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
- 6
- 7
- 8
My apologies for the tardiness. Was uber sick for a while and couldn't write anything. Then I had to play catch up with my stories! But here I am!
Thank you LightofEvolution for your input, ideas, and beta'ing! (Hearts)
~A.
"Dancing is like dreaming with your feet."
~Constanze Mozart
Center Stage: Hermione Granger
Setting: Hermione's flat, downtown London
Splashing cool water in her face, Hermione tried to shake her mind from the memories of her dream to no avail. The clock hanging on her kitchen wall read 2:34am. Heaven's bells, she had work in the morning, but she was too shaken to fall asleep again.
In all honesty, Hermione was forced to admit she'd dreamed about none other than Draco Lucius Malfoy, arrogant heir to the pureblood dynasty and soon-to-be-married twat. The things he did to her -and how real it felt- left a conflictual bruise on her psyche.
Well, she thought to herself as she struggled to find the logic, Think about the events that transpired. Dreams are simply representations of what's on someone's mind. I obviously spent a great deal of time with him... Yes, that had to be it! She'd spent the majority of her afternoon literally falling into the arms of the taken man. There had been a close, physical proximity, not to mention the intimacy of dancing blindfolded, which would explain the lack of sight in the dream.
Oh, but why did it have to be about Malfoy? Couldn't it have been about Greg Diggle instead? She was a confident woman and no stranger to sex; after all, winning the War had brought out a new, exploratory side to the young woman. She and Ron had 'sewn their wild oats' so to speak, trying out every Kamasutra book she could find. So the fact she was having some wild sex fantasy wasn't even the problem. She'd had plenty of those, especially since she wasn't getting any as of late.
It was the fact that it was of Draco Malfoy. Draco. Bloody. Malfoy. Well, there was a physical attraction, sure. The man had a strong, chiseled jaw, the cheekbones of a greek god, and those eyes…they couldn't possibly be natural, could they? At least, not without a bit of magic added to the genome...Strong jaw. Pretty eyes. He has a nice symmetry to his face and body… from what is visible... and he's got a fair complexion, and I have a darker one, and we always subconsciously look for a partner who is our opposite so our offspring is as healthy as possible… Okay, maybe she should take a break on the Discovery Channel for a moment. Any way I spin it, it's no wonder a sexually active (okay, inactive) witch like me would find him arousing.
But he was a taken man. Hermione was NOT the kind of witch who coveted other people's trophy husbands. She knew her self-worth, thank you very much.
Perhaps she was ovulating, and her body was simply looking for a potential mating partner?
Okay, seriously. No more Discovery Channel -because even that thought left a bitter taste in her mouth when her subconscious brought up a very horrifying thought: if she was looking for a partner, why wouldn't she be fantasizing about Ron? He was a perfectly logical choice -timid and kind; the type of partner one could count on to raise children correctly. And she had said he was perfect for a future...again, if she were honest, she'd admit Ron just wasn't as handsome as Draco Malfoy.
Oh, dear Circe. What had she just thought?
Well, in that case, said her logical side, Greg Diggle is every bit as handsome as Malfoy, and you didn't blink an eye once in your dream about him.
Yes, but she didn't know Greg, did she? He was a complete wildcard!
And you know Draco Malfoy all that much better?
Good point, subconscious. Good point.
Hermione decided breaking out the expensive scotch Harry left around her apartment for nights he wanted to stop by might be in her best interest. She accio'd a tumbler glass from the top shelf and the scotch from the top of the fridge before having a seat at her quaint dining room table and pouring herself a sip... okay, maybe half a glass.
One full glass later, Hermione was slightly tipsy and still no closer to figuring out why she was fantasizing about him.
Stage Left: Hermione Granger
Setting: Ministry of Magic, Hermione's office.
Work was tedious. While she would return to university in autumn, the summer led to working thirty hours a week at the Ministry, taking pro bono cases for house elves who were recently liberated and helping them acquire housing for themselves as well as their families. It still baffled wizards that house elves would have families, which appalled Hermione to no end; how did wizards think house elves reproduced? By spawning? She rolled her eyes nearly every time a wizard or witch stared slack jawed at her when she described her area of expertise.
