Dance with the One that Brought You

Chapter 15: Potion

“Lips of an angel, my arse,” mumbled Draco as he headed toward the Great Hall. More like a demon! He could not seem to shake the memories from his mind, no matter how hard he tried. And oh, how he had tried. He had even resorted to yelling out curses in frustration, while he’d showered earlier that morning, but he could still almost feel the warmth of her skin on his fingertips. Whenever he closed his eyes, he could see her face, blushed crimson, her own eyes hooded in response to his kisses. He lowered his head under the steamy water, wishing it would wash away the thoughts of how her neck would crane upwards when he lavished it with attention. And gods, how could he ever forget her moan, the passion that lay underneath, begging to be released. This could not be happening! He refused to accept that he was being haunted by the annoying, too-smart-for-her-own-good, muddled blooded witch!

It was bad enough that he’d had a difficult time falling asleep last night. No matter how hard he tried, it took him several hours to get her image out from behind his closed eyelids! It infuriated him, and he refused to admit to himself that she controlled his physical reactions now.

He would not allow himself to be appeased by Melanie or even by self-gratification, because if he did so, it would be an admission that he was no longer in control, that he was commanded by his lust and not his brain. So he denied himself any source of pleasure and buried his head in his pillow while finally settling face down, lying on his stomach.

Unfortunately for Draco his subconscious was much more randy than even he could control. When he woke up in the wee hours of predawn, he found himself in a state that hadn’t occurred since his second year. Silently cursing himself as well as the blasted Muggle-born who was the cause of his wet dream, he reached for his wand and scourgified his bed and body clean.

After breakfast, he had spent the entire day struggling to completely ignore her. When he couldn’t do that, he would send her his trademark Malfoy sneer full of disdain and disapproval. That look wasn’t hard to paste on, since it was truly how he felt about himself today. He was disgusted by his inability to differentiate between hormonal reaction and sincere attraction. This was all because of hormones, it had to be!

During classes he couldn’t help but notice how Potter kept leaning over and whispering to Granger. Was it his imagination or was she more nervous around Scarhead now? He couldn’t blame her, of course; anyone in their right mind should keep far away from The Boy Who Lived to Torment Himself. If she was supposedly so clever, why did she insist on accompanying him on his glory-seeking feats of self-destruction? It only confirmed the fact that she was possibly as mental as Potter, repeating the same mistake over and over again, each time expecting a different result. She was the most stubborn girl he had ever known, bar none.

What had she said to him last night when he had posed as Krum? “Things with Harry are complicated.” I just bet they are! And what sort of bloody knight in shining armor was Potter anyway, always putting her in harm’s way? Damned dunderheads deserved each other! She obviously had some sort of kinked out mother complex with Potter, trying to constantly protect him. Draco reckoned that the real reason Potter had Granger next to him on his expeditions was so he would have a reason to grope her and show off in front of her.

The Slytherin entered the Great Hall a full thirty minutes early. He had to sort out his plan of action before facing her again. He looked over the room and began levitating the tables, moving them against the walls. The simple action drew his mind back to the last time they practiced together.

Granger had almost hit him.

“Tell me Granger, will you ride any seeker’s Firebolt, or just the famous ones?”

A roguish grin spread across his face as he recalled the encounter. She was pushing against his shoulders, hands fisted as she started to pummel his chest while he held her low to the ground in an effortless dip.

“Malfoy! You supreme lech! Stop being a Neanderthal and let me up!”

Her mouth was tightlipped, her eyes narrowed in anger. The more tightly he held her, the more she struggled.

“Come now, Granger,” he said softly. “It’s just a dance. Why so dramatic?”

“Release. Me. Now. Malfoy!”

“So it’s release you want...you only had to ask.”

One of his hands held her lower back and the other snaked down to her bum and gave it a squeeze. Call it choreographer’s license. Or not.

Her reaction was swift. The slender left hand swung up to slap him. If he hadn’t grabbed her wrist just in time, it would have been a repeat of last year’s most embarrassing moment.

“Malfoy, I always knew you were a bounder, but this,” she spat at him, “this just proves what a total tragedy you really are! Don’t you get enough attention from your Slytherin fan club without having to resort to forcing yourself on me?”

