Two to Tango

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

A/N – Very short first foray into femslash! Enjoy! :D

She's dancing.

Something deep and soulful plays low, an undercurrent to the slow roll of her hips, the husky pitch of her laughter. Hermione stares, standing in the doorway, unable to take her eyes off her.

She's stunning.

A Quidditch jersey, much too big, and thigh high stockings. Her feet don't make a sound in movement, a pair of very short shorts on display briefly when she runs her hands up her body. Her eyes are piercing when they flick in her direction, her smirk as practiced and sharp as the ends of her hair. Like she already knows she's won.

Black hair. Black eyes.

Inviting eyes.

That's not so practiced.

"Just going to stand there, Granger?" she murmurs, showing Hermione her back and dipping to the floor, standing in a slow, sensual glide that has Hermione's breath backing up in her lungs. The invite is still there when she flicks a look back over her shoulder - stronger now, her smirk more natural.

Like she knows what she does to her.

"It takes two to tango, you know."

"You're not tangoing," Hermione points out. Her voice is rough and Pansy's smirk widens. Her hair arcs out around her when she spins on her toes, slides over and holds out her hand.

"So tango with me."

Yes.

With her heart slamming far too hard, Hermione bites her bottom lip and steps into the room, her hand in Pansy's. That delighted husky chuckle sings its own tune, the fit of their bodies its own song.

"Took you long enough."