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
- 20
- 21
- 22
It's 8:51 PM on #TangoTuesday when I write this, and I want to say -whew, just made it under the wire! This chapter took a week in the making, and I couldn't have done it without my awesome betas pushing me through it, talking me through the slight negativity at the way Draco has been viewed, and helping me achieve my goals of getting my words across. There are some great lines and thoughts from both LondonsLegend and LightofEvolution in here, so take a bow ladies! This chapter is dedicated to you!
"Do I have to spell it out for you
or scream it in your face?
The chemistry between us
could destroy this place."
"Staplegunned" by The Spill Canvas
Stage Left: Draco and Blaise
Setting: The Zabini Summer Home
"That's a tough break there, mate," said Blaise between bites of chocolate-covered strawberries out on the deck of his home overlooking a ridiculous display of various shrubbery trimmed to resemble centaurs, gnomes, and fairies. Draco always thought the front yard leading up to the estate was a bit pretentious, and that was coming from someone who grew up with peacocks to meet him at the front gate. He watched as his friend paired the strawberries with a glass of sangria - not even an expensive kind. Just some made by squibs in Peru, as if Peru was where one got the finest things. Hmph. "How did Astoria take it?"
"She's the one who suggested it," replied Draco, taking a careful sip of firewhiskey from his tumbler glass. He much prefered a good scotch, but nothing in Blaise's inventory had been deemed worthy.
"No kidding?" Blaise raised both of his eyebrows together.
"I figured you would have heard, seeing as how you're married to her sister."
"Daphne took Astoria out for a shopping spree. I won't hear the gossip until they've returned."
"There's nothing to gossip about," Draco insisted, waving his hand about. "We're on good terms."
"That's a pretty way of saying you haven't a clue what the Hell is going on."
He hated the way his friend knew him so well. "Indeed, I don't. There. That what you wanted to hear?"
"Amongst other things."
"Like?" Draco bit down on the word venomously. His patience was really wearing thin. Every few seconds, he found his foot tapping so hard against the leg of the table that it shook the drinks on top. Finally, he crossed one leg over the other to prevent further fidgeting. "Oh, I know. Let's talk about how you and Daphne gave my hideaway location to Hermione sodding Granger." His eyes grew dark and foreboding.
Blaise squirmed in his seat, reaching up to unhook the top button of his shirt. "Look, if anything I did you a bloody favor."
"A favor is it?"
"Yeah!" The Zabini heir nodded in defence. "Someone had to dig you out of your depressed hole you'd burrowed into. Neither myself, nor Daphne, could get you out of it. And if there's one thing Granger is good at, it's being stubborn."
"Understatement of the century," Draco muttered. "It still doesn't give you the right-"
"-Whoa, now. Slow your roll there, Bertie Botts." Blaise took a deep pull from his wine, set the glass down on the table, and pointed an accusing finger in Draco's direction. "I have every right to kick some sense into my best friend's arse. Me using Granger to do that? Well, that's just good business."
"Slytherin."
"You say that like it's a bad thing. Where's your house pride?"
"Maybe in the gutter along with our friendship?" offered Draco with a quirk of an eyebrow.
Blaise feigned forlornness, casting his hand dramatically over his forehead and tilting his head back. "Oh, no! The horror! The sheer horror! Drakie, come ba-" The next moment, he wore the contents of Draco's firewhiskey over his face. As it dripped comically down his face, Blaise grimaced and shouted, "Aye! What's that about?"
"It's about you shutting the Hell up and never calling me Drakie again," Draco smirked, glancing into his empty glass. "Fetch me some more whiskey, would you?"
"I'm not your house elf, you ungrateful knob," Blaise grumbled, retrieving his wand from his robes pocket and drying up the liquor from his face and shirt. "Alright, you leave me no choice. I'm breaking out the big curses."
"Ooh, I'm so scared," Draco mocked, crossing his arms.
"So now that things are on hiatus with Astoria, what does that mean for you and Granger?"
The contents of Draco's stomach lurched upwards, and he tasted bile in his throat the next moment. Quickly, he stomached it back down again before narrowing his eyes and giving his friend an incredulous glare. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"You know damn well what it means."
