Her hand fit easily in his, and he guided her with little effort as she was light on her feet and flowed with him. He held her, turning her in a smaller tight circle as the music moved them, and he found his hand slipping down to the small of her back. His guiding arm pulled her hand into their bodies closer and he let the side of his head rest against her's.
He didn't want to speak or break the moment; it was like magic. And as the music died, Neville found himself reluctant to stop swaying slowly with her, his one arm wrapped around her more.