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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
- 3
- 4
- 5
Oh, I love this chapter so much. Thank you to LightofEvolution for some hilarious ideas, Sam Wallflower for brushing me up on my Spanish, and waymay for editing! My fanfiction Squirm made it to the finals of the Dramione awards! Voting ends on the 29th, so if you have a moment, would you please vote? Even if it's not for me (fingers crossed it could be) -message me for link!
-you might some of your favorite fics are up for noms!
Love, ~A.
"Great dancers are not great because of their technique; they are great because of their passion." -Martha Graham
It started out simple enough -Greg's hands, while intimately cradling Hermione, guided her forward as they took their first step. They'd gone over the instructions; Hermione watched diligently as Greg's father allocated the first three foot patterns with detail. She diagramed the foot placement in her head, knew where she was to step (in theory) and prepared herself. However, real life is never theory, and, despite what she knew, Hermione fumbled forward with stiff, robotic movements. She nearly crashed her face into Greg's chest while simultaneously over lunging her first step and kicking him square in the jewels.
"Oof!" Greg Diggle gave an all out pained cry as he doubled forward, hands momentarily releasing her to catch himself from falling. Hermione's face went the color of a cherry tomato as she gasped, placing her hands over her mouth.
"Oh my -are you-"
"Fine!" he said, waving a dismissive hand in her direction. "I'm fine, just… give me a moment."
Next to them, a satisfied chuckle from Blaise Zabini could be heard as he swept across the dance floor with his partner, Daphne, making quick work of the steps in place. Hermione cast a brief glance around the room, noticing the wandering eyes peeling back to dancing from all directions. Even Ginny had a smirk across her face as she mouthed, 'Told you so.' Still, she straightened up her shoulders and nodded, indicating for Hermione to carry on, to which she did, offering a hand out to Greg.
"I'm terribly sorry," she said, "I think I was overeager."
Coughing, he replied back, "That must be it." He took her hand and let her pull him upright as she brushed his shoulders off. She knew it did nothing for his pained groin, but she would make do with what comfort she could provide. After all, she wasn't about to massage his bits or anything to make him feel better. Greg placed his hands on her arms and stepped her backwards at arm's length. "Sorry, but until you've mastered the footwork, perhaps it's best if we don't stand too close to each other."
Blushing, Hermione nodded. "Of course. Erm…" She would have said something else, but the sound of Astoria Greengrass squealing from the other side of the room was nothing short of horrifying, and the brunette spun around to witness the chaos.
"These are my best dancing shoes!" she exclaimed, gesturing down to them in horror.
Draco Malfoy stood a foot away from her, hands on his hips and an expression of listless apprehension set across his pointed features. "It isn't my fault you decided to wear your best to a lesson of all things," he hissed under his breath, but he wasn't subtle enough to realize the room carried wonderful acoustics.
"Well, I didn't expect you to scuff them all to Hell within the first five minutes, did I?" Astoria replied, crossing her arms.
Hermione didn't feel nearly as terrible about herself -at least her dance partner was kind in those regards.
Twenty more minutes went by of Hermione feeling like an utter fool before the real humiliation set in.
It all began when, in an attempt to 'loosen up' for the umpteenth time at Greg's request, she swung her hips too far and sent her wand flying from its holster. It clattered to the floor as it begun to roll, just missing dancing shoes by inches. Hermione stopped in her tracks.
"Oh dear." She placed one finger up to Greg. "Excuse me a moment."
She weaved through the crowd, nearly making it just before the youngest couple's leading man, Liam, stepped backward and kicked her wand to the other end of the room, near a refreshment stand with cups of water and fresh finger foods displayed.
