Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

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
- 12
- 13
- 14
Thank you, everyone, for your patience! Here's another chapter! I couldn't have done this without two special ladies. LightofEvolution gave me some gems of dialogue between Greg and Hermione, as well as some cute moments to place in the mix. Without her, this chapter wouldn't be possible. LondonsLegend beta'd the crap out of this story and put up with my (obvious) errors. She deserves all the love for that.
I realize I've been forgetting to post quotes with the chapters. Why am I such a dunce? I'll go back later and do just that, but for now, take this chapter as a token of my love.
~A.
"Nothing is impossible.
The word itself is 'I'm possible.'
~Audrey Hepburn
Stage Right: Hermione and Harry
Setting: Diagon Alley, outside the same shop for what seems like forever.
Hermione gave an impatient sigh, tapping Harry on the shoulder. "You've been looking at the same shop window for over an hour now. Maybe you just want to head in, or…?"
"Uh, um, no. That's okay." Harry shook his head, rubbing the back of his onyx tresses while his eyes stayed transfixed on the same white-gold wedding ring adorned with a simple, princess-cut diamond. His eyes asked it all, 'Would Ginny like it? Was it too soon?'
Hermione rolled her eyes, ushering Harry by the arm toward the shop door. "Come on, Mister Potter. You've waited long enough."
"No - Hermione - I can't-" But the unassuming Harry was dragged into the shop, the bell tinkering above their heads to announce their arrival. The shopkeeper immediately raised his pudgy head, grinning ear-to-ear to see potential customers.
"Ah! Hello! Welcome!" He stalked around the counter; immediately, his eyes fell on Harry's lightning bolt scar, and the old man's face grew even more impressed. "Bless my stars. Harry Potter in my shop. You're a very lucky young woman." He caught eyes with Hermione.
"Oh, n-no," Hermione's ears turned the color of a tomato. "Not me. I'm not - we're not…"
"Oh. My apologies." The shopkeeper offered his hand out for Harry to shake. "Bernard Cobblestone, at your service. Well, whomever the young lady is, she's bound to be a catch to have caught your eye."
"You don't know who he's with?" Hermione blurted out.
Bernard pushed his specs up his nose. "I try not to listen to the gossip threads. Most of the time, they're incorrect."
Harry took his hand immediately, appreciative. "Ginny. Her name is Ginny."
"Ginny. Lovely name." Bernard paused. "Ginny Weasley, by chance?"
"Er...yeah."
"Lovely girl."
"You know her?"
"Admittedly, no. But I heard she just got signed on to the Harpies, and they're my team of choice."
Hermione smirked, thoroughly pleased with herself. Harry seemed much more at ease upon Bernard's admission, and the two men fell into an easy cadence with each other, talking about Ginny's likes and dislikes to provide her with just the right engagement ring. When she was sure he wasn't going to bolt, Hermione tapped him on the shoulder once more to say, "I'm going to pop over to another shop for a moment. I'll be back in two shakes."
"Sure," Harry grinned. Just as Hermione turned around to take her leave, the doorbell dinged to life once more, and another customer walked through the door - a familiar one, by Hermione's standards.
Zabini.
"Merlin, Granger. You move fast, don't you?" Zabini smirked in delight. He carried a small bag in his left hand, seemingly at ease within the shop, as if he'd been here many times before.
Hermione was confused. "Excuse me?"
"Well, I mean, you only got asked out by Greg a week ago, weren't you? And now, here you are, looking at engagement rings?" Amused, he sauntered past the fiery brunette and set his bag down on the counter. "The usual cleaning, Bernard. There are two more of Daphne's newest trinkets in the bag."
"Not a problem, Mister Zabini," Bernard nodded.
As Zabini walked past her again, Hermione whispered, under her breath, "How, um, did you know about Greg?"
"You told Draco, didn't you? I'm his best mate. There's nothing that we don't share with each other - well, except for Greengrass sisters, of course. Astoria's got a hearty stick up her taut arse. Don't think I want to be the one to pull it out. And I'm a one-woman kind of chap, aren't I?" He paused, musing at his own words. "Anyway, have you decided if you're done dangling the steak yet?"
