Teach Me to Dance

She had seen the Veela and him spin around the floor – almost elegantly, and she was a little bit shocked to see how well the twins could dance, but shrugged it off as Viktor spoke to her once more.

"Vell, Hermy-own-ninny? Vhat do you think?"

He was talking about his offer – he wanted her to come to Romania for the summer. Viktor Krum was a perfectly nice man in her opinion, but she didn't want to be vacationing alone with a boy during an extremely perilous time. This – with the war and their departure edging closer – was too dangerous a time. There wasn't any time, now, for frivolities, for vacations and the like. Hermione Granger could begrudge this wedding, though – it was nice to see that everyone here (except for Harry – disguised as 'Barny,' he looked positively miserable listening to Aunt Muriel's droning) could have a good time despite the heavy clouds looming over their heads.

She caught a glimpse of the bride and the groom over her shoulder and smiled softly – although there was still a little bit of reluctance there, Hermione had to admit to herself that they suited each other nicely, and seemed to have the kind of love that was solid, dependable, beautiful, if one could use those adjectives to describe a relationship. They spun around the dance floor with an elegance she knew she'd never be able to master – she was as good as dancing as she was Quidditch, and they all knew what happened the last time she attempted to get on a broom.

"Hermy-own-ninny?" Viktor called again, and she refocused her attention to him. My, she was quite spotty tonight, her thoughts flipping back and forth to different subjects. That's what happened when she was nervous, though.

"I'll have to decline your offer, Viktor," she responded, as they slowly shuffled back and forth a few steps.

Another few steps. "Vhy? Bulgaria is a very safe place."

"I don't doubt that," she said, desperately trying to respond so she didn't offend him, "but I'm afraid my summer is going to be quite busy. I wouldn't have the time, Viktor."

His heavy eyebrows knitted together and he frowned. "Vell, okay," he said, and while he looked crestfallen he didn't continue with the subject, to her relief.

The song finished and he stepped away, disappearing into the sea of people as she took a deep breath. That had been a little awkward, and she was rather glad to be rid of him. It could have been worse, she reminded herself. It could have been Cormac McLaggen. She poured herself a glass of water and leaned against a chair, sipping it and watching the couples spin around the floor.

Ron was caught in what seemed to be an obligated dance with his mother, and a smiled was quirked onto her face at his obvious discomfort. One twin – George, she noticed, as he had a bandaged ear – was dancing wildly, flapping arms and kicking legs to the slow music, causing looks from the older guests to be casted his way. She shook her head in a familial way. He was surely something.

She'd almost finished her glass of water when a voice had snickered her last name.

"Granger," said Fred, and she rolled her eyes almost on instinct. They (him and his infuriating twin) knew it wasn't beyond her to yell at them if they bothered her enough. Merlin knows they got enough of the shrieking Prefect in Hogwarts.

"Yes?"

"Why aren't you dancing with Ronnie?" Despite the joking quality that his voice always seemed to hold, there was definitely a tone of curiosity creeping into his voice. The twins – well, Fred in particular, really – had been bothering her often about her so-called relationship with Ron. He was her friend, there wasn't anything more! Anyway, Ron had gone with Lavender Brown, and while she still couldn't stand the girl, that didn't mean she was jealous. No way.

"If you haven't noticed," Hermione started, tilting her chin in the direction of Ron, "your brother is dancing with your mother. And I was dancing with Viktor."

"Oh, Vicky's at it again, isn't he?"

Dear Merlin, wasn't there some Veela he was supposed to be outrageously flirting with?

Fred seemed to have somehow known what she was thinking, and with a half-grin half-laugh, he nodded to where his twin brother was flailing about. "The girls seem to flock to George," he said, shaking his head in fake sadness. "Couldn't tell ya why, though. I'm clearly the better looking one."

"No," she said, shaking her head and pausing for a moment, "I think the evidence has proven that George has beaten you there. And Vicky happens to be very nice. Don't call him that."

He looked at her for a moment, not saying or registering anything, before his face broke out into a brilliant grin. "Granger, do you know how clever you are?"

"I've heard about it once or twice."

"Do you know how bloody brilliant if you put that knowledge to good use? For example... humour. If you had a humorous bone in your body." Fred was outright grinning.

"Offended," she murmured, and with a sip Hermione finished the last of her water and set the glass to the side.

"Imagine," he said in a faux-deep voice, flailing his arms out as wide as his twin brother was, "the things you could do to the world of joking. A revolution, Miss Prefect Granger!"

"Breaking too many rules," she said, and maybe it was the Butterbeer Ginny had pressured on to her earlier in the evening but suddenly she was laughing and so was he, genuine laughter on her and his part. It felt good to laugh, but also a little wrong, too. Why should she be laughing when everything was so grim and dark?

With a slight smile, she stopped and he noticed. Fred didn't say anything – mouthed something, instead.

Would you, he mouthed, pointing to her, like to dance, he imitated George's dancing, with me? He pointed to himself, and she sighed at him, almost on instinct. There was a sense of deja vu, and the night was slowly creeping upon her. Maybe she should get back – the aching of her feet told her to, the breeze on her bare legs was getting colder and colder.

