on a particular white-blond haired Slytherin who was in the arms of Blaise Zabini, laughing and dancing together. He felt a stab of something in his chest, the effect unpleasant.

He couldn't deny it: Draya Malfoy was hypnotising. Her shimmering silver dress sparkled beneath the dancing lights, her golden hair fell soft and shiny against the delicate pale skin of her back.

Her outer beauty, however, certainly did not match the ugliness that was inside her. Mudblood: her favourite word. Bullying: her favourite sport.

And yet, Harry couldn't help but find himself seeking her out every time he walked into a room. He was drawn to her in a way he had never found himself been drawn to anyone before.

He shivered, recalling the first time he'd met her. Even though they'd just been eleven at the time, he had been struck dumb by the intensity of her piercing grey eyes. As he'd stood there on that stool getting his robes fitted, he literally couldn't think of a single thing to say that wouldn't make him look stupid.

And then it quickly became apparent, to Harry's dismay, that although Draya Malfoy had the looks of a goddess, she sadly had the personality of his dreadful cousin, Dudley.

So, he tried to set his sights elsewhere. That Cho chick wasn't so bad. A bit giggly and annoying, but a decent pair of tits. And then fucking Diggory had to swoop in and steal that one.

And there was Ginny, he supposed. But she was like, twelve, and not to mention his best friend's baby sister.

Parvati was cool, but she already told him she was saving herself for marriage so that quickly put a dampener on their date.

Not that Harry was ready to lose his virginity, he was only fourteen, after all. But he could potentially die by the end of the school year thanks to Dumbledore entering their school into a deadly tournament and it would be nice not to go a virgin.

Still, luckily he had quite the vivid imagination and a whole lot of shower gel which he'd stolen from Uncle Vernon's vast collection.

"Look, Ronald," Padma screeched, sounding very annoyed indeed, "I've just been asked to dance by a very good looking Beauxbatons boy, and if you don't get off your miserable backside right now then I might just go over there and accept!"

"No need, no need," Harry said at once, reluctantly dragging his eyes away from the Slytherin beauty. "I'll dance with you, Padma - that is, if your sister doesn't mind?"

He glanced at Parvati who smiled and nodded. "Please do," she said kindly, still sounding out of breath from their last dance. "I need a drink to replenish my fluids anyway. You're quite the dancer."

Harry smirked, as though to agree.

Clearly grateful, Padma jumped out of her chair and grabbed his arm, dragging Harry away before he could double check with Ron if he was okay with it all.

But it seemed Ron was too busy glaring at Hermione and Krum to even notice or even care with what was going on with his own date.

Padma was as every bit a good dancer as her sister, maybe even better. As subtly as he could, Harry placed his hands on Padma's swaying hips and smoothly manoeuvred her across the floor to where Draya and Zabini were dancing.

He just wanted to get closer, he told himself, to remind himself of her true ugliness.

But, he found being this near to her was having quite the opposite effect. Because instead of the signature scowl she always wore, Draya Malfoy was smiling. Laughing, even. And it made her look more radiant, more breathtakingly beautiful than he'd ever thought possible in a human. It was almost as though she weren't natural.

And that's when it clicked. Somehow she'd bewitched Harry. She had to have done. Because no one else was looking at her like he was. Well, maybe except for Zabini, but he looked at everyone as though he wanted to make love to them, even Snape.

But then... if she had bewitched him, then why did he still hold feelings of such hatred for her?

Ugh. It was all so confusing. And Harry didn't need this. Not when he had a tournament to survive and a world to save.

Pulling himself together, he turned his attention back to Padma and concentrated fully on her, on her sultry smile and blossoming figure, briefly wondering if she too was holding out for marriage.

******

I had just finished up my lobster bisque when Blaise asked if I wanted to dance.

"I suppose," I drawled, thinking that actually I'd rather have a pudding instead.

But Blaise looked so hopeful, and I wanted to get him in a good mood so he could spill what was going on between him and Theo. So, I put down my spoon and dabbed at my lips with a napkin, silently glad that relentless lessons of formal ballroom dancing had been forced upon me by my parents.

"You're good," Blaise said with a tone of surprise as he twirled us around the dance floor.

I gave a nonchalant shrug, distracted by Harry who was now dancing with Ron's date. That man whore.

"Comes with being a Malfoy," I said lazily. "Mother says it's a vital tool to impress at social gatherings."

