Tango * dramione

Chapter 6

Chapter 6: It Takes Two
______
"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?"