"I really don't think it's any of your business…"
Zabini shrugged. "Fine, don't tell me. I'm sure I'll find out from Draco eventually." He gave Harry a nod of the head, saying, a bit louder, "About time, wouldn't you say? All Weasley does in class is talk about how you won't pop the question."
Harry's cheeks stained with red as Zabini took his leave, waving theatrically. When he was out the door, he threw his head back, and robusts laughs escaped his lips. He didn't stop laughing until he was out of sight from the window - or, maybe he was still laughing. It was difficult to tell.
"...Class?" Harry squeaked out. "As in dance class? Ginny's been talking about our relationship in dance class?" He stared in horror at the door, as if Zabini still stood there.
"It's not as bad as it sounds," Hermione told him, trying to get him to see reason. "It's just...you've been dating for some time now, Harry...anyone else would have popped the question. I mean, even Ron tried to ask me to marry him three years ago, and you two were official long before him and I were…"
Harry shot her a dirty look. "Ron popped the question too soon, and look what happened between you two."
"Ron and I weren't compatible, Harry."
Her friend gave a shrug. "If you say so." He glanced back to the door. "So...you and Zabini seem pretty chummy."
Hermione crossed her arms. "He's a cod. They're all cods."
"And Malfoy most of all," Harry piped up, raising a suspecting eyebrow. "So, you and Malfoy are, um, chummy?"
"Harry! He's getting married!"
"Oh, believe me. I know. Ginny is still climbing the walls over the way Astoria Greengrass invited us."
"I'm not chummy with any of them," she waved her hand dismissively, feeling the pang of a lie. It wasn't entirely true, was it? She and Malfoy seemed to have a fond rapport as of late, at least when it came to dancing.
"So what's this about dangling a steak in front of someone?" He nudged her playfully with his elbow.
"His name is Greg," she replied, tucking a thick curl behind her ear. "He's the instructor's son."
"Ooh, a hot date, then?"
"I haven't said anything, yet."
"Ah. Thus the dangling." Harry nodded. "To be honest, Hermione, you're pretty good at that."
"What?" she gasped. "I'm not some slab of meat."
"Maybe that's a bad analogy." He thought about it. "It's like… the men are hanging on the strings, and you're the puppeteer."
"Right, but there's one thing wrong with that theory, Mister Potter. Men aren't dangling by strings for my attention." She was sure her cheeks were the color of rose petals the way Bernard was smiling behind the counter, listening in on their conversation.
"Let's think about it." He started counting on his fingers, "Ron. This Greg fellow. Charlie..."
Her voice dropped into a whisper as she squeaked, "How do you know about that?"
"Charlie's pretty happy about it. - Don't worry, Ron doesn't know, yet. I figured you were going to let him down when the time was right." When she didn't answer, he added, "You were going to tell him, right?"
"Why should I tell Ron what happens in my personal life, now?"
"Because he's still dangling by that string, Hermione."
"Well, I never asked him to. I made it perfectly clear I wasn't ready for that kind of commitment."
"Yes, which implies that, when you are, you'll be ready for him."
Hermione groaned. "Relationships are so complicated, aren't they? Love, hormones - books can only prepare you so much for the real world."
Harry wrapped a tender arm around Hermione's shoulder. "I've never known you to resist a challenge. And if it makes you feel any better, I'm not pining over you."
"Pah!" she broke out into laughter. "As if you could handle me, oh-Chosen-One."
"You're right, because Ginny's so tame," he drawled sarcastically, turning his attention back to the shopkeeper. "I'd like to look at that one, please."
"An excellent choice, Mister Potter."
Stage Left: Hermione Granger and her books
Setting: The public library
"This isn't helping at all," Hermione groaned, pouring over several dance books she'd piled on the desk in front of her, hoping to get some peace and quiet from today's events replaying in her mind. She knew she should be excited about Harry finally purchasing a ring for Ginny - and she was happy for him, really she was - but his words repeated over and over in her head like a broken record, filling her with frustration and doubt.
