Dance Floor Jealousy

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything, which is a pity, but there you go! I don’t make money from this, so don’t sue!


Author’s note: I love reading DM/HG pairings but apparently I suck at writing them. If you wanna read amazing fan fiction, go to “From Venice With Love” by jamieblye…

Dance Floor Jealousy


It was a rather cool spring day when my friend Jessica and I went to a club in Muggle London to see a gig by a German wizard named Novel Writer. I’m not sure whether this is just his pseudonym; sounds rather weird, doesn’t it? But you know me, still being the bookworm I was at Hogwarts, who else would I go for than a novel writer?

Jessica and I seemed out of luck. We took the wrong train and ended up having to walk about four miles to get to the club. As we walked, we talked a lot – about our past, the relationships we’d had that had never worked. It had been two years since Ron and I had broken up. Thinking back on it now, I never know why we even started to go out. I guess the thought of having someone in my life who cared about me, after the world had turned back to light, greatly appealed to me. It was only in the dead hours of the night, on the edge between wake and dreams, that I admitted to myself it wasn’t Ron I was longing to be with…

Finally, Jessica and I arrived outside the club. It looked rather shabby, but we’re used to that. Just think about the Leaky Cauldron, it looks as if it hasn’t had a work-over in two hundred years! We paid the guy at the door and descended several flights of stairs into the grim-looking venue.

I looked around in astonishment, and I believe you’re doing the same thing right now. What’s Hermione Granger, best of her year and student of Magical History at the Educational Academy of Britain, doing in a club on a Friday night? Yes, you wouldn’t believe it, but I got into clubbing and especially gigging a while ago. There’s nothing better than nice alternative music when it’s played live and when you’re right in front of the musicians. During the week, I keep up my appearance as the nice, innocent young girl you’d remember from Hogwarts. It’s only when Jessica and I go to a gig that I let my hair down – in every way I can. My brown curls freely flow halfway down my back, I’m wearing Muggle sneakers (chucks, they call them), shabby bootlegged jeans and a tight tee shirt that gracefully hugs my slim waist. Jessica can never believe her eyes when she sees me dress up like that. It’s never much, but always enough to make me look stunning.

We left our cloaks in the cloakroom, ordered some nice cocktails – it’s one thing I love about Muggle clubs, they sure know how to handle their alcohol! – and moved up to the dance floor right in front of the stage. The band was already getting ready; it took us way too long to get to the club! We downed the cocktails quickly, got new ones and moved up for a nice view of the musicians when I suddenly froze. It couldn’t be. I had seen a phantom standing at the next table. We hadn’t eaten that night because we were late; surely the alcohol was already getting to my brain?!

Jessica noticed my pale face and turned to me in worry.

“Hermione, what’s wrong? What’s the matter?”

I just shook my head, unable to answer, to utter any sound. That’s another newbie, isn’t it – famous Hermione Granger, speechless?

“Dear, are you alright? You look awful. You should have eaten! Come on, sit down…”

Why was she fussing over me like that? She took me by the arm and led me over to the counter where she pushed me down on a stool. I heard her calling for a coke.

“Here, babe, drink this. I’m sure you’ll feel better soon…”

That woke me from my trance. All the time, I hadn’t been able to turn away. I was still facing the phantom I was refusing to believe was a true sight. I didn’t realize I had shaken my head until I felt Jessica’s hand on my shoulder and her breath in my face as she moved right in front of me.

“Sweetie, what’s the matter? You look like hell just froze over. What’s wrong? Tell me, please. Hermione, talk to me – look at me!!!”

With effort, I drew my eyes away from him and met her gaze. She had started to yell at me, and I couldn’t have that. I didn’t want to cause a scene. My mind was just refusing to accept the situation, struggling to put the pieces together…

Jessica doesn’t know, you see. Nobody knows. It was one of my dirty little secrets, something I would never have confessed. Something it took me three years to admit to myself.

That I was in love. Deeply, absolutely, madly in love. That I had fallen for a guy who had made my life hell all the way through school.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ F L A S H B A C K S ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Hagrid was crying. A teenager with sleek blond hair and a pale, pointed face sneered at me as I tried to comfort the giant man.

“Have you ever seen anything quite as pathetic? And he’s supposed to be our teacher!”

A hatred such as I’d never known rose up inside me. How dare he… SMACK!

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We were hurrying away from a group of Death Eaters at the Quidditch World Cup, trying to hide in the woods when Ron stumbled and fell, forcing us to stop right next to a teen with sleek blond hair and quicksilver eyes who was sneering at us…

“You wouldn’t want her spotted, would you?” He nodded at me with a menacing smile on his lips.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked defiantly.

“Granger, they’re after Muggles”, he said, looking sickeningly gleeful. “D’you want to be showing off your knickers in mid-air? Because if you do, hang around… they’re moving this way, and it would give us all a laugh.”

I froze at his comment, but at the same time, a strange heat grew in my core. Was it fear?

“Hermione’s a witch”, Harry snarled.

“Have it your own way, Potter…” His tone was incredibly malicious. “If you think they can’t spot a Mudblood, stay where you are:”

I wanted to rage at him, storm at him, hit him… why did he look down on me this much? What gave him the right to assume I was lower than he? Hadn’t I proven again and again that I was just as able to do magic as he was?

There is this old saying that you always want what you can’t have. Maybe this was already true back then…

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We were on the train back from our fourth year, still traumatized by Cedric’s death, the return of Voldemort, everything that had made the past week hell…

“Very clever, Granger. You caught some pathetic reporter, and Potter’s Dumbledore’s favourite boy again. Big deal.” The one man I had thought about a lot during the past week since I couldn’t process the fact that some people were actually happy about the events that had occurred, was standing in the doorway of our compartment. His voice softened.

