Standard disclaimer applies, only the plot is mine.

Just a silly little story because I needed a break from angst.

It started innocently enough.

Blaise Zabini had been dating a Muggle-born witch who’d introduced him to Muggle music and dancing. She’d raved about a Muggle dance club called oddly enough Magic, but they’d broken up before she could take him there. Blaise had pestered him about trying it out until finally one Friday evening, bored with the prospect of yet another society function, Draco agreed.

They Apparated to Muggle London and had a light supper at an Italian restaurant Blaise frequented before making their way to the dance club. It was crowded but Blaise managed to find a table near the dance floor that had the advantage of being in a somewhat darkened corner. Although Blaise protested that it was unlikely they’d run into any other witches or wizards, Draco didn’t wanted to sit anywhere he could be easily spotted. After all, he was a Malfoy and Malfoys only associated with Muggles when absolutely necessary – certainly not in a dance club.

They sat down and ordered drinks, Draco staring quizzically at the amber liquid called Scotch when it came. Blaise simply laughed and told Draco that if he liked Odgen’s Firewhiskey, he’d love Scotch, and surprisingly he did. Draco sat back in his chair, taking in the dance floor packed with bodies gyrating to the throbbing music with bemusement; it was a far cry from the achingly formal Wizard balls he normally attended.

Blaise leaned over and said in a low tone, “You’ll find the music and dancing here a bit more … earthy than you’re used to. People don’t necessarily dance with partners and they often get caught up in the music. Quite sensual at times, in fact.”

Draco had to agree; men and women were dancing more in groups than in couples and the music had a compelling beat that had people almost writhing to its rhythm.

There was one group near the middle of the dance floor that caught his eye almost immediately. He couldn’t quite make out their features but there was something oddly familiar about them, particularly the red haired woman and the dark skinned man. He was about to remark on it to Blaise when he heard Blaise say, “Bloody hell, I don’t believe it! Wonder what that lot’s doing here?”

Draco gave Blaise a quizzical look and then asked, “What lot are you talking about? Is it that group in the center of the dance floor? I thought they looked familiar.”

“They should,” Blaise replied. “Most of them were Gryffindors in our year at Hogwarts.” He eyed the group for a moment and then said, “I’m fairly certain the black bloke is Dean Thomas and I think that’s Seamus Finnigan and Neville Longbottom as well. I’m not sure about the women; although they’re right lookers, especially the redhead.”

Draco looked at the red haired woman and was shocked to realize it was Ginny Weasley, looking very different from the small girl in hand-me-down robes that had hexed him in his fifth year and then continued to plague him as part of the expanded Golden Trio throughout his remaining years at Hogwarts. This Ginny Weasley was a woman, still petite in height but with curves in all the right places, accentuated by the short skirt and skimpy top she wore. She was moving in time to the music, weaving in and out amidst her group of friends, occasionally laughingly bumping her bum against the blonde woman in a strange sort of dance move.

There seemed to be seven in their group, four males and three females, but none of them seemed to be couples. He didn’t recognize the fourth male or the other two females, although he vaguely recalled seeing the blonde woman chumming with Ginny Weasley at Hogwarts.

“I thought you said we wouldn’t run into any wizards or witches here, Blaise,” Draco said, scowling a bit. “Isn’t this a Muggle club?”

Blaise shrugged, and said, “Well, Thomas is Muggle-born and Finnigan a half-blood. I reckon they’re more accustomed to Muggle music. Doesn’t matter though, does it? It’s not like they’re expecting to see us and we’re out of view back here.”

Draco gave a curt nod and leaned back in his chair, further into the shadows. Blaise was right; they certainly wouldn’t expect to see two Slytherins in a Muggle dance club and even if they did see them, well, what of it? He decided to relax and enjoy the show they were putting on.

It was obvious that the group was very comfortable with one another and that they visited the club frequently. A number of people he assumed were Muggles would come up and talk to various members, and periodically one or another would disappear for a period. Draco found his gaze drawn repeatedly to Ginny Weasley who seemed to be quite popular, drawn often into the center of the various groups of dancers on the floor. It was no wonder, he thought, with her long scarlet hair and curvaceous body she was easily the most attractive woman in the room.

He was just about to suggest to Blaise that they leave when a new song came on and for the first time in the evening, the dancers moved into couples. He watched as Ginny wound herself around Dean Thomas and the two of them embraced for a moment before beginning to dance.

Can’t get you out of my mind …

The lyrics pounded into his brain as he watched, mesmerized, as Ginny wove an intricate pattern around Dean Thomas, with him but somehow not in the dance. Her eyes were closed as she moved to the music, her arms lifted as if holding a lover, a slight sheen of perspiration visible on her body.