For a brief moment, she debated telling Ron about taking Charlie to the Malfoy wedding. But then she caught herself, cursing under her breath and turning a page so harshly she heard the slight rip of its tear. Horrified, she glanced up at the librarian only ten feet away, as if she might have heard the rip, too. Luckily, the elderly woman was busy reading some tasteless romance novel, tentatively titled Bond, and took no notice of Hermione's cruel disservice to the book in front of her. Quickly, she whispered a repairing charm under her breath and watched the page return to its beautiful state once again.
She shouldn't have to explain herself to Ron, she thought. They had been over for quite some time now, and she never led him to believe that they were absolutely getting back together. But...maybe Harry was right about one thing. She hadn't shut that door completely. If Ron still held any sort of a candle for her, she knew it was her fault for not extinguishing the flame. Well, she'd done it with Viktor, hadn't she? They'd parted ways and remained amicable through the years. Why couldn't she have that with Ron?
And then there was Greg Diggle and her current predicament with possibly leading him on as well. Hermione was a person of thought, not a person of impulse, though sometimes she was impulsive with her thoughts, which contradicted most of what she believed about herself. If she'd thought about it, she would have realized not giving an answer to Greg was selfish and unnerving. But she didn't know if she wanted to, and shutting him down without considering all of the variables sounded more rude than taking the week to consider it.
Well, no more. The time for decisions was upon her!
So...what was she to do?
Sighing, she rested her forehead against the open book in front of her and closed her eyes, attempting to concentrate. Fat lot of good that did, because all she could see when she closed them was Malfoy from last night's dream: bound to a chair and begging for his mistress to please him. Hermione had been that mistress, which shocked the Hell out of her because never a day in her life had she considered herself a 'Dom' in the bedroom. Oh, and to top it all off, she could put two and two together on the metaphor; being a 'mistress' by seeing Malfoy without Astoria - mind you, it was all platonic and involved the Red Hat Society, but she couldn't help feeling guilty. That guilt sloughed down her skin and revealed another bottled-up emotion: desire.
All of these dreams were getting wildly out of control, and she danced a line between looking forward to bedtime and considering drinking an entire pot of coffee to keep herself awake. She'd taken to biting her nails out of anxiety, which she knew her parents would be very disappointed about if they found out; bad on the teeth, they would have said.
She pinched her legs shut, feeling the warmth that pooled between them. Her skin was lit on fire, blazing at the thought of slate eyes and white-blond hair. And it wasn't just his looks that kept banging themselves against her subconscious; his infectious laugh and actual smile had sent her nerve endings into a frenzy that night with the Red Hat Society. She'd gone home, thrown down her beaded bag, and stared at herself in the mirror for twenty minutes, noting the blush across her cheeks and the cheesy grin on her face. Something about him had sparked something inside of her. True, he had been a bit snarky, but he was kind to the elderly ladies and showed great interest in their advice. He had been an entirely different man that evening; someone Hermione grew very fond of.
And she knew it was wrong.
She wasn't someone who pined over a taken man, and she certainly wasn't someone to pine over a taken man who had, inadvertently, invited her to his wedding. They'd even talked about the special occasion with the mention of Theodore Nott, for Morgana's sake! So why did every fiber of Hermione's being wish to be under his touch, against his flesh, hoping he'd cup her cheek, or flash her another devilish wink, or say her given name again? It sounded so charismatic falling from his lips. Though she'd never heard him take the time to speak it before, he obviously knew how to pronounce it. Not even Ron could have said the same. It took him two days, and a fit of correcting, for him to understand the inflections. Harry, to his credit, only mucked it up twice. But Malfoy knew her name. Not just the basics, but the tone in which it was spoken. Something about that sent shivers down her spine. If he could spell it correctly, she might have an orgasm on the spot.
Wait. What? She giggled at her own stupidity.
"Shhhhh!" called the librarian, shooting Hermione a scathing look over her glasses.