However, today was a dull day. She'd won her last three cases, as per the usual Hermione way, and today was spent filing paperwork. It usually excited her to check off boxes and filling out correct forms, but staying up half the night had taken its toll on Hermione Granger. She was exhausted, and soon, her eyes grew heavy, and she rested her cheek on the desk for just a moment to give her mind a rest…
"What's the matter, Granger? Don't you trust me?" a warm, inviting voice beckoned as a pair of warm lips brushed against her ear. His arms were around her, pressing her back into his frame. His fingers were entwined with hers while he peppered her jaw and neck with lazy, seductive kisses. "We can fall together. You'll be safe."
Hermione glanced down to the pillar they both stood on, surrounded by a stunning black void. "I can't trust you," she whispered, gasping when his teeth grazed hungrily at her shoulder, nipping here and there. Once again, she was in her underwear, vulnerable and exposed. And judging from the skin on skin contact she felt, he was just the same. The only thing between her bum and his hardening cock was their undergarments. Hermione didn't need to turn around to know whose prick was pressed tight against her; the pale, manicured hands in hers told all.
"So don't trust me," he taunted, unraveling their fingers to slide one hand slowly down her abdomen to the top of her panties. "Just fall with me."
Hermione turned her head to protest, but when she did she found a pair of warm, silky lips against hers. Her eyes fell closed as she gave in to the luxurious feel of his tongue as it glided over her bottom lip. His hand traveled lower, finding the sensitive button that nearly made her legs collapse upon his touch. Her panties were already soaked through, begging for his body. Draco Malfoy chuckled as he rubbed his index finger in slow, teasing circles while running the rest of his fingers down her slickened folds.
Gasping into his mouth, she leaned against him, noting the way his cock brushed against her bum in the most tantalizing of ways. He rolled his hips forward purposefully while dipping his middle finger into her and trading his index finger out for his thumb to continue to stimulate her throbbing clit. Hermione's nipples hardened in delight, excited by the development. The way he touched her was like nothing she'd ever experienced; every movement was deliberate and knowing. Every kiss commanded her attention. No, the man couldn't dance worth a fig, but he certainly could play her body like a violin, knowing just where to apply pressure or pull at her flesh. The hand still entwined with hers slid their hands up her stomach and forced her to cup her own covered breast. Malfoy squeezed around her small fingers, telling her just how to touch herself while he toyed with her.
"So wet for me," he purred. "I dare you to fall with me."
"I can't," she whispered, opening her eyes; for the first time, his face came into focus clear as day. It was a mistake, because the raw intensity burning inside of those silver-flecked irises took all of her resolve and tossed it out the nearest window -or, to be more precise, over the precipice they found themselves standing on. Malfoy had never looked so ethereal. There was a playful challenge in his eyes as he whispered back, "You can."
And then they were falling back, off the edge, his lips on hers and her body completely at his mercy-
"Hermione. Hermione."
"Hmm? What?" Hermione Granger awoke with a jolt, one of her forms pasted to her face by a thick trail of drool which had dribbled to the side of her mouth. Her eyes came open with a start, meeting the pondering face of Harry James Potter, who stood in her office doorway. Horrified, Hermione peeled the paper quickly off her face and tucked it inside her desk. "Harry!"
"Hermione!" he said with the same inflection, half mocking her with a side smirk playing well across his lips. He uncrossed his arms and gave a lighthearted chuckle. "Pleasant dream, I take it?"
"What?" Hermione asked, eyes widening.
"You, erm, were...moaning."
"Moaning?" she gasped.
"Just a bit." Harry tried to play it cool, reaching up to run his nimble fingers through his hair. "Of course, with you, it could have been anything, right? Maybe you were dreaming of a library, or winning a big case, or...You know what? I'm going to pretend it was that. Does that sound good to you?"
With an airy sigh, Hermione nodded. "Please. Let's."
"Great." Harry gave a nervous laugh and tried again. "I was wondering if you wanted to grab some lunch? Ron's out of town on joke shop business, and Gin's got that interview with Witch Weekly about signing on with the Harpies…"
"Gee, you sure know how to make a girl feel special," Hermione teased, shutting her planner. "Lunch sounds great, Harry. I'll just gather my things and meet you outside in a moment?"
