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Tango	By : Alcoholic_Rootbeer Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 18416 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I will not make a profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
- 12
First off, I want to give a shout out to kika_kanyume7 and HufflepuffMommy because it's their birthdays today! Congrats, girls! This chapter goes out to you!
As always, I need to thank two special ladies who helped make this chapter possible: LondonsLegend and LightofEvolution. Light helped me with the wonderful idea at the end of the chapter and caught a few of my errors during the writing process, so beta love to her. LondonsLegend perfected this chapter and gave me some things to go back and fix on some previous chapters, so beta love to her as well!
Thank you to everyone has reviewed and favorited this story thus far, and even a thank you to the ghost followers. ;) I know you're there. Haha. I only hope one day you come out of the woodworks. (hearts)
~A.
Edge of stage right: Draco Malfoy and 'friend'
Setting: somewhere in a dream
"Oh, Merlin...suck it, yes, just like that...slower...yes," Draco hissed out between clenched teeth, running his fingers through her curly strands. The pressure around his cock was exquisite; he never wanted to come down from the high of her lips around his shaft and her tongue doing those naughty little movements, adding pressure in all the right ways. "Swallow my cock."
The witch below him giggled, bathing in the praises. The vibration of her throat nearly forced him to come apart then and there, but he bit his tongue and distracted himself long enough to fist her hair and pull her off of him so he could look her in the face. Soft, brown eyes glistened up at him with obedient splendor, yet they still danced with a hint of rebellion. Wait - why were they brown? Astoria's eyes were green. The rest of the face fell into focus, and he realized who sat nestled between his legs on the floor of his study, one hand on each of his thighs.
"Something wrong?" she asked, her eyelashes fluttering.
Lucid dreaming wasn't a common occurrence to Draco, but he recognized the signs immediately. "Why you?" he blurted out, trailing a thumb down her cheek and over to her pouty lips. She opened her mouth obediently, swiping her tongue across the pad of his finger. "Out of any witch, why is it you I keep fantasizing about?"
"It's obvious, isn't it?" she answered with an identical timbre to the real witch, climbing up into his lap and curling her legs around his hips. The only thing she wore was a thin scrap of a nightdress, but even that left nothing to the imagination. He could see her pert nipples through the fabric and could feel every rib and muscle in her abdomen as his fingers slid possessively down her sides. "I inspire you."
"Inspire?" he snorted a laugh, even as her hands slid over his and guided his fingers over her breasts with delicate movements. "What could I possibly need inspiration for?"
"How should I know? This is your dream," she whispered, now taking one of his hands and sliding it down her chest, her stomach, all the way to the hem of her nighty. "I'm merely a manifestation. The lesson is yours to figure out."
"Even in my dreams, you're still Granger, aren't you?" he muttered, deliberating how far he should take this dream now that he was aware it was one. "Always trying to teach everyone a lesson." He rested his fingers on her thigh, digging them in and earning a satisfied hiss from the brunette. She wanted him, that was for sure, and Draco couldn't deny this dream version of himself wanted her, too.
"Draco…" she murmured, closing her eyes. "Draco, wake up...Draco…"
"Draco, wake up."
Draco Malfoy bolted awake, eyes wide as he stared up at the face of Astoria Greengrass hovering over him in his bed, her soft hair tickling his face. "There you are, sleepy head." Her cool hand stroked down his cheek.
"What time is it?" he grumbled, eyes turning to the curtains to assess the sunlight; there was none to be found. "And why do you smell like a vineyard?"
"Daphne and I…we might have had a little to drink," Astoria giggled, brushing her nose against his. "I'm sorry. I was harsh on you in dance class. Daphne says I need to," hiccup, "learn to not hold my," hiccup, "feelings in until they explode." She snuggled into Draco's side and ran her hand down his abdomen to his lounge pants. "Speaking of explosions...someone was having a nice dream. Want me to fix the problem?"