'Sorry,' Hermione mouthed, stifling her fit of laughter into her hand. The librarian rolled her eyes and continued on with her reading.
Oh, but what a thought that was! What was Malfoy doing to her?
He's turning you on, you slag. I am not a slag! Oh, just face it. You're a slag when it comes to Malfoy.
She felt crazy as she burst into laughter again, nervously fidgeting her book closed.
"SHHHH."
"...Sorry." She began stacking her books and shook out her shoulders, determined to keep her composure.
That's it. Her mind was made up. She would take Diggle up on his date, Hell or high water, and, hopefully, rid herself of these atrocious thoughts of Malfoy once and for all. She just needed...oh my goodness. Am I seriously considering having a one-night-stand with Greg? She'd never had one before...would it be as exciting as it sounded? Bad, Hermione. BAD!
She strolled up to the librarian and set her books on the counter. "I'd like to check these out, please." She glanced at the cover of the older lady's novel, thoroughly entranced by the male model on the front with his sleek looks and white-blonde hair. "And, um...do you happen to have another copy of that book you're reading?"
For once, the librarian's lips turned up in a grin. "You'll find the author in aisle M."
Center Stage: Hermione and Greg...and a mysterious figure in the background.
Setting: A dinner date. Oh, boy.
"Wow, Hermione, you look...well, you look breathtaking," said Greg, standing from his seat at the table in the lively restaurant he'd booked on the fly for their date this evening. His eyes roamed over Hermione's too-tight, onyx colored dress and matching heels - Every girl needs a little black dress in their closet! Ginny had sing-songed a year ago when they'd gone shopping together and forced Hermione to purchase the offending garment. It left no room for proper underwear, practically showed off her cleavage in immodest ways, and elongated the look of Hermione's legs significantly when paired with the heels.
She hadn't wanted to wear the outfit, but none of her other clothes quite screamed 'shag-my-brains-out' like this one did. And she desperately needed something to give her hand and vibrator a break.
Greg looked dapper in his tweed jacket and black slacks, kindly pulling the chair out for her. Hermione sort of threw herself into her chair, fearing that if she didn't take it all in one go, her dress might rip. She didn't want it off of her just yet.
They ordered appetizers, two glasses of wine, and began conversing as normal. Hermione rather enjoyed the sleekness of Greg's jaw and the subtle stubble along his cheeks. He was a handsome man, for sure, and it made forgetting about Malfoy all that much easier as she leaned her elbow on the table, secretly almost spilling her drink as she did. She covered it up quickly with a quick grab of the glass stem, nodding enthusiastically at something Greg said - though what it was, she wasn't sure. She hadn't fully been paying attention.
"Is it warm in here?" she asked, extending her neck to show off the skin there; Greg's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, and he adjusted the collar of his shirt.
"Very," he admitted, taking a sip from his wine. "I know I've said it before, but I'll say it again. You look amazing in that dress."
"Thank you."
"And...did you do something with your hair?" He gestured to the tamer curls framing her face.
"I tried some relaxers...hardly anything works on my hair for very long, though."
"It suits you. Although, you're pretty no matter how your hair looks."
Would he say that if he saw me with my bird's nest of bedhead? she wondered.
They talked some more about trivial things until the main course arrived. Hermione took heed to ignore the broccoli on her plate, as it gave her bad gas, and chewed thoughtfully on her steak, stealing little smiles here and there. She hoped she was doing this flirting thing right. Ginny always made it look so easy.
"So, tell me a little about what you do for a living," Greg requested, taking a bite of his well-done steak. Hermione couldn't believe any adult would order one well-done - did he not enjoy the flavors a medium steak could provide?
"You mean my work?"
"You know what I do for a living," he winked, taking another sip of his wine. "I'd love to hear about your time - working for the Ministry, yes?"
A flash of something bright distracted Hermione as it walked across the room, heading toward the loo. A man with white-blond hair and a dastardly smirk on his face. By Circe, he can't be here. Oh, but he was. Draco Malfoy strutted with a slurred lean, no doubt drunk off his arse. It was obvious by the cadence in which most drunk people stumbled aimlessly. Draco just made it look better.
