Draco’s eyes were suddenly drawn away from the dull conversation he was having toward the red head in the center of the room. Every light shone on her pulsating body, and all the people between them faded into the background. He couldn’t tear his eyes away, despite that fact that he knew Marcus was still speaking to him, although he could no longer seem to hear his friend.
He could only see her, and not a single detail was lost on him. The way her silver top flowed around her body, accentuating her curves in all the right places, and how her thin arms, stretched above her head, seemed to have a life of their own. How her long ginger hair seemed to be delayed a few seconds behind the rest of her body. Her graceful seductiveness drew him in, and before he knew what he was actually doing, he was slowly gravitating towards her.
As he drew closer, she caught sight of him and she faltered in her dancing. Her arms drooped, her hips ceased to sway, but only for a moment. And then he was beside her, his arms wrapped around her waist, their bodies so close they seemed to be one. She did not look at his face, he noticed, as their bodies gyrated together, but her arms pushed up the soft fabric of his shirt and then swung around his neck.
Her head tilted upwards and brown eyes met grey. It suddenly seemed to Draco that they were alone in the room. He was totally enveloped by her gaze; it took him in and dragged him further under her spell. He hardly noticed that he was dancing, except that he felt his heart racing, felt her body sliding against his.
Just as suddenly as it had begun, it ended. She stopped moving and broke eye contact. Her arms gently fell to her sides so that it was only his strong arms that held her willowy frame from disappearing into the crowd that had suddenly materialized around them. They had all paused in their dance, the music had temporarily ceased, but he did not step away from her. Her eyes rose to meet his again, but only briefly this time, and when she looked away he felt as though she had taken a piece of him with her. Slowly, with a little resistance from his mind, he slid his arms from around her waist. His fingers whispered over the slippery cloth of the flimsy shirt she wore, and he took the fabric between his fingers for the briefest of seconds before she stepped away from him, bumping into the blonde behind her. They stood watching each other awkwardly. He wanted to say something to her, to ask her for another dance, or a drink, or hell, even invite her back to his flat a few blocks away. But before he could voice the words, the music had started up again and she had ducked between the dancing couples around them, disappearing into the crowd.