"Sure." Harry gave her one last apologetic wave and took his leave. When the door shut with a click, Hermione gave a relieved sigh and smacked her palm to her forehead.
"These dreams need to go away," she muttered to herself. "One way or another, I'm going to put an end to them."
Stage Right: Hermione and Harry
Setting: Diagon Alley
"Harry…" Hermione began, not paying attention as Harry brought his freshly sliced deli sandwich to his lips, "Do you have erotic dreams?"
Harry Potter had just bitten into his turkey on rye when she finished her question, and it caused him to choke on the bread and meat. He coughed, beating a fist against his chest to dislodge the half-chewed sandwich in his mouth before spitting it into his napkin. "Erm -sorry. What?"
"You know," she said, clearly not getting the message of his shocked expression, "Erotic dreams? Also known as 'wet dreams' or 'nocturnal erocticism'-"
"No, I gathered that," he interrupted, taking a swig of his butterbeer to drown the embarrassment. "I mean... no, I know what you mean, Hermione. What I don't understand is why you're asking me in the middle of my favorite deli shop and ruining its innocence…"
"Oh." Hermione blinked. "I didn't think of it that way." She gave a brief pause. "But have you, though?"
Harry set his face in his hands to hide the blush. He eked out, "Yeah, Hermione...I think everyone has them."
"I know that. Let me rephrase," she cleared her throat.
"I really wish you wouldn't," muttered Harry.
"Have you ever had an erotic dream that surprised you? Like, the person involved in it? Someone you weren't expecting?" She attempted to keep her voice lower, as not to bring attention to them.
Harry's face, now dusted in a light shade of magenta, contorted into an impish grin. "Well, um, now that I think of it...there was this one time, back in Hogwarts, where I...you have to promise not to laugh."
Hermione was excited! She leaned forward and rested her chin on her palm. "Oh? Go on!"
"Promise."
"Yes, yes. I promise." She waved her other hand dismissively.
"Okay." Harry closed his eyes, inhaled, and on his exhale whispered, "I once had a very...erotic dream...about...Moaning Myrtle."
It was hard to stifle the fit of laughter that wanted to tumble out of her mouth, but Hermione made due. "M-Moaning Myrtle?" She sniggered into her hand. "Seriously, Harry?"
"I was fourteen!" he pointed an accusing finger at her. "She'd just helped me with the second clue with the egg... I don't know. I blame it on my teenage hormones." With a definitive sigh, he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, his turkey sandwich completely forgotten about. "Not even Ginny knows about that one, so don't go spreading it around."
"Why doesn't Ginny know?"
"Could you imagine how that would go? She'd either hex me or laugh at me until I died of mortification," Harry rolled his eyes. "Though, I did tell Ron, once."
"What did he have to say?"
"He wanted to know if it was cold."
After a long pause, the two friends began to laugh wildly, startling those in the booth behind them.
"Why do you ask, Hermione?" Harry said once he was calm enough to catch his breath.
Hermione picked up her butterbeer, took a small swig, and realized all her laughter died away. "I've been having some...dreams. Pleasant ones."
"Like when I walked in on you in your office earlier?" Harry smirked. Hermione picked up a biscuit from the table and tossed it at him; it hit him clean in the chest, scattering crumbs all over his robes.
"Something like that," she admitted, hiding behind her mug to prevent him from seeing the dust of red on her cheeks. "But they aren't conventional."
"Kinky?"
Hermione's eyes went wide. "No!" she giggled. "No, well… I mean… maybe. A little bit. -But that's not what has me asking questions." It was her turn to point a finger, waving it at him like Molly Weasley when scolding. "It's who I'm having fun with in the dreams."
Harry nodded, considerable. After a moment, he blurted out, "It isn't me, is it?"
Not being able to resist, she licked her lips and sent him a saucy wink. Harry paled. Hermione stuck out her tongue. "Believe it or not, Harry, not all of us fantasize about The Chosen One."
"Ha ha." Harry grinned. "Well, I guess you could figure it goes one of two ways; either you're attracted to whoever you're fantasizing about, or it's just one of those weird moments, and it probably won't happen again."
But it's happened twice now, she wanted to say. "Thank you for stating the obvious, Harry."
