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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
- 14
- 15
- 16
*Bows* Thank you for the reviews. They make my heart sing.
Beta love goes, of course, to LondonsLegend and LightofEvolution. These two ladies are not only my betas, but my friends, and I'm so happy to have them.
~A.
"If you love two people at the same time
Choose the second.
Because if you really loved the first one
You wouldn't have fallen for the second."
~Johnny Depp
Stage Right: A VERY hungover Draco Malfoy
Setting: Malfoy Manor
The moment Draco walked through the floo the next morning, he found his mother sitting in an armchair, waiting for him. In her hands was a rolled up copy of the Daily Prophet, obviously read and re-curled.
"Where have you been?" she asked, crisp and divisive.
He attempted a shrug. "Out."
"Out where?"
Draco couldn't help but feel like this was summer between Hogwarts all over again, when he and Blaise would steal his father's broomsticks from the shed to have a go around the gardens. "With mates."
Out of nowhere, his mother slammed the newspaper down on the coffee table. "Just what sort of 'mates' are you trying to attract these days, dear?" A stealthy, knowing look crossed her features before Draco's eyes trailed down to the paper. It was a picture of him and Granger at the fountain, her head cradled precariously in his lap. Shit. Had there been a photographer following them? He thought he'd been careful but, then again, he was hammered last night.
"That isn't what it looks like," he began.
Narcissa rolled her eyes. "Well, of course it isn't. If I thought it was, we'd be having an entirely different sort of conversation: one with Astoria so I could support her in hexing you. As it stands…I trust my son enough to know there is an explanation."
Cautiously, Draco began, "Granger and I were just having fun. Friends. That's it."
His mother trailed her eyes down to the paper, particularly transfixed on the way drunken picture-Draco stroked his thumb across Hermione's cheek. "Friendly is a word for it."
"I didn't cheat-"
"Well, of course you didn't, dear. The question isn't if you remained loyal; Malfoy men are notoriously faithful to the women they're with. The question remains how we assess damage control for your less-than-intelligent behavior." She folded her hands in her lap politely and pursed her lips. "Are you and Astoria still playing this childish silent treatment with each other?"
"I think she forgot it was supposed to be a phase," he grumbled, slumping into the armchair across from her. "Why aren't you furious?"
"Because I know you well enough to know that you'll brood enough for the both of us."
"Hmph." Draco picked up the paper and read over the tabloid, quiet for a time. He kept coming back to Hermione's face, so serene and trusting, resting against him in the photo. He remembered how warm her skin had been under his touch, and how he'd wanted nothing more than to rest there with her at the fountain. However, he'd managed to stir her awake long enough to guide her into the Leaky and order them two rooms to crash in. He remembered sitting on the edge of his bed, knowing she rested just on the other side of the thin wall. It had been bloody hard to fall asleep, even as drunk as he'd been. "Shit...I wonder if she's seen this yet." He could only imagine how Hermione was taking the news of being some eye candy on his arm...lap...whatever.
"No doubt Astoria's probably climbing the walls as we speak, wondering how best to poison you."
Oh right. Astoria. How many times could he think the word damn before it actually damned him?
"I'm thinking pearls," his mother continued.
"So she can strangle me with them?" Draco snorted. "No, thank you. I wouldn't even know where to begin."
"How lucky you are to have a mother who is already prepared for such events." Narcissa bent down and revealed something from behind her skirt: a powder pink gift box wrapped in a silver bow. "For Astoria."
"So, she won't strangle me in pearls. She'll shove the box down my throat." He rubbed the sides of his cheeks and sighed. How did an evening out drinking alone turn into such a debacle? "There's more, isn't there?" he asked, reading his mother's expression.
"My observant son." She flipped the paper over and pointed to the continuing story. "You were seen entering the Leaky Cauldron and renting a room."
Draco's mouth gaped in horror. "Rooms. Plural." When Narcissa raised her delicate eyebrow, he snapped, "What should I have done, Mother? Take her to the Manor? We were far too gone to Apparate. You didn't raise me to leave an inebriated woman alone in the streets."
Narcissa seemed to relax at this, considering his explanation. "I didn't raise you to get drunk with a lady that isn't your betrothed in the first place."
He scowled. "I didn't plan to; it just happened. Granger was having a rough night," albeit, it was because he interrupted her plan for a shag, "and we happened to be at the same place." It wasn't a complete lie; they were at the same place when he caught her on her date. Getting toasted in all of the bars to follow...well, that was because he'd invited her along. "And she was having trouble with a bloke." Again, Granger wasn't having trouble with Greg's advances by any means. If anything, he might have been the offending bloke in the first place. "Really, I was a hero." -To sabotaging Granger's unideal lay.
"Well, I hope a hero would remember to bring protection the next time something just happens."
"Mother!"
