Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Just a Dance	By : goldhorse Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 24759 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. JK Rowling does. I make no money doing this. That's why I work 80 hours a week.

Chapter List
- 1-Just a Dance
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 1
- 2
AN: Soooo... I made a promise to myself that I wouldn't start another story without finishing every story in my considerably huge folder of half written stuff. My promise is (hopefully) your gain. This one was the closest to being finished so I knocked it out. It'll be three chapters long. Enjoy:

Hermione blew an errant curl out of her face and watched as Harry tried to dance with Ginny without stepping all over her feet. They were having a blast, their hips moving at awkward angles as they followed the beat. It looked like a horrible impression of the muggle robot dance but she couldn’t help but grin at them when they burst into laughter. It might not have been graceful, but it was fun.
She blew the curl away again and wished she was having fun. It had taken Harry and Ginny weeks of begging, cajoling, and finally promising that they’d sign the newest werewolf legislation to get her to agree to going to the club with them. Drinking and dancing was all well and good but she much preferred to sit at home with no other noises except the crackling of her fire and Crookshanks’ purrs while she read. While her friends let off steam with booze and horribly executed dance moves, she got lost in stories, picturing herself the heroine. What she wouldn’t give to have some tall dark stranger sweep her off her feet.
“You’re such a stick in the mud.”
She glowered at Ron as he knocked back another drink and lumbered out onto the floor. He was well past sloshed, enough to actually forget that he was trying to act straight since he hadn’t officially come out yet. He had his eyes glued to a cute little brunette across the floor that was eagerly watching a few men gyrate to the beat. She had to admit that the bloke was fit, if a bit short for her tastes. She preferred her men tall, like Ron. She sighed and briefly wondered how it would have been if he hadn’t admitted he wasn’t attracted to her like that. He was a good man, sweet, if a little… blunt. But alas, they swung the same way.
She frowned and scanned the club again. Harry had assured her that this club was completely muggle. The last thing she wanted was to end up in the paper as a trashy gossip column headline. Brightest Witch of the Age Caught Getting Down and Dirty. They’d just gotten the flames to die down from the Savior of the World Gets High story. It wasn’t that she blamed Harry for wanting some sort of escape. She just wished he’d been a little more secluded when he’d smoked the joint that landed him on the front page of the paper. He’d almost lost his spot on the Aurors over that one. Luckily, muggle drugs didn’t stay in the system of wizards for very long. Shame. She enjoyed the buzz.
“Come on, Hermione,” Harry called. “Let yourself go! Come dance with me. I promise not to step on you.”
She snorted and managed a small smirk. “You said that last time.”
“He’s getting better,” Ginny said seconds before yelping and hopping around on one foot for a few seconds.
“Not convincing,” Hermione called and went back to her drink, a dry martini.
Her friends shrugged and started grinding against each other. She hoped they moved better in bed and had to bite back a giggle at the thought of them banging each other’s elbows as they tried to fuck. Her eye caught a flash of red in the crowd and she couldn’t help her jaw dropping as she saw Ron execute the smoothest dip to the floor behind his new dance partner. He’d never been able to move like that when they were dating. She was suddenly jealous of all the men in the room and then shook it off. She seriously needed to get laid if she was jealous of men.
“What’s a pretty bird like you doing alone?”
Hermione looked up and almost laughed. The guy that had asked her the question was more than drunk, obviously having a hard time focusing. She watched as his eyes lazily roved over her body, stopping at her cleavage for longer than was necessary. Then again, perhaps he wasn’t quite sure what he was seeing. His thin body swayed back and forth, betraying just how far gone he was. He wasn’t horrible to look at, but she’d never seen someone so… nerdy. She knew she was no one to talk but she swore she saw a pocket protector in his shirt. Poor bloke.
“She’s not alone.”
Hermione almost dropped her drink in her lap at the familiar haughty drawl. She took a deep breath before turning to confirm her suspicions. She almost wished she hadn’t. He was gorgeous, not that he ever wasn’t, but he was wearing tight faded jeans that made her mouth go dry and a black V-neck tee that accentuated his impeccable physique. She took a quick sip of her drink to fight off her sudden case of dry mouth and put on her best annoyed look.
“What are you doing here, Malfoy?”
“Saving you from drunk losers apparently,” he said, quirking a perfectly sculpted brow at the poor drunk muggle. “Beat it, Poindexter.”
