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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
- 5
- 6
- 7
So excited for this chapter! It gets a bit sensual, but where and how I will not say!
Thank you, Sam Wallflower, for proofing my Spanish and teaching me a few things! Thank you LightofEvolution for helping me further this plot, and believing in it today once I told you the plans for the fic. XD
Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favorited, and followed. XD
~A.
"Great things never came from comfort zones."
Rajat Dogra
Malfoy wore the most peculiar look about him as Hermione was pulled to her feet -his expression was somewhere between annoyance (probably from having to help her up) and bewilderment. All of it was smuggled under a thick, stoic poker-face, but she'd grown up with him well enough to know when Malfoy was unsettled. But what could have possibly egged it on?
"That wasn't so difficult," he said, a slight edge to his tone. "What's next?" Malfoy looked expectantly to the instructor.
Señor Diggle wiggled his mustache, most likely for show, and beckoned them close with a wave of his hand as Greg transfigured the staircase back into a chair. "Maravilloso. Each day, before practice, you will complete five trust falls a piece."
Hermione and Malfoy exchanged wary glances before nodding in compliance. If there was one thing to be said about it, they hadn't let each other splat to the ground. That was something, she surmised. Next, the pair watched as Señor Diggle walked over to a small trunk near the door and produced one long strip of black cloth, possibly made from silk. He waved it in the air to show it off and approached them, grinning ear to ear. "Do either of you know what this is?" he sing-songed, the white of his teeth extra pearly against the luminescence of the room.
"It's a strip of rag," Malfoy answered, crossing his arms. "Are we supposed to be impressed?"
"This is a venda-"
"-A blindfold!" Hermione intejerected. She might have put her Spanish skills to the test last night while reading Latin erotica…
"¡Exacto!"
"Why in Merlin's name would we need a blindfold?" Malfoy asked, raising one of his sculpted eyebrows. "Wait, you're not one of those kinky establishments that lures unassuming, sexually attractive wizards and witches into your clutches to take advantage of them, are you?"
Greg, from the other side of the room, snorted before he began to double over, laughing. Hermione was on the verge of asking Malfoy if he'd read any erotica lately when Señor Diggle waggled his eyebrows in unison with his mustache and exclaimed, "No! I should say not!"
Malfoy turned the color of a ripe tomato and cleared his throat. "Oh. Erm… continue, then."
"If I might be so bold, one could almost deduce you're mildly disappointed," Hermione mused teasingly, making Malfoy's head snap in her direction, his grey eyes boring into the side of her head like drills ready to turn her brain to soup. Greg howled with laughter from across the room.
"De todas formas," said Diggle, "The venda is magically equipped to be removed after a set time, and not a moment before."
"Why on Earth would we wear it?" Hermione asked, more curious and skeptical than ever. When Diggle gave her an unfavorable look, she added, "What does it have to do with dancing?"
"The reason neither of you are particularly graceful stems from the your lack of trust within your own bodies. Learning to give into your body's natural intuition is the first step in becoming a true bailarín."
"You mean for us to dance with that rubbish over our eyes?" snarled Malfoy.
"If you intend on furthering your education, sí."
Hermione, eager to please, said at once, "I'll go first, if it's all the same," but Malfoy stepped between her and Diggle, arrogant in his tone as he interjected, "No, no, no, Granger. Don't get so eager to be teacher's pet." He thrust out his hand and snatched the blindfold away from Diggle. "How does this bloody thing work?"
"Once you tie it on your head, the venda will remain there for fifteen minutes. No less, no more. In that time, your partner will guide you along, however they wish to proceed with dancing. The goal is not the steps today, but the trust. In yourselves and each other."
"But she won't be my normal dancing partner," sneered Malfoy, giving Hermione a once over with scrutinization.
"Until you have caught up to the class, she will be," Señor Diggle proclaimed, turning to face his son. "Don't you have la lección in studio tres?"
Greg's face fell into a sort of muffled agitation, and he nodded. "Yes…" He picked himself up off the wall he leaned on and approached Hermione. "If it's any consolation, I'd have a hard time trusting him, too," he whispered to where only she could here. With a wink, he strolled out the door, but not before mocking his father's graceful, over exaggerated bow. "Hasta la próxima vez, preciosa."
