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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
- 11
- 12
- 13
Well, here we are. Another chapter of Tango! LightofEvolution deserves all of the credit for giving me some amazing dialogue in this chapter, including a discussion of Theodore Nott (you all will see what I mean.) LondonsLegend deserves all of her beta love, and a big thank you for helping me delve into some character developments, along with the ideas of POV's.
Someone mentioned Anastasia's "Learn To Do It Waltz Reprise" and how it reminded them of this story. XD Omg, I love that movie. So much.
Just a gentle reminder: this is not an Astoria bashing fic. Nor a Ron bashing. I've tried (and am still trying) to make these characters as human as possible. All of them, Draco and Hermione included, have flaws. Thus is the human condition.
Thank you, everyone, for reading and reviewing! Don't forget, you can 'like' me on facebook under MrBenzedrine to get updates and see pretty aesthetics!
With love,
~A.
Center Stage: Draco and Hermione
Setting: Five Red Hat Ladies and a Community Center
While she sat at the community table with her Great Aunt Bessie, Hermione couldn't help but giggle as she watched four postmenopausal women scrutinize everything from Malfoy's 'too rigid' posture to his 'unnatural' hair color. Poor Malfoy looked as if he was getting patted down for a random security check at an airport with the way the ladies had their hands on him, showing him how far to set his stance and criticize his now permanent sneer. It became obvious to Hermione from the get-go that Malfoy's idea of practicing did not involve a real life presentation from women who resembled the Golden Girls franchise (not that he would know what that was) - but she was impressed when, after ten minutes of relentless nitpicking, Malfoy began to listen. He loosened the imaginary bolts in his shoulders, even conceding to a smile or two as the ladies fawned over his straight teeth and immaculate grooming. Every thirty seconds or so, he would flash his eyes over in Hermione's direction, halfway between irritation and amusement.
Once the ladies had finished stripping him of his vest and expensive dragonhide shoes, they ushered him back up to the table and presented him to Aunt Bessie, who nodded in what seemed like approval.
"Now this I can work with," she said.
"They've ransacked me," Malfoy muttered, again turning his eyes on Hermione; this time, they twinkled in shy appreciation. He must have really enjoyed the pruning, she thought to herself. "Granger, may I have a word?"
Hermione wasn't used to the politeness from the man, so it took her a moment to register his words. When she did, she gave a gentle nod and followed him away from the tittering ladies and waited for him to continue.
"Are any of these ladies aware of our...abilities?" he asked, eyeing them out of the corner of his vision.
"No," she answered him, shaking her head.
"So, what do they think you do for a career?"
"Honestly?" Her cheeks warmed with blush. "A Barrister. It's not technically a lie - I just happen to work with house elves instead of-"
"-They might be under the impression we work together."
Suddenly, all of the blood drained from Hermione's face. She was astonished, to say the least. "Why would they think that?" she asked slowly.
"I panicked!" he admitted under his breath, "They kept asking me how I knew you, and I wasn't sure if you had mentioned me at all from our days back in school, and I didn't want them to think-"
"-Think what? What did you not want them to think?"
It was his turn to redden in the face, and he glanced over her shoulder at the ladies waiting for them. "I just didn't know if you told them anything about what went on between us or..."
A sudden gush of heat cracked over Hermione's head like a runny egg, oozing into the crevices of her psyche. She stared in bewilderment, caught somewhere between embarrassed and flattered. To counter her mixture of emotions, she said the first thing that came to mind: "Well, Malfoy, that would infer you were worth talking about back in our school days."
Catching her playful tone, he smirked and countered, "Trust me, Granger. I know I was rememberable."
"Well now, Barrister, do you actually know anything about the legal profession?"
"Not a clue," he shrugged. "But how difficult could it really be? After all, you're practically one yourself in the wizarding world - and if you can do it..."
After a scathing look from Hermione, the pair returned back to the ladies at the table, who insisted that she remove her shoes. Once that was settled, they pushed the pair together and set them up like dolls, an arm here and a leg there.
"This isn't quite what I had in mind when I asked to practice tonight," muttered Malfoy, his face exceptionally close - so close, she could feel his breath ghost across her cheek. For all of the erotic dreams she'd been having, not one of them compared to having the real thing pressed up against her and in such a close proximity.
