Hello, and welcome to Tango.
I've had this story in my head since August, and I couldn't resist bringing it with me to the new year.
This is looking to be a sensual/comedy/slow burn fic, much like Sex Ed, but much more slow burn. Hope you all enjoy it.

Tango
Hermione/Draco
Rated M for language and later chapters
Summary: A slow burn fic about Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy taking dance lessons to learn the Tango. As the comedy builds, so does the tension -too bad Draco's set to marry Astoria. Dramione. WIP.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I will not make a profit from this story.

Thank you to waymay for editing, and to the lovely LightofEvolution for believing in this story! She has a lovely one-shot she made for me recently titled: "Double, Double, Toil and Trouble" you should check out. Hermione/Harry/Draco and so much fun!

Life is like a tango.. sad, sensual, sexy, violent, and quiet.
~Unknown.

"I swear on Merlin's grave himself, Malfoy, if you won't keep time, I won't bother with walking you through the steps."

"That's rich, coming from someone with two matching feet so left she must have spelled them that way."

"Is that your best insult? I'm mildly disappointed."

Draco Malfoy stopped mid-stride, his hand curling tighter around Hermione Granger's waist. "I'm sure you're quite used to disappointment, Granger. After all, if I woke up with that atrocious nest you call hair -OW!"

"Terribly sorry," she smirked. "Those two left feet, you know…"

"I could easily transfer them into fins. You could swim with the rest of the muddy filth -Ah, fuck it all, Granger!" Draco released her, hobbling back while wincing as his left foot throbbed in pain. "Easy on the merchandise!"

"Merchandise?" Hermione laughed, placing her hands on her hips. "You're not a shipment of sugar quills. Now," she reset herself across the dancefloor and offered out her hand, "Are you ready to go again?"

Stage Right: Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley
Setting: Al-Qarawiyyin library, Morocco

Hermione Granger, for all intents and purposes, felt truly satisfied with her life. Staring up at the marble pillars of the world's most ancient muggle library did wonders for her soul. Most times, her life felt void of purpose, but practically drooling over ancient scripts and tomes set a fire in her soul she didn't realize she was missing. She caught the amused grin of Ginny Weasley standing next to her, clicking pictures with her camera every few feet or so as they traveled by each and every shelf.

"Alright there?" the redhead teased, turning her camera on Hermione and snapping a quick photo as her friend's fingers graced along the backs of leatherbound books eye level with her. Blushing, the brunette placed a hand out in front of the lens.

"Entranced is all." Hermione reached into her pockets and pulled out a small, black notebook decorated in swirling script along with a simple pen. She flipped through the pages, found the line she was looking for, and slashed through with a long stroke, grinning ear to ear. "Another check off the list." Quickly, she stowed the contents back into her pockets and flashed her friend a healthy smile. "Thank you for coming, Ginny."

"Of course," her friend replied, giving the photography a rest (for now). "We've been working on this list for nearly two years. I'm not about to give up on it now."

While it was true the girls had begun their own bucket list two years ago, it still baffled Hermione how committed Ginny was at seeing it through till the very end. Perhaps it was because Ginny knew her time as a bachelorette was nearing an end; her and Harry had become fairly serious in the last few years, and it was no secret wedding bells would soon be ringing (though, only if Harry popped the question. Which he seemed to be failing at every given chance.) Either way, soon, the dynamic feminine duo would have to tie their roots down: Ginny, with Harry and her career as a newly professional Quidditch seeker for the Harpies, and Hermione with her continued education in the autumn to help build onto her growing empire of Magical Creatures Rights at the Ministry. This summer was, quite possibly, their last free stretch to complete as many details on their lists as possible.

As if to mirror the thoughts fluttering through Hermione's head, Ginny also pulled out a small notebook, though hers was a fire engine red, and said, "Right. How many do you have left on yours?"

"Four," Hermione replied triumphantly. "Although, two of them are a bit… personal. I highly doubt you'd be able to help me with them."