Malfoy was already tying the blindfold when Hermione felt her cheeks warm, thinking to herself the Spanish language sounded quite rewarding from Greg's lips. However, she found it completely unbecoming to flirt with Greg, considering who his father was, and she shoved her attraction to him deep, deep down. He was physically charming, yes, but she had no idea what sort of brain he had, aside from a lighthearted sense of humor. As her mother used to say, brains not brawn, make sure you get on!
"Holy Harpies, this thing gets tight," muttered Malfoy as the blindfold secured itself snugly to his head.
"Are we all set?" asked Diggle, ushering Hermione to reach out. Malfoy had his hands stuck out, fumbling around, so she grasped his arm and straightened him out.
"Ready?" she asked, securing one hand to her waist and the other in her palm.
Malfoy snorted in response. "About as ready as I'll ever be, being forced to dance with you... "
"Don't be such a baby. Alright, right foot back," she commanded, to which Malfoy did so diligently, though stiff. She attempted to lead him across the dancefloor, but guiding Malfoy was much like guiding a drunken goat. He stumbled, he stubbornly refused help, and he nearly crashed twice into Señor Diggle, only stopping short because Hermione yanked him out of the way.
"Merlin's pants, Granger! Has anyone ever told you you're shite at leading?"
"¡Cuidadito con lo que dices!"
"I'll have you know, when I went back to Hogwarts to finish my education, I received the Hogwarts Medal of Leadership Award," she replied.
"Sounds like something they made up to appease your tyranny… OW!" Malfoy gasped as Hermione, purposefully, stepped directly on his big toe. "You make the term 'two left feet' sound like a literal occurrence."
"Señor Malfoy, concentrate!" Diggle instructed. "Trust in your partner. Trust in your own body, as well as hers."
Malfoy smirked, and she could only imagine the amusement dancing behind that blindfold as he muttered, "I can trust myself very much when I'm inside a willing witch... AH!" This time, he received three swats on the back of the head from Hermione, followed by a tsk.
"You're about to be married, Malfoy. Isn't that sort of talk beneath you?"
"Astoria's the willing witch, you harpie!"
A knock came from the door around the same time that the blindfold released its magical hold on Malfoy, and he ripped it off his face just in time for Greg to poke his head through the door.
"Disculpa, papá."
"¿Sí?"
"Missus Aeris won't stop pinching her partner's bum during lessons…Namely me. I'm the partner."
"She is a handsy woman, isn't she? Ya voy." Señor Diggle turned to Hermione and Malfoy. "Excuse me one moment. Carry on!" And with that, he followed his son out the door, shutting it with a firm click.
"Maybe we should hold off until he returns…" Malfoy began, but Hermione had already started to wrap the blindfold around her head, determined to do exactly as instructed and carry on. The cloth was soft, and it was still warm from Malfoy's body heat, so it wasn't nearly as disconcerting as she imagined it would be. With her arms extended, she felt around until ran a hand over Malfoy's face. "Hello…" he drawled in a bored, irritated way as he brought her arms down to her sides.
"Let's begin," she said, smiling (hopefully) in his direction. To her relief, Malfoy guided her arms up around his neck, though they were set further apart, near the shoulders.
"A Waltz alright with you?" he asked, so close Hermione could feel his warm breath ghost her cheek. It provoked a heat along her cheeks, scattering down her jaw and neck. Good heavens, he smelled lovely up close and personal. Inwardly, she scolded herself for noticing, instead giving a firm nod in agreement. "Great, 'cause that's all I know off the top of my head," he admitted, adding, "Now I'll show you how a real leader leads…"
"Redundant, much?" she quipped back, eyebrows knitting together beneath the blindfold.
"Shut it. I don't need to be articulate around you. You're not worth the effort."
"Lovely… Astoria must be so lucky to have such a polite gentleman in her midst."
Malfoy ignored her, taking to guiding her around the floor for some short minutes. A comfortable silence fell between them, and it grew easier to follow his lead. Much to Hermione's amazement, when he wasn't spouting out insults or showing off, he seemed far more confident. Perhaps running his mouth was a defense mechanism? She'd suspected as much back in their school days, but moving in time with Malfoy now confirmed it.