"What did you have in mind?" she asked him. The tension between them thickened when he didn't respond.
"Now, show us your moves," said Bessie, strumming her arthritic fingers across the table, resembling the Queen of England in the way her eyes flickered in judgement. Hermione felt very out of place amongst the older women, who all had danced professionally at one time, but she stifled her feelings for now. If they wanted to get better without falling into tanks of eels, this is what they would have to do.
"Wait!" said one of the ladies, waddling over to a nearby record player in the corner of the room. "I have just the song!" She bent over with flexibility not usually afforded to the elderly and sifted through a box of records on the floor. Blowing on one and sending a puff of dust into the air, she set it on the record player and steadied the needle.
Hermione recognized the song immediately; it was one of the songs her parents danced to at their wedding (she might have watched their wedding video countless times while eating tubs of ice cream after her break up with Ron). Sarah Vaughn's colorful voice lit like a spark in the air, and with it, the seductive lyrics of Whatever Lola Wants.
"The counts are easy to remember," called Bessie, playing with the feathered plume on her hat. "Slow, slow, quick quick slow."
"Now that I can remember," said Malfoy with a smirk. "Great Aunt Bessie's already giving Señor Diggle a run for his money."
"And she's doing it for free," Hermione reminded him.
"What does she want in return?" Malfoy took the first step on cue with the music, guiding her backward and far less fumbled than he was in class earlier that day. He glanced skeptically over to the old woman.
"For her great grandniece to succeed," she answered. "She's a perfectionist."
"Like you," he pointed out.
Hermione rolled her eyes, but she smiled all the same. "Like me."
"Chin up, Mister Malfoy!" said the plumpest of the women, "Or yours will surely fall to the floor."
Malfoy grumbled under his breath, "It looks as if she has a few chins to spare, if it does."
Hermione purposefully stepped on his toes to spite him.
"Ah! Fuck!"
"Language!" corrected Bessie.
"Posture!" called the tallest of the women.
"Chin!"
Attempting to correct himself, Malfoy glared daggers at Hermione and asked, "Why aren't they correcting you?"
"I imagine they want to see you succeed, too. And they already know I'm much better than you."
"Hmph. You wish." He quickened the pace and worked through the steps impressively, even managing to keep the time. Hermione raised her eyebrows, impressed, but it was nothing compared to the whistles and catcalls from the elderly ladies at the table.
"Yes!" shouted Bessie. "Oh, that was marvelous, Mister Malfoy!"
With a confidence he wore in his youth, Malfoy flashed a smirk and bowed accordingly.
"Such manners," whispered the plump woman.
"Believe me, he can be a real cod at times," Hermione said, nudging him gently in the side with her elbow. Truth be told, she was a small bit proud for the Malfoy man; he managed to pick up the steps easier this time, and with flair.
"Reset," said Bessie. "From the top."
As they practiced their footwork, Malfoy struck up a conversation. "Do you know who Theodore Nott plans to bring as his plus one to the wedding?" He seemed to say this softer, so as the older ladies might not hear. Curious, Hermione thought. She hadn't mentioned Malfoy's engagement to the Red Hat Society (because it wasn't their business to know), but it seemed as if Malfoy didn't want them knowing, either. Maybe he just didn't want them asking him questions.
"Who?" she asked.
"Adrian Pucey."
A broad grin broke out on Hermione's face. "Well, it's about time they went public!"
Malfoy's face fell into one of confusion. "Huh?" This was, obviously, not the answer he'd expected.
"I caught them 'studying' in the library our fifth year. Really, it was more of a scandal, to me, that a seventh year would be interested in a fifth year." She shrugged.
"And how did you react?" asked Malfoy. "Did you blush all over?" His eyes seemed to trail down her frame in the moment. Hermione felt her throat tighten at the thought of Malfoy imagining her out of her clothes. Oh, she was being preposterous, wasn't she?
"No, I handed them a brochure about an LGBT meeting in Diagon Alley." When Malfoy shot her an inquisitive stare, she added, "Parvati Patil was a frequent member."
"I see…" He nodded. "Actually, that makes sense. There were a few times where I tried to pick up the Patil twins, and neither were very perceptive to the idea."