Draco's cock was all for the suggestion. "Mmm…" He closed his eyes and let her stroke him a few times, growing even harder by the moment. He could have given in - it would have been so easy to, but his guilt sprung up like an unwanted daffodil and ruined his mood. Not only did he fantasize about bloody Granger another night in a row, but the evening out proved something to him he hadn't realized until he'd tucked himself away in the covers of his bed some hours before; life went on without Astoria. The time spent with Blaise, Krum, and the platonic women breathed new life into him he didn't know he was missing. He enjoyed the conversing, the stupid bets, and even the competitive dance-off between him and Granger. Ever since the War, Draco had kept to himself for the most part, aside from Blaise and Daphne, and, eventually, Astoria. They'd been his anchors when he thought he was sinking from the overwhelming nightmares and death threats over his head. But last night had proven he hadn't needed someone to hold his hand to enjoy himself. And, truth be told, that scared the bloody Hell out of him.
"So, that's it?" he snapped. "All's forgiven?"
"Well, of course, it is." Astoria kissed his cheek and moved her hand over his engorged problem, softening his resolve. "Daphne explained it to me." Her lips trailed down his neck, leaving soft, wet kisses here and there.
"Explained what?" he sighed, eyes falling closed as he fell prey to her ministrations.
"How you want someone to take care of you, and that's why you didn't want to help with the wedding," she purred.
Draco sat upright in bed, brushing her hand away. His eyes focused in the dark and found hers, and his glare was stern. "What?"
"It's why you won't work with your mother in the company, isn't it? I'm not judging you," she said firmly. "I want to take care of you."
The blood in his cock slowly but surely began rushing back to his head, and Draco scooted a few inches further away from her. "I never said I wanted to be taken care of. Just because I show no interest in what type of icing we have on the cake or what color flowers we have doesn't mean I want to be babied, Astoria."
"No, no. Not babied!" she agreed. "Just pampered."
Gryffindors might have been known for their pride, but Slytherins were known for their egos, and Astoria's words cut a large gash in Draco's. Granger's words, for whatever reason, popped into his head instantaneously. I need someone I don't need to control like a child. I didn't want to always check to see if he packed his breakfast, if he did the laundry, or if he wrote to his mum. Ron… he's a great man, but he needs a sitter. Right now, the way Astoria sounded, that's exactly what she thought of Draco.
"That isn't what I want at all," he said flatly, blinking in surprise. If his eleven-year-old self could hear him now, he'd be roaring in laughter and shouting that de-nial wasn't just a river in Egypt. However, as soon as the words tumbled from his mouth, Draco knew them to be true. He didn't want to be thought of as a spoiled child made for pampering - he wanted to be taken seriously as an adult.
"What do you want?" Astoria asked, confused. "If you tell me, I'm sure I can-"
"-What I want is to be treated like everyone else. So, we had a fight. That doesn't mean you walk away. Merlin, do you know how much of a fool I felt when you stormed out of that dance class?"
"I didn't want to be seen bursting into tears, Draco," she huffed. "I'm not like you. I can't just battle it out. I need time to think about things. I don't quip with the best of them like you. Some of us need a quiet moment to collect our thoughts."
"Why? So you can make assumptions about me?"
"Assumptions? I'm only saying what everyone else knows to be true! You don't do anything. You laze around and refuse to work for your father's company, yet you have no goals in life."
"Have you been talking to my mother?"
"That's beside the point!" she snapped. "Everyone knows you have no motivation. And here I am, telling you I accept you, warts and all, and you act like I've just slapped you in the face."
"I don't know how to break this to you, but telling someone they're a spoiled, pampered brat isn't any way to win them over."
"I never called you a brat."
"Oh, but you think I'm spoiled?"
"Well...yes!" She gestured around the room. "Have you taken a look at where you live? How you dress? Have you stopped to wonder what contribution you've made to affording any of it?"
"Says the woman who goes on shopping sprees every other weekend."
"Yes, with my own money I've earned at my father's company. Not with my inheritance, I'll have you know."
"Maybe I should just sleep in one of the guest bedrooms - I'm so spoiled, you know. I can do that."
"Then go!"
"Fine!"
"Good!"
"Great!"
