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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
- 22
- 23
Yes, yes, I know. No #TangoTuesday this week. It's Friday. If you follow me on Facebook, you know I've been dealing with some things. I'm okay! I'm just slower. Brain has been pulled in a million different directions, and it was very hard to write happiness when I was in the bleakest of moods. However, here we are! Tango is here!
I hope you enjoy. Beta love to LondonsLegends and alpha love to LightofEvolution. Without these two ladies constantly telling me that I didn't need to force this chapter, to write it on my own time, I finally was able to push through and produce it. Thank you.
~A.
"Well, get up, up on the dancefloor, move, it's a Saturday night
I fell in love with the sparkle in the moonlight
Reflected in your beautiful eyes
I guess that is destiny doing it right
And dance like they do in the Mediterranean
Spin you around me again and again, and
You're like something that God has sent me
I want you, baby, solamente"
~Barcelona by Ed Sheeran
Stage Right: Draco and Hermione
Setting: Spain! The whole lot of it. Namely, Barcelona.
They ended up touring the shops for a nice portion of the afternoon in the wizarding part of Spain: Barcelona. The colorful buildings and rich architecture left Hermione's eyes in a blur they zipped from one store to the other, not to buy - simply to observe. There was rich history in each of the buildings they stepped inside, and Hermione couldn't help rambling off facts she'd learned from this book or that in regards to Spain's distinctive culture.
By the time two in the afternoon rolled around, Hermione had coerced Draco into the local, muggle museums. "We could learn about the Spanish Inquisition."
"Really? You want to dredge down that dark alleyway of history?" Draco scoffed, though at the end of it, he added a hint of a smirk. Their hands remained woven together like patchwork as they weaved through the crowds at the various displays of the museum.
Hermione seemed quite comfortable on the outside, but on the inside, she was as nervous as a cat having been thrown out into the front lawn while having never spent one day outside. This was new, frightening, and above all else: confusing. Her mind told her not to get too worked up, that they were simply friends out on the town together. But her heart, and her stomach, told her differently. They whispered together and plotted against her, muttering on about hand holding and that kiss on the cheek.
"Muggle history is far less fascinating," Draco drawled, giving a hearty yawn when their tour was over. "And it makes me hungry all over again."
"We could see if one of the street vendors has anything to offer," Hermione replied as they stepped out of the museum and into the blaring sunlight. Someone bumped shoulders with Draco, sending him slightly off balance, and he released her hand momentarily to find a sturdy standing once more. They both glanced down at their fingers, now apart, and wondered what to do.
Hermione boldly offered her hand back out to him, nodding once. Draco visibly swallowed, even more pale than usual, and then he took her hand in his, tighter than before. "Where next?" he asked, pulling her close to him. It looked to be because a group of people threatened to pull them apart again, but Hermione had an inkling it might have something to do with wanting to be next to her. She flushed cherry pink on her cheeks as she scanned her eyes down the streets in search of food.
"There. That looks good, doesn't it?" She pointed to a nearby vendor stand with a sign that read 'Empanadas.'
Draco narrowed his eyes, skeptical. "Are we sure that's what we want?"
"Why not?"
"Does it even look edible?"
"Oh, hush." She yanked him by the arm and began to drag him over to the stand. "You shouldn't be so closed-minded."
"Excuse you, but it was my idea to take us to Spain, so I would hardly considered that closed-minded, thank you."
Hermione rolled her eyes, fished out some currency from her own pockets that she'd had converted earlier from a wizarding bank (seeing as how Draco wouldn't know what to do with muggle currency) and, in her broken Spanish, asked for two empanadas while pointing to the large foldable sign. The vendor raised a curious eyebrow at her but nodded, quickly handing them off.
"This looks like a calzone," Draco noted, turning it this way and that.
"It's the same principle," she nodded.
"What's in it?"
"Honestly? I have no clue. I pointed to the one at the top of the menu."
"So if I get extreme food poisoning, I won't even know what did me in?"
"Exactly. Cheers." Hermione bumped their empanadas together and smiled before taking a bite and chewing thoughtfully. Her mouth was instantly bombarded with the rich tastes of cheese, chicken and… "Oh, wait, Draco-!" But he'd already bitten down on his empanada.
There was a pause.
And then… "SWEET BABY DRAGONS!" Draco's face flared bright red as he choked, trying to be manly while he swallowed the cheese, chicken, and Padrón peppers. "Water! Need water!"
