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With the braided hair in a tight bun atop her head, Astoria was slightly taller than him. It pissed him off enough to scowl. Astoria smiled at him, as if she could read his thoughts, but the situation soon overcame her. She was scowling, too, and at least that was a relief.
Draco hated the random odds of them being paired together for an idiotic dance class, but here they were, staring at each other, waiting until Snape gave waved his wand, letting the music flow through the air.
He wasn't sure why they were having dance lessons - sure, there was the entire Yule Ball problem, but all the members of Slytherin were purebloods: they had dance classes from the time they could stand in two feet. This was unneeded, especially since they were sharing this class with the third years, who couldn't even go unless invited. Something or another about there not being enough girls in the class above, so they called in reinforcements.
Draco had wanted to snap his fingers, bare his teeth and demand a change of lessons. And yet - here he was, staring at Astoria's brown, defiant eyes.
There's hate, stinging in there, ready to boil over in its anger. He smirked at her, which earns him a huff. Draco waited, ready to retort to whatever commentary was to come.
The Malfoy and Greengrass families never had the best of relations, always enemies. Usually political, schoolyard rivalries that developed to the floor of the Wizengamot. Staring at Astoria, he did not doubt it would go there. Daphne, somewhere to his left, cared not for politics or family feuds; she treated Draco with the same contempt she treated everyone else, so he thought it was fair.
The music started while the two were lost in each other's eyes, staring as if they're the only beings in the world. Draco was faster than her, as grabbed her like a doll, put them into motion in one sweep movement. Astoria replied by stepping onto his foot.
There's enough strength in there to know it was on purpose, and Draco grinned.
"Feisty, aren't we?" Is all he says, spinning Astoria with too much momentum. Her hair comes loose - good job, Draco thought to himself, patting his own back mentally.
"Bitch." She mutters, and pinched him roughly, enough force to bruise. Draco opened his mouth, ready to cuss in a low tone, when something in them changes, seeing that there were people doing better than the two: perhaps because they were busier trying to actually dance instead of petty infighting, as Astoria and Draco were.
They ceased, forming a brief, silent truce, as if they have some desire to be better than the others, unspoken, telepathically communicated.
They do. It's in their nature - too competitive, too headstrong, too much - to not try and best others. Alone, they often have a go at each other. Together, a menace, and Draco likes that.
And dancing, as much as Draco did not wish to admit, is fun with Astoria. But he won't admit, because really, what is he to admit any sort of feelings for someone as beneath him as Astoria? He's the heir of Malfoy, a pureblood example, and she's just - well, she's a Greengrass. Sure, she was part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, but almost penniless. The only thing keeping them afloat was their status, the generational wealth they held, and sometimes, not even that. A fall from grace.
Although Draco was sure that, if Astoria was asked, she'd say the same about him, and add in more insults to the injury.
When the music stopped, Snape's voice drawling in a humorless tone that class was over, it took him a moment too long to stop. No one seemed to notice - and if they do, who's going to talk? Draco is a Malfoy, and Astoria is a Greengrass. They outclassed and outranked every family in that room by leagues.
"Terrible form." He said to Astoria, sneering, bowing gently to her.
"I'm not a mirror, Malfoy." She replied, curtsying, like they'd been taught at the beginning of this lesson, before Snape decided on pairs for them. "Unlike you, my family's had the money to pay for a dance tutor."
"Really?" He raised an eyebrow, walking with her to the entrance, slowly, dwindling behind. "Do tell me their name, so I know who to not hire."
Daphne elbowed Draco on her way out, shamelessly flirting with Blaise Zabini in low tones, and Draco rolled his eyes at her, timed perfectly with Astoria. They grabbed their bags from where they'd left it, coincidently side by side on the bench, and Astoria observed it, as if to make sure Draco's hadn't sullied hers.
"Your family does not have the kind of money to even hear the name." She said, putting her bag on her shoulder, and moving along with Draco through the halls, for some reason he couldn't comprehend.
Perhaps she wanted a fight.
"And yours does?" Draco scoffed. "Seems like you're lying, miss Greengrass."
"Look who's talking. You got that entire dance wrong." Astoria rolled her eyes, used one sharp nail to poke his arm. "You did a waltz in the wrong tempo."
Draco was scandalized.
"Me? Perhaps I just did it to save your reputation, or whatever shreds there are left of it." Astoria rolled her eyes at that. "I'd never get something as simple as a waltz wrong."
"Sure, sure. Prove it to me." He waved her off, and Astoria jumped in front of him, using that damned sharp nail to stab his chest.
"Fine. Next class we'll get paired together and I'll show you a proper waltz."
Astoria smirked, retiring her nail from her chest, and cleaning her hand in her robes, as if Draco was dirty.
"Sure. It's a date." Draco looked stunned at her, and she ran away, catching up with a few friends, talking in a rapid-fire manner, pointing at Draco very clearly, before the small group laughed.
Pansy joined him. She did not look impressed.
"Sometimes, Draco, I think you're an idiot." She started, and Draco was still looking in the direction Astoria had gone off to. "Other times, I'm sure."
Draco looked at Pansy, who had her arms crossed and an amused glint in her eyes.
"So I got that waltz wrong?" He asked, adjusting his bag, and Pansy sighed, patting his back.
"You're lucky you're pretty."