"I won't drop you," he said, smiling. "Or maybe I will. You never know. C'mon, Miss Prefect. Live a little. It's a wedding. You and Ronnie will still get to have yours, don't you worry about that."

She frowned slightly in Ron's direction and sighed again. There was something in Hermione that wanted Fred to keep trying, keep persuading her (the warmth and comfort of the Burrow looked really nice right now) but there was a magnetic pull that was dragging her back to the comfort of the extra bed in Ginny's room.

Suddenly there was a flash of red behind Fred – a smaller red-head with a lot more hair. Ginny, who was nodding and giving her the thumbs-up.

She was probably going to hear all about it later from Ginny, when they went to bed, but she adjusted the strap to the small bag attached to her wrist and sighed.

"Fine. Yes. But only because I've already danced with Charlie and Bill," she said, and it was true – Bill had spun her around a few times, lifting her in the air like he did with Ginny, and Charlie had dragged her on to the dance floor, slightly intoxicated, and sung an incomprehensible love ballad while trying to slow dance with her clumsily. He probably wouldn't remember it in the morning.

"Third best," Fred sniffed jokingly, an expression of mock-annoyance on his face. "I see how it is."

"Before I change my mind," she said.

He said nothing, but skipped excitedly and dragged her on to the floor as she stumbled along. These high heels were certainly torture devices of the best kind.

"5, 6, 7, 8," said Fred, moving his arm like the stick of a conductor. He kept his hands on her waist and hers were on his shoulder, and they shuffled from left to right, before Fred attempted to spin her.

That was his first mistake, as she had stumbled over her left foot and the heel of her shoe went right down on to his toe, and if not for his quick arm pulling her up, she would have fallen over onto her backside. He winced, and she blushed a little, not because she was flustered but because of the embarrassment.

"I'll have no toes by the end of the night, Granger," said Fred, but he was clearly joking. She looked a little embarrassed.

"I can't dance," she admitted. It had been – and still was – a source of embarrassment for her; Hermione Granger had become so accustomed to being the top in everything that it was rather mortifying to admit she couldn't do two simple, basic wizarding tasks: fly and dance.

They kept shuffling back and forth. "You danced at the Yule Ball," Fred reminded her, and she nodded. This was one of the first non-joking conversations they had ever had, for almost six years of knowing each other.

"Yes," Hermione admitted, "but I'd charmed my feet, then." That, also, wasn't too pleasant to admit. She was sure she'd be teased on it later – the girl who knew everything couldn't do something.

"So Viktor was worthy enough for your charms and I'm not? Offended, Granger."

She just sighed at him and continued trying to dancing – trying being the operative word. It wasn't as if she was going anywhere.

Hermione was so sure he was going to make another joke, laugh a bit more, but he caught her eyes and said two words.

"Smaller steps."

Was that the problem? As a logical thinker, she knew there was always a solution to everything. She stepped smaller, and now the points of her heels were a safe distance away from his toes. Smaller steps. Hmm. She seemed to be a little more accurate in her movements. She stumbled once more – a bit lost in her thoughts – but those years on the Quidditch team had done wonders for his reflexes and he caught her swiftly.

This time, when he lifted his arm to spin her underneath it, she was expecting it and spun slowly, her red dress flowing out from her.

"There we go," he said, and he was smiling like he usually was, but not wide and toothy and boyish like usual, but a small smile that seemed a bit secretive. Hermione didn't say anything, but managed to trip again – straight into his arms, which happened to be warm and nice and... She pushed herself back quickly, sighing. Nope. Dear Merlin, was it too much to ask to be coordinated? Her feet weren't as large as Ron's and still she couldn't manage to stay on them right.

"Fell right into my arms," he smirked, and Hermione sighed. There was a remark on the tip of her tongue, but she settled for a shaking of the head. He surely did thing much of himself, didn't he? She had self-confidence, too – more so now than before, in her younger years – but it wasn't as... noticable, persay, as his way.

They were both quiet as the wedding party continued to roar around them – George and his erratic dancing attracting a flock of Veela cousins, Charlie and Hagrid drunkenly slurring in one corner, Mrs Weasley and Mr Weasley dancing together, Ginny dancing with Bill, now, but when Hermione looked up Ginny immediately made eye contact and winked.

Merlin, the girl made everything out of nothing.

The song slowed to an end and he released her, taking a step back.

"Hermione," he said, quietly, and she wasn't quite used to him talking like that it was almost as if a different person was talking. "Thank you." He walked off, and as the next song, a fast-paced one, started, he joined his brother in erratic dancing whilst grinning wildly, both twins completely ignoring the crowd around them.

It was only when she went to go refill her water when she realized it was the first time he'd called her by Hermione that evening.

a/n - Happy birthday Colleen! *dances and throws confetti* This is an early birthday present for you, my lovely Fred/Hermione shipper! This isn't exactly romance, persay, but there are little hints of it there and it could lead to something in the future... /winks. I hope it wasn't too OOC!

Also for As Strong as We Are United, and Journey Through Hogwarts Challenge (write a one-shot over 2,000 words. This is 2,049 without the A/N.)

I haven't written any Fred/Hermione in a while, so reviews would be appreciated! :)