"I find it interesting how our first lesson is nearly complete for the evening, and we've yet to learn one move from the Tango," said Malfoy, finally, his face closer to Hermione than she anticipated. Her hands tightened around his shoulders automatically: a physical response to being so close to someone the opposite gender. Even if it was a Malfoy…
Lost in her thoughts, Hermione stumbled forward, grasping him tighter for support. Malfoy chuckled, obviously enjoying her clumsiness. She wasn't sure if telling him to go jump in the Black Lake would do anything to their partnership, so she bit her tongue and thought about a proper response to his earlier stimulant at conversation.
Thinking of Ginny, she smirked and said, in her best impersonation of the redheaded witch, "You shouldn't question such a prestigious and innovative dance coach!"
Malfoy, to her delight, caught on and snorted a laugh. In what she guessed was an impression of Astoria, he heightened the pitch of his voice and uttered, "He is the world's most renowned dance instructor, after all!"
There was a beat, and then the two began laughing, enjoying the degradation of their dance coach. If there was one thing Hermione secretly enjoyed, it was poking fun at eccentricities. She thought of Diggle's handlebar mustache and found herself cackling wildly.
"Do you think we'll be made to grow mustaches too, eventually?"
"Oh, I would assume," mused Malfoy, "I'm fairly certain that's all a part of the deluxe package he's signed us up for…" He paused, bringing them both to a halt. "What if we're not nearly as bad as he claims, and this is all some sort of scam to get more of our money?"
Hermione sniggered. "Oh, believe me, Malfoy. You're as bad as he says. Worse, even."
She noticed Malfoy wasn't laughing anymore. Oh dear… perhaps she might have run her mouth a bit too hastily… well, he shouldn't have given me such wonderful material to work with!
"Well," he said, quiet and near deadly, "If I'm that bad, I can only imagine what he must say about you behind closed doors." Suddenly, she was jerked forward, led on by his gruff display of 'dancing'. Hermione tried to follow, but he was purposefully changing the speed, keeping her off balance and unable to keep up. His movements were rough and precise, and Hermione stumbled.
"You're going to fast," she snapped.
"You're going too slow. Keep up, now. They way you talk about yourself, you're already top of the class."
Hermione, despite not being able to see, found his toe and jammed it under her heel. "There's two of us! Of course I am!"
Malfoy released her, taking a few steps back.
"Malfoy, what are you doing?'"
'"If you're so good, why don't you come find me, then?" he taunted her; the sounds of his shoes could be heard echoing around the walls. That was, until he cast a silencing charm on them. Then, Hermione couldn't hear a damned thing, aside from his voice.
"Malfoy, this isn't funny."
"Do you hear me laughing?" His voice bounced around, distorting his location.
"I can only imagine that haughty smirk written all over that smug face of yours…" Hermione sighed, attempting to find him. It didn't help that the walls echoed, so any time he laughed or chided, "Hotter! Oh, no. Colder… honestly are you any good at this?" it distorted the sound. Frustrated, she tried to rip off the blindfold, even though she knew it was useless. Her hands thrust out and felt around. "Malfoy…!"
"Ask nicely, Granger," he taunted. Hermione realized he was very close -practically behind her. She whirled around and grasped out -
"AHA!" Her hands came in contact with firm muscle and unimaginably soft material, fingers entangling in the softness of a shirt. Malfoy's shirt. Goodness, was this really Malfoy? Beneath the confines of this material, he was surprisingly muscular… Could this be Greg, instead? Him she could understand… But, no. There was that intoxicating cologne tickling her senses, solidifying this was, indeed, Malfoy.
"Let go, Granger," he grumbled, his voice a mixture of gravel and ice. "You're stretching the material." Malfoy's fingers wrapped around her wrists and pried her off of him, bringing her hands down to her sides. Undeniably close in proximity, Hermione became acutely aware of the heat of his body.
There was a pause.
"Well, if you weren't so Hell bent on torturing me, I wouldn't be reaching out to grab you and stretch out your shirt."
"Oh, I don't know about that," Malfoy drawled. "Have you seen me? I'm fairly irresistible."
Hermione rolled her eyes beneath her blindfold, thinking that even if Malfoy smelled delectable, his attitude more than tipped the scales out of his favor. Deciding she was done with him, she jerked out of his grasp and stumbled back -too far back! "OH!" Her arms flailed, but two, large hands wrapped around her torso and pulled her upright, yanking her back into a standing position.
