"Really thought you'd be better at this," Draco mutters at Harry. "You can disarm, you can kill Dark Lords, and you can lead raids on illegal potions rings. But you can't do a box step to save your life."

"You should talk," Harry says quietly. "Haven't you been groomed for this sort of thing since infancy?"

"Let's talk a little louder, OK? I don't loathe the sound of Hermione's voice, but the 1-2-3-4 is driving me absolutely mad."

"You want to hear the insults a bit more clearly, then?"

Draco smirks. "You know it's what we thrive on."

"I suppose it is," says Harry agreeably. "So, back to it, then. You're going to stand—sway—box step right there and tell me that your parents didn't push you into tango lessons as a small child?"

"They thought it better to give me a broom and a wand and a few peacocks to train," Draco says, a trace of bitterness in his tone when he gets to the peacocks. "Now, I'd make a crack about your childhood and who raised you, but I've come to understand that's probably not very polite of me."

"Good of you to care about politeness after all this time," says Harry. He pauses. "I actually mean that, just a little."

Draco nods and a smile crosses his face, but only for a minute. "Even so, early childhood aside, I don't understand how you can move so quickly and precisely when you're on a broom or holding a wand, but you're absolute rubbish when given a rhythm and a partner."

"Dueling partners are easier," Harry counters. "They're not doing a very slightly modified version of exactly what you're doing. As an example, they might conjure a snake and test your reflexes as they've never been tested before."

"That's a lovely memory to revisit," says Draco. "It was charming, really, the way you slipped into Parseltongue and everyone thought you were evil all of a sudden. To be fair, I never thought you were the heir of Slytherin."

"I know," Harry says without thinking. Draco looks as though he's about to ask a question but Harry cuts him off, saying swiftly, "It might help if Hermione just stuck to something instrumental. I know her parents like the Beatles, but this really isn't working wonders for my already lacking rhythm."

"I'll say."

"Well, maybe if you let me lead for a second or two..."

Draco shakes his head firmly. "I've got at least three inches on you. It would look strange if you led. Plus, no matter how bad I may be at this, and I'll admit I'm quite dreadful, you're worse."

"Neither of you are any good," says Ron unhelpfully as he stops near them. "But you're a bit better than you were when you came in here."

"Right. Fine. How many more times do we have to do this?" asks Draco.

"Hermione was thinking five more weeks," Ron says.

"Five," Harry repeats. "Five more of this, five more of someone who's usually dead graceful holding onto me and being dead clumsy for nearly an hour."

"We should ask Hermione what she's trying to teach in the next four classes and do it on our own time," suggests Draco. "You know, soften the blow. Think we could do that, Weas—Ron?"

Ron looks amused as he nods and says, "I'll have Hermione explain what she's going to over-explain week to week."

Ron walks away, and Draco looks at Harry oddly. They execute a near-perfect box step and Seamus, who's alongside them with Parvati as his partner, nods at them and says "Good on you two."

"That wasn't bad, was it?" Harry asks Draco.

"No," says Draco, pausing for a moment to look a little closer at Harry. "But I think that's just because you called me dead graceful and I'm flying high on the humor of that."

Harry wills himself not to blush as they fall into step together again.