Set me free …

He was riveted to the sight of her body rocking back and forth with the throbbing beat of the music; for him it was as if she was the only one who heard the music, the only one who felt the music. Draco felt a tightening in his groin as he responded to the sexual energy he could feel emanating from her and an image of her beneath him, eyes closed as she reached her pinnacle, flashed through him. He could feel a bead of sweat trickle down his back and he wondered how it had gotten so bloody hot in the dimly lit club.

Dean Thomas moved to the back of Ginny, running his hands down her body to clasp her hands in his and then fitted her against him, her bottom snugly encased against the front of his hips. They swayed in tandem, the back of her head tucked under his chin, seemingly oblivious to their surroundings. Draco felt a sudden surge of irrational jealously at the sight and he realized he had to get out of the club – right now – before he did something he would regret.

“C’mon, Blaise. I’ve had enough of this place. Let’s go,” Draco snapped, rising to his feet and pushing back his chair sharply. “We can slum another night.” He strode out of the club without a backward look to see if Blaise was following; he didn’t dare look back lest he see something he didn’t want to, namely Ginny Weasley dancing with someone that wasn’t him.



The next Friday afternoon, Draco was sitting in his office, perusing his social calendar for the weekend and feeling on edge at the thought of a reception that evening at the Ministry, an afternoon tea at the Parkinson estate on Saturday afternoon, and a benefit dinner for St. Mungo’s Sunday evening. He winced as he thought of the cloying socialites that would attend each affair, all wanting to get their polished claws into the Malfoy heir and fortune, all rail-thin harpies who would as soon hex one another as lose an inch of social ground.

Let Mother attend, he thought viciously, and let her drag Lucius along, it was puny enough punishment for his many sins. With that thought, he walked over to the fireplace and threw a handful of Floo powder in, saying firmly, “Blaise Zabini’s office!” Blaise’s head immediately appeared in the green flames, quirking an eyebrow at his friend. “What’s up? I thought I’d see you tonight at the Ministry reception.”

“Want to skive off? Quite frankly, the thought of another deadly dull Ministry function gives me a headache, and it’s not like it’s anything important. It’s just some charity thing for war orphans and I’ve already given them a generous donation,” Draco said and then added with a scowl, “and you know it’ll be filled with misses and mamas all trying to snare a fiancée.”

“Running a bit scared, are you? I can imagine … but you’ve managed to avoid the trap so far, much to the chagrin of said misses and mamas,” Blaise replied teasingly. “Sure, let’s skive off. What should we do instead?”

Draco pretended to think for a moment, and then said in an off-hand voice, “What about dinner and then trying that dance club again?”

Blaise looked surprised as he said, “I thought you didn’t care for it. You’re the one who wanted to get out of there last week. And what about the Gryffindor crowd? It looked like it was a regular haunt of theirs.”

“I’m not bothered by that lot,” Draco said loftily. “And the club’s certainly more amusing than a Ministry reception.”

The two friends agreed to meet at 7 pm at the same Italian restaurant and, with a cheeky wave, Blaise disappeared from the green flames. Draco tried to quell the sense of relief he felt over Blaise’s agreeing so readily. He certainly wasn’t about to admit that it was the thought of seeing Ginny Weasley again that was drawing him back to the club.

Seated at the same table as they’d had the previous week, Draco cast a quick glance over the dance floor, looking for Ginny Weasley and her group. Blaise must have done the same as Draco heard him say, “Well, you won’t have to worry about the Gryffindor lot … don’t seem to be here tonight.”

Draco gave a curt nod and downed his glass of Scotch, feeling somewhat unsettled and disappointed. He was almost about to say to Blaise that perhaps they should leave when he noticed a large group walk onto the dance floor. At its center was Ginny Weasley, dressed in a black sheath that left very little to the imagination. To his disgust, the group not only included the others from the previous week but also Potter, Ron Weasley, and Granger. All of the women were in similar clothing to Ginny’s while the men wore dress pants and lightweight turtlenecks.

“Spoke too soon,” Blaise drawled. “Here they are, and with the terrible trio at their side. Probably came from the Ministry reception … I reckon they were commanded to attend what with Arthur Weasley being Deputy Minister of Magic.”

Both men watched in silence as several pairs broke away from the group to dance. As Potter pulled the blonde woman into an embrace, Blaise murmured, “Now I remember … that’s Luna Lovegood Potter’s dancing with. I heard they were a couple. So the redhead is Ginny Weasley then. My, my, she’s grown up quite nicely.”

Draco felt an unbidden twinge of anger at Blaise’s remark, and said cuttingly, “Lusting after a Gryffindor, Zabini? Standards slipping somewhat, eh?”