"It was only Parvati that batted for the same team. I assume Padma wasn't interested in you for your personality."
"Notice how you didn't mention my good looks being a reason she'd turn me down," he laughed, really laughed; it was an infectious sound that lit up the room. Hermione found herself laughing with him, though she wasn't sure why. Maybe because they were getting along for once. It was refreshing, to say the least - a boost to her spirit.
"You never did say who you were bringing," he said, more restrained.
"Oh, um...Charlie Weasley."
"Head straight, Mister Malfoy!" Bessie interrupted, though she didn't know it. "I know my Hermione is a fetching creature, but do try to control your neck placement while staring."
Malfoy cleared his throat, averting his eyes as he poised his neck. "Why am I not surprised you're bringing a Weasley?"
"It's just as a friend."
"Really? And here I was beginning to believe red hair was your weakness," he chided.
"I happen to appreciate an active mind."
"Weasley is a walking contradiction to that, you know."
"Ron might not be 'book smart', but he's intelligent. I guarantee you, he'd beat you at a game of Wizard's Chess."
"Sounds like a challenge." Malfoy's eyes lit up, and his face grew slightly closer to hers. That was, until Great Aunt Bessie reminded him, yet again, how terrible his neck alignment was. "So, if you're into intelligence, why is it you never found an interest in obviously more suited wizards."
"Like who?" she asked, though it was a loaded question. One particular wizard came to mind, and his hand was on her hip at the moment.
"Hermione, dear," chimed in Bessie, drawing the two out of their personal bubble. "You two have yet to do a high kick."
"That's because Diggle hasn't taught us it, yet," she answered definitively.
"No time like the present," said the thinnest Red Hat member, the corners of her wrinkled lips pulled back in a tender smile.
"I don't think we're ready…"
"Nonsense! Come now, dear. Show us your kick."
Hermione was grateful she wore her pants today after all. She looked to Malfoy, who shrugged as if to say, 'What have you got to lose?' With an affirmative mindset, Hermione braced onto Malfoy's arm and did her best high kick - which, all in all, was lackluster and lifted not nearly as high as required. Several of the Red Hats made faces, and two averted their gaze entirely. Malfoy sniggered under his breath.
"Oh. Oh, dear. Hermione, have you not been practicing high kicks at home?"
"I didn't think I needed to yet," she admitted.
"Well, I should say you do," Bessie said with a firm nod, solidifying the demand. "How high can you get your leg up?"
"Um…" Hermione chewed on her lower lip and looked to Malfoy. "Spot me?"
"Why not?" he smirked.
Inhaling with determination, Hermione kicked up again, a bit higher this time. To her surprise, Malfoy caught her calf muscles and steadied her leg in place. The warmth of his hand sent shivers down her body, but she said nothing, instead exchanging understanding glances with him as she pushed her leg up further. Malfoy continued to steady her, stretching her leg while his other hand rested against her waist. His face was inches from hers, and Hermione became increasingly aware of how wonderful he smelled. She didn't make it as high as required for the high kick, but she got close. Malfoy released her and helped her steady her foot back to the ground, hand still on her side.
"Practice," said Bessie. "Three times a day. In the water, if you can. It will help. And stretch! I'm sure Mister Malfoy would be pleased to assist you." She gave a naughty wink.
"Aunt Bessie!" Hermione blushed. Malfoy sniggered into his hand, lost of breath from all of the laughter.
"Come now, Lizzy," he said, addressing the old woman as if they were chums, "Hermione would have to ask for help, and we both know she'd never do it." His eyes grew dark and slated as he shot Hermione a wink of his own.
It then dawned on her; he used her first name.
And she liked it.
Stage Left: Draco Malfoy and guest
Setting: A lone spotlight, possibly another damn dream.
"That's it," he purred, pressing her wet back against his chest as he pulled her closer - close enough for her to feel his prick standing at attention for her. His fingers were curled around her ankle as he tilted her leg up, over the water of some reflected pool (a lake, perhaps? But the water was so crystal clear). Granger wore nothing but a thin camisole that was soaked to the skin and a pair of lacy hip hugging underwear. Draco was completely nude, but he didn't mind; in fact, he liked the intimacy of being so close to her, helping her stretch her leg as high as it could go. His fingers slid down her leg to her thigh as his lips touched the side of her ear, gentle and possessive.