"Water won't help," Hermione said, fanning his face as if that would solve his problem. "That's actually a common misconception. You see," she began to recite from something she'd read, "The "heat" in hot peppers and other spicy foods meld with the oils used to prepare them. When you eat a bite of spicy food, these oils coat your mouth and tongue. Since oil doesn't dissolve in water, even cold water is unlikely to remove the oily film on your tongue…"
Draco rolled his eyes as he wiped the back of his hand across his nose, his sinuses fully open and aware of the spicey damage left to the roof of his mouth. "Hermione, no offence, but I don't care. Blegh." He chucked the empanada into the trash. "That's a no from me."
"That's highly disrespectful…"
"No, what's highly disrespectful is assaulting my tongue with that….that…"
"Empanada."
"Yes, that. - Don't they have any sweets somewhere?"
"You and your sweet tooth," Hermione grumbled, though it was laced with humor. "Come on. I'm sure we can find you something."
Stage Left: Ron Weasley
Setting: The loo.
Ron swallowed hard, checking his teeth in the bathroom mirror. Hair - well, it was a mess, but when wasn't it? Breath? Minty fresh. Thank Merlin for peppermint gobstoppers. Clothes? Oh, ugh. He wasn't ready to be seen out with a pretty woman. Not by a longshot. Still, Astoria didn't seem like the type to care about that, did she?
Why the Hell do you care? She's a taken bird, isn't she? To Draco Malfoy. Prick…
He splashed some basin water in his face and patted it dry with a towel. "You can do this. It's just talking. And she wants to apologize. For kissing you." His reflection stared back at him quizzically. "I know, I'm just as shocked as you are."
Bang, bang!
"Are you done giving yourself a terrible pep-talk?" George asked from the other side of the door.
"No."
"Well, that pretty woman is back. And if you're not willing to give it a go-"
Ron wretched the door open. "You're married."
George smirked. "Indeed, I am, baby brother, but you are not!" He grabbed Ron by the sleeve and yanked him out of the bathroom, ushering him toward the front store register.
"Wait, are you...helping me?" asked Ron.
"Only to shut Mum up. You know how she's been ever since you and Hermione split. Now…" He moved Ron past the register and toward the front door. "Don't come back for the rest of the day."
"Wait. What?"
The next moment, Ron had been tossed outside (nicely, of course - George did it all out of good fun, after all) and came face to face with Astoria. She was smiling, waving gleefully at his arrival.
"Remember, Ron," said George over his shoulder as he waltzed back into the store. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"
"Ugh, he's just given me permission to do anything," Ron grumbled quietly, though it was loud enough for Astoria to hear. She giggled under her breath, alarming Ron. Wait. Did she just...laugh at his joke? No one ever thought him funny.
"Come along," she said, turning on her heel and marching off down the street.
"Where are we going?" Ron was quick on her trail.
Astoria peered over her shoulder coyly. "Wherever we like. But I think lunch, first? Yes?"
"Won't...won't Malfoy be pissed?"
"I doubt it."
"You've been staring in that shop window for nearly half an hour, now. Are you going to go in and purchase something, or simply gawk out here from afar like a...what is it the muggles call the homeless?"
"A hobo," Hermione replied, not caring to fully pay attention; her eyes were transfixed on a brilliant red and black flamenco style evening skirt hung up on a mannequin two sizes smaller than herself. Goodness, it was a pretty thing, hand stitched with vine embroidery. She wanted to reach through the glass and touch it.. "I doubt it's my size."
Draco glanced up at the mannequin and back to Hermione. "What are you? A two?"
"It's slightly disturbing you would know a woman's dress size just by looking at them."
"I blame my mother dragging me to nearly every dress shop in wizarding London when I was young." He shrugged. "And you're built much like my motherrr...that sounded much more perverse than intended." Draco seized her by the hand again. "But you're trying on the skirt, one way or another."
"Oh...oh, no...that's-" But Hermione had already been yanked into the store. Draco, through some extremely broken Spanish and a Hell of a lot of pointing, managed to convey the message to the store clerk that Hermione would like to try on the skirt in the shop window. Having then been pulled into the dressing room by the clerk, she now found herself wrapped in the seductive looking skirt, staring at it from three different mirrors, wondering how this could be her.
Her hips looked full and her legs tantalizing. Every time she moved, the skirt would swish and sway. It looked absolutely breathtaking with her shirt, which surprised her, and she nearly forgot Draco was on the other side of the dressing room door. Nearly, because he pried it open after a moment.
"Draco!" she shouted, throwing her hands over her completely dressed body as if there was actually something to hide. "You can't stroll into a woman's dressing room!"