He stormed to the door and flung it open - a Gryffindor would have slammed it shut in defiance, but he was a Slytherin at heart, so he left it wide to force her to climb out of bed to close it. He grumbled all the way to the furthest guest bedroom down the hall and even grumbled as he climbed into bed, wide awake.
So much for make-up sex. Fuck...he might have just made everything worse. Way to go, you sod.
The next morning when he woke, Draco found a note waiting for him, hovering outside his door. He plucked it from the air and read,
I'm sorry about last night. I didn't mean for things to escalate the way they did. I'll be gone all day with my father on business, but my parents have invited us to brunch tomorrow morning. I hope you come. They'd like to see how we've progressed in dance lessons - I told them you were getting better. Prove me right?
With love,
Astoria
Center Stage: Draco, Hermione, and Greg Diggle
Setting: Dance Studio Uno
"I have to admit, Greg," said Hermione, peering over the steps of the platform, "without your father, these lessons do seem to be going smoother today."
"Yes, him having a cold has appeared to lighten my spirits as well," Greg grinned from the floor. Malfoy stood at the edge of the pedestal, his grey eyes distracted even as they shimmered up at her expectantly.
"Are you going to fall or what?" he demanded, wand outstretched in show.
"Oh, shut it, you," Hermione chided, half serious. She decided on two more steps higher than the last lesson and waited on the steps below her to fold in on themselves. Then, she glanced down at Malfoy and grinned. This would be the fifth trust fall between them today, and they were getting better at it by the minute. Maybe it had been the evening before that lifted their spirits. Something of a bond formed between them easily since last night, and when they had walked in today, there was a familiarity. They spoke casually to each other, and Malfoy had explained that Zabini and Ginny were left with the tab that evening, including to pay for Viktor's expensive bottle of vodka. Neither of them talked about her awkward slip-up of words, and that sat just fine with Hermione. She didn't need to be reminded how embarrassing it all was, having spent the night pouring over her newly bought Alchemy book just to keep herself distracted enough not to dream of Malfoy when she finally fell asleep.
"I'm growing old, Granger. By the time you fall, we'll both have grandchildren," he teased, his signature smirk plastered on his face like a beacon in the middle of a lake. Hermione rolled her eyes, crossed her arms over her chest, and let herself fall back, the wind whipping through her hair. She landed on a soft pillow of magic three feet from the ground, smiling from the thrill. Now that she was used to the fall, she rather enjoyed it. Adrenaline junkie, she was not, but it still didn't mean that, under the right parameters, she couldn't enjoy a controlled bit of excitement. Malfoy offered out his hand and pulled her up on her feet again, looking rather pleased with himself.
"This is beginning to be too easy for you both," said Greg, giving a yawn. "Don't let my father see it."
"Why not?" asked Hermione. "Isn't that the point of these exercises? Trust?"
"He says that, but they're really to push you to your breaking point. Next, he'll be placing a tank of electric eels or some sort of showy, dangerous thing below the pillar, if you aren't careful." He brought his finger to his lips. "But you didn't hear it from me."
"In muggle dance classes, people simply learn the steps."
"Yes, well, in muggle dance class, they also are oblivious to craftsmanship," sneered Malfoy.
"That isn't true," she retorted. "My great-aunt happened to be a world renowned ballerina and traveled worldwide in a production for The Nutcracker."
"And yet none of the talent seems to have trickled down to you. Pity."
"You're a bit more salty than normal," Hermione pointed out. "Anything you wish to share with the class?"
Malfoy smirked, climbing the steps and taking five more than last time to show her up. "Nope!" he called from the top before he fell back without warning. Hermione quickly levitated him to the ground and smacked him on the shoulder. "Ouch! What was that for?"
"You could let a person know when you're about to leap off a pillar, you know."
"When I see a person, I'll be sure to do that."
"Whatever." Hermione crossed her arms. She didn't understand it; one moment, Malfoy was cool, calm, and collected, and the next he was a bundle of jerkish quips and arrogance. There was only one reason she could deduce as to his bipolar mood swings. "You and Astoria haven't quite made amends, I take it?"
"Oh, what gave it away?" he mumbled sarcastically.