Before she became too distracted, she turned her attention back to Greg. "Well, for starters, I work in the Ministry's legal department. We're actually implementing a new program for muggleborn children and their parents to help make it easier for them to adapt to the muggle world. It's a cooperation between the school, the Ministry, and Her Majesty's Government."
"That sounds...interesting," Greg tried to humor her.
"Oh, it really is. As a muggleborn myself, I find it imperative how overdone the houses in Hogwarts generally are. It's unfair to have children selected by a demented, magical hat."
"The sorting ceremony?" Greg asked.
"Yes, the blasted sorting ceremony."
"I don't understand. What's wrong with it?"
"Well, it adheres to an old belief system created by the Founders who lived in a dislocated generation from what is the norm nowadays. For instance, Salazar Slytherin believed muggleborns to be a beneath other wizards, and so the sorting hat doesn't general place them in Slytherin, even though I've seen my fair share of children who probably should have been."
"Yes, but that's been tradition for centuries. You want to uproot all of that?"
Hermione sighed, her patience getting the better of her. Despite her beautiful dress and overly-done hair, she couldn't hold back who she was on the inside. "Imagine a muggleborn in Slytherin. Wouldn't that be amazing?"
"Not if they weren't meant to be there."
"Oh, for the love of - there would be exams given to test a child's aptitude and learning curve."
"But could it test what was in their hearts?" Greg asked.
Hermione pursed her lips. "As a matter of fact, I do believe so."
"Let me ask it to you like this: do you feel like you were sorted into the wrong house?"
"No, of course not," Hermione shook her head. "Though I did wonder, at times, if perhaps I would have done just as well in Ravenclaw. They say the hat takes your preferences into account, but I find that highly suspect."
"And yet, here you are. You even saved the world by Harry Potter's side," Greg chided teasingly, which only made Hermione more frustrated. He wasn't getting her point. Wasn't even considering it. "I truly don't see what the problem is."
"Friendships, relationships, they're all built from these houses. But because the hat's decision is final, some wizards and witches think they're magically destined to be better than others due to the house they're sorted into. For example, take Gryffindor and Slytherin. I was teased most of my life for being a muggleborn; they told my blood was dirty for it. Slytherins often thought they were better because the hat chose to put them there, as if divine intervention was at play. Science, and a good understanding of the human mind, could put all of those misinterpretations to rest. It could put a stop toward the prejudices once and for all."
Greg blinked, taking in her words. It was clear he still wasn't convinced, and Hermione wasn't quite sure he kept up with her explanation. But he tried his hand, nonetheless. "I mean, I know you and Draco Malfoy don't get on in dance class, but I always thought it was childish animosity? He was a Slytherin, correct?"
"Practically reeks of it," Hermione sighed.
"So that tension between you isn't just school bullying?"
"Where were you between nineteen-eighty-one and nineteen-ninety-eight?"
"Spain. Grew up there."
"Well, I'll have you know, it was more than just 'school bullying.' We fought on different sides of the War. Mind you, I understand he was caught between a rock and a hard place...but he grew up believing I was inferior. That damned sorting hat didn't help anything. It didn't prove my worth, only looked into my head a bit and rummaged around for what it thought I would be like. But, I mean, I do understand Malfoy isn't like that, anymore. He's changed more than just his tune these last few years...he's written an entirely new symphony."
Greg nodded. "Oh, now I understand."
Hermione quirked an eyebrow. "Do you?"
"You, Gryffindor, on the light side of the war, and Malfoy, Slytherin, on the dark side -come to the dark side, we have cookies," he smirked, reveling in his Star Wars joke. "Anyway, you've had serious problems in the past that were caused by things that neither of you had any control over." He leaned forward. "But, let me ask you this. The war is over, isn't it?"
"Yes…" Hermione felt her cheeks go red.
"So, do you ever stop to think how his slightness toward you might have nothing to do with your past? Perhaps you need a male perspective on things."
