Dance with me

[lesyeuxverts]

Title: Dance with me
Author: lesyeuxverts00
Beta: the fabulous angela_snape
Word Count: 3000ish
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Snarry
Prompt: "a romantic comedy Snarry style"
Warnings: Err ... excessive fluff.
Disclaimer: Not mine. This is a work of fiction, not written for profit and not intended to support or condone any immoral or illegal actions.
AN: For faynia's birthday, belatedly.



Severus Snape was a man driven by desperation – nothing but desperation could have brought him to this exigency, to this door. He ran a hand through his lank, shiny hair and, with a sigh and a final twitch to straighten his clothing, he knocked. He waited, his heartbeat roaring in his ears, the air thin and insufficient in his lungs. Oxygen flooding his brain in dizzy swirls, he took a deep breath when he heard the sound of approaching footsteps.

The footsteps ceased and, breaking the sudden silence, Potter opened the door. "Snape."

Severus pushed past him, locking the door and casting layers of security charms around Potter's flat. "I need your help."

"You have it," Potter said at once.

Not sparing a sneer for Potter's Gryffindor recklessness, Severus layered another set of wards around the first. "Is your Floo closed?"

"Snape, I live in Muggle London."

Severus pulled the blinds shut and charmed the windows dark. "And?"

"I don't have a fireplace."

Pacing the length of the room, Severus began to test the wards for any hint of weakness.

"Snape, what's wrong?"

His footsteps echoed in the unnatural quiet of a room shrouded in silencing spells. "The Minister's daughter owled me again," he said.

Potter stood in front of him and, with both hands on Severus's shoulders, blocked his progress. "Calm down and tell me about it," he said.

Calm and rational – Potter never failed to be infuriating. Scowling at him, Severus took a deep breath. His pulse thudding, he wrenched away from Potter's grasp. "Daily owls," he said. "The woman persists in her torments – she's always owling me, trying to Floo, knocking on my door. Today, she sent me an invitation to the Ministry Gala."

"And?" Potter asked, leading Snape to the sofa.

Severus took hold of Potter's arm and pinched, just where the nerves were at the most sensitive. "If you laugh at me, I will hex you until you scream for mercy. I will make Voldemort's torture look like child's play."

Harry sank down onto the sofa, pulling Snape with him. "I won't laugh, all right? I've never laughed at you and I'm not about to laugh now."

Unmollified, Severus refused to release him. "I – I don't know how to dance," he said at last.

"Fuck, Snape," Potter said. "You admit this now? You want dancing lessons three days before the most extravagant social event of the year? Do you have any idea–"

Severus pinched Potter's elbow harder. "That is not helpful in the least, Mr. Potter," he said. "You gave me your word that you would help me, and I didn't think that an honorable Gryffindor like you would go back on his word."

"Of course I'll help you. I just – do you have any idea how much work we have to do in the next three days?"

Taking a deep breath, Severus let the air soothe him and calm his heartbeat. "Do you imagine that your recriminations will somehow increase the amount of time remaining before the Gala, or do they serve some other useful purpose?"

Potter slumped into Severus's side. His head hit Severus's shoulder, a bruising collision that sent jarring echoes through bones and teeth. Severus shuddered and pushed Potter off the sofa.

"Let us begin then, so that we may dispense with this travesty of instruction as soon as possible."

Scrambling to his feet and ruffling his shaggy hair, Potter grinned and reached out, offering his hand to Severus. "Travesty of instruction? I'll bet you know something about that, yeah?"

With a swirl of his wand, Potter set music playing – a slow waltz echoed through the flat, and he pulled Severus to the middle of the room.

"I will hex you, if you make any snide remarks about the classes that I taught," Severus said. "Your little escapades in teaching may have been more popular than Potions, but that is because of the little –"

"Lesson number one, don't insult your dance partner." Potter put a hand around Severus's waist.