Ginny cast a wicked smile in response and smacked her friend on the shoulder, "Hermione Granger! So naughty!"

"Not naughty. Pure curiosity is all… and," she blushed, "perhaps a bit of naughtiness."

Both women laughed as Ginny smiled down at hers. "Well… I only have two."

"Go on, then! Don't leave me guessing."

"Alright. But you have to promise not to laugh."

"Would I?"

Ginny shot Hermione a look that said 'you just might' and replied, "Here it goes, then. The first one is to… to have sex in a car."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, soaking in her friend's words. While she very much wanted to do exactly what Ginny dreaded and laugh her bloody arse off, she instead stifled it and replied in her most casual tone, "Well, I suppose, since Harry doesn't have a car of his own, you could borrow mine-" Ginny's eyes lit up in excitement, "-But you must sanitize it after! Are we clear?"

"Absolutely!" The redhead flung her arms around Hermione and hugged her tight. "Oh, thank you, Hermione! You're such a pip!"

"Yes, I'm going to allow two of my best friends to fornicate in my vehicle. I'm such a pip." Her voice oozed with playful sarcasm as she pried Ginny off of her. "Well, one of us should finish our list by the end of the summer. What's the final task, Miss Weasley?"

Ginny licked her bottom lip and shook a finger at Hermione. "Before I tell you, you have to promise, no matter what it is, you'll do it with me."

"It's nothing sexual, is it?"

"No."

Hermione thought about it. "Alright. I'm feeling adventurous. I swear, on the stake of all my books, whatever it is, I will see it through to the end with you and help you complete your bucket list."

"Wonderful! Because I've already signed us up for classes starting next week."

Classes? Oh, well that didn't sound so terrible. "Classes? For what? Runes? History? Magical scuba diving?"

"Better. We're going to learn how to," Ginny struck a dramatic pose, "dance the Tango!"

Hermione's mouth fell slack. Her palms grew sweaty, and her head became light. "Oh." She blinked. "Oh."

"That better be the 'ohs' of 'Hell-yes!'" Ginny exclaimed.

"Gin… I have two left feet. You know this."

"So?" she shrugged. "I'm not exactly a ballerina myself, but this is the one thing I want to learn."

"Why?" Hermione was utterly perplexed.

"I wasn't aware I needed a reason," Ginny whined. "Come on. You promised."

"Yes, but I'll be rubbish."

"What are you talking about? You went to the Yule Ball with Viktor Krum!"

"A dance at a school ball is nothing compared to the complicated procedure that is the Tango." Hermione crossed her arms. "I'll compensate you whatever money you've already spent. But-"

"-I never thought I'd see the day Hermione Granger decided she wasn't capable of something."

"-Not capable? Of course I'm capable," she could feel her Gryffindor pride awakening from its slumber. "I simply have no want to throw myself into something-"

"-You know you'll be no good at. Yes. I get it now."

"Oh, for the love of house elves." Hermione glared. "Fine, Ginevra Weasley. Have it your way. We're learning to Tango." She ignored her friend's conquering grin and pushed on deeper into the bowels of the library. Ginny wanted her to Tango? Fine. She'd be the best damn Tango dancer in Britain. After all, how difficult could it actually be?

Stage Left: Draco Malfoy and Astoria Greengrass
Setting: The Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire

The entire world should have taken pity on Draco Malfoy, because, at the moment, he found himself staring at three different shades of white at his dining room table, a crease between his eyebrows. Three 'different' shades of white, and yet they looked all the same to him. He could feel his bride-to-be's eyes fixed on the back of his head, awaiting an answer.

Finally, Astoria grew tired of waiting. "Draco," she huffed, "Which one?"

Next to the three swatches was a pale shade of green with 'Mint' scribbled at the bottom. His task was simple enough from an outside perspective: choose a shade of white he thought matched best with the green selected as the frontrunner of their wedding colors. But for the life of him, he couldn't find a bloody difference in the whites to save his life. Maybe the last one looked a bit yellow? He wasn't sure how to answer, so he pointed to that one, hoping his answer would do. "This one?"