The muggle man swayed a moment, looking for all the world like he would fight back. She secretly hoped he would. Malfoy was way too cocky for his own good. But the man suddenly paled and turned a little green before staggering off toward the loo. Malfoy shook his head, sneering in disgust.
“Fucking lush.”
Hermione frowned. “Says the man with the… what is that?”
“Scotch and water,” Malfoy said, taking a small sip.
She shook her head to keep from focusing on the bit of moisture clinging to his cupid bow lips and summoned up her best scowl. “What are you even doing here?”
“What does anyone come to a club for?”
She huffed. “I meant this club. It’s a muggle club.” She paused and frowned. “And where in the hell did you hear the term Poindexter?”
“Well, I came to this club because the reporters are not at this club. And it would stand to reason that when you hang out in a muggle club, you pick up muggle sayings.”
She blinked in shock. “How often do you come here?”
“Whenever I want to get away,” he said, his eyes scanning the crowed. “Seems like I’ll have to find a new haunt though. Too many bleeding Gryffindors.”
She rolled her eyes and knocked the rest of her dirty martini back. “Whatever.”
Malfoy’s jaw dropped for a moment before his face smoothed back into that damned aloof mask that she both loathed and loved. “Never knew Weasley had it in him.”
Hermione looked over to see her best friend perform dance moves that were on the border of obscene and cleared her throat, looking away uncomfortably. “It’s a recent development.”
He smirked. “I bet.”
She made it a point not to look at him then. If there was one thing she liked more than his indifferent face, it was that bloody smirk. She wasn’t sure when her attraction to Malfoy started. They both worked in the Magical Law Enforcement department at the Ministry of Magic. They were just assistant council members right now but they competed fiercely for the spot of lead councilor. Seeing how dedicated they were, the head of their department forced them to work together on cases. They hadn’t lost one yet, a testament to her intelligence and his cunning.
It had a nasty side effect though. A year in such close proximity forced her to notice him, really notice him. He had changed. When he looked at her, there was no contempt or disgust in his eyes. There wasn’t respect either, but it was refreshing. And he didn’t use any derogatory terms, preferring to call her Granger, which was secretly a turn on. Then there was the fact that he was bloody gorgeous. He wasn’t bulky but he had plenty of muscles. She’d noticed them one day when they were pulling files. It had been hot and he’d pulled off his robes and rolled up his sleeves to try and get comfortable. His white button down had been damp from sweat and clung to his body, accentuating his sinewy arms and muscular back when he’d reached the top files that she couldn’t.
It wasn’t just his muscles though. His whole body screamed god-like. He’d started skipping the heavy gel that normally slicked his hair back, leaving the silky strands to hang in his face. More than once, she’d caught herself reaching up to brush the fringe out of his eyes. He never seemed to notice her twitch but he’d usually toss his head to move it, accentuating his strong neck. The strands always fell back though, obscuring those molten grey eyes. Yep, she had it bad. Damn, she needed to get laid.
“Thinking of creating a spell to grow a cock so you can have him?”
She almost knocked her glass off the table in shock. He always made snide comments, but he’d never been quite so graphic. At least his attitude was off-putting. It was probably the one thing that kept her sane around him. She glared at him, trying to turn this around on him.
“You sound a little jealous yourself,” she finally said, watching outrage and disgust play over his normally stoic features and smirked. “Besides, I’ve already had him.”
Shock and some weird glint in his eye flared and then faded, smoothing out into a cruel smirk. “Miss him, do you?”
She shrugged. “Not really.”
“Never said you didn’t want a cock though, did you?” he pressed, obviously trying to get a rise out of her.
She summoned a waitress and leaned over closer to him, knowing she had him this time. “Polyjuice is a wondrous thing, Malfoy.”
His jaw dropped and stayed there for a few moments. “Holy fuck that’s twisted.”
She sniffed. “Don’t deny the fact that you want to try it.”
His eyes flickered with amusement and curiosity before he knocked back his drink. She bit back a smile at his avoidance and ordered another martini from the waitress that walked up. Malfoy ordered another scotch and water and they both settled into watching the dance floor while they waited for another round.
“So why aren’t you dancing?” Malfoy asked after the waitress dropped their drinks off.
Hermione took hers and sipped it thoughtfully. “The only people who have asked me are Harry, Ron, and that drunk muggle you ran off.”