He hesitated, blushing. "Look, let me lead for now while you're learning the steps, and then you can learn how to do it so you'll know what to do with Ginny."

"Are you insinuating that I don't know what to do with a woman?"

Potter gaped at him, open-mouthed. "I – er – ah, well, that is –"

"First lesson of witty repartee," Severus said. "Don't stutter."

Potter grinned up at Severus, his green eyes shining. "I'll try to remember that."

Severus remained stiff and unyielding when Potter tried to pull him into the dance, refusing to partake so readily in his own humiliation. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Teaching you how to dance," Potter said. He put pressure on the small of Severus's back, enough to make him take a step forward. "Just follow my lead."

Severus refused to be placated by Potter's winsome smile and warm touch. "This is your method of teaching, and you presume to insinuate that my own methods leave something to be desired? You expect me to simply begin with no explanation or instruction whatsoever?"

With a sigh, Potter stepped closer and leaned against Severus's chest, swaying in time with the music and stepping on Severus's foot. "It's not a science like Potions, Snape. Just follow my lead and move with the music."

Severus opened his mouth to protest, but Potter laid a finger over his lips and pulled him into the dance. "Do you hear the beat? One two three, one two three, let's turn now, one two three.

"Relax," Potter said. His breath was warm against Severus's cheek and his hand was warm on Severus's back. He smelled like cinnamon and musk, masculine and not unpleasant, and his body was firm and confident against Severus. He stayed in a close embrace, pulling Snape this way and then that, manhandling him across the floor. "I'm not leading you to your execution, you know. One two three. Yes, that's it. Just follow me. Unbend a little, loosen up, that's it. Put your free hand on my shoulder."

Severus took a deep breath when the song ended. "Thank you," he said, extracting himself from Potter's arms. He grasped his wand, ready to dismantle the wards, but Potter stayed his hand.

"What? Where are you going?"

"Now that I am sufficiently prepared for the Gala, I will trouble you no further."

"Sufficiently prepared?" Potter shook his head, a smile teasing at his lips. "I don't think so, Snape. We've got three days left and we're going to need every instant of them."

"I have already seen –"

"One dance," Potter said. "You haven't learned any of the other dances – you haven't learned how to lead yet. Do you even have something suitable to wear?"

Severus held his face still and expressionless, cursing the flush that rose to his cheekbones. "I had not thought – I will not make any further impositions on your time."

"It's no imposition," Potter said. "I promised to help you, and I like to dance." He pulled Severus close, starting the music again.

Severus let himself be led, let Potter grasp his hand and manhandle him. Potter's alluring face turned up to look at him, soft lips parted, the warmth in his arms – perhaps dancing was not entirely objectionable, after all.

-----

Nothing but desperation and the flock of feathered pests bearing love notes from the Minister's daughter had induced Severus to dance with Potter. It was nothing but desperation. It had nothing to do with the warmth and the spicy smell of Potter in his arms.

Desperation was not enough. Severus could ward his home against the owls and glare at Ginny Weasley until she scurried away like a mouse – he could ignore the insipid letters, and the invitation to the Gala.

"No, Snape, not like that."

Potter tugged and pushed, dragging Severus back into the middle of the room. "Look, just listen to the music. Think about the rhythm and think about moving – just stand there for now."

"I do not –"

"Oh yes, you do." Potter glared at him and then hobbled off to the kitchen, favoring his left foot.

The music was insipid, the rhythm nonexistent, and Severus waited, tapping his foot on the floor. The sound echoed – the room was too quiet, too empty without Potter's vibrant presence and jewel-bright smile.

There was no need for this farce of a lesson – no need for Severus's presence at the Gala at all. Ginny Weasley, with her pout and her hexes and her influence with her father, was not going to bully Severus into attending. He had no need to learn how to dance.

A thump sounded from the kitchen, and Potter cursed. Clutching an ice pack to his foot, he hopped back to Severus.

"What a quaint little remedy – you're still thinking like a Muggle, I see. A remnant from your childhood?"