A smirk fell across Narcissa's lips. "Kidding, dear." She leaned back against her chair, pausing. Even in a casual position, she was still all business. "So, I think the best thing to do is face the press head-on. Invite Miss Granger out in the open."
"You want us to be seen together?"
"Along with Astoria," his mother nodded. "Show the masses there is no tension between you and Astoria. That this...friendship...isn't a threat to your wedding. A sibling kind of relationship, formed after the War." The gears in her head quickly turned. "If we get ahead of this, we might be able to salvage your marriage yet."
Draco mulled over her suggestion, thinking of how brilliant his mother really was. Cunning and ever a Slytherin, she almost lived for these kinds of catastrophes. Her idea was foolproof, but it was also a lie. He saw what was in Granger's thoughts last night; brotherly wasn't the way she saw him at all. And with the raunchy dreams he'd been having of her, too...if they were to be like siblings, the situation screamed incest. Guilt welled in his chest. This wasn't the kind of husband he planned to be. Whatever was going on between him and Hermione, he needed to figure it out. Soon.
"Astoria will never go for it," he said flatly. Hermione will. No doubt, her eyes are probably as big as her hair right about now. She wouldn't want to be seen like this in the presses.
"You leave that to me, dear. But when Astoria comes to you, you are to...what was it your father liked to say? Lay on the Malfoy charm?"
"You always saw right through that," Draco pointed out.
Narcissa shrugged. "Perhaps. But I appreciated his efforts, nonetheless. Astoria will, too. Especially if you mean it." There was a threatening knowing behind her voice, as if she suspected his doubts. "You can expect her here within the hour. I will talk her down, and you will apologize profusely."
"Great." Draco stood up, legs wobbly from dehydration. He picked up the box from the table and rubbed at his tired eyes. "I'll be in the potions lab until then."
"Why on earth are you going down there, sweetheart? It's a glorified basement?" Narcissa shuddered, no doubt thinking of the spiders that lurked in the used-to-be-dungeons.
"Taking up a project," he smirked, recalling the conversation he had last night with Hermione. He felt inspired, suddenly, to get to something that could take his mind off of the turn of events.
Narcissa tilted her head, curious. "Alright. I'll send one of the elves down with a plate of food."
Draco only grunted in response, already on his way.
Stage left: A sleeping Hermione Granger
Setting: The Leaky Cauldron
Hermione gave a long stretch, rubbing her tired eyes. A yawn escaped her lips as she rolled over, expecting to cuddle Crookshanks only to find the bed bare, instead. Odd. Crooks always loved snuggling with her in the mornings.
Knock, knock.
Her eyes came open with a start, taking in the dreary, faded seventies floral wallpaper on the walls and dust on every surface. This isn't home. No, this was room in the Leaky Cauldron, wasn't it? Glancing down at her attire, she realized she was still in the same transfigured clothing from last night, though her shirt was bunched up around her stomach, and her bra uncomfortably prodded her with its underwire. How did she get here?
Knock, knock, knock! "S'cuse me," someone said from the other side of the door. "I'm looking for a," there was a pause, "Herm-in-ee? Granger?"
Hermione thought about correcting him for half a moment, but decided it wouldn't be worth the effort. No stranger ever got her name right. "J-Just a moment!" She fixed her shirt while struggling to remember how she got there. The last thing she remembered was…
Oh bollocks. Malfoy.
She crawled out of bed immediately, looking everywhere for her wand, only to find it resting atop the nightstand, next to a note that simply stated,
Don't flatter yourself. Nothing happened. ~ Draco.
Feeling much more relaxed, she padded to the door and pried it open. A teen, dressed in a makeshift conductor's uniform, held a brown take-out bag. "Delivery order for Miss Herm-in-ee Granger."
"...I didn't order anything," she blurted out, dazed.
"Oh, um, the bloke who ordered it said you'd say that." The teen offered out the bag labeled 'The Hog-Eat Express.' "But it's already been paid for, ma'am. I was just instructed to be here precisely at noon."
"You were?"
The boy dropped his cheery disposition to say, "Well, yeah. Do you think I'd want to come out this far on my own time? I got a really good tip out of it, so if you could just," he slipped the bag into her hand. "Thank you." His grin appeared again. "We hope you have a pleasant experience aboard the Hog-Eat Express. Be sure to rate us nine and three quarter stars on the comment card in the bag."
After Hermione gave him a gentle nod of her head, she watched him stroll down the hallway, a skip in his step. She closed the door just as a whiff of food hit her nostrils. Suddenly, she was starving. She pulled out the cartons to find a bowl of beef soup, beans and mash, and a cup of pumpkin juice held in a stasis charm to keep from spilling.
The corners of her lips turned up. How very thoughtful of him. Him, of course, being Draco. Who else would it be?