He smirked. “Why aren’t you out there dancing with Potter?”
She winced when Ginny yelped and hopped for a minute. “I value my feet.”
“Well, you only walk on the bottom of them. You could spare the tops for a night.”
She laughed before she caught herself and took a quick drink to cover her faux pas.
“The Weasel then.”
“He doesn’t dance the same way with women,” she said, watching as her normally shy and awkward friend was channeling Eros on the dance floor.
“I vote potion,” Malfoy said after Ron spun his partner around and ground into him.
Hermione chuckled. “Whatever it is, it worked. That poor bloke is a goner.”
“So is the Weasel. He hasn’t even noticed that you’re sitting with the enemy.”
“I wasn’t aware you were still the enemy,” she murmured before she could think better on it.
Malfoy looked up sharply. “I believe it was just yesterday that he called me a slimy ferret.”
“Right after you called him a poor excuse for an auror.”
“He was,” Malfoy snapped. “Contaminating evidence like a damned buffoon. That idiotic giant brother of Hagrid’s could have done a better job.”
“Grawp,” Hermione growled, “His name is Grawp and Ron didn’t mean to.”
Malfoy’s face twisted into disgust. “I don’t care what the giant’s name is and if the Weasel had brain one in that huge melon of his, he’d have put a protection spell on the fucking quill instead of stuffing it in his bloody pocket.”
“He was sort of in a fight to the death at the time,” she defended.
His eyes lit up in anger and his face turned red. “So he could stop long enough to stuff a damned quill in his trouser pocket under his bloody robes but not to cast a simple spell until he was done fighting the maniac!”
Hermione blinked, astonished that Malfoy was getting so worked up over it. He’d been beyond angry yesterday when Ron pulled out bits and pieces of the quill, contaminated with pocket lint, tissue, and one of George’s canary crèmes. She hadn’t realized he was quite that angry though.
“We made it work,” she said softly, trying to calm Malfoy down.
He rarely got worked up over anything, but when he did, he normally hid it well. She usually only saw a flicker of aggravation in a tightened jaw or the subtle clenching of a fist. Only once had she caught sight of his full fury. It was the last case he’d worked on before their department head placed them together, and he’d lost due to a simple filing error on his part. He’d stormed off to the supply cupboard and decimated a spare filing cabinet… with his fists. It had been both terrifying and awe inspiring. Now, Malfoy was panting in anger, almost trembling as he thought about how hard they’d had to work to salvage the evidence.
“It shouldn’t have been that hard,” he said through clenched teeth, obviously trying to reign in his temper.
“I agree,” she said diplomatically. “But getting upset over it is useless. It’s in the past now.”
“But I’m still the enemy,” he said after a long pause and a few sips of his drink. “I think I’ll always be the enemy in their eyes.”
She shrugged. “They just haven’t gotten to know you yet.”
Malfoy quirked his brow, a faint smirk on his face. “And you have?”
“Well enough,” she said, wishing she’d kept her mouth shut.
“Do enlighten me,” he purred, the predatory look in his eyes making her shiver.
“Well,” she said, pausing to take another drink. “Despite acting like you don’t have a care in the world, you work hard at your job. I’ve never had a complaint as to your dedication to a case. I thought, when we first started working together, that I’d have to do all the work and you’d take all the credit.”
“I’m not the Weasel or Potter,” he said quietly.
“I know,” she said, trying to keep a smile off her face. “You’re dedicated and willing to take on your share. And you haven’t been nearly the self-righteous prick you have been in the past.”
“Oh really?” he drawled, smirking at her.
She rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t mean you’re any less of an ass, but the lack of mentioning my blood status is appreciated.”
He clamped his jaw shut and looked away. She decided to join him, watching as Harry and Ginny started to get the hang of things. Ron was working his partner toward the loo and she made a mental note to thank Merlin that she wasn’t a man and didn’t have to stumble upon their sloppy hook up later.
“You’re not what I thought you’d be either,” Malfoy said, making her jump in shock.
“Pardon?”
He smirked. “Everyone thinks you’ve got a one track mind, all work and no play, completely rigid and inflexible and certain that you’re always right because you read it in a book somewhere. But you’ve listened to my theories with a patience that most don’t possess. Even though my thoughts come from experience and not from texts, you consider them. You weigh them against the data you’ve found and either agree or disagree without making it personal. You’re still a swot… but the lack of acting superior is appreciated.”
She rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”
He smirked and finished off his drink. “Why aren’t you dancing, anyway?”
“I told you, no one’s asked.”
“Sure they have,” he said. “And you’ve turned them all down.”
She shrugged. “I just don’t want to dance.”
“Oh, I get it,” he said softly. “You don’t know how.”
She finished her martini and slammed the glass on the table. “Of course I do!”
“Then prove it,” he said, standing slowing and extending a hand.
“What?”
“You heard. Dance with me, Granger.”
She raised an incredulous brow. “Excuse me?”
“Oh come on,” he said. “It’s just a dance. We’ve given each other a compliment tonight. What’s one more extremely odd thing between us? Besides, I don’t think you have it in you.”
“Is that a dare?” she snapped, thinking about how strange their talk had been.
“It’s a fact,” he said, putting on that hoity air that aggravated the shit out of her.
“Fine,” she growled, noticing that a catchy song was coming on.
It was a rap song, the beat heavy and the right tempo to dance a little risqué without actually having to clasp hands like a slow dance. And the words were fast and about anything but love. It was perfect. Or it was until Malfoy pulled her into his chest and ran his hands down her sides, coming to a rest on her hips.
“What the hell?” she hissed, pushing against his chest.
“I knew it,” he said with a triumphant smirk. “You can’t dance.”
She narrowed her eyes and followed his lead, rolling her hips when he stepped into her space between her legs. His eyebrows rose as stepped into him, sliding down his leg into a dip and dragging her fingers up his calf as she stood back up, swaying her hips in time to the music.
“Fuck,” he whispered. “I would have never thought you had that in you.”
She smirked. “That’s nothing.”
“Go on then,” he breathed. “Show me what you’ve got.”
She spun in his arms, trying not to shiver when his hands brushed against her stomach. The tank top she’d worn barely covered her stomach, especially with her low riding jeans worn specifically to show off her new belly button ring. She rocked her arse back into him, smirking at his sharp intake of breath. He wanted to goad her; she’d give him a reason not to mess with her again. It wasn’t like it was a hardship. As she leaned back against him, she could feel his hard muscles shift and tense. He moved his hips with hers, one hand coming around to plant itself over her naval. He lowered his head so that his chin brushed her temple as they moved.
She gasped as he pushed her away and grabbed her hand, spinning her into his chest. She barely caught herself before her nose collided with his collarbone. His hand pulled her arm around him, the other riding dangerously low on her back. Two could play that game. She drew her hand down his chest, enjoying the feeling of his rippling abs as her hand traveled down to his waist band. His eyes flickered with some emotion for a moment before stepping into her space and rolling his hips into hers. She wasn’t quite fast enough to keep from colliding into his groin… and realizing he was getting hard.
She turned her back to him to keep him from registering her shock, but pressed back a little tighter to feel it again. One of her hands tangled in her hair and the other reached back to work its way down his chest again. He didn’t seem to have a problem with it, placing his hand on her stomach again and drawing down a little further. His fingertips brushed just inside her waistband and she jerked a bit before sliding down to the floor and then rolling up. When she came up, his chin was at her temple again. His other hand grabbed the hand in her hair and pulled it around his neck to curl into the fine hair there. Then he let it trail down her arm to her waist and lower still, coming to a rest on her hip, his fingers digging in a little harder than necessary.
She was having a hard time keeping her breathing even, his subtle touches and caresses making her dizzy with lust. The music was coming to an end and she found herself happy. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take. The man was sex personified and he made her feel like the sexiest woman in the club. She spun, putting her hand back in his hair as she slid her thigh between his, subtly brushing against his hardness. His eyes flared to life, piercing her with a look that said this was way more than a dance.
It couldn’t be though. They worked together and he was right, he was the enemy. At least, he was in her friends’ eyes. The papers would have a field day, the most eligible Pureblood and the Muggle friend of Harry Potter. She shuddered at the thought and gently untangled herself from him when the song ended.
“I can dance,” she said as haughtily as she could, marching straight off the floor and out of the club before he could say another word. She spun and disapparated before he had a chance to follow.

AN: It's a little different than what I normally write and it'll be a lot fluffier I think. Then again, I sometimes surprise myself with some of the stuff that comes out of my mind. Drop me a line and let me know what you think. Until next time... love you guys!
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Just a Dance