“Stuff it, Malfoy,” Blaise retorted without malice. “Gryffindor or not, she’s still an attractive woman and there’s no harm in looking after all.”

Oh yes, there is, Draco thought. He’d looked at Ginny Weasley and now he couldn’t get her out of his mind. Against his will, his eyes were drawn back to the dance floor where Ginny was once again paired up with Thomas, the two of them gyrating to a pounding rhythm that had the dancers in an exuberant mood, yelling with arms flailing in time to the beat. Ginny was particularly energetic, at one point almost stamping her feet into the floor with unabashed fervor. Draco was fascinated with the look on her face, sheer abandon and pleasure, and unwittingly leaned forward out of the shadows to see her more closely.

It was just by chance that at the same time Draco leaned forward, one of the revolving lights above the dance floor caught his pale hair for a brief moment and the glint of almost silver caught Ginny’s attention. She looked over and in that instant, her eyes locked with Draco’s before he quickly leaned back, heart pounding at the thought he might have been seen. She looked startled for a second and then, as if discounting the idea that Draco Malfoy might actually be in a Muggle dance club, shook her head slightly, continuing to dance without missing a beat.

“I want to leave, and now!” Draco hissed, rising so abruptly that his chair almost toppled backwards. Without looking to see if Blaise was following, Draco strode out of the club, his face set in a blank mask. He was outside in moments, fists clenched at the unseemly lack of control he’d just shown. Blaise came pounding up to him, somewhat out of breath and definitely annoyed.

“Bloody hell, Draco, what bug’s got up your ass tonight? First you wanted to come here and then you bolt like a hippogriff’s after you. And by the way, you owe me for your ruddy drinks, you wanker,” Blaise shouted. “Now, are you going to tell me what’s going on or are you going to insist on doing the brooding Malfoy act?”

Draco cut his eyes at Blaise and said in a tone that brooked no disagreement, “Nothing’s going on. It was too hot in the club and I needed air.” He forced himself to shrug casually and add, “Malfoys don’t sweat, at least not in public.”

To his relief, Blaise swallowed the lie and replied in a calmer tone, “Of course, I forgot the Malfoy code of behavior … no perspiration before lesser mortals. Right then, now that you’ve got some air, do you want to go back inside or should we call it a night?”

Draco wanted badly to go back in and watch Ginny Weasley but didn’t want to risk her actually recognizing him. “Let’s call it a night. I’ve got two potentially painful events this weekend and need my strength. I’ll see you at the Cauldron Club on Wednesday as usual, right?”

Blaise nodded his agreement and then, after checking to make sure no Muggles were around, Disapparated. Draco stood in the cool night air for a few minutes, and then with one last look at the entrance to the club, did the same.


The next Friday, Draco was fighting a losing battle with himself, frustrated to the point that he was running his hands through his hair, ruining its normally pristine appearance. All week visions of Ginny Weasley had disturbed his normal concentration on his work and he wanted to, no, needed to see her again. After his previous performance though, he didn’t dare Floo Blaise to see if he wanted to go to the dance club. The thought that Blaise might discover his unfortunate fascination with Ginny Weasley was disturbing to say the least … he could hardly admit it to himself.

He gave up the fight after eating a mediocre dinner at a nearby restaurant, disgusted with the food and his lack of control. By the time he had Apparated to the club and claimed the same table in the shadows, he’d decided that he must have been hexed or cursed by the red haired vixen – that was the only explanation for his bizarre obsession.

Clutching his drink, he waited for her and her group of friends to make an appearance, fobbing off the advances of several semi-intoxicated Muggle women who’d decided that he’d make an admirable bedside trophy. He’d almost decided that it would be worth a fine from the Ministry to curse them when she walked in, this time with only Luna Lovegood at her side. He leaned forward, careful not to move out of the darkness, and watched with bated breath as she started to dance with a Muggle chap who claimed her almost immediately.

He’d been watching her for almost ten minutes when he noticed something odd about her behavior. Unlike the two previous evenings when she’d been totally immersed in the music and her dancing, she kept looking over at the corner of the club where his table was located. With an unpleasant jolt, he realized that she must have noticed something that last Friday and was trying to see if she could spot it again.

No, no, no, he thought, and quickly threw some money on the table and slipped out of the club.

Safely back in his London townhouse, he sat in a leather armchair in his study, head in his hands, and wondered what the hell was going on with him. He was thankful he no longer lived at home, having successfully argued with his mother that the London townhouse was more convenient for work. Narcissa had an uncanny ability to sniff out any aberrant behavior and would have seized on to his distraction like a terrier with a bone.