She ate her food in comforting silence, occasionally glancing over to the note on the nightstand. She blushed when she thought about her naughty dreams of him and how she'd fallen asleep in his lap. Oh, goodness, how embarrassing it all was.
She was just about to put her empty cartons back in the bag when she found a small, white box with cheesecake inside at the bottom. Written in the same script as the note on her nightstand was another message along the side of the box.
"They were all out of whipped cream."
Downstage Left: Draco
Setting: Draco's potions lab (aka, the old dungeons)
Sprawled over his work desk, measuring variations of ingredients into vials, was Draco Malfoy. He'd hoped distracting himself with his new-found inspiration would take his mind off her, but it had the opposite effect. No matter what did, her dreams pried into his subconscious, making him lick his lips or readjust himself in his slacks.
Fucking Granger...how had she managed to slip in so unassumingly? Her eyes, her drunken laugh, the way she licked ice cream off her fingertips, it was all too much for him. His steady hands carefully measured a tablespoon of crushed lacewing flies into a vial of dittany, but his mind couldn't shake the memory of her voice, clear as day, whispering his name in her sleep.
He was just about to pull open his journal notes when the door at the top of the stairs swung open, gifting the room with an abundance of light. Clack, clack, clack went Astoria's heels as she descended, her eyes puffy from crying.
Draco immediately stopped his potions tasks, standing up to meet her at the bottom of the stairs. "Astoria…"
She pursed her lips together, reminding him of his mother. "I promised Narcissa I wouldn't hex you. That woman seems to know me inside and out." She laughed bitterly. "How could you?"
"How could I what?" he asked, instantly becoming defensive. He knew it looked so much worse than it was, but that his thoughts were even worse than the assumptions. "Nothing happened."
"Nothing? Draco, you were caught piss drunk out in public with Hermione Granger! What did you think? You wouldn't get caught? That no one would notice two conspicuous celebrities all over each other in the middle of Diagon Alley?"
"We weren't all over each other. Merlin's beard, Astoria! We were just drinking."
"And the room at the Leaky Cauldron?"
Roomsssssss." He drew out the S like a snake preparing to strike. "Plural! Honestly, doesn't anyone believe I'd be faithful?"
"It looks bad, Draco."
"It sounds as if you want me to tell you I've gone to bed with her."
"Did you?" Astoria crossed her arms, accusing.
Draco was livid. "You're the one who wanted us to get along, Astoria! From the beginning of dance class, all you wanted to do was be friends with her. Well, I was just following your advice! No, I didn't bloody go to bed with her!" He hadn't realized his voice had gotten as loud as it did until he felt the strain in his throat.
"So I'm to believe this was some kind gesture on your part?"
"It's good to be seen in a friendship with Hermio-Granger, because that shows how far this family has come." It was a lie. He knew, deep down, he didn't give a flying hippogriff what anyone thought.
"And now you care what everyone thinks?"
"You're going to lecture me on the subject of vanity, Astoria?"
There was a moment of silence between them where they both stared at each other, realizing they might have taken this argument too far.
Astoria sighed. "You know I love you, right?"
Draco's cheeks burned hot. "I do - I...nothing happened, Tori. I assure you...You know I can be a piece of shit sometimes, right?" He was aware he didn't say 'I love you' back; saying it felt wrong, somehow. And that bothered him more than even his blow up.
Astoria released another sigh, though this time it was much lighter. "All your life." Her lips twitched in a soft smile. Casting a glance over the vials and potions on the table, she asked, "Were you working on something?"
"Er, yeah." He nodded, excited to change the subject. "I've decided I wanted to give it a go in potions."
"Oh?" She blinked, stunned. "Um...give it a go?"
With a flippant shrug, he replied, "Everyone keeps asking me what I want to do with my life. I think I've figured it out."
Astoria's eyes lit up in delight. "Have you now?"
He ushered her to a second stool at the work bench and sat her down before taking a seat again. "I'm working on a potion that will help with depression. If it's successful, Granger says she knows someone in research at the Ministry. - Healing, Astoria. I think I'd be good at it."
An impressed twinkle in Astoria's eye glistened as she reached over and squeezed his hand. "That's wonderful, Draco. I won't pretend potions was my best subject, so I might not fully understand your process, but I'm very proud of you." She pointed to the box sitting on the edge of the workbench. "Dare I assume that's for me?"
Draco's eyes fell on the box in question, and he grinned. "Of course. Picked it out myself."
Astoria became excited at his declaration and untied the bow. As she opened the box, her eyes went wide. Draco couldn't see what was inside, so he held his head high, proud. "You picked this out yourself?" she asked.
Draco shifted in his seat. "That's what I said, wasn't it?"
Astoria giggled, reaching in and pulling out a box labeled, 'The Horny Hippogriff.' What in the world…? Draco wondered until he saw the cylindrical, phallic shape printed on the side. Bright pink. 'Self cleaning.' 'Fifteen different vibration spells available.' Oh, fuck.