"Pardon?"
"Maybe he has some childhood crush on you?"
"He's getting married," Hermione pointed out, frustrated she would have to tell someone this again so soon.
"Or perhaps it's something from your past? Have you two ever been…physical? I mean, the tension between you both is so thick sometimes I could slice it with a knife. Sexual energy is only heightened by the Tango, and if he has any residual desires toward you, he might be taking his frustrations out on you because of it. So...have you? Been physical, I mean?"
Hermione's mouth fell open at the same time that a casual, snarky voice from behind her said, "Oh, yes. Hermione used to be very physical with me. Especially when it came to striking me in the face."
Two firm hands came and rested on her shoulders, and she could practically feel Malfoy's smirk from behind her.
Greg raised an eyebrow as if to say, 'You're kinky like that, Hermione?'
Hermione whipped around in horror as Malfoy shot her a wink. "Sorry to intrude. But Potter's been looking for you." He said his words slowly and deliberately, hinting to Hermione to take the bait. "Something about your mangy feline escaping your house when he tried to visit you."
Hermione gave him a knowing nod. He's trying to help me bail on this date. But why? Is it that obvious it isn't going well? "Oh, no!" she exclaimed, feigning distress. "Oh, I'm terribly sorry, Greg. Crookshanks isn't an outdoor cat. You understand, don't you?"
Greg gave a nod, eyebrows furrowing together. "Would you like me to assist you?"
"Search party's already out," Malfoy said at once, helping Hermione out of her chair with a graceful tug of the arm. She was thankful for it, because her dress would have made her tumble to the floor if he hadn't. "We'll let you know how the night progresses. Come along now, Granger. I'm sure Diggle doesn't mind picking up the tab. Potter's just outside..."
And with that, Malfoy curled an arm around Hermione and walked her outside, snorting into his hand as the door shut behind him.
"Malfoy, I didn't need any help back there!" Hermione reprimanded him at once, smacking him on the arm. Even if he was nearly three sheets to the wind, he still had enough balance to keep from falling over.
"Then why did you go along with it?" he asked, amusement across his sharp features.
"Because - it would have looked insensitive, wouldn't it, if I hadn't wanted to find my cat!?" She punched him in the arm this time, enough to make him wince. "Why did you do that?"
"Because I've seen that look on your face before, Granger," Malfoy smirked, leaning against the brick wall next to them. "That's the same look you gave me right before you were physically intimate with me our third year and socked me in the nose."
"I...I wasn't about to…" But even as she said it, she gave his arm another jab. "You're a git, you know?"
He shrugged. "Serves you right. It's obvious you aren't into the sod. Although," he trailed his eyes over Hermione's attire, "you did dress for a physical night. That desperate for a shag?"
"Oh, you," Hermione waved him off like she was shooing Crookshanks off of the kitchen counter. "You're worse than a stray dog."
"In what sense?" he asked.
"I...I'm not sure, actually," she gave a laugh, thinking it over. "Perhaps ferret would have been the better analogy?"
Malfoy's eyebrows furrowed. "Don't push your luck, Granger. I'm your Knight in Shining," hiccup, "Honor, aren't I? Saved you from the worst bloody mistake of your life."
"Excuse me?"
"You were gonna have a randy night with that bloke, weren't you?" His tone suddenly became serious.
"It's none of your business who I decide to become intimate with."
"True." He held up one finger. "But you would have regretted it in the morning. I know that much about you." He poked the tip of his finger to her nose. "So, I propose something else. How's about you transfigure those…" he licked his lips. "-tight clothes into something more comfortable, and we'll get sloshed instead."
"You seem to already be there," she pointed out.
"You can be my designated Apparater, then."
"That's actually a terrible idea. You could get splinched, or-"
"Granger. Yes or no?"
She glanced back at the restaurant, then back to Malfoy. She knew it might be a bad idea, but something in her gut told her to go for it. "Yes," she nodded. "Definitely a yes."
Hope you enjoyed! Next chapter promises to be quite entertaining!
Please leave your thoughts?
~A.
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