"Anytime," he winked, picking his sandwich back up, finding his appetite again.
Half an hour later, Hermione was no closer to figuring out why she'd fantasized about Draco Malfoy twice now when she and Harry left the deli shop on the way back to publicly floo to the Ministry. Diagon Alley was bustling today, and karma must have had a hand in what happened next, because just as she and Harry turned the corner on the way to the open floo network inside Flourish and Blotts, Astoria Greengrass and Draco Malfoy came around the other side, having just come from the floos. The two pairs nearly ran smack dab into each other -in fact, Hermione and Malfoy collided with each other and knocked each other off balance.
"Watch where you're going," Malfoy sneered automatically, but when he saw it was Hermione, is eyes went slightly wider than normal and he muttered out, "My apologies."
"Miss Granger," said Astoria at once, a chipper sound to her voice as she extended a gloved hand in Hermione's direction, "I don't think we've been properly introduced. Astoria Greengrass." As Hermione reluctantly shook the woman's hand, Astoria gave a little curtsy and eyed Harry up and down curiously. "Oh my. And a Mister Potter. So lovely to finally meet you." She extended her hand to obviously be kissed, but Harry didn't get the gesture. Instead, he reached out and shook it the same way Hermione had.
"Hello," he gave a half-formal bow. "Astoria, right?"
"Yes!" Astoria giggled. "The Harry Potter, remembering my name. Draco tells me you all went to school together."
Draco Malfoy stood stoic next to his bride-to-be, eyeing Hermione every half-moment. Harry's eyes met with Malfoy's, to which Malfoy muttered out, "Potter."
"Malfoy," Harry nodded curtly.
"Granger," Malfoy said next, staring at Hermione's hair instead of her actual face. He didn't look a thing like in her dreams -much to her dismay, he looked even better. "Did you just roll out of bed?"
"No," she asked, taken aback. "Why?"
He eyed her curls a bit more, shrugged, and gave her a taunting smirk. "No reason."
Suddenly self-conscious about her hair, Hermione turned her attention back on Astoria, who was busy bantering away, unaware at her future husband's uncomfortableness.
"It's actually fate that must have led us all here," she was saying, "because I was going to personally extend an invitation to our wedding to both of you."
"Uh… you were?" Harry asked, rather blunt.
"Yes," said Astoria without missing a beat, "I figure since your girlfriend, Miss Granger, and I all attend the same dance class together, and my dear Draco is forced to take extra dance lessons with Miss Granger-"
"-Astoria, really," Malfoy scowled, crossing his arms like a two-year-old.
"-It seems only fitting the Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ginny Weasley attend the event of the year! Namely -our wedding." Astoria leaned up and kissed Malfoy's cheek. He gave a smile, though it appeared forced as if he knew it was routine to do so, but he'd much rather tuck tail and run.
"Oh. Um… Thanks." Harry nodded. "I'll tell Gin."
"Splendid." Next, Astoria turned her eyes on Hermione. "And of course, you're encouraged to bring a plus one." Her mouth curled in a smile, but it didn't appear sincere. "I'm sure there is a plus one, isn't there, Miss Granger? Or may I call you Hermione?"
The question floored the brunette, who could only shrug in reply.
"Wonderful!" Astoria clapped her hands. "Even if you don't have an official plus one, a woman like yourself has all the boys wrapped around her finger, if the newspapers are any reference." She gestured to Harry as an example.
Hermione saw red. How dare Astoria insinuate anything between Harry and herself? Or did she mean her to be a tomboy? Either way, she felt rather miffed about it all.
"Astoria," said Malfoy, patting his future wife on the shoulder, "We have that appointment with the cake decorator in ten minutes… perhaps we should go." He nodded to Harry. "Potter." His eyes trailed over Hermione's attire, and he raised an eyebrow. "Granger." And with that, he escorted Astoria past the two friends and toward the door. Hermione watched on, and at the last moment, he turned his head back around and, dare she imagine it, rolled his eyes as if to say, 'That's just Astoria.' Then they were gone.
"Invited to a Malfoy wedding," muttered Harry, shaking his head. "Never thought I'd see the day, hmm, Hermione?"
But Hermione was too transfixed on imagining that pale, blond aristocrat with his hands down her knickers to think straight and give him an answer.