"I have to say, Draco...this isn't quite what I expected," Astoria continued to snigger behind her hand. "But, um...it's a good place to start." Her gaze fell to his, lust filled and prowling. "Perhaps you'd like to help me take it for a test run?"
Draco swallowed hard, glancing up at the ceiling, imagining his mother with the most wicked smile plastered on her face. He tried to lean casually on the edge of the workbench as he turned back to Astoria and attempted casually, "I mean...if you're willing to give it a go." He was only human, after all, and thought, maybe, sex could fix the rift between them.
Astoria reached for his belt buckle. "These will need to go."
His sweaty palm slipped off the edge of the desk and he fell back out of his chair, flat on his arse.
Downstage Right: Hermione and unexpected guest.
Setting: Her home.
Hermione arrived back home, now able to Apparate at will. She gave another long yawn, stepping through the front door to find -
"Ronald?"
There, half snoozing on her sofa, lay a disheveled and exhausted looking Ron Weasley. His bloodshot eyes popped open the moment he heard his name, and he automatically reached for his wand, perhaps an ingrained instinct from his days as an Auror. When he saw it was just her, however, his hand paused, and he sat up immediately.
"'Mione, there you are. I've been worried sick about you." He was off the sofa in a flash, concern etched in his features as he walked over to her and began eyeing every bit of her he could - though, for what, Hermione wasn't sure.
"What are you doing in my home, Ron?" she asked. "Is everything alright?"
"I should be asking you that," he said, taking her shoulders to turn her this way and that. "You look alright."
"Yes, I know I look worse than usual, but I haven't had time for a hot shower."
"Nah, I imagine the Leaky's plumbing is bang outta order."
Hermione paused. "How do you know where I've been?"
"You mean you haven't seen it?"
"Seen what?"
"The Prophet, of course." Ron searched her eyes for something, but whatever it was, he didn't find it. "You really don't know, do you?"
"I would if you told me."
He dragged her over to the sofa, where a copy of the Daily Prophet draped over the armrest. The first thing she saw was the headline. 'Is the Wedding Off? Malfoy Heir Found Canoodling With War Heroine.'
"Canoodling?" she snapped, snatching the paper off the sofa. That's when she saw it: her face, resting in Draco's lap as he ran his thumb down her cheek. She vaguely remembered the feeling. "Oh, no."
"It says you two were seen out last night drinking, sharing late night desserts, and then stumbling into the Leaky Cauldron together to rent a room." Ron approached her slowly, as if she was a timid doe that might spook.
Hermione read the article quickly, her blood pressure rising with each sentence. "No, no, no. Oh, goodness." She fanned her face with the paper in her hand. "I...it didn't happen like this," she tried to assure him. "I'm not a homewrecker, Ron."
"I know you're not," he nodded, taking the paper from her as if it was a deadly weapon in her possession. She supposed, by the way she felt, it could be. "S'why I came here. I didn't want you to be alone thinking we'd all be judging you."
"Well, of course you wouldn't, because you know it simply isn't true. Yes, we were a bit tossed, but that doesn't mean I went to bed with the man." She laughed, as if that cleared the whole business up. "Really, I should have expected this, shouldn't I?"
"Should you?"
"They act like I can't be around whoever I want." She crossed her arms, still inwardly horrified at the turn of events. She wasn't a harlot, but she could only imagine what Astoria thought of her.
"So you really were out with Malfoy last night?"
Hermione's eyebrows pulled together. "Well, yes."
"I thought maybe it was some spelled photo with some other witch made to look like you…"
"No, that's me." She pointed to the offending paper. "But it didn't happen that way. My head was spinning. I went to have a lie down, and… my head ended up in his lap."
"Oh." Ron's face dropped. "Huh."
"Huh?"
"I just didn't know you and Malfoy were so close." He scratched the back of his head. "Guess that would explain why he stood up for you at the deli…"
"He what?"
"Nothing." Ron tried a faint smile, but it didn't convince her. "So, nothing went on between you two?"
"No, of course not. He's getting married."
"Is that the only reason?" Ron's eyes trailed to the headline picture. "You used to look at me that way, you know." There was a hint of jealousy, but it was masked with sadness.
Hermione wasn't sure which was worse: Ron's disheartened face or the fact that she couldn't deny the look on her face captured in the photograph. It pained her in ways she didn't know she could feel, but she shoved those feelings deep down inside of her. She refused to pine over a man that wasn't - had never been - hers. One that is in love with someone else.
But she couldn't lead Ron on anymore, either.
"Maybe we should have a chat," she said, taking the newspaper and crumbling it up before tossing it over her shoulder. "I'll put the kettle on. We have a lot to talk about."
Would love to hear your thoughts!
~A.
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Tango