In retrospect, she probably should have Accio'd her wand with a bit of wandless magic and called it a day. As she approached the table, she took no notice of Astoria Greengrass and Draco Malfoy dancing some feet away, nor did she overhear the struggled grumble of Malfoy as he said, "Astoria, slow it down. This is too fast-" And if she'd been paying attention, she would have noticed when Malfoy lost his footing, flailing backwards. No, she noticed none of this as she got down on her hands and knees, reaching just underneath the skirting of the table to retrieve her valuable wand -that was, until something… no, someone landed smack dab into her side. Malfoy's legs buckled against her back, and he tripped backward into the refreshment table, sending it toppling over. Drinks, carrot sticks and sandwich slices went flying through the air, and the table collapsed, landing cups of ice cold water and food all over Hermione's head. Not only that, but Malfoy had her pinned with his behind to the floor, splayed across the broken table while sitting directly on top of her and groaning loudly.
"¡Dios mio!" Señor Diggle exclaimed, nearly dropping Ginny from a dip.
"Fucking Hell," Malfoy hissed, "Seriously, Granger?"
"Me?" Hermione seethed back, "You can't possibly think this is my fault?"
"Of course I do! You're the one who bloody tripped me!"
Though the two whispered these insults, those who gathered around to stare at the spectacle could hear them just fine.
"I tripped you? You seemed to be doing the tripping perfectly well on your own."
"Shut up..." Malfoy climbed off of her and hoisted himself to stand. Hermione was soon to follow, brushing down her skirt as she did. The pair exchanged irate glances at one another as Señor Diggle stepped up between them, staring at the broken table.
"Is this your idea of some kind of joke?" he said, glancing between the two.
"She tripped me," Malfoy said indignantly, crossing his arms.
"He tripped over me," Hermione corrected, fuming. "It isn't my fault he's a first rate klutz."
"You're one to talk -As if we all didn't see you nearly take out your partner's chance at reproducing."
"That's quite enough, the both of you," Señor Diggle said at once. With a flick of his wand, he repaired the table and reversed the blunders. Water spilled back into cups as carrots and sandwich meats replaced themselves inside slices of bread. Looking like a rooster with his feathers too ruffled, Señor Diggle tapped his foot twice to the floor, illuminating the scene like the lights springing up after a movie in a theatre. "You," he pointed to Malfoy, "and you," to Hermione, "While I have a tolerance for those not naturally gifted with the art of danza, I will not condone bickering or floundering around like fresh born hippogriffs," Malfoy flinched, perhaps in memory of a certain one named Buckbeak from third year, "in my studio! Greg!" he gestured with a wide sweeping motion to his son, "take these two bebés to studio dos so they might strip themselves of their nasty arguments and light the passionate fires of dance within!"
As Hermione blushed, stepping forward to follow Greg to the door, she muttered to Malfoy under her breath, "Do us all a favor and skip the stripping of anything to a minimum."
"Afraid you might like what you see, Granger?" he taunted, sauntering with his arrogant strut behind Greg and cutting Hermione off. She gave herself a moment to strangle on his heavy cologne (though it wasn't the worst she'd ever smelled, in comparison to Ron's gagging concoction he found in the sickle bin of Madam Malkin's.) 'I could hex him, and I doubt anyone in the world would hold it against me besides his friends…maybe not even them.'
She didn't dare look at Ginny's face, knowing what she'd find would only be disappointment. Instead, she marched on out of the room, following the two men down the narrow hallway, away from the floo she and Ginny arrived in, and to a thick, black door carved with fairies dancing under the moon.
From around Greg's neck he produced a long, silver key dangling from a chain. Without a word he removed the key, stuck it in the lock of the knob, and turned it. Cranks and gears churned, and the door swung open with a growl. Darkness loomed within. "You two have really stepped in it," he said, producing his wand and giving it a wave. Candles in their holders lit up around the small space. Instead of polished floors, they were older, unfinished and groaned as the three stepped inside. There was only one mirror on the opposite wall of the door covered in a thick layer of grime.
"Haven't you ever heard of house elf services?" Malfoy chided. "This place looks as if it hasn't seen a cleaning charm in years."
"That's because it hasn't," said Greg, a simmering tone caught in his voice. "The fact my father has ushered you in here means he doesn't know what else to do with you. To be honest, I doubt you two will make it to next week's lesson."
That caught Hermione's attention. "He means to expel us?"