"Lower," she whispered, still attempting to keep the poise of her leg up in the air .
"Like this?" he whispered, moving his hand and cupping her exposed arse. Granger gasped in approval, letting her leg fall back into the water. It made a splash, but neither one cared. All that mattered was the way he praised her neck in sweet kisses of adoration and kneaded her ass slowly. Careful with her, he turned her around to face him, noticing the way the light reflected the water, illuminating her unique features. Every freckle, every laugh line called his attention. She was more than good looking - her smile called to his soul. Just like it had in that blasted Community center… in reality. This wasn't reality.
"You're not really here," he whispered as she wrapped her arms around his neck and coiled her legs around his waist. Instinctively, he reached to steady her and found his hands once again on her ass, bringing their bodies as close together as they could without him being inside her. And oh, how the dream Draco wanted to be inside the dream Hermione Granger. Damn it for lucid dreaming, because he knew it was wrong to want it.
"Did you figure out your lesson yet?" she asked, brushing her velvety lips along his jaw and down his neck. Her tongue snuck out and raced across his pulsepoint, quickening his heart.
"That I want to shag the ever-living-fuck out of you?"
"That's a want - not a lesson."
"Care to give me a hint?"
"No." She tilted her head back to brush her nose against his. "What I want right now is for you to shag the ever-living-fuck out of me."
"Damn it, Granger," he sighed as she brushed her covered clit against him. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't wake up right now."
"Do you want to?" she asked, her brown eyes blinking back at him.
Draco thought about it, and his hands slipped underneath her, dragging one, long finger down her covered pussy lips. He tugged her panties to the side and felt her slickness, even beneath the water. "To be honest, I'm not entirely sure what I want."
Draco Malfoy awoke abruptly, covered in a thick sheen of sweat.
Stage Right: Astoria Greengrass and Draco Malfoy
Setting: Greengrass Estates, lunch time
"You came," Astoria sighed with relief as Draco stepped through the floo. In his hands was a bouquet of roses (as per suggested by Granger after lessons to get back in Astoria's good graces).
"I did," he said with a nod. Things were jumbled up in his head, so he couldn't say much more than that. His dreams were getting the better of him, pulling him down into the water to drown him. Hermione Granger, for all intents and purposes, was just a witch he danced with during lessons. He had no obligations to her, nor she to him, and yet he couldn't shake her from his head in the late hours of the evening last night or this morning. And here was Astoria, looking as pleased as pie to see him, and he couldn't even muster a smile. Her words hurt him, but he was sure he hadn't been much better. Their fight tore a rift between them, and he didn't know how they could stitch it back.
"Such a romantic," Astoria noted, taking the flowers. She batted her eyelashes, nervousness blooming in her chest. She hadn't been sure if he would come at all, but here he was - and he looked less pleased to see her than he'd ever been.
She wasn't sure what she'd done wrong. Okay, that wasn't entirely truthful, but damn it all! How was she supposed to support him if she wasn't even sure what he wanted out of life? When Daphne had mentioned that Malfoys liked to be pampered, she was sure it had to be the reason why Draco had failed to launch. But, truth be told, it frustrated her when he showed hardly an interest in anything, even the things he was passionate about, like Alchemy. When they'd first got together, she'd chalked it up to the War for his shyer disposition and antisocial nature. The Draco Malfoy that flourished under the limelight had taken a backseat to the ill tempered, unmotivated Draco today. All of this time, she thought she would be able to motivate him, but he always did the bare minimum.
That was, until these dance lessons.
Why then, all of a sudden, did he motivate himself to do so well in something he despised? He couldn't even find it in him to help her choose a meal plan, but he could throw money at dancing, which he claimed to despise?
She wished she understood him better.
"My parents are excited to see you," she said, dusting the floo soot off of his shirt and tidying his hair. He used to love it when she pruned him, but he no longer wore the familiar smile. He appeared troubled. "Is something wrong?"
"Didn't sleep well," he admitted, running his fingers through his blond locks and messing them up all over again. With a roll of her eyes, Astoria sighed and gave up trying to tend to his hair.