"You want more whiskey tossed in your face?"
"I want to know why you haven't called off the entire wedding," Blaise interjected, clearly serious this time. There was a sternness in his eyes that made Draco uneasy, like he was staring at a parent instead of a friend. Apparently, Blaise was practicing his fatherhood on the best, most guilt-ridden subject at his disposal: Draco. "It's obvious you two are having problems."
"And you think Hermione is the source of it?"
"That's what I'm trying to figure out."
Dishing it back, Draco burrowed further into his chair and leaned back in a clearly unwelcoming position. He thought about the kiss, amongst other things, and what it all meant. "Not that it's any of your business, but I'll have you know, Granger has nothing to do with it."
"Nothing?"
"...Not the majority, at least. - Has Daphne told you I caught Astoria locking lips with fucking Weasley in Madam Puddifoots?"
"She might have mentioned it, yeah…but you're not the kind to just walk away from that sort of thing, Draco. The fact Weasley didn't need a medical floo-in to Mungo's says plenty about your state of mind."
"You think I liked seeing her kissing another man?"
"I think you were relieved," Blaise told him, perfectly calm and collected. "I think you were looking for an excuse to walk."
"Well, it certainly wasn't because of Hermione." Draco remained quiet for a moment, gathering his thoughts. He suddenly wished he hadn't thrown his drink all over Blaise; he could surely use a good swig of something to calm his nerves. Irritated, he produced his wand and accio'd the bottle of firewhiskey from the private bar near the door, popping off the stopper and taking a thick swig without caring if it was impolite. It was just him and Blaise, after all. "Honestly, I don't know where my thoughts are at right now - which is why a break sounds best. I don't want to completely turn my back on Astoria. She was there for me, you know. Even when the rest of you weren't."
His words stung Blaise; he could see it in his friend's eyes, but Blaise remained stoic, saying, "I'll admit, it was hard for some of us to come around after the War. Staying neutral was hard enough…"
"But being seen with an accused Death Eater was too much for your precious reputation?" Draco spat, instantly regretting it. He added quickly, upon seeing Blaise's distraught face, "I mean…" He gritted his teeth. "I know, now you're here for me. But Astoria was there from the beginning. I can't just throw her away like that until I know if…" The words hung on his tongue.
"If?" Blaise asked. "If Granger's sweet tits are worth it?"
"Fuck no." Now he was mad. "If I love her enough to marry her, or if I'm getting cold feet, or if my feelings for Granger are real-" he snapped his mouth shut, face as red as a ruby.
"And there it is," Blaise nodded. "The kneazle's finally out of the bag."
"It's not like that," Draco insisted, anger vibrating in every bone. "Regardless of how I might have an attraction toward Hermione, it has nothing to do with the problems between myself and Astoria. The only thing I can blame on Hermione is possibly bringing it to light…" He leaned his elbows on the table and set his face in his hands, coming down from his frustrated high. "I just need time to think. Clear my head. And so does Astoria, from what I gather. Kissing a fucking Weasley? She must be desperate."
"Yeah, sure, because it couldn't possibly be you driving her toward another man," Blaise huffed under his breath loud enough for Draco to hear.
"I get it, alright, Blaise?" Draco sighed. "I do. I'm a fucking twat, I don't open up to Astoria, and I clearly have issues talking about my issues." Except with Hermione…
It then dawned on him; perhaps the answer to his problems might be to confide in someone who didn't have ties with his ex. Not that Blaise wasn't a great counterpart, but he seemed unfairly biased, probably because of his marriage to Daphne. Sadly, the first person that came to mind was Hermione, and until he figured out what the bloody Hell was going on with his emotions, he wasn't going to put her in a position like that.
"I need to get my shit together," he muttered.
Still, he needed to talk to Hermione about the kiss - let her know he wasn't 'rebounding' or performing some desperate, drunk act out of retaliation. He'd kissed her because it felt right. Because she'd come to check on him, because she refused to back down, even when he was at his worst. He'd kissed her because even Astoria paled in comparison to the compassion, the wit, the no-nonsense attitude that flowed through Hermione.
He had to let her know, one way or another, what she meant to him. It might be the only way to start off with a clean slate, get his head on straight, and figure out which bloody direction he planned to take his life.