Clack, clack, clack went Astoria's heels as she crossed the floor and sat down beside him, giving him a baffled glare. "Seriously, Draco? That will never do."

Draco loved Astoria -truly he did, but his patience had worn thin. "If you didn't like it to begin with, perhaps it shouldn't have been an option?"

There was a knock at the front door, and he gave a heavy sigh of relief. That was, until he noticed who paraded in on his Monday morning with her entourage of bumbling buffoons. Madame Mystique was supposed to be the most coveted wedding planner in Europe, but all Draco coveted was some goddamn peace and quiet every time she intruded in on his free time as if she were his personal nanny. She told him how to dress, how to present himself, and the wedding was still six bloody months away. Merlin, if he never heard the terms 'wedding party' and 'floral arrangements' again, it would be too soon.

As if to mock his irritating mood, the plump witch wore a plumed feather hat, which held absolutely no sense of fashion whatsoever. Dramatic as always, her silver hair fell in curls beyond her shoulders, and her robes were a bright, vibrant pink. With a flick of her wand, she unloaded a thick briefcase on top of the table. Pictures of flowers, utensils, cakes, guest lists, shoes, hairstyles… anything one could think of when vomiting an expensive wedding could be found atop the table, overlapping the several shades of white.

Needless to say, Draco felt overwhelmed.

Madame Mystique began to ask questions, as per the usual daily routine, catching his attention. "'Allo, Malfoy family! 'Ave you done your 'omework and selected a shade of white for me?"

"We were just in the middle of that, actually," said Astoria, folding her hand neatly over Draco's. "We've decided to go with the porcelain."

"We have?" asked Draco, raising his head.

"Yes."

"Wonderful. I wish you would have told me that two hours ago…"

"Très magnifique!" Madame Mystique clapped her hands together. "Shall we move on to today's planning?"

"Let's," said Astoria.

It was about this time that Draco began to 'zone out' as his friends would say, staring off at nothing in particular as Astoria neatly answered each and every question in Madame Mystique's arsenal. He sat quietly with his arms folded in his lap, thinking. Merlin, he cared for Astoria, but all of this was a bit much. He loved being the center of attention, yes, but after the War, all Draco Malfoy wanted to do was stay private. All of the elaborateness... The showmanship… he'd gotten over things like that long ago.

"What do you think, Draco?" Astoria asked, shattering his train of thought.

"Hmm?"

"About our first dance?"

"Dance?" he squeaked out.

"Well, of course!" said Madam Mystique. "A couple's first dance is ze pivotal moment of any reception!"

"Yes! I was thinking something of a Tango. Such a sensual dance. Wouldn't you agree, Draco?"

Terrified. That's the way Draco Malfoy felt in the moment. He didn't want to dance. He had never been much good at it, even when his mother spent a fortune on lessons for him as a child. About all he could accomplish was a Waltz, and even then it was messy. Fucking Hell, why hadn't he thought about a dance before he decided to propose? It might have swayed his decision… Especially since Astoria was loads better than him already, with the graceful elegance of a swan.

"It's settled!" Astoria exclaimed before he had the chance to answer. "A Tango!"

"-Wait-"

"Wonderful," said Madame Mystique, "I shall refer you to ze best instructor I know! Lessons could begin as early as next week! I assure you, Señor Diggle is simply ze best! He has ze capability of turning anyone," her eyes drifted over Draco's nervous form, "into a fine dancer. I can promise you zat."

Draco snorted a laugh and excused himself to the loo. He didn't give two shites about dancing. If Astoria wanted him to; he would. After all, that's what a husband-to-be did. But he refused -absolutely refused -to enjoy it.

Please feel free to leave your thoughts! Shall update soon!
With love,
~A.