During lunch, he spoke only when spoken to, sometimes fading out all together. Astoria would have to kick him under his chair to snap him out of his thoughts, and he would come back with a fake smile of sincerity, mumbling out an apology.
"How are the wedding preparations coming along, sweetums?" Astoria's mother asked, patting her red lips with her napkin at the end of their meal.
"Wonderful, Mama. Madame Mystique was a wonderful suggestion. We've hardly had to lift a finger in the way of planning…" The awkward silence dragged on as she attempted to make eye contact with Draco, only to find him staring down into his goblet of pumpkin juice, unaware. "And Draco's dance lessons are going swimmingly...from what I hear…"
"Is that right?" Helga Greengrass turned her attention on Draco.
Without missing a beat, he replied, "Well, I don't stumble over my own two feet anymore, if that's what you mean." So he was listening.
"Astoria promised us a preview," said Astoria's father, Bernard.
"Yes," Astoria smiled, kicking Draco once more in the ankles. He popped his head up and nodded in agreement.
"Well, let's seen then!" said Helga.
Astoria, to her credit, tried very hard to seem chipper when she ushered Draco out of his seat and led him to the free floor space away from the table. "Hand on my waist," she reminded him, sending him a tender smile. He replied with one back as he set his stance, but it was hollow. Astoria's heart saddened. Since when did she dim his world instead of light it?
Draco was a nervous wreck thinking of the steps and where to put his feet. He hated being put on the spot like this, but he knew if he didn't, it would end in another argument with Astoria. Is this what marriage would be like? Shutting up to avoid fights? He knew not being able to speak his feelings was getting the better of him, and so he bottled them up, thinking they'd make a wonderful weapon when they, eventually, blew up.
Slow slow, fast fast slow…
His feet set to work, and his head held high. The nagging of the Red Hat Society must have really did a number on him, because all he heard were their shrill voices inside his head. Every time he closed his eyes, Astoria turned into Granger. He couldn't explain it, and he released a bored sigh, hardly paying attention to how well he was doing.
He attempted conversation, thinking about the only thing they had in common nowadays: the wedding. "Has Theo told you who he plans to bring as his plus one to the wedding?"
"No," Astoria replied. "Haven't a clue."
With a smirk, Draco dropped the bombarding spell. "Adrian Pucey."
He expected a giggle, or perhaps a slight gasp of surprise, but he didn't expect her eyes to go wide and her jaw to drop. It wasn't as if they both didn't know Theo's sexual preferences, but - "Oh, no," she muttered.
"Excuse me?" Draco felt his eyebrows sew together.
"I mean...I didn't even know he was seeing anyone." She chewed on her lower lip, glancing at her family, and then she said, in a lower voice, "We...we could arrange them to sit at a table together, but give them surrogate dates."
"What? Surrogate dates?"
"Naturally. We can't very well have wizard, witch, wizard, witch, wizard, wizard at a table, could we? And what if they dance together? Or kiss!"
"Yes, so what of it?" Draco stopped dancing, growling under his breath, "I had no idea you were intolerant."
"Draco, you know me. I'm not the intolerant one. But…" She set her eyes on her parents again, then back to Draco. "The older generations of purebloods aren't as accepting, are they? And if the press gets ahold of it? What do you think will be the headline? Malfoy wedding or Nott coming out of the closet?"
"I really don't care what the press has to say. He's our friend, and he should be able to take who he wants."
"I agree! Completely! But it isn't me you'd need to convince." The gears in Astoria's heads were already churning. "I know the perfect candidates. Two of my former schoolmates also have...certain reluctance to polishing broomsticks, so to speak."
"Or, we could set a precedent for our generation and not care who brings who to a wedding," Draco snapped. "Merlin, Astoria. I feel like we don't know each other at all."
"Believe me, the feeling is mutual."
"Everything alright, dears?" asked Missus Greengrass.
Draco reached for his stomach and faked a groan. "My stomach seems to be giving me trouble. I'm sorry, I need to have a lie-down." Quieter, he said to Astoria, "You need to decide what's important in this relationship: us, or what others think of us." And then he turned and walked away, taking his leave toward the floo.
As always, reviews make me giddy, but no pressure.
~A.
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