Stage Right: Hermione and Ginny
Setting: Hermione's year-round flat, the kitchen
"Talk to me," said Ginny, watching Hermione swig down her second glass of wine for the evening. "And eat some crisps. Please." She pushed the bowl toward her friend.
Hermione finished her wine, set the glass on the table, and sighed. "You still haven't told me your thoughts."
"Well, I'm waiting for the right moment," said Ginny.
"This seems like an opportunity…"
"So, Malfoy kissed you. Like, full blown, on the lips kissed you. And he's still with Astoria, or…?"
"I don't know!" Hermione exclaimed, burying her face in her hands. "I don't know, Gin. And what's worse, I know that knowing will only drive me insane."
"You're nobody's side piece, Hermione."
"I know," she replied, thoroughly discouraged. "I told him as much."
"Well, good! Because I dare that man to show up and try something. The nerve of that arrogant tosser. Who does he think he is? He's engaged, for Morgana's sake!" Ginny sipped on her wine before adding, "I mean that with no offence toward you, obviously. You're a catch, and any man can see that. It's only that Malfoy isn't a man, but a two-timing, arrogant, selfish-"
"We get it," Hermione interjected, put off from hearing her friend insult the man. She, after all, did not feel the same way. "But remember, he did catch Astoria snogging it up with Ron in the bathroom."
"Merlin only knows why she would want to kiss Ron," Ginny rolled her eyes. "Again, no offence. I just don't think my brother would be a good kisser. - And don't answer that either way, Hermione. I don't want to know." She shook her finger in Hermione's direction. "So, if he decides he wants to show up for a second course…?"
"I should hear him out," Hermione said dutifully. "Hear what he has to say."
"Seriously?"
"Seriously."
"Well, you can do as you like, but from what you've told me, he's a two-timing prat, just the same as Astoria is a two-timing bint."
"Gin!" Hermione gasped. "That is not nice."
"Nice? I've never claimed to be. The truth isn't always nice, hun. And until Malfoy figures out what he wants, you don't need to be mixed up in all of it."
Hermione chewed on the inside of her cheek, thoughtful. Maybe Ginny was right. Maybe the best approach to all of this was to do nothing at all. "Pour me another glass, Ginny. I'm going to need it."
Center Stage: Hermione and a visitor
Setting: Hermione's front doorstep
When the knock came at Hermione's door at ten in the morning the next day, she wasn't prepared for who was on the other side. She had a guess as to who, sure, but her mind still wasn't ready for the emotional toll it would take on her. As the door pried open and she got a look at him in his casual vest and slacks combo, she couldn't help but salivate (just a little) in appreciation. No matter how confused she felt about him, there was no doubt in her mind about her physical attraction to the man. Everything, from his steel-grey eyes to his pianist fingers to the dip in his upper lip was perfection. How one man could look so entirely put together and yet disoriented was beyond her, but there he stood, on her welcome mat, his eyes glistening with determination.
"Hermione, I-"
Wham! She shut the door on his face. From the safety of her home, she said, loud enough so he could hear her, "I'm not in the mood to talk, Draco!" Sure, she'd gotten his owl this morning asking if he could floo in, so she'd shut the network off and doused the flames. The Daily Prophet, sitting on the edge of her mantle, confirmed exactly why she wanted no part of Draco Malfoy's arrival today - even if it was just to chat.
"If I could have a moment-" he said from the other side of the door, "a chance to explain-"
The door came open again, and Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. She knew she didn't look pleased, and that's exactly what she wanted him to see. "There's nothing to explain. Off you pop. Shoo." She waved her hands at him.
"Sh-Shoo? Did you just shoo me?" Draco nearly gasped, caught somewhere between a gaping mouth and a dumbfounded, arrogant expression.
Hermione nodded, puffing her chest out just a little in confidence. "...I did."
"Any particular reason?" he frowned, crossing his arms. "I thought we would talk about what's happened between us. I've spoken with Astoria-"
"I'm aware," she said evenly, cutting him off. "In fact, so is most of Britain." She marched over to the mantle, grabbed up her newspaper, and came right back over to where he stood, holding it out to him. "Congratulations on working things out. It seems I kicked your bum into high gear." The newspaper headline read, 'Malfoy and Greengrass confirm: all is well.'