He stared indifferently at her. "Why not?"
"What if I had been nude?"
Draco took a moment to consider her question before replying, with a smirk, "Well, then it would have been a tantalizing sight for all involved, wouldn't it?" He stepped inside and closed the door.
"Well…" Hermione tried to ignore her racing heart; being trapped inside a changing room with Draco Malfoy wasn't on her list of to-do's today, but she rather enjoyed it. "What do you think?" She gestured down to the skirt.
Tilting his head, Draco examined the skirt like someone who had more than a clue as to what passed as fashionable. "Do a spin for me."
"It's horrible, isn't it?"
"Granger," he drawled, using that annoying, commanding Malfoy authority that worked on most everyone else but Hermione, "I said - do a spin for me."
With a huff, Hermione closed her eyes and turned in place.
"You call that a spin?" he jostled.
"Ergh. Fine!" She quickly picked up the pace, twirling as best she could with her eyes closed. His gaze was igniting, much the way a spark starts a forest fire - slow at first, but then the burn in Hermione's stomach traveled up her chest and into her throat. Good Circe, he was so close, she could practically lick him...
"See?" he whispered, low and simmering. "You look stunning." With a quick, graceful movement, he turned her around to face the mirror, his hands resting idly on her sides. Hermione caught the blush on her cheeks just before their eyes met in the mirror. "You're getting the skirt," he told her.
"And if I think I look hideous in it?"
"You don't think you look hideous in it. So that argument just threw itself out the window." There was a playful look in his eye right before he snapped the price tag off the skirt.
"Hey!"
"I'll be up front. Leave the skirt on. -But just so you know, I don't plan on buying some ridiculous sombrero to match."
"That's stereotyping."
Draco shrugged. "I never claimed to be completely turned in my old ways."
"So…" Ron took a bite of his ham and cheese on wheat before continuing in a hushed murmur, "No more Malfoy?"
"No." Astoria sat quietly, her hands folded delicately on the table, heart fluttering away in her chest. It felt liberating to tell someone besides her sister. "I think we both know it's for the best." Something thrummed inside of her - a sense of sadness at knowing she'd failed at something as beautiful as love, but she pushed it down quickly. She didn't want to show all of her colors. Only a few, and only the ones she was comfortable with presenting.
She watched Ron chew thoughtfully, taking a sip of his water. "I know you probably don't wanna hear it, but I think you made the right call."
Astoria quirked an eyebrow. "Oh?" There was a hint of insult laced in her voice.
Ron didn't seem to notice. "Look, the man's a twat. I grew up with him, you know. I remember all of the shite he used to put me and my friends through."
"He's not that boy anymore," Astoria said definitively.
"Maybe not, but even so, you're too nice o'va girl to be caught up in that. I mean, really. What could you possibly see in him?"
Shrugging, she reached for one of Ron's crisps on his plate. "It wasn't what I saw, per say. It was his potential to be something more than himself. But every time I tried to help him, he'd push me away. Stubborn as a bull, that one."
Ron scratched at the stubble on his chin. "Yeah. I've got one of those myself."
"You speak of Miss Granger."
"...Is it that obvious?"
"I guess we're both helpless fools who fell for headstrong people," Astoria sighed.
"Something like that." Ron finished his sandwich, staring at Astoria's untouched plate. "You're not gonna eat?"
She pushed the plate toward him. "Have at."
Ron didn't need to be told twice. He was already sliding the chicken sandwich over in his direction before tearing into it. He did stop long enough to rip half of it off and offer it back to her. "You really should eat something."
It was a simple act, but it was a kind one, and Astoria appreciated it. She humbly took her half of the sandwich and nibbled on the end of it, appeasing the redhead. Satisfied, Ron went back to eating, thoroughly content. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Of course."
"Why are you out with...me?"
"Why shouldn't I be?" Astoria asked.
Ron blinked, as if it had only then dawned on him that she might actually want to be seen in public with him. He sat the sandwich down, rubbed the back of his head, and muttered, "Dunno, I s'pose...just isn't something I'm used to."
"Well, you definitely don't seem as bad as Draco makes you out to be. I was hoping we could be friends."
"Ah." He nodded. "Got it."
"Hmm?"
"So you're feeling guilty about kissing me, and you want to make it perfectly clear we're 'just friends.'"
"No, actually." Astoria rolled her eyes.
"No?"
"No."
"What, then?"