THUD. Her face hit his chest, cheek pressed up against hard pectorals. She felt her heart stammer in her ears in time with the pounding in his sternum. Hermione clung to his shoulders, unable to see his face; she imagined it was either irritated or shocked, judging by his heart elevation. That's when she noticed…
"Malfoy… Erm… your hand."
"Hmm?"
"It's… on my…"
She could feel one of his hands at the small of her back, flexing.
"Not that one," she grumbled.
It took Malfoy a moment to move his other hand, squeezing her bum as if he were checking to see exactly what body part he'd managed to latch onto. "Oh…" he whispered. "OH." He gave one more squeeze, likely to confirm.
"If you value that hand," she seethed, "I recommend letting go."
"Shite…" Malfoy immediately retracted his hand and stepped back, causing Hermione to stumble forward to the floor.
"Circe!" she exclaimed.
"Shite," he said again, realizing his mistake. He reached out and helped her up to her feet. "Apologies, Granger. I didn't mean to…"
Hermione couldn't help it -she imagined his befuddled face and red cheeks, and she laughed into her hands. "I think I've seen it all!"
"Come again?"
"You apologized," she pointed out.
"Oh. Erm… yes. I did have my hand on your… you know what? Forget it ever happened."
"Already forgotten about," she said. To keep the awkward silence from rising again, she asked, "So… if you're terrible at dancing, why are you so committed to learning how? It doesn't seem your heart is really in it."
"It isn't… but Astoria's is. And I'd like to think I'd make a right enough husband to learn one bloody dance."
Hermione bit her lower lip. "That's… actually very sweet."
"Hmph. What about you?"
"Why am I dancing when I have no coordination whatsoever?"
"Yes."
She thought about it. "I guess it's my inability to admit when I've been defeated. Gryffindor, and all." After a moment, she added, "How far along is Daphne?"
Malfoy sounded as if he choked on an every flavored bean. "W-What? How'd you-"
"Oh, was quite bloated, wasn't she? And there was a slight widening of her hips. It's an easy indicator."
"Is it…?" he asked, astounded.
"Yes! DId you know, to prepare the pelvis for delivery, the hormone Relaxin is released during pregnancy to help relax the pelvic joints and ligaments as well as soften and widen, so they'll become even wider-"
"Okay, gods, Granger. That's quite enough." Malfoy sounded entirely horrified. "She isn't that far along, anyway… though I did tell her she looked as if she'd gotten puffy." Silence, and then, "You can't tell a soul!"
"Why not?" she asked, confused. "Is it a secret?"
"Just promise me you won't say anything to anyone, alright? Promise me, Granger." He sounded desperate. "Blaise and Daphne don't want anyone finding out for the time being."
Though she couldn't understand why it was so damned important, she said, "Alright, Malfoy. Alright. Keep your knickers on, please. I won't tell anyone."
"Everything alright?" Señor Diggle's cheerful voice beckoned as the door opened with a click.
"Peachy…" Malfoy grouched. Hermione reached up to the blindfold, finding it loose once again.
"Perfect timing," said Diggle, "Lessons are over for the day!"
Malfoy slumped against the wall. "Thank Merlin." It took Hermione a moment to allow her eyes to adjust to the light, but when they did she saw she and Malfoy were standing ever so close to each other. Interesting, she thought. She was the one with the blindfold, unable to sense how far away he was from her, but he was perfectly able to distance himself at will.
"I'm meeting Astoria for dinner at her parents," Malfoy said, pushing past her. Their shoulders bumped, and Hermione felt a warm trickle of heat flow down her spine. "I'll… see you next lesson."
"Right," she agreed, refusing to turn around and look at him. "See you."
'You mustn't tell a soul,' the soft caress of a man's voice lingered in her ear, his hands sliding down her sides as if she were a Christmas gift he couldn't wait to unwrap. Hermione couldn't see his face; a blindfold kept his appearance a secret as his fingers moved along her thighs, pulling her against him, back to front. 'Can you keep a secret?'
'Mmm...mhmm…' she replied, breathless. Her voice echoed off the walls, distorting the tone. 'Please, quit teasing me.'