Well, he would just put this little episode behind him, he vowed, this obsession with Ginny Weasley was over.


One week later, he was in front of the dance club, berating himself endlessly for his lack of self-control. He’d dreamt of her every single night and woken up, sweaty and panting, grasping futilely at her phantom body. He couldn’t get her out of his mind and he seemed unable to fight the urge to see her once again.

With a silent groan he gave it up and entered the club, making his way to the same dark corner. He stopped dead as he realized there was already someone at his table, the very woman he had come to see and the very woman he dreaded to face.


She watched him as he slowly started moving again, his steps bringing him closer and closer. Reaching the table, he sat down in the chair opposite her, barely managing to do so with his normal grace.

“So, Draco Malfoy in a Muggle dance club … who would have thought it?” Ginny said idly, her forefinger tracing the rim of her wine glass. “If it’s hard to ignore Weasley red, it’s even harder to ignore your particular hair color. You should have used a glamour charm if you wanted to escape notice.”

She leaned forward, generous breasts pushing against her top, and he couldn’t help his eyes dipping to her cleavage before coming back to meet her gaze. To his horror he could feel the beginnings of a blush on his cheeks as she winked at him and teased, “Enjoying the view, Malfoy?”

With an effort he managed to say coolly, “Yes, very much. Who would have thought that little Ginny Weasley would fill out so nicely?”

Ginny gave a hearty laugh and the tendrils of scarlet hair that had escaped from her ponytail bounced enticingly. “Really, Malfoy, is that the best you can do? Why, that was so short of snide, I’m shocked, truly. You must be losing your edge with age.”

She rose suddenly and held out her hand, purring as she did so, “I know you like to watch. Do you like to do it as well?”

Draco stared at her hand and then back up at her face, the challenge clear. With only a mere hesitation, he grasped her hand and rose up smoothly, pulling her against him. “Try me.”


It was painfully evident after only a few moments on the dance floor that he was clearly outclassed. Unfamiliar with the steps, he could only manage to shuffle from side to side, trying desperately to catch the rhythm of the music. Finally she took pity on him and pressed her back against him, drawing his arms tightly around her while she shifted to find just the right position.

“Just follow my lead, Malfoy,” she breathed, one hand reaching up to pull his face to her neck. “Follow the bouncing bum.” With that, she twisted her hips, pushing firmly into his crotch. With a muffled groan, he tried to rein in his reaction to her movement and failed miserably, his raging erection prodding her. To his mortification, she chuckled and whispered, “My, the girls at Hogwarts weren’t exaggerating, were they?”

At the end of his tether, he pushed her away and snarled, “Bugger this,” before striding off the dance floor. He was out of the club in seconds, standing in the cool night air and cursing ever agreeing to accompany Blaise in the first place.

“I’m sorry,” said Ginny softly, startling him. He turned to look at her, face pale in the dim glow of the streetlights, her arms clasped loosely around her against the chill of the night.

“You bloody well should be sorry,” he raged, furious at the situation and himself. “What the hell have you done to me?” he cried. “Get out of my head!”

She backed up a few steps, startled at his vehemence, and then moved forward to cup his face with one small hand. “I’ve done nothing,” she murmured. “I shouldn’t have teased you though. Sorry, but I couldn’t resist. After all, a Malfoy speechless … who could blame me for taking advantage.”

He couldn’t stop himself; he pulled her to him and crashed his lips on hers, trying to absorb her somehow through the contact. She resisted at first and then with a soft sigh, melted into his arms, meeting his passion with her own.

With a muttered incantation, he Disapparated them to his townhouse and taking advantage of her momentary disorientation, swept her into his arms and sank onto the nearest couch. Burrowing into her neck, he groaned, “God, I don’t know what’s going on. Why do I feel this way about you?”

She lifted his head to look into his eyes and smiled, the feral smile of the cat that had the canary well within her grasp, before saying softly, “I don’t know. Why don’t we find out?”



“May I have this dance?”

Ginny smiled brightly at her husband of three hours and placed her hand in his, walking with him onto the dance floor. She could see Ron glowering in a corner and Hermione trying to calm him while Luna was doing the same with Harry Potter.

“I think Ron is going to burst a blood vessel as is Harry,” she murmured as she moved into Draco’s arms.

“Well, so he should. Bloody wanker … you’d think he’d get over it by now,” Draco muttered against her neck as he nuzzled the soft flesh. “It’s been two months since we announced the engagement. I’m more worried about our fathers. Lucius is still almost comatose.”

“And just how is that a bad thing?” Ginny teased, her head going back slightly so he could reach the sensitive junction of her neck and shoulders. “Your mother prefers him that way; she told me so.”

Draco laughed and just pulled her closer.