Greg stepped in between them, eyeing Malfoy with scrutiny. "Alright. This isn't a boxing ring, so take the insults outside or keep them to yourself. We're here to dance." He exchanged courteous glances with Hermione before saying, "Take it from the top. Feet placement is the name of the game here, today."
Malfoy offered out his hand with a bored yawn, and Hermione took it, setting their stance in proper practice etiquette. As they set off in their steps, the blond eyed Greg from across the room and whispered, "Do I detect a bit of sexual tension?"
"Excuse me?" Hermione tightened in his grasp.
"Between you and Casanova over there."
"Oh." She blushed. "Well, he did ask me to dinner yesterday."
Malfoy stumbled off beat and quickly made up for it. "Oh?"
"I...said I'd have to think about it," she admitted.
Malfoy nodded. "Any particular reason?"
Oddly enough, Hermione had asked herself the same question. It wasn't as if Greg wasn't good looking or kind -of those qualities, he seemed to have an abundance. He had drive, personality, and charisma. But still… "I don't know him well, do I?"
Both of them turned their eyes conspicuously on Diggle before looking at each other.
"Isn't that the point of a date? To get to know someone?"
"I don't like dating people I'm not already friends with first," she whispered offhand.
"How long do you intend for him to wait for your answer?" Malfoy asked, seemingly irritated at her. "Either throw the man a bone or stop dangling the steak in front of his face."
"Did you just compare me to a steak?"
"Did I say steak? I meant table scraps."
"Whatever's going on between you and your bride to be, it doesn't mean you need to take it out on me," she snapped suddenly, breaking their dance. Greg gave them both a look that forced them to step into stride once again, and, to Hermione's surprise, she heard Malfoy mutter, "My apologies. Things with Astoria are...tense, as of late." His grip on her hand tightened.
"I'm sorry to hear that," she said, but even she could hear the foreign tone in her voice. Was that jealousy lurking in the crevices of her psyche? No, surely not. That would never do. Perhaps it was concern. Yes, that sounded much better.
"Do you think I'm…" he started but cut himself off last moment.
"What?"
"Never mind."
"No, go on. What is it?" She was vaguely aware they'd mastered a side step with little effort, and her pride swelled.
"Do you think I'm lazy?" he blurted out, his eyebrows knitting together. "Blast it all, forget I said anything." Quickly, he ducked his head, focusing on their feet - and tripped twice.
Hermione didn't like that defeated look on Malfoy's face one bit - yes, he was a prat, arrogant and selfish to boot, but lazy? "I don't think I've ever associated you with that word. In school, you always made extra effort to be a prat to Harry, Ron and I. You strove for good grades and extracurriculars, and even now, you're taking the hard road all in an effort to learn a dance you don't particularly care for all to appease your fianceé. If you ask me, none of that screams 'lazy' in my book."
Malfoy smirked thoughtfully, his eyes meeting hers. "I'm glad someone sees it that way."
"Has your bruised ego been sated?"
"Quite, actually."
"Great. You're stepping on my toe."
The rest of lessons went swimmingly in comparison to any of the others. They tried out a few more complicated steps with Greg, who took it upon himself to teach Malfoy one on one - which was to say, taking the lead as the two men were forced to dance together. Hermione giggled wildly at the sight, all the while with Malfoy muttering that if she told anyone, he would hex her. Still, there was a playfulness in his tone that wasn't easy to miss, and she decided that perhaps her reasons for being fascinated with the man had nothing to do with adoration. Maybe what she was looking for in Malfoy was friendship? She could get on board with that. She hoped that's what she was secretly craving.
Alas, when Greg told her to try the steps out with Malfoy, and their hands clasped in one another's, Hermione's heart fluttered. No, she thought, this is definitely more than friendship wanted...why? I don't understand!
By the end of the dance lesson, Hermione was frustrated with herself. Malfoy stepping on her toe one final time was just the last straw. "That really hurts, you know!" She sighed, unraveling herself from him. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped. I just...have a lot on my mind."
