Dance with the One that Brought You

Chapter 4: Kick It Up a Notch

"Malfoy." Hermione smiled and decided to ignore his perverse comment. "You've got great hair, did you know that? It would look so much better if you didn't put all that product in it and just left it natural."

His patented superior Malfoy smirk fell from his face and was replaced by a blank stare. "Wh ...What?"

She smiled and sauntered over to the nearest table, plopping the heavy books on top, turned to him and then scanned the room. "OK, so this won't do. Let's move those three tables against the walls," she said as she removed her wand from her pocket and pointed to them. "That will give us plenty of room."

His mouth had dropped open, and he blinked as he struggled to find his words. "Granger," he sized her up and down, his eyebrows dented with doubt, "are you ill?"

"Wingardium Levisoa." She almost sang the words as she tapped her wand in the air and pointed to the tables. One rose slowly and began to move toward the far side of the room. She smiled with ease, glancing over her shoulder at Draco. "Come on, Malfoy. We don't have all day."

"Been dipping into the kitchen's supply of butterbeer, Granger?"

She continued her task, lifting the second table off to the opposite side of the room as she placed her free hand on her hip. "You see, Malfoy, it's quite simple." She raised her free hand from her hip and held it out to him, gesturing. "It's all in the wrist --just swish and flick."

He raised his chin and eyebrows at the same time. "I'm perfectly capable of levitating a simple wooden table, Granger." As if to prove a point, he demonstrated his skill with the third table, watching it float through the air toward the back of the Great Hall. "And if you want to practice more wrist work later on, I can help you there as well." His eyes challenged her for a response.

She rolled her eyes but didn't stop smiling. "Malfoy, your crude, perverted ranting won't affect me today. I have decided that this has to be possibly the best day of my life so far!"

"Pffft," he blew out. "What has gotten into you today -- or should I say who? Let me guess, the Golden Snitch-Seeking Scarhead?

She inhaled and turned back to face the large expanse of the room. "I'm not listening to you today," she said in a sing-song voice. "I'm here because Professor McGonagall asked me to be here. With or without you, I'm going to carry on with the work at hand."

She eyed the old phonograph on the elevated stand at the head table, where the professors ate their meals, and walked over to it.

There was a stack of old black records laying next to it, and she shuffled through them, noticing that most were compositions by classical artists, although there were a few she didn't recognize and laid those to one side.

"Malfoy, have you given any of these a listen? Have you decided what type of waltz to teach?"

He felt perturbed that he wasn't getting the reaction from her that he was accustomed to. This side of Hermione Granger was so ... boring! He watched her back, observing the long dark robe that fell just below her knees, and he felt compelled to walk over to her and give her a good shaking. He wasn't sure why, but this was unacceptable. She was talking to him as if she were his peer -- as if the last three years of bickering never existed. As if she didn't hate him. As if she didn't ... know him.

He could handle fighting. Verbal fencing is what he excelled in. That's what had defined their relationship. What he couldn't handle was indifference. He would not tolerate it.

Who did she think she was, complimenting him about his hair? The very thought of her trying to show him, Draco Malfoy, how to do an elementary levitation spell! And now she was discussing music, as if nothing else mattered? As if he didn't matter?

Still having her back to him, she raised an album up. "Maybe we can start with this one," she said, not turning to face him, "It's pretty standard, but we can at least get warmed up."

He lowered his chin and determinedly crossed the room to her.

"Malfoy, it's really quite surprising how far ahead Muggles are in certain aspects. I mean, magic aside, they have the best CDs and stereo equipment ..." She wasn't able to finish her sentence before he grabbed her shoulder and whipped her around to face him.

"I don't want to hear about your Muggle contraptions." He gritted his teeth together. "I don't want to hear about how bloody glorious your day is, and I don't want to spend another moment than necessary in this room with you. Let's get one thing clear here, Granger." He leaned in toward her, as if to emphasize his words. "I am the bloody instructor here, not you. There is nothing you can teach me that I don't already know."

Her smile faded quickly, and she shook his hand off her shoulder. He hadn't realized he had still been clasping it. He raised his chin, looking down on her, waiting for her to return to herself again.

"Fine," she said hesitantly. "Have it your way, Malfoy. Forget I tried to be human to you for one day." She handed him the record. "You pick the music." She walked past him and took a position in the middle of the floor, focusing on some unseen target on the wall.

He quickly spread the records across the table with frustration. That's not how she was supposed to respond! She was supposed to fight back with a passion, like she usually did. That's what she lacked today. Passion. Someone or something had changed her. Someone else had tapped into her and stolen it away.

He had his work cut out for him, but he was up to the task. He wasn't sure what had happened to her, but he was darn sure it wouldn't stay this way.

He selected an album from a well-respected wizarding orchestra and carefully placed the needle of the phonograph on the second track. He turned to face Hermione and took off his robe, placing it next to the phonograph.

"Remove your robe, Granger."

The music began playing; it was an upbeat but melodic combination of strings and brass. Draco walked to the center of the room. Looking over his shoulder, he said, "Now do try and keep up." After placing her robe on one of the tables, she walked in front of him and held her hands up in a traditional waltz position.

"No, Granger," he smirked. "You're not ready for that yet. I doubt you'll ever be ready for that. Get behind me. You will mirror my steps, and I will see how inadequate you are with your Muggle moves."

She lowered her hands, feeling the anger rising. But she took a deep breath and moved into position several feet behind him. Draco started off with a basic waltz move. His hands were down at his side, and he danced on the balls of his feet, dipping lower for two steps, and then bringing his feet together for the third rising up, he glided forward. Hermione easily followed his fluid motion as he continued across the floor.

He glanced over his shoulder and attempted to mask the surprise at how graceful she was on her feet. He wasn't sure what he had expected, but it certainly wasn't this. Deciding to test her, he crossed over into a grapevine movement, and Hermione followed flawlessly.

"We aren't going to be doing the Dumbledore-McGonagall version of this dance, Granger. You'll need to kick it up a notch." He spun to face her. "Let's see how you spin."

He stopped and demonstrated a spin with his hand, "Around you go..."

Hermione spun around perfectly for several rotations, focusing on Draco with each turn. When she came out from the spin, she continued her fluidity by leaning in toward him, reaching one hand out, nearly brushing his shoulder, gracefully, in a lyrical beckon, and then just as softly retreating back and dancing her way around him. With her back facing him, she leaned diagonally, looking over her shoulder, and extended her arm out to him again, coming within inches of his cheek before she withdrew it, spinning back into her original position. He didn't realize he had taken a step forward and was leaning in towards her.

The music continued to play, but she had stopped dancing. She looked directly at him, boring her eyes into his. "Malfoy, I can dance the pants off you."

Something flashed in his eyes causing them to darken. "Is that a promise, Granger?"

They were frozen in place when somewhere in the distance the bell rang. She turned and grabbed her robe and books. She called over her shoulder to him, "Whenever you're ready to kick it up that notch, let me know."

He watched her leave as he deeply exhaled the breath he was holding in and ran a hand through his hair. "Bugger me!"