Draco took it from her, albeit begrudgingly, his eyes glancing along the front page with a nearly distant complacency, and tossed it over his shoulder. "Since when do you believe everything in the papers?"
"That's littering," she told him, pointing to the news. "Pick it up."
"I will, once I'm given a suitable explanation as to why we can't talk."
"Um, hello. Does that paper not remind you who you're betrothed to?" Brushing past him, Hermione bent down, scooped up the paper, and rolled it up nervously. She glanced around her apartment hallway, searching for signs of life. "Seriously, Draco, how do you even know my address?"
"Do you think it's difficult for someone like me, with all of my connections, to find out where someone lives?" he laughed, a smirk hanging from the side of his face.
"You shouldn't be here," she said, shoving the newspaper in his chest. "You should be with Astoria."
"If you listened for five seconds," he told her, "you'd know I came here to talk to you about that."
"What's there to discuss?" She stormed her way back to her door, crossing her arms as she stood at the threshold. "Clearly, you've figured out what you wanted. And…and I'm happy for you." It was a lie. It stung, and it made her feel entirely used. She hadn't wanted to be correct when she suggested he'd only kissed her because he was drunk, but really, what had she expected? Neither of them stayed sober around each other for very long. "Now, if you could please just go-" She swung the door to shut it, but he propped his dragon-hide shoe between the door jam, blocking it.
"Owwww..." he whimpered.
"Quit being such a baby," she said. "It's your own fault."
"As are a lot of things. Did you even read the letter I sent you this morning?"
"I skimmed it."
"Oh, great. She skimmed it," he muttered to himself before he rolled his eyes, keeping his foot firmly in place as he leaned forward and rested his cheek against the doorframe. "If you'd read it in its entirety, you would have seen the bit about Astoria and I calling for a break."
A break? Hermione blinked. "...What do you mean 'a break'?"
"I thought that bit was self-explanatory," he muttered. His eyes glistened hopefully at her.
"But the paper said-"
"Bollocks to the paper. We said that nonsense to shut them up while we figure things out." There was a shy way in which he spoke that made Hermione anxious - Malfoys weren't shy. Not by a longshot. "So will you speak with me?"
"We're speaking right now," she told him, her guard up.
"You know what I mean. Inside? Out of the draft?"
"One: we're in a hallway," she said, gesturing around. "Two: I don't think that's a good idea."
Draco frowned. "Why not?"
Bitterness had its clutches tight on Hermione, choking the anger out of her. She knew she had no reason to be mad at him, but it still didn't take away from the fact that she was hurt by that headline. "Because you're still trying to figure things out with Astoria."
"Hermione, I'm trying to figure all of this out."
"What does that even mean?"
"It means Astoria and I aren't together. It means I'm over here making an arse out of myself trying to get you to let me into your bloody flat," he growled, irritable.
She paused. "...But the paper says you're fine." Hermione set her shoulders straight, trying to come off as confident, even though, at the moment, she felt smaller than a church mouse. "So which is it? You can't have your cake and eat it, too."
"Cake? Who said anything about cake? I'm trying to talk to you, not take you to bed." He sighed. "Hermione...I'm just trying to figure all of this out."
"And this 'talk'? What would that be about?"
"Us."
"There isn't an us."
"Obviously, that's what I'm trying to figure out, amongst other things. If you'd just listen-"
"Then figure it out," she said, "and when you do, then come knocking on my door. Because...well, because I won't be an afterthought." Before he could say another word, she gently pushed him back and shut the door, leaving a confused, and quite irritable, Draco Malfoy on the other side of it.
From the kitchen, she heard the sound of glasses clinking together and turned around to see Ginny, still in a set of borrowed pajamas from the night before, pulling out a bottle of champagne and some orange juice from the fridge. "Geez, Hermione. You sure know how to turn a man down, don't you?"
Hermione's muscled seized up, and for a brief moment, she remained completely still. Then, she expelled a heavy sigh and shuffled over to the kitchen counter. "How much of that did you hear?"