"This isn't school, Granger," Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Besides, we're both paid up for lessons. He has no right to-"
"-He has every right to," Greg interrupted, eyes flashing with irritation. "The fine print of your contract states a full refund will be instated if a pupil is deemed unteachable. -You two might be in luck, because my father has never given anyone the title before. Either he'll find a way to work with you, or you both will be the first to have stumped my father." He cast an apologetic glance to Hermione. "I'll have a talk with him after lessons and put in a good word for you. I don't believe you're unteachable. Perhaps I could convince him for private lessons?" It was followed by a flirtatious wink.
Malfoy raised a perfectly arched eyebrow at the man, understanding the connotations just as much as she did.
As Greg strolled back to the door, Malfoy crossed his arms and sneered, "What about me?"
Greg simply shrugged his shoulders and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Yes, what about you, Malfoy?" He shot Hermione a wink and shut the door behind them, leaving the two alone.
With the click of the door shut, Hermione felt her pulse begin to race. The thought of being kicked out of anything, albeit dance lessons, was far beyond what her perfectionist mind could comprehend. She'd listened to every instruction, participated as best she could, and now the possibility of being thrown out was all because of one infuriating man with a history of making her life a living nightmare.
Draco felt relief hit him like a firm gust of wind. If he were to be kicked out of these infernal dance lessons, Astoria couldn't hold it against him for his inability to dance the Tango. All of this dancing happened so quickly, he hadn't mentally prepared himself for the fiendish adventure.
He glanced over at the water-soaked Granger, who stared back at the door with red tint to her cheeks, and knew, without a doubt, she did not feel the same way. After spending six years in school with her, and one year battling her and her friends, he learned a few things about the frizzy-haired bookworm. First, she didn't like failing -at anything. Second, she was resourceful enough to make failing obsolete. Last, but never least, was her kindred dislike of him just as he felt for her. Though the air was cleared after the war in regards to his involvement in it, it still didn't make up for the enigmatic rivalry the pair shared.
"So," Draco asked in a bored drawl, sick of the silence (because the silence always brought forth his thoughts, which were broodier than he cared to admit), "Thinking on taking up Diggle junior's offer on 'private lessons'?"
"We both know what that implies," she huffed, drawing her hair back with one hand and pinning it into a ponytail with her wand. Small strands of curls broke away from the group, falling around her face and framing it. "But you've put me in such a muck, I might actually need to take him up on those lessons."
Draco smirked. "Hermione Granger still strives to be teacher's pet, I see. Unfortunately for you, I believe that teacher pets back."
She narrowed her eyes, finally meeting his gaze. "Are you through?"
"Hardly."
She huffed again, this time pointing her wand toward her water-soaked blouse. "Excarso." The drenched material dried instantly. "Would you like me to…?"
Draco glanced down to his attire, noticing the mustard stains. "No, thank you." Damn it all, he wasn't supposed to use his pureblood manners on her, was he? Still, he did have a family name to uphold, and they weren't children. "I'll just end up throwing these out anyway. If I have to alter my clothing with magic, they're not worth keeping anymore."
Granger rolled her eyes in an exaggerated way and tucked her wand back in its holster at her hip. "It must be nice having such luxuries," her words dripped with irony.
To fix his mistake of manners, Draco replied, "If we're being perfectly honest, I have no need, or want, for your help."
"I see you're still as charming as ever." He watched Granger toe out of her shoes and kick them off to the side. Curiously, she wiggled her toes and closed her eyes, inhaling. Then, she held her arms out and up into the air as if she were dancing with an invisible partner.
"What are you doing?" he couldn't help but ask.
"What does it look like I'm doing?"
"It looks like you're imitating Frankenstein's monster."
One eye popped open. "You know the works of Mary Shelley?"
"Don't be daft, Granger. Of course I do. She was a witch, after all." Draco smirked as he watched Granger's eye shut once again.
"As if it isn't already obvious, I'm practicing."
"Walking like a monster?"
"Dancing!" Disgruntled, Granger threw her hands down at her sides and opened both her eyes this time, staring at him with contempt. "Some of us actually want to pass this course."