"There's no need to be nasty," Potter said.

"No need to be nasty?" Severus pointed his wand at Potter's foot, casting a simple healing spell with a smirk. "I wasn't aware that need factored into the matter."

"Do you want my help, Snape?"

As slowly as a snake leaving a sun-warmed rock, Severus leaned over Potter. He put his hands on Potter's shoulders, caressed the sweet line of his neck, and bent down to breathe into his ear. "You're a fool, Potter, but you're a Gryffindor fool. You've given your word that you'll help me, and you'll never renege on it."

"That doesn't mean that you can just be a bastard." Potter jerked away from Severus, his hands clenched at his sides and his cheeks stained cherry red.

"Come now, Harry," Severus said, extending a hand to him and stressing his name. "A Gryffindor like yourself, abandoning a hopeless cause? Why, if anyone found out, they would take your color scheme away."

Potter's bright grin was back as he took Severus's hand. "You're far from a hopeless cause, Snape. I've seen the way you move in battle, as quick and graceful as anybody. We'll have you dancing like an expert before the Gala starts."

"The dance floor as a battlefield, then – are you sure that you want to open that analogy? You might start acting like a martyr, sacrificing your foot for the good of the cause."

Potter laughed and then waved his wand, starting the music again. "We haven't got time for witty banter, Severus. We've got to teach you how to lead."

"There's always time for –"

With two fingers, Potter reached up and silenced him, pressing his lips together with a deft touch. "Not now. Here, stand like so, and put your hands – exactly, that's it.

"I knew you'd be a natural," Potter said with an artless grin.

Severus bit back a retort, and allowed Potter to manhandle him to the center of the room. He blinked when Potter stepped closer, pliant in his arms.

"Now, pretend I'm a girl," he said. "Move to the music, just as before, but this time it's you who's guiding me. I won't do anything that you don't lead me to do."

"If only you'd been half as biddable at Hogwarts," Severus said. He stood frozen, the music swelling through the room and Potter warm in his arms, his feet refusing to move.

"Dance with me," Potter said.

Severus took a first step. This was nothing next to the battle that would be the Ministry Gala – this was nothing, with only Potter in his arms. It was nothing next to the terror of dancing with Ginny Weasley, with all of her fiery temper and red-headed family behind her. This was Potter, safe and warm – Severus took another step, and another.

Potter moved with him, a soft smile on his lips. "That's great, Snape. You'll be ready for the Gala in no time, at this rate. A little faster – good, that's perfect. Turn now – wonderful."

"Teaching need not include simpering flattery, Potter. Just continue with this lesson, and no fripperies."

Potter reached up to lay his hand against Severus's jaw and then, like the meddlesome idiot he was, he put his fingers on Severus's lips and stretched his mouth into a smile. "Compliments are not fripperies, you cranky old Slytherin."

"I suggest you remove your hand now if you don't want to lose any fingers."

Potter's hand left Severus's mouth only to wave a spell through the air, quickening the tempo of the music.

"All right then, you old grump. No more coddling or useless flattery – let's do this at full speed, then. You're on your own, no more hints from me."

Desperation was not enough to make Severus yield to such torment, such humiliation. Dancing with Potter, with Potter's green eyes laughing at him – Severus shoved him away, sending him stumbling into the sofa.

"I refuse to participate in this farce any longer," he said. "I'll thank you for your time, Mr. Potter, and bid you good day."

"Snape, wait." Potter scrambled after him, his groping fingers latching onto Severus's robe. "Wait, what's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong. I do not wish to dance, that is all."

"Don't be simple, Snape. What kind of Slytherin are you? Ginny's been chasing your for months now, and don't try to tell me that a sneaky bastard like yourself doesn't have wet dreams about that kind of power. Married to the Minister's daughter, able to influence his philosophies, his policies – a few smiles and a few dances and she'll be yours, Snape. You'll have a cushy job at the Ministry, power