"Believe me," Malfoy grumbled, sticking his hands in his pockets, "I know the feeling." His eyes followed hers as she strode over to her bag and began to fish out a water bottle. Quickly, she found her wand and slipped the strap of her bag over her shoulder. "Where are you off in such a hurry?"
"Me?" she blinked. "Oh. I have an appointment in Diagon. Work related." She noticed the way Greg hung back near the door, and out of nervousness, she continued to stand with Malfoy.
"Will it take long?"
"No more than an hour," she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Why?"
Yes, why? Draco couldn't put his finger on it, so he quickly made up an excuse as to his inquiry. "I was wondering if we could meet up afterward-" Shit, what was he saying? "-to go over dance steps, of course."
"Of course," Granger smiled, a hint of blush to her cheeks. "But…"
"But?"
"We have another lesson tomorrow afternoon. Why tonight? Shouldn't you be with Astoria?"
Ah, yes. Astoria. "She won't be home tonight. But she is the reason for meeting up," he quickly found his excuse, "Astoria wants us to show her parents what we've learned in dance class. I'd rather not make a fool of myself."
"I see…" Granger tilted her head. "But I'm sure you could practice with her once she's arrived home."
Yes, but home wasn't where he wanted to be. To be alone in his home sounded bloody awful, and he was selfishly enjoying his time with Granger. While she wasn't upper-class, she held her own against him, and her ego-feeding boost from earlier made him want to get to know her better. He couldn't explain it, but he felt a need in him to learn whatever lesson 'dream Granger' was trying to teach him. And the only way to do that was to be around the real woman.
"Yes, but she's much better than me," he drawled. "I'm better practicing with someone on my level."
That got her attention. "On your level? Malfoy, I'm doing far better than you - Greg even says so."
"Greg wants into your knickers. He's going to say whatever he can to do that. I, however, have no intention of getting into those-" Were they cotton? Lace? No, bad. Very bad, Draco. "-undergarments of yours, so I have no qualms about telling you when you're awful."
"I'm not awful!"
"So you won't mind putting your skills to the test tonight," he challenged.
Something clicked in the back of Granger's mind - something dangerous and specific. Half smirking, she took the bait, but Draco felt like he was on the fishing hook instead as she said, "Alright then, Malfoy. You're on. Where and when?"
"Oh." He hadn't thought of that. "I...er…"
With a grin, she shrugged. "Don't worry. I have just the place. Make sure to wear something...casual. Meet me at this address-" She scribbled something down on a strip of paper from her bag, "-at eight tonight? Would that be too late?"
Trying to act casual, he gave a slight shrug. "Eight is fine."
"Great."
Stage left: Draco and Hermione and...other people. Ugh.
Setting: ?*?*?
This wasn't what Draco Malfoy had in mind. Not at all! Glancing around at the muggle 'community center' -whatever that was- he shot Granger a contemptible glare and said, "If this is your idea of some sick joke…"
"Not at all. Come on," she waved him forward, "There's someone I want you to meet." She grabbed him by the cuff of his sleeve, careful to make sure their hands didn't touch as she led him to a circular table at the back. Seated at it were five elderly ladies, all wearing variations of the color purple and bright red hats on top of their heads. The leader (and Draco could only assume she was by the amount of gaudy jewelry she wore and the fact that she wore a red feathered plume in the side of her hat) grinned ear to ear at the sight of Granger and clapped her hands excitedly.
"Oh, Hermione, dear! It's wonderful to see you!" She reached out, grabbed Granger by the arms, and pulled her in for a hug that surely suffocated the younger witch. "Is this him?" she whispered, though it was still loud enough for Draco to hear.
Granger turned and smirked. "Yes, Bessie. This is him."
"He's a strapping man, isn't he?" Bessie quirked her penciled eyebrows in satisfaction, looking Draco over.
"Excuse me, but - what the Bloody Hell is going on?"
"Malfoy, manners," Granger scolded. "I'd like you to meet my Great-Aunt Elizabeth Granger and the North England chapter of the Red Hat Society. These wonderful ladies are going to be your dance coaches this evening."
As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts!
Much love
A.
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