"You talk as if this is Hogwarts."
"It might as well be. I can just assume do better than you here as I did back when we were teenagers."
Draco felt his cheeks go warm, and he felt nostalgic jealousy bubble within his chest. "You might have bested me in a few courses, but life is the ultimate test, isn't it?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means," he said with a confident smirk, "My life is going far more swimmingly than yours."
"And you know this how?"
"It isn't difficult to deduce. You're here with Ginny Weasley, which can only mean you were dragged to this event out of some poorly constructed way to get you out of the house. Otherwise you'd be here with a man. So, I can easily assume you're single. Who dumped who, I wonder?" His smirk widened as he beheld the flabbergasted look on her face. "You dumped Weasley, I imagine. What was it? Was he not intellectually up to your speed? Or did you finally tire of a floundering, turnip-faced flobberworm chasing your skirt tails?"
Granger looked as if she might blow a gasket as she crossed her arms stomped one haughty foot to the floor, creaking the floorboards. "You're one to talk about floundering, seeing as how you, moments ago, knocked an entire table over with little more than your ego and clumsiness."
"You were in my way."
"If you weren't already falling in the first place, it wouldn't have made a difference!"
Draco found himself indigently snorting and casting one hand up in the air out of sheer frustration. "Yes, well-" he tried to think of a better comeback, "at least I didn't knee my partner in the groin."
"Does your partner have something hidden down there we all should be aware of?" she quipped back.
"Astoria is all woman, I assure you."
"Pleasant to know, Malfoy. Perhaps one day she can pair herself with someone who is all man."
Oh, if he weren't so angered at her words, he might almost have found them impressive. "Marrying a Malfoy is the best a woman can get."
"If she has low standards."
This time, irate laughter escaped his lips. "You know what, Granger? It's no wonder you haven't got yourself a man. You're so corroding, even Draught of Living Death would be envious of you."
She gave a tittering scoff. "If you're quite through!"
"I'm only getting started!"
The two glared each other down as uncomfortable silence fell between them. Draco couldn't explain why she managed to get under his skin the way she did that day. He was a grown man, for Merlin's sake. So why was he letting Granger dig into his psyche as if she was a sharp blade beneath his nails? There was something about her… something so… inundating. It sparked and stirred a fire within him so temperamental he couldn't control it when she narrowed her eyes or opened her mouth to speak.
After a minute passed, Granger reset her stance and put her arms in the air. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to practice and not waste my friend's money."
Draco gave a mock bow. "By all means." He then proceeded to walk in a circle around her, causing her to fidget on the spot.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm analyzing your stance."
"I don't need you to analyze me."
"Apparently you do. You're as stiff as a coat rack and twice as unwelcoming."
"I couldn't possibly be stiff. Greg told me to limber up, and that's exactly what I'm doing."
Coming to an abrupt stop in front of her, Draco smirked, inches away from her hands. "You think so?" He mimicked her stance, right down to the rigid expression on her face. "Granger, may I present you with exhibit A."
"I… I don't look like that."
"You do." He all out grinned at her weary expression.
She chewed her bottom lip in thought, dropping her hands down to her sides. "Alright. Show me how it's done, then."
"What?"
"Yes. Come on now, mister smarty-pants. If you're so talented as you think, let's see how it's done."
"I don't need to prove myself to you," Draco sneered.
"If you're scared…"
He snapped into place, unwilling to give her the satisfaction. Draco struggled to recall exactly where his hands went, but his feet were in their proper place, which was more than he could have said for her. He watched her inspect his form, stalking around him just as he'd done to her before coming to a halt at his front.
"No. This hand should be here," she stepped forward, taking his left hand and bending it at the elbow ninety degrees. Not letting go, she used her other hand to guide his right one to her back, resting it just under her shoulder blade. They stood inches away now. Draco couldn't recall a time where he'd ever been so close to Hermione Granger, let alone touched her. He thought she would have been all dry skin and unpleasant scent, but her hand was quite smooth in his, and she smelled of roses and parchment. All together, not what he expected and far more balmy. "See?"