The man's voice was soothing but aggressive as he whispered, 'But we both know you love it. Both know how much you need it. You like being told what to do, don't you, little witch?'
Suddenly, she was jerked around, chest to chest with him, his hands finding a comfortable stance at the base of her spine. Soft lips pulled at her earlobe before it was caught between teeth, tugging and nipping. Hermione's senses went wild, and her mouth fell open while she gasped. The man's hands traveled lower, to her ass, giving each cheek a possessive squeeze. Oh, that felt quite wonderful. Hermione's head tilted back, and he began to devour her neck in a flurry of sensual kisses.
Before she knew it, she was being jerked up by her ass cheeks, her legs wrapping around his middle as her skirt bunched up over her thighs. She could already feel the firmness in his crotch, and her knickers flooded with a gush of wetness. Her arms came around his neck, and she pulled him in for a lavish, erotic kiss that had them both groaning in desperation for more. The man's lips were velvet against hers, and his tongue was just as impressive as it snaked over her bottom lip, demanding entrance. Hermione's mouth parted, and he darted that tongue inside, coaxing a moan from her throat as he pulled her even tighter to him. He tasted of mints and smelled of sandalwood and parchment… oh, goodness, his scent was divine. His hair was even softer than his lips, she surmised, as she entangled her fingers in his tresses and gave them a light pull. Not enough to hurt, but certainly enough to gain his attention.
'Careful,' he whispered, catching her upper lip between her teeth and tugging before licking it tenderly. 'If you keep that up, I'll be feeding you my cock against the wall.'
'Is that a bad thing?' she giggled, reaching up to pull the blindfold off, but it wouldn't be budged. Damn it. She really wanted to see his face…
'It is when the entire classroom down the hall could hear us,' he replied. 'Oh, to Hell with it.'
Hermione was briskly slammed up against the nearest wall -judging by its coldness and smoothness, she deduced it was a mirror. The man set her down carefully, though it didn't match the rhythm of his tongue lapping hungrily against her pulse point. When she was on her feet, she felt him guide one of her hands to his neck while the other rested in his. His free hand snaked down to her thighs, pulling them apart. Somehow, her skirt was now missing. When he was convinced her legs were properly spread, he teasingly ran his fingers up the crease of her thigh, his thumb gliding over her Mons Venus before resting comfortably against her pulsing clit.
'Oh, dear, Miss Granger,' he teased. 'It appears you have a bad dancing form.'
'Do I?' she asked, biting her lower lip as his thumb began to trace her clit in delicate circles. 'Mmh… f-uck…'
'Indeed,' he laughed seductively, moving his hand away to replace it with his leg, which he brushed directly against her wet knickers. She practically sat on it as he pushed her up, and Hermione couldn't help but grind against it, desperate for the friction. 'Here, now,' he said, moving his leg to give her what she desired. Hermione felt her back arch, and it pressed her breasts against his chest as she gasped for breath. 'Oh, no. Your posture gets worse and worse…' He removed his leg, and Hermione groaned. That was, until she felt him fall to his knees in front of her, hair brushing against her stomach as he kissed the edge of her lacy knickers.
'Yes,' she encouraged.
'Posture,' he reminded her, and Hermione struggled to stand straight, bringing her legs together. Large hands crawled up her thighs before thumbs looped through her knickers and, at a snail's pace, tugged them down, down, down to her ankles. 'Yum... ' he laughed against her swollen bud, 'Like a fresh peach ripe enough for me to…' and then his tongue was between her folds, against her clit, and Hermione saw stars.
'Mmm… yes… God...right there…. Fu-u-uck!' Her hands wove through his hair again. 'Fuck,yesss… Draco-'
Stage Right: Hermione Granger -War Hero and terrible dancer
Setting: Her flat, on the sofa, in front of the TV
Hermione awoke with a start, covered in a slick sheen of sweat, still calling out the latter part of his name. She looked around to the TV, where a Golden Girls marathon was still playing. She saw the bowl of cereal off to the side, and caught her hands down her pajama pants, doing Lord knew what when she realized… "Oh, sweet baby dragons."
If you liked it, leave a review!
For those of you wondering, no. Draco will not cheat. That's all I can say.
~A.
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Tango