Center Stage: Hermione, the Weasleys, and Harry
Setting: The Burrow
Bollocks to Draco Malfoy! Two days had passed, and tomorrow would be the weekly lesson with Señor Diggle's entire dance class. If she was going to face Malfoy again, she needed to prove to herself these sexual fantasies (which had multiplied to two more erotic dreams as of late) were just a manifestation of being around an attractive wizard and nothing more. She wanted to prove to herself that, under the right circumstances, the effect could be duplicated using an equally enticing male.
As it so happened, luck found her in the form of offering to clean Molly Weasley's gutters at the Weasley family reunion. Harry and Hermione had been invited because, according to Molly and Arthur, they were just as much a part of the family as any of them.
But, waiting on Fleur and Bill proved Molly was a perfectionist, and she set Ginny and Hermione to work tidying the gutters while Ron and Harry were in charge of cleaning up the outside bricks.
Hermione devised a last minute plan -perhaps falling to Malfoy's arms had stirred a physical need for intimacy within her, and since he was the last man to hold her close to him, it could explain why she couldn't get him out of her head. So, if she repeated the same trust fall in the arms of a worthier partner, she might be able to fix her dreams to someone better suited.
Ron Weasley had no idea what to expect when he was asked to hold the ladder for her, and when Hermione fell back, she expected him to catch her with the same finesse as Draco Malfoy -but Ron Weasley wasn't Draco Malfoy. He caught her yes -with a scream of shock and forcing them both to tumble backwards into the Molly Weasley's prized tomatoes. It was the first time they'd physically touched each other besides a hug here or there since their break up.
And it wasn't at all romantic.
"Blimey, Hermione!" Ron gasped, his arms wrapped around her frame awkwardly as she sat atop his frame in the tomato patch. "You weigh more than you look, you know."
"Really, Ron!" Ginny called up from her own ladder, staring down at the two. "That's no way to talk to a lady!"
Hermione blushed bright red as Ron sat up, fitting her comfortably in his lap. The feeling was familiar, intimate, but it didn't feel the way it once had. There was an awkwardness between them that couldn't be snuffed out, egged on by the knowledge that both of them once loved each other dearly. Still, Ron rubbed the back of his head and muttered, "Sorry, 'Mione. I just wasn't expecting that was all. You okay?"
"I'm fine," she whispered, betrayed by her own embarrassment. She scrambled to stand and helped him to his feet. "Are you alright?"
"Hmm? Me? Oh, yeah," he winced as he moved his shoulder, "Fit as an ox."
"More like a tumbleweed," George chimed in as he walked past the garden, a crate full of peaches in his arms.
Okay, so maybe trying her theory out on Ron hadn't been the best approach. Perhaps, Hermione thought, it would be wiser to test it with someone who was equally as attractive, if not more so, than Draco bloody Malfoy. Her next sample was none other than Charles "Charlie" Weasley that night.
Charlie was a fine example of the male species: dark red hair that fell past his shoulders, rippling arms and strong muscles forged from taming dragons, and thick, calloused hands that look like they could handle a woman's body in all the right ways. Hermione might have developed a crush in her earlier teen years to the man the first time they'd met, but she'd never thought about acting on those attractions. After all, Ron was the object of her desires for such a long time. But, in the name of scientific discovery, Hermione had an obligation to explore her attraction to Charlie Weasley.
At least, that's what she told herself when she asked Charlie to spot her under the ladder after dinner to 'check her and Ginny's work'. It was a lame excuse, admittedly, but Charlie didn't seem to mind. He was all grins as she climbed up the ladder and pretended to examine the immaculately clean gutters.
"Oops!" she said, pretending to lose her footing a second time. When she fell back, a strong, burly pair of arms caught her, and she came nose to nose with Charlie, who smirked while holding her effortlessly in his grasp.
"Quite a fall," he said, his voice low and gravely. His thick, red beard tickled Hermione's chin; their lips were that close. He smelled of mint, honey, and traces of ink. Goodness, he was a pretty sight to behold -he really didn't resemble any of the other brothers, who were lean and nimble. No, Charlie Weasley was all man. "Are you alright, Hermione?"