"Well, it's certainly impressing me," Blaise murmured smoothly, pulling my body a little closer so I could feel the heat radiate from him and catch the faint scent of his spicy cologne.

I let him lead me into the dance, enjoying how footloose I felt at losing myself in the haunting notes of the music. It was nice feeling, making me want to dance forever in Blaise's arms like this.

"Do you think Theo and Daphne are an item?" I asked as we gracefully manoeuvred around our two friends, both of whom had their tongues shoved down each other's throats, oblivious to the dancers.

"Well, I don't think he's checking to see if her tonsils are swollen," Blaise chuckled.

"It's a shame though," I said sadly, tearing my eyes away from the pair of them as we moved close by Hermione and Viktor. I glared. "Whatever happens next, it's safe to say they've ruined their friendship."

Blaise froze, interrupting our dance as he looked down at me surprised. "Why? Who says a kiss has to ruin anything?"

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, come on, Blaise. I may not be an expert at relationships but even I can see how becoming romantically involved can ruin a friendship. What if it doesn't work out? Cue awkwardness when they start dating other people."

"They could be meant for one another."

"We're fourteen. We should be swapping Chocolate Frog cards, not saliva."

I didn't add that it all made me feel so uncomfortable. Everyone was moving on around me, fancying each other left right and centre, and all I wanted to do was play Quidditch and eat sweets.

And I know Hermione had turned fifteen already, but what was Viktor - a seventeen year old - doing wanting to date her? I know I briefly fantasised about it, but in the cold light of day it made my skin crawl if I'm to be perfectly honest. She was still probably just a daddy's girl.

The thought brought a lump to my throat but not because of Hermione or Viktor.

I sensed Blaise frowning at me. Feeling awkward, I stepped away from him and hugged myself.

"Dray?" He murmured, reaching out to touch my arm. "What is it?"

"Tell me, please." I found myself begging at once. "Tell me what it is that's going to directly affect my family? And please don't treat me like a child who should be kept in the dark. I need to know."

A pained look flitted across Blaise's face. I could see in his eyes he was battling with himself what to do. In the end, he sighed heavily and, cupping my elbow, led me off the dance floor and we slipped out into the Entrance Hall. The front doors stood open, and the fluttering fairy lights in the rose garden winked and twinkled as we went down the front steps, where we found ourselves surrounded by bushes, winding ornamental paths, and large stone statues. I could hear splashing water, which sounded like a fountain. Here and there, people were sitting on carved benches.

"Look, Dray," Blaise murmured, taking my hand as we set off along one of the winding paths through the rose bushes. "I think deep down you know what it's about."

"No, I really don't. Unless you're suggesting that the Dark Lord has somehow been resurrected, I honestly can't think-"

I stopped short at the look on Blaise's face. My blood turned cold.

"Blaise-" I whispered, my voice shaking, "-you're not seriously saying...?"

His hand tightened in mine and it was only then I realised the sweat prickling against his palm.

"It's just rumour," he said quietly, "but Theo said he overheard his parents say something about this Triwizard tournament being the key. And then Potter mysteriously gets his name put in."

"But that could mean anything," I implored, feeling my heart race uncomfortably. "It could just be Potter showing off again-"

"With something like this? I don't think so. He looked white as a sheet when facing that dragon. And that's not all..." as he tailed off, Blaise stole a quick glance around, making sure no one was within earshot. "The Dark Mark," he added quietly, swallowing, "Theo says he also overheard his parents say it's coming back."

My hand instantly dropped away from his as a cold feeling crept around my heart. I thought of my father's arm and the faded tattoo he always hid. I discovered from a young age that I was forbidden to ask about it. And during the summer after I'd returned from my first year at Hogwarts, I'd walked into the drawing room to pass a message on from Mother, and caught him nursing a whiskey as he stared down at his exposed left forearm. I had held my breath and remained silent in the shadows, never forgetting the look of utmost fear in his eyes as they focused on nothing but the faded Mark.

"Draya?" Blaise frowned, reaching out to cup my elbow. "Shit. I knew I shouldn't have told you. You're shaking."

"I'm just cold!" I spat defensively, not wanting him to think me a coward.

But I was a coward, because suddenly I was afraid.

And, as I glanced back at the castle where the sound of music and laughter could be heard, I wondered just what exactly was in store for the oblivious Boy Who Lived.

******