Granger wasn't particularly tall, but she was a few inches higher than Astoria, her eyes barely meeting the height of his clavicle. It was for this reason he needed to dip his chin down to reply, "Hmph. Know-it-all. You're still so stiff I could rest a coat on you. Obviously, flexibility isn't your strong suit."
"I'll have you know, I'm plenty flexible!"
Was she? Draco couldn't help to test her theory. "Let's find out, shall we?" Without warning, he pushed her slightly off balance with his hand and sent her back into a dip. He recalled when that irritating Greg fellow had done this (and the way Granger's legs had come out from underneath her), so he grabbed onto her leg and hiked it up, drawing her closer to him to balance her out. Granger's eyes went wide, and she gasped in surprise, but he held her there with a challenge in his eyes. This time, she did not slip as he arched her back, cradling her against his forearm for support. She was lighter than expected, and it made it easier to lean her even further, testing her flexibility. With a smirk, Draco stared down at her. "Still as stiff as a statue."
Something switched on in Granger's eyes, and she narrowed them at his challenge before arching her chest forward, exposing the muscles of her neck as she tilted her head back. Her body nearly went limp in his hand as she melted into the most relaxed form he'd ever seen her take. The buttons of her shirt were tight as her breasts threatened to pull at their threads; though he was a taken man, he was a man, and he caught himself ogling her covered mounds.
Merlin, they did look appetizing…
The door swung wide open, startling Draco to the point where he nearly dropped the witch on the spot. Both pairs of eyes bolted up toward the door to see Señor Diggle, mouth agape, eyes fixed on their provocative pose they found themselves in. Not wanting anyone to get the wrong impression, Draco promptly released Granger and sent her tumbling to the floor.
"Ah!"
"I… er… it wasn't… we weren't-" Draco began, but was cut off when Diggle waggled his mustache and clapped his hands together.
"Muy bien, mi pequeños!" Señor Diggle threw his hands dramatically into the air. "Such raw pasión! This! This is what I've waited to see!"
"We were only mucking around," Draco replied gruffly, thanking his lucky stars Diggle had shut the door so Astoria hadn't witnessed the sight. He glanced down at the startled Granger, who glared dagger eyes at him for dropping her.
"Such chemistry," Diggle sing-songed, "I had come in here with every intention on proclaiming you two as my first unteachable estudiantes, but now I see."
"See what?"
"The fire you two bring forth in each other!"
"You mean anger," said Draco.
"Pure frustration," chimed in Granger.
"Call it what you wish, but when I walked in that door, I saw two very different people from what I saw back in my studio. -We will make dancers of you yet."
"So you'll keep us!?" Granger exclaimed in excitement, pulling herself to her feet.
"Si, querida mía."
"Oh, but that's wonderful!" She clapped her hands together and bounced on her heels. "Isn't it, Malfoy?"
"Riveting," he drawled slowly, utterly disappointed.
"On on condition." Diggle put a finger up in the air. "You two must take private lessons from me to catch up to the class. -I will even offer you a discount at half-price for the extra services."
"You expect us to pay for extra services?" Granger reprimanded.
"If you expect to pass my course, si."
Draco could see the disdain in Granger's eyes, so of course, he couldn't help but say, "Well, Astoria would have my head if she found out I turned you down. -Money isn't an object for me." He added, just to spite her, "But I'm feeling rather generous, so I'm more than willing to pay for Granger's extra lessons, too. That is, she's able to pull the broom out of her arse long enough to learn how to properly dip."
"Ha!" Granger was entirely embarrassed and bitter as she seethed, "I can more than pay for my own lessons, thank you. I'll be damned if I let an arrogant twat get the better of me." She turned her attention to Diggle. "Count me in."
Señor Diggle looked at the pair, beaming. "Splendid! Let's go to my office and set up a schedule, shall we?"
Feel free to leave your thoughts or perhaps the moment that tickled you the most!
Shall update soon.
Love every one of you.
~A.
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