"Enough." Ginny grinned. "I'm proud of you. Way to stick to your morals, Hermione."
But even then, Hermione felt a tad guilty for not hearing him out properly. Still, waking up to the sight of the Daily Prophet's headline was enough to get her adrenaline pumping. She'd made the right call, she told herself, even when she felt she hadn't.
Upstage Right: Hermione and full dance cast
Setting: Dance Studio Uno
The next day in dance class was one of the most awkward to date. Señor Diggle was back at it again, flouncing around as if he owned the place (well, Hermione supposed, he did own the place). Even still, it worked her last nerve the way he wiggled his mustache and called out things such as, "¡Muy bien, señorita Weasley! Eres fabulosa with the foot work, truly!" Maybe it was because Hermione was doing such a lousy job dancing with Greg that a pang of jealousy hit her square in the chest. Or perhaps that had something to do with seeing Draco and Astoria dancing together across the room as if they weren't broken up.
"No, no. Cariño, what are you doing?" Señor Diggle stepped between Astoria and Draco. "¿Dónde está la pasión?"
"Pardon?" asked Astoria.
"The passion! Have you hidden it inside your sujetador? Because it certainly isn't out for the world to see!" He snapped his fingers in Hermione's direction. "Querida mía, come! You'll set the example."
"Oh, um," Hermione tucked her hair behind her ears. "No. Thank you, but no." She avoided looking Draco in the eyes.
"Nonsense. You two have wonderful química."
"I don't care if we have wonderful chemistry," Hermione huffed, "I said no." She felt all eyes in the classroom drift in her direction as she exchanged embarrassed glances with Astoria. "Excuse me." Even though she knew it was completely illogical, she gathered her purse and slipped on her 'not dance appropriate' sneakers before setting off in the direction of the door. "I need a break."
The door slammed behind her, and the cold hallway had never been more welcoming. Hermione leaned against the door, expressing a large sigh in the process. That was, until the door opened again, shoving her forward and off balance. "Ah!" A firm hand reached out and grabbed her. Hermione's heart raced, thinking it might be Draco, but upon turning around, she discovered it was Greg Diggle. He wore a disheartened smile as he said, "Are you alright? I had no idea you were right there."
"I'm fine," she assured him, shaking her head.
"You sure looked like you were fine as you stormed out," he chided, setting her upright. "I get it. Really, I do. I'm sorry, my father is so oblivious. He has no clue about your history with Malfoy. I'm sure if he did, he would leave well enough alone and stop forcing you to dance together."
"Believe me, the tension between us has nothing to do with our past," she said.
"I just...are you alright, Hermione?" Greg's green eyes twinkled with sincere concern.
"I'm fine, Greg. I just need to be alone right now."
"Of course," Greg nodded. "I'll have a talk with my father about his brash behavior-"
"No!" she exclaimed. "No, that's quite alright. I'll have a talk with him...when I'm calm." She smiled, thankful.
"As you wish." Greg reached over and brought her hand up to his lips to give it a gentle kiss at the same moment that Draco stepped out of the dance studio. There was an awkward moment - a sort of electrifying tension in the air, but Greg didn't appear bothered by it. He simply smiled warmly at Hermione and said, "One of these days, we'll get that second date." He shot her a small wink and left back into the studio.
Draco cleared his throat. "Er...are you-?"
"I'm fine," she said flatly, turning on her heel and rushing off at a brisk pace before she got lost in the sincerity of his eyes or the way her body hummed being next to him.
Center Stage: Draco and Hermione
Setting: Hermione's front door...again.
Draco knew he shouldn't have been jealous. Hell, all of his rational thinking told him Hermione was not his. Still, the moment he'd stepped outside the studio to check on Hermione and found her being comforted by Diggle, he realized something: his feelings for Granger ran far deeper than he cared to admit.
So, when he showed up on her doorstep a second time, he was determined for her to hear him out. Hell or high water, rejection be damned, she was going to listen, damn it.
Knock, knock, knock.
The door pried open just a smidgen before slamming abruptly in his face.