"Ronald, I very much enjoy your company. It might be too soon to say anything else, but I'd like to get to know you more. You seem thoroughly fascinating."
"...You don't get out much, do you?"
"No."
"Ooh, street performers!" Hermione snatched Draco by the arm, dragging him through the crowded streets over to a section of the road that was blocked off purely for performances. Draco let himself be manhandled by the adorable brunette, now wearing her authentic skirting, and smirked to himself when he watched her eyes light up. They stopped at the guitar player, the mime, and the trumpet player before making their way to the main attraction: two pairs of street dancers. Muggle dressed, though they were, Draco watched in awe at the way they moved fluidly through the movements of the samba and flamenco.
"They're wonderful," Hermione muttered, almost disheartened. "I wish I wasn't such a klutz."
"That makes the both of us," he agreed, stepping up closely behind her to inhale the scent of her perfume. Everything about her was intoxicating, from her conversation to the little twinkle in her eye when she'd purchased the skirt. Even arguing about who might pay for what was thrilling; it brought out a quippy, playful side to Draco he hadn't seen in himself for a long time. Being here without a care in the world...where no one knew his face, and no one could scoff at him - well, it was everything. And it was even better to be around a person who knew all of his deepest, darkest secrets and didn't care. Yes, Astoria knew the darkness within him, too, but only Hermione had seen him at his nastiest, cruelest side. She'd seen him that night in Malfoy Manor, when she'd been tortured within an inch of her life, and he'd turned his head away because he was too horrified to watch. She knew all this about him, and yet here she was, out in the open, leaning her back against his chest as they watched the dancers spin and glide.
What had he done to deserve any of this?
Nothing.
Not a damn thing.
The dancers stopped performing and sauntered their way through the crowd, randomly selecting people to dance with. One of them, an older gentleman, picked Hermione, while his partner, a woman with golden hair, stopped in front of Draco.
"Oh, no, I'm fine-" Hermione insisted, but she was pulled away, and so was Draco, out of the crowd and into the sparse bit of street. They exchanged coy smiles with each other.
"Best dancer buys dessert?" he asked with a wink.
Smugness crossed Hermione's features. "Do try not to break your partner's toes, yes?"
And so they set to work, trying to pay as best attention to the dance steps, occasionally casting each other grins or egging taunts. So it came as a surprise that, eventually, they were pushed together by the dancers and made to dance with each other.
The moment their hands touched, it was like a bolt of electricity shot down Draco's spine, alerting his senses. They weren't very acquainted with the steps, but it didn't seem to matter to either of them. The music faded and the crowd's roar lessened in the wake of the beautiful woman in his arms. The small crease she wore as she concentrated on the steps made him want to shove her into the nearest wall and hike up that skirt of hers.
"Hermione," he said quietly, drawing her eyes back up to him. "Just follow my lead, yes?"
Sighing, she gave up trying to perfect the steps and nodded, eyes set in his. "Yes."
They began dancing not to the music, but the rhythm in their chest - that loud, soft, loud, soft that could only come from their hearts. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and her skin prickle. Soon their foreheads were touching. The crowd was nonexistent, music all but forgotten about. The only thing Draco could hear was his heart pulsing in his eardrums, encouraging him.
Their lips touched, softly at first, and then with a passionate crescendo that left them both hungry for more. Not only did their bodies dance, their tongues did too, and Draco forgot all about his footwork, stumbling and nearly knocking them over.
Hermione laughed into the kiss.
Draco smirked.
"You know, I have some delicious desserts back at my place," he offered bravely.
He saw the temptation in her eyes, the want - no, need there. But then he saw it fade, and the logic in her overwhelm the rest. "Maybe...another time."
Well, it wasn't a no. "Another time, then." He kissed her again, chastely this time, but added a hint of a nibble to her lower lip at the end. "I'm going to hold you to that."
Ron Weasley panted heavily, staring down at the beautiful brunette already tucked into his side, drawing the covers around her to block her naked body from the chill of the room.
"That was…"
"Delightful?" she offered.
Ron gulped down a few more breaths before answering, "Merlin, you really know your way around the bedroom, don't you?"
Astoria giggled into his side, draping her delicate arm over his soft stomach. "You weren't so bad yourself, Weasley. Round two in twenty?"
"Definitely."
Just a quick heads up: I'm currently working on the Enchanted Awards for Granger Enchanted Survivors 18+. With that in mind, my posting schedule might be sporatic until they are over (July 1st) -you'll still get Tango! It might just not be on time every time. So please, be patient with me? :D
~A.
- 22
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