His eyes narrowed at her comment, the dark grey turning to stoney slate. This was Granger, the tight-arsed Gryffindor, and she would never change. No charm, no amount of magic would help her. Her sort would only consider him as a dueling partner and nothing else. She would always think herself too good for him. How bloody rich was that!

He brought her up with a forceful, yet fluid motion and released her, holding his hands up level with his head in mock surrender. “Granger, you just suck the fun out of a room like a Dementor sucks out happiness.”

She stormed over to the table, grabbed her jacket and retreated faster than the Quidditch fans had done from the Death Eaters a month earlier at the World Cup.

“Right,” he chuckled as she ran from the room. “I needed a little ice for my fire.”

Hermione Granger was the opposite of everything he ordinarily liked in a girl. She was completely unaware of her appearance. She couldn’t be bothered with anything that was even remotely close to being fashionable. Her shoes were ugly and outdated. Her hair was always in the way, massive amounts of curls everywhere. When she attempted to brush them out, it just turned into a bushy frizz ball. She didn’t own any sort of makeup. The first bottle of perfume she properly possessed was the one he had just given her.

The potion, he reflected, would be his redemption. Granger was able to top him with better marks in every class they attended together except one. He knew it was not because his godfather favored him that he bested Granger on every potion they were assigned to concoct. Draco had an affinity for the art of mixing potions. His creation in the crystal would soon prove him a worthy opponent in her eyes.

He grinned wickedly at the thought of her applying a drop on each wrist, behind each ear and kneecap, and in the small valley between her breasts. Unbeknownst to the Gryffindor Princess, she would soon be in for an entertaining surprise!

*******

Hermione was still flustered over her own actions the night before. What had come over her! What on earth had she been doing, making out with Viktor as if it were something she did on a daily basis: brush teeth, shower, eat, study, oh and don’t forget to snog the Bulgarian blind. She slowly shook her head as she changed from her school uniform into her Muggle latex dance pants that she had packed away.

She had brought them for exercise purposes, but had never seemed to really get the opportunity to use them until now. She frowned at her own reflection in the mirror. Her hair was tied up neatly in a large bun behind her head. The black material clung to her lower tummy and thighs, and flared out at the calf. She eyed her pink lace bra and the frown deepened.

When would she start showing signs of being a fifteen year old! Her birthday was next week, and she was still the most underdeveloped girl her age in Gryffindor. The Patil twins were the only exception, but everyone knew they were much more slender than Hermione.

She turned sideways and rolled her shoulders back, attempting to push out her chest a bit further. What exactly did Viktor see in her? Why would a young man of his fame and caliber be interested in her mousy person? She faced forward again and cupped her own small breasts, lifting them up higher, squeezing them slightly together. Shaking her head at her own feeble attempts to accentuate something that just wasn’t there yet, she reached for the perfume crystal.

She held it up to the light of the window and marveled at the rainbow prisms that reflected against the walls of her bedroom. Such a beautiful bottle. Viktor was too kind to her. He was too much of everything when it came to Hermione. He was gentle, yet physically stronger than any male she had ever known. He was soft spoken, a man of few words, but his actions spoke volumes. Volumes from the Restricted Section!

Her face warmed and she unintentionally shivered at the memory of Viktor holding her in his arms, nibbling on her neck, claiming her mouth. Her eyes fluttered back to her small breasts. Gods! His hands were so warm, so tempting. Viktor Krum made her feel like a seventh year! He didn’t see her as one of the boys, the way Harry and Ron had.

Harry.

What should she make of Harry’s actions in the spring? Perhaps it was the Nirvae and all its surroundings, or the magic of the faeries, or maybe even the near-death experience of being raked by a sphinx’s claw. Whatever it was, she had snogged her best friend, and snogged him more than once! And to make it worse, she’d been seeing Viktor at the same time! She was a hussy!

She walked quickly over to her trunk and started rummaging through it, looking for the pink chiffon dance wrap. She couldn’t believe how fickle she felt at the moment. Up until a few weeks ago, no boy had so much as given her a second glance, and now she’d swapped saliva with not just any two boys, but the two of the most famous wizards of their time.” The thought nearly brought her to tears. If it weren’t so horrid, it might actually be comical. Who would ever believe anyone of their salt would be interested in her?