“Trying not to think about it, are we? Trying to pretend it hasn’t happened?”

Harry was at his feet. “Get out”, he spat. I was afraid the situation might get out of hand, so I got up as well and held on to his robes. My mind was refusing to accept what I had just heard.

“You’ve picked the losing side, Potter! I warned you! I told you you ought to choose your company more carefully, remember? When we met on the train, first day at Hogwarts? I told you not to hang around with riff-raff like this! Too late now, Potter! They’ll be the first to go, now the Dark Lord’s back! Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers first! Well – second – Diggory was the…”

Rage overcame me like a storm. I aimed my wand and fired a hex at his beautiful face before I knew what I was doing. But I wasn’t the only one – the entire compartment was filled with blinding light as five different people shot hexes at the intruders at the same time…

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We were standing together with some friends as we heard a voice behind us…

“Members of the Inquisitorial Squad do have the power to dock points… so, Granger, I’ll have five from you for being rude about our new Headmistress. Macmillan, five for contradicting me. Five because I don’t like you, Potter. Weasley, your shirt’s untucked, so I’ll have another five for that. Oh yeah, I forgot, you’re a Mudblood, Granger, so ten off for that.”

All I could do was stop Ron from attacking him. I was shaking with anger and frustration. Again, my desire to be accepted by him was so great and he had destroyed everything with just those few words…

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All through our sixth year I tried to convince Harry that was innocent. After I had Harry’s word that he had been up on the tower, that it was his fault Dumbledore got killed, I felt sure my mind had been playing me tricks. I couldn’t deny this fact any longer. He was an evil person, and I had fallen for an evil person. I needed comfort, I needed love, I needed to know what it felt like to really love, to be loved in return. I tried to push my obsession away as good as I could and allowed Ron to hold me close during Dumbledore’s funeral…

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ E N D F L A S H B A C K S ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I had tried to make it work with Ron. Really, I had. We were so great as friends, but I believe we would have been better off had we left it there. Like I said before, it was only at the verge of dreaming that I admitted to myself I was still longing for him…

People were convinced he was innocent after the fall of the Dark Lord. He had no mark. He took Veritaserum to prove that he had been used, that he had not acted willingly. It was not hard to follow the trial in the paper. In fact, it would have been hard not to. Ron was convinced his statements were all lies. I wasn’t. My heart had told me all along that he had just been the arse he was because of his father, because he had been forced, maybe even bewitched. I had been certain that he would be a loving person, a great father, a gentle husband. Every time these thoughts came up in my mind, I scolded myself for thinking along these lines. I was with Ron!

Until he found out it was not him who I had given my heart to. Until he heard me muttering in my sleep. Calling a name I should never have said, let alone in a wanton manner. Ron was furious. He kicked me out, he refused all further contact, and I found myself struggling to get along by myself.

That was when I started studying Magical History. I had decided I’d try to talk Headmistress McGonagall into allowing me to teach History of Magic at my own school. She was delighted at the fact that I wanted to come back. I still have another term until I start teaching…

Jessica doesn’t know about the twisted and mixed-up history of mine. She knows I was in a serious relationship that didn’t work out, and that I had had a hard time getting along. I never wanted her to know any more. Period.

“Hermione!!!” she yelled again. Heads turned to look at me. I wanted to disappear instantly, but I still couldn’t really move a muscle. I stared at the blond head in the near corner and realized with terror that it was turning to look at me. Quicksilver eyes met my brown ones, and I felt sure they looked deep into my very soul.

He had changed a lot. His face was still pointed, but no longer pale. Apparently, the loss of his aristocratic-like status had forced him into going outside more often, perhaps even doing manual labour. He hadn’t shaved in a few days, and his facial hair was a dark blond. He no longer wore his hair slicked back, but it was shaggy and fell loosely into his eyes. They hadn’t changed, they still sparkled in that amazing quicksilver grey. He no longer looked at me with malice in his eyes. It was more like surprise, whether at the fact that I was there or that I had changed so much, I don’t know. Then he turned away again, and I felt sure my heart was breaking.

He turned to a beautiful girl who had just returned from the bathroom, placed his left hand on the small of her back and gave her a gentle kiss on the cheek. His fingers moved slightly as he patted her back. I felt chills run down my spine as I imagined what his touch would feel like. She leaned into him and he whispered into her ear. I saw her turn around and give me a critical look. I could only guess what he had told her, but I felt bile rising in my throat as I defiantly held the girl’s gaze.

Jessica was holding my hand now. The band had started playing. I was still staring at him in disbelief. How could he be like this? He had started to dance with the girl, moving seductively, grinding his hips against hers. My eyes started to water, and I did the only thing I could – I fled to the bathroom. Jessica waited for me at the counter, extremely worried.

When I returned five minutes later, she was fumbling with her purse. The she determinedly took my arm and pulled me toward the exit.

“Sweetie, we’re leaving. You need to get some air to clear your head. And maybe you can tell me everything?”

I nodded automatically, not even realizing what she had said. She got our coats and we left the club, walking toward the nearby college grounds. When we got there, we sat down next to each other and she hugged me tightly.

“Come on, sweet, tell me. I’m really worried about you. Draco said to give you his number, but you should clear your head before you call him…”


Author’s note II: Cliffy, huh? I’m debating whether I should continue or not. Want a happy ending or not? Review and let me know… please…