"Hermione," he growled, knocking on it again. "Hermione, open the door." Silence. "Granger, if you don't open the bloody door, I'm going to tell all of your neighbors about the that time in fourth year when I enlarged your teeth-"
The door swung open wide this time. Hermione stood proud in a lavender colored tank-top and a pair of the shortest shorts imaginable -the kind he saw girls wear around the grounds at Hogwarts while exercising, a bowl of chocolate-drizzled ice cream in her hands. He recognized the music playing in the background as the same song the Red Hat Society played the night they'd decided to take the two under their wing. Something about Lola...Whatever Lola Wants. That was it. Really, the entire scene felt like something out of one of his fantasies. Draco had to pinch himself on the leg to assure himself it was real.
"What d'you want?" she snapped, spooning out a helping of ice cream and dipping it into her mouth. She swayed from side to side, giggled, and then became serious again.
"Are you drunk?" Draco asked, utterly perplexed.
"Maybe." Hermione licked the corner of her mouth to try to clean up the chocolate syrup. "Figures you'd show up now. Prime time to try to get me to bed."
"Excuse me?"
"Well, that's just it, isn't it? We can't," hiccup, "be around each other and be sober, can we?"
Rolling his eyes, Draco took the bowl of ice cream from her, deciding to have a bite himself. He had a Hell of a sweet tooth. As he ladled a bit of ice cream into his mouth, he commented, "I'm not here to try anything, Hermione."
She narrowed her eyes. "You're not?"
"No." Noticing a bit of chocolate syrup still resting at the corner of her lips, he reached over, swiped it up with his thumb and sucked it clean, not giving it two thoughts. It wasn't until he saw the blush crawl up Hermione's neck and face that he realized he'd done anything remotely sexual.
"Then...why are you here?" she asked, a bit more sober.
"Oh, you're going to let me speak this time? Brilliant." He handed her back her bowl of ice cream and rubbed his hands together. "It's awfully chilly in this hallway, you know."
"Says the man who just ate freezing cold ice cream. I think you'll manage," she quipped.
"Were you dancing in there?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow.
"Draco. Focus."
"Right." He puffed out his chest a little. "I'm here because I want you to know that...well, I'm sorry."
"That's a start. - For what?" she asked.
"For kissing you." He paused, thinking. "Well, not for kissing you, just...the way I went about it. Being drunk off my arse...that's no way to share a first kiss."
"Or a last," she said quietly.
Draco sighed. "Hermione, I just...I just want to get to know you better. That's why I'm here."
"I'm not going to compete with Astoria. This break of yours isn't so you can decide who's the better candidate."
"Is that why you think we broke it off?" he asked, raising both of his eyebrows. "Gods, Hermione. Conceited much? Our breakup had less to do with you than an infusion of wormwood has to do with a niffler. It was a decision we made together, on our own terms. I've got a lot of shit going on in my life right now besides romance. That night at the fountain...it really inspired me, you know? To take charge of my life. To do something with it." He leaned against her doorframe and stared complacently down at her. "You inspire me." Hermione gulped, flushing an even prettier shade of pink than before. "But," he leaned just a bit closer, his body pulsing with the need to be next to her, "if you forced me, right now, to make a choice in the matter, I think me being here on your doorstep says everything. Does it not?" Oh, that pretty magenta tint to her cheeks turned into an all out crimson. It was entertaining and adorable to watch her squirm.
"And...what about Astoria and Ron?" she asked, just above a whisper. "Aren't you worried? You know...that they'll…?"
"Astoria's a big girl," he assured her. "She can make her own choices. We both can."
"So...what you're saying is you want a friendship?" she asked.
"I think that would be a start," he smirked, finally getting somewhere. "What do you think?"
Hermione shifted her weight from one foot to the other, weighing her thoughts. She smiled at him and nodded. "I think that sounds doable."
"Great." Draco felt his heart kickstart in his chest again. "Lunch, then? Tomorrow? Sober? I can owl you with the details."
"Lunch," she agreed, offering the bowl out to him. "Here. Take it. I shouldn't be eating sweets this late at night."
Draco happily took the bowl, shooting her a wink. "See you tomorrow, Granger."
Hope this gave you your fix! Let the Dramione commence! As always, your thoughts would be lovely!
~A.
- 20
- 21
- 22
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Tango