Perfect Storm

Chapter 8

Tuesday came and Hermione stood in front of the closet, assessing her wardrobe choices. She wasn't sure why she was putting so much thought into this outfit. It's not like she was trying to impress anybody....was she? No, of course not! What did she care if Draco Malfoy thought she looked nice or not? 'Go simple,' she told herself, grabbing a pink peasant top and flowy, white skirt from the closet.

"Just a group of friends, getting together for some dancing," Hermione muttered, smoothing out her top and giving herself an appraising look in the mirror. "It's not at all out of the ordinary that you were married to one of them and are currently sleeping with another."

Hermione groaned and let her head thud against the mirror. SLEPT with! Past tense! As in it happened and will not happen again!

Right....who was she fooling? The sex was great and she was sleeping better than she had in years. She could tell herself over and over again that it wouldn't happen ever again, but Hermione knew that given the opportunity, she'd hop right back into bed with Draco in a heartbeat.

"Hermione," Harry's voice called from downstairs, "I'm heading to the studio."

"Okay, I won't be far behind," Hermione called back.

She slipped into a pair of white tennis shoes and clipped her hair back. That weekend she had started putting lengthening charms on it so that it would grow a little bit each day. At the moment it almost reached her shoulders, but still wasn't quite long enough to tie back in a decent ponytail.

Hermione stared at her reflection in the mirror and gave herself a firm nod. "Stay strong, Hermione," she told herself. "Control your libido!"

At the dance studio, she hung up her purse and made her way over to where Ginny and Harry were standing. As she crossed the large hardwood floor, she scanned the room for a certain blonde head, but the only one that stuck out was Luna.

"Hey, Min," Ginny greeted, giving her a hug. "I believe your partner is the only one we're waiting for. It would appear he's going for fashionably late, as per usual."

Hermione frowned slightly and shook her head. "I'm not holding my breath for him. He was pretty clear at dinner the other night that this isn't his idea of a night of fun."

"Well, he has no clue what he's missing," Ginny declared, wrapping an arm around Hermione's waist. "If he doesn't show, I'll share Harry with you."

Harry's face lit up and he grinned. "Will you now? This dance class just got more interesting."

Hermione started cracking up and Ginny just shook her head. "Darling, you wouldn't even know what to do with both of us if I ever said yes to that."

"Oh, I'm sure I could think of a few things."

"Shut up," Ginny laughed, pulling him in for a kiss.

"Min?" Harry said, pulling away and leaning in towards Hermione.

Hermione put her hand over his face and pushed him away, saying, "Sorry, you're not my type, Potter."

"Yeah, I suppose I'm not," Harry replied, winking, with a smug, knowing look. Hermione was about to question it, but a sharp whistle echoed across the room, bringing the chattering to a halt.

An almost impossibly thin woman strode to the center of the room, beckoning the group to join her. The dance instructor had raven hair that was pulled into a tight bun; not a stray hair out of place. Her lips were pursed and painted blood red. She gave off an energy that signaled she wasn't one to be crossed. Hermione felt as though she was getting a glimpse of a young Professor McGonagall and found herself instinctively straightening her posture.