Tango * dramione

Chapter 4

Chapter 4: heavy confrontation

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"Great dancers are not great because of their technique; they are great because of their passion." -Martha Graham

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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.