"Hmm?" she asked, caught in the alluring color of his sky-blue eyes. "Oh, um… mhmm." She nodded enthusiastically. "Charlie, why are you single?"
The Weasley man's eyebrows shot up, and he gave an entertained chuckle. "I suppose women aren't lining up to risk their boyfriend being turned into a dragon crisp. -Why do you ask?"
"I have no idea," Hermione blurted out.
Once again, George Weasley walked by, this time arm in arm with his wife, Angelina. "If you keep falling for Weasleys, I hope it's me next!" he catcalled. Angelina smacked him on the back of the head, and the two rounded the corner, out of sight.
Confidently, Charlie set her down on her own two feet, though his hands still remained on her shoulders, his thumbs brushing idly against her sleeves. "You know, it's too bad my brother has a thing for you. You're quite the witch, you know."
Blushing, Hermione tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and gave a half smile. "Thank you. -But, as you know, Ron and I aren't together, anymore."
"Oh, I know. Every letter I get from him reminds me…" he rubbed the back of his head thoughtfully, just the way his brothers did.
Hmm… "What are you doing later on this year?"
Charlie tilted his head to the side. "Dragons, I imagine." He then corrected himself in a fumble of words, "Er… I'm not...doing the dragons… I mean…" He cleared his throat; it was actually quite humbling to see the man in such a jumble. "Nothing. I'm free."
"Great. Would you want to go to a wedding with me?"
'Bit forward, don't you think?" he winked.
Hermione slapped him playfully on the arm. "I meant, to the Malfoy wedding. Harry and I have both been invited. And as Astoria Greengrass pointed out today, I'm without a plus one…"
"Are you sure you wouldn't like to invite Ron?" Charlie offered.
"I don't want to give him false hope," she replied quietly, wringing her hands together. "Things are complicated enough between us."
Charlie nodded thoughtfully. "Alright. Sounds great." He flashed her a smile; his teeth were perfectly white, just the way her parents liked them. "I'd love to be your plus one. Just owl me the date, I'll be sure to be there."
Hermione grinned ear-to-ear. "Thanks, Charlie."
Center Stage: a satisfied Hermione Granger
Setting: Her private bedroom
That night, climbing into her bed, Hermione's heart was in a flutter. She thought about Charlie, and her future plans with him, and it gave her such hope that when she closed her eyes, she just knew there would be no more Malfoy to be thought of…
"You like dragons, do you?" asked a cool, masculine voice as lips dusted down her stomach with light, feathered kisses. Hermione was sprawled across a bed, her head against a downy pillow and her legs spread on either side of the man between her thighs, breathing heavily against her pelvic bone.
"Mmm… they're fascinating," she admitted.
"Are you aware of the famous mythology surrounding Ladon and Hercules?" The man's teeth tugged at the hem of her panties, and Hermione lifted her hips up, giving him easier access to pull the underwear down her thighs. With the undergarment between his teeth, he tugged them down, down, down until they slid around her ankles. Then he reached up and tossed them behind him, off the bed, and moved between her legs again, this time breathing against her core. "Ladon was the famous dragon to guard a tree which grew golden apples. Hercules," his tongue darted out and lapped against her clit for half a moment, earning a heavy sigh from Hermione before he continued, "killed Ladon during his twelve labors and took the apples from the tree…" He spread her legs wide and then pulled them up, around his head. "Do you know what constellation depicts this famous dragon, know-it-all?"
Hermione knew. Her heart gave a flutter, and she rolled her hips, begging for contact. But the man leaned back, teasing her.
"Say it," he commanded her, "and I'll give you what you want. Do you need a hint?" He wrapped his fingers around her waist and pressed her into the bed, willing her body to still as it tried to move against him. "Its name is also the name of a man who wants nothing more than to hear you moan again…" And with that, he leaned forward and ran his tongue all the way up her slippery pussy lips.
Hermione fought back a moan as she reached down and tangled her fingers in his hair, groaning, "Draco… Draco…."
"Draco…" Hermione rolled over in her sleep, unaware that this would be the fourth night in a row she dreamt of the man teasing her in ways she could only imagine.
Hope everyone enjoyed! Will update soon. Leave me a thought to your favorite part? XD
~A.
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