Harry would be easier to talk to. He would be easier to sort out. After a nice long talk they could suss things out. Their friendship came first, above all else. But did she only want to be friends with Harry? Didn’t she feel attracted to him as well?

She stopped her search in the trunk and sat back on her heels. Yes, she had to admit that she liked Harry’s arm around her. She thrilled at his lips touching hers. And she could look into his huge green eyes all day. Did she ever tell him he had beautiful specks of yellow in his eyes when he laughed?

Someone needed to send her to St. Mungo's. She had completely lost her mind. She was sitting here day dreaming over two uniquely different young men who were both important to her, and yet she couldn’t make up her mind about what she should do about them.

The edge of the pink wrap peeked out from under her winter muffler and she reached down and grabbed it. Pulling it over her head, she stood and looked at herself in the mirror as she wrapped the ties around her waist, taking in the wrinkles in the dance skirt as it floated down around her thighs. It would have to do.

She turned to leave, but saw the hues of the rainbow still shining against her wall. The perfume bottle was on her bed where she had dropped it to look in the trunk. She walked over and retrieved it, slowly unstopping it.

Holding it under her nose she inhaled deeply and immediately felt warm and tingly. It was a very subtle fragrance. She couldn’t quite place it. It wasn’t flowery or musky. It was very appealing, though, and she took another sniff.

Maybe it would help her to face down Malfoy in practice today. She touched the stopper to each wrist, and then softly rubbed them together. She lifted it to her tender spots behind each ear, and closed her eyes at the recollection of heated lips kissing and nibbling there. She lightly dragged the stopper down and dipped it into her slight cleavage. His finger had touched her here, had drawn small circles just above it. Get hold of yourself, Hermione!

She quickly placed the crystal bottle back on her nightstand next to her bed and hurried out to the common room. Harry smiled as she came rushing down the stairs.

“All right there, Hermione?”

“Just running a bit late for the dance practice,” she replied, “You all set then?”

Harry reached for her arm as she passed, but didn’t grasp it. He thought he had better explain quickly, because it only took five minutes to get to the Great Hall. As they passed through the portrait Harry placed his hand on Hermione’s shoulder.

“Hermione, I need a few minutes before we go to the practice. I know we’re a bit late, but Malfoy can wait five more minutes. Let’s just talk while we walk.”

Hermione nodded but didn’t turn around to look at Harry. She merely placed her hand lightly on top of his while he held her shoulder and tapped it in confirmation.

“I think I’ve made it uncomfortable for you to be around me,” Harry confided. “I’m not sure how to remedy this situation.”

When Hermione didn’t respond, he pressed forward.

“I know you’ve always looked at me as a friend. A very important friend. Pretty much the same as I’ve looked at you. You’re probably the most important person in my life, you know?”

She nodded but still held her silence.

“Mione, I don’t want to be greedy. I don’t want to ask you for more. But ...” he stopped walking and tugged on her shoulder, turning her to face him. “But I am. I know my timing sucks. I know this can’t possibly help anything right now, it can only make things worse. Ron will hate me, but he’ll get over it. Krum will possibly pulverize me, but I’ll get over it.”

“Harry...” she started.

Harry shook his head and held his hand up, trying to gather all his Gryffindor courage he could muster.

“It’s difficult to be satisfied with simply being comfortable and safe. That’s what we have been doing. You know that there are great possibilities here between us. You’ve felt it too, otherwise you would not have allowed me to kiss you. Again.”

Hermione took Harry’s hand and linked her fingers in his. She nudged him forward to continue walking.

Just tell him. Pay the piper.

“You know I was with Viktor last night Harry.... right after kissing you.” She squeezed his hand for strength. Hoping she would not lose her best friend, she took in a deep breath.

“We kissed.” Again and again and again.

She really didn’t want to hurt him, but she knew she had to be honest, because that was a constant between her and Harry: integrity and trust. Her eyes felt misty, her palms were perspiring, and the back of her neck felt clammy.

“I’m not in a state where I can commit to more than friendship with you right now, Harry. And it’s not right for me to be snogging Viktor one minute and you the next. We’ve been through this.”

It was Harry’s turn to be silent. His face was unreadable. He looked directly ahead as she continued.

“Listen, it’s not as if I’m Viktor’s girlfriend or anything. But he and I have been seeing each other in the library, and well... “ she hesitated, looking for the right words. “He is a nice sort, Harry. Kind, gentle, and completely accepting of all my flaws.”

Harry felt he had to give it one last shot.

“Going to the library isn’t really dating, Hermione. But I understand what you’re saying. I’m not going to pressure you. You know where to find me when you need me. If you change your mind...” He pulled her into a strong embrace.

Hermione’s arms wrapped around Harry’s back as she buried her face in his chest. He would always be like coming home. She did feel safe when she was with him. She felt like she belonged there in his arms. But at the same time, she knew she needed to be truthful with Viktor as well.

Minutes later they arrived at the Great Hall to find a pacing Draco Malfoy. On the right of the room, a bored Bulgarian sat patiently on a bench with his legs crossed at the ankles.

When Draco turned and noticed the golden duo walk through the door he merely raised his chin several inches higher and placed his hands in his pockets, spreading his feet widely apart. He took in Hermione’s dance attire and grinned. She looked delicious. But today would be his to seize and conquer.

“No timepiece in the Gryffindor common room, or do you make it a habit of forcing everyone to spin on your axis?”

“Sorry,” muttered Hermione.

Draco strutted casually to the pair, and leaned in to Hermione.

“You’d think the instructor could at least manage to set a better example. Shall we say ten points from Gryffindor?”


Viktor stood and cleared his throat at the same time as Harry pulled Hermione to stand slightly behind him.

“You’re three years too early for Head Boy, Malfoy.” Harry moved closer to his nemesis. “And a hundred years too early if you think you can take on Gryffindor.”

Draco didn’t want to waste any more time on this banter. He had more important things to engender.

“Fine,” Draco said, “Let’s get this over with.... Potty, you and Krum will take turns with your favorite lioness. Share nicely now.”

As the music played, Draco instructed each boy how to hold their arms up, elbows square with the shoulders, backs straightened, shoulders back. They began with the simple three-step waltz.

Harry and Hermione attempted to keep up to the music, but Hermione was having a very difficult time. The first thing she noticed was that she had finally found something that Harry Potter was a complete novice at! He not only couldn’t dance, but it appeared that her best friend had no rhythm whatsoever. His feet shuffled, he dragged them instead of dancing on the balls. He kept looking down when he was supposed to look at her, and he stepped on her toes twice, apologizing profusely each time.

Krum danced alongside of Draco, not as his partner, but copying the instructions as Draco showed him. He was a decent dancer. He was a bit stiff, but Draco imagined that he would probably do much better if he had a partner instead of having to dance next to another male.

Draco felt a sudden discomfort when he glanced at the Bulgarian and Krum had quickly looked down to Draco’s feet. It was then that Draco recalled the last encounter he had had with Krum. Draco flushed with embarrassment but refused to acknowledge it.

He watched the Gryffindor duo make pitiful attempts at dancing and immediately felt more frustrated. This wasn’t right! Potter was going to mess everything up! What a complete bonehead! Of course he should have figured that The Boy Who Had No Culture wouldn’t know how to dance!

Draco looked closer at Hermione and he leered as he saw not only signs of her visible discomfort from her mismatched partner, but also the crimson flush of her face.

Hermione was trying her best to try and guide Harry when she felt herself growing warmer. Her skin felt tingly, and her head was growing lighter. It started with her wrists. She felt feathery kisses caressing the insides of each wrist, and working their way up her arms. She missed a beat and nearly stumbled into Harry.

“All right, Mione?”

She nodded fiercely but didn’t answer. Why did it feel like Harry was kissing slowly up her arms? She tightened her hold on his shoulder and hand and closed her eyes, trying to pay attention to the music.

Her eyes snapped open when she felt Harry nibbling tenderly along her neck just under her left ear. But Harry still stood a foot away from her, looking down at their feet and trying to concentrate on the waltz.

Draco wanted to clap out loud. This was going to get interesting! Just wait until Krum notices! Soon Granger would be writhing in Potty’s arms, and knowing the attraction that Potthead felt for her, he would welcome it. Draco couldn’t wait to see Krum hammer him into the ground! Not to mention the added bonus of watching the squeaky clean ice queen start to melt.

He turned to face them as Hermione grounded to a halt. Her head was feeling fuzzy, and she couldn’t help but feel as though somehow Harry were touching her neck, dragging his fingers along the column on either side. She was short of breath and when Harry tried to pull her closer she pushed him away.

“Harry,” she panted, “I think we need to switch partners now.”

It had to be some sort of reaction she was feeling toward her best friend. Something she hadn’t felt before. Something that made her want to crawl up on him in front of both Malfoy and Viktor. She didn’t know what on earth had possessed her to feel this inappropriate attraction to Harry, but she wouldn’t allow it to go any further.

“Look now, Granger” Draco interrupted, “Potter obviously needs the most help here, so you’ll need to keep working with him.”

She breathed heavily and furrowed her eyes in concentration, biting her bottom lip. She could feel Harry’s fingers on her forearm again, and they stopped on the fold of her elbow before slowly working their way up her inner biceps. She whimpered as she folded her arms across her chest and rubbed them.

“Mione, what’s wrong?” queried Harry.

Viktor had now come to her side and placed his hand on her shoulder, his head cocked in a questioning stance. This was the man she had kissed so fervently last night. This was the one she should be fantasizing over, not her best friend! She turned to Viktor and immediately went into his arms.

She held herself in the waltz position and took in deep breath. Then she moved gracefully across the floor with the Bulgarian.

“Confound it!” Draco muttered under his breath. This wasn’t how it was supposed to unfold. His carefully laid plans had just started to unravel.

Harry stood his ground, completely confused at what had just happened, feeling a mixture of anger, jealously and bewilderment. What had gotten into Hermione?

Draco moved to stand next to his nemesis, not even attempting to continue with the lesson. He watched carefully as the Bulgarian lifted his partner up off the ground in a tight spin, and then brought her back down against him.

Hermione thought it was just being with Harry that had her imagining the bothersome yet strangely erotic touches, but as Viktor lifted then lowered her she nearly let out a gasp at the warmth she suddenly felt between her breasts. She sucked in her breath as she remembered his hands on her last night, tickling lightly along her tummy and ribs.

Viktor leaned into a low dip and Hermione released his shoulder, extended her arm all the way behind her, watching it reach for the wall. Her neck leaned back, as if inviting him to continue where they had left off last night.

When her leg rose slowly from a pointed extension to curl up his thigh and pull him in closer, Viktor’s eyes darkened and a seductive smile spread across his lips. Something about the way she was dancing was completely different from the Hermione he knew, but this wasn’t at all disagreeable.

Draco and Harry both unconsciously clenched their hands into fists.

The ministrations were much stronger now; Hermione felt like she was on fire. It was a combination of lips, fingers and tongues that were massaging her, laving her, nibbling on her. She felt them on her neck, behind her ears, up and down her arms, behind her legs climbing slowly up her thighs, and between her breasts, moving tortuously slowly around each one.

She could no longer control her thoughts. All she could see in her mind was Viktor and the wonderfully deep kisses he had taken from her the night before. She reached up and stroked his cheek, then moved to the nape of his neck, pulling him closer.

Draco was infuriated. The twit was obviously remembering their evening together last night, but was wrongfully giving Krum all the credit! He had wanted Potter to receive his due with a good pummeling from Krum. Krum would have broken things off with Granger after seeing her throw herself at her best friend right in front of him! Not to mention that the ice queen would have given Krum a verbal thrashing for daring to lay a finger on her golden boy.

But this, this was wrong! Granger was seducing Krum right before their eyes. Draco’s lip tasted of copper when he realized that he had been biting down on it. Seeing Granger with Krum flooded him with every single memory he had been trying so hard to forget... her taste, her smell, the softness of her skin, her moan.

Hermione then pulled Viktor’s face down to hers, and plunged her tongue into his mouth in a desperate kiss, wrapping her leg nearly around his waist. The deep moan Draco had heard last night filled the room.

The room exploded with motion and screams.