Antidote

Chapter 9 - Ballroom Dancing & Fantasies

Receiving an answer, George wasted no time, gripping her hand and pulling her toward him and turning her body to face forward, away from him. His other hand fell to rest upon the small of her back as he guided them to the dancefloor. 

Once within the horde of other dancers, he turned her again to face him, keeping his right hand on the dip of her waist against the intricate lace of her gown. 

He raised his left hand for her to take. 

She took it gingerly, her left hand raising to rest on his shoulder. 

Gods, he was tall.

He pulled her toward him slightly until there were only inches between them. Her feet automatically taking first position, they stood for a fleeting moment in perfect closed position. 

He waited for two beats before beginning to lead her around the floor. 

Although she hated to admit it, he was a good leader—a good dancer. He guided her around the dancefloor effortlessly, the both of them swaying perfectly in sync with every step, every pivot.

Jolie heard a familiar, Daphne-Greengrass-squeal from across the room and turned her head to find the source of the sound. Theo was trying to twirl her. Merlin. 

Daphne's parents had never found it necessary for their children to attend a finishing school—they left the option open for their daughters should they choose to. Her younger sister, Astoria, had gone. Daphne had not. 

The poor witch couldn't ballroom dance to save her life.

Due to the distraction, Jolie almost missed the pivot that George led her into. Almost.

Still, he unfortunately noticed. 

"Do keep up, Carrow," he laughed, shaking his head. "I thought you said you could dance."

She scoffed, continuing to follow his graceful lead. She did not miss the twirl.

"I can dance, Weasley, if you haven't realised."

"Yeah?" He raised a brow at her.

She was about to roll her eyes when he unexpectedly led her into open position, their arms outstretched, her toe pointed. She followed. 

He pulled her back toward him. She spun in his arms before landing back in closed position. He picked up the pace, leading them at the half counts of the music. 

She kept up with him without so much as a second thought. 

Yes, she could dance. 

And so could he, it seemed. Quite well. 

Surprisingly and inexplicably well. 

She raised a brow at him.

"What?" He smiled down at her as he continued to lead. "Don't seem so surprised."

She shrugged the best she could with her arm being held up by his and the other at his shoulder.

"Where did you learn to dance?" she asked, unable to help herself.

"At faraway school. Specifically for ballroom dancing. Very expensive."

Her eyebrows raised. "Really? What school—"

"I'm only joking," he breathed a laugh. "My mum taught us all. Says she feels it 'imperative' that we Weasleys know how to dance. I guess we have to possess at least some useless skill. We're all just too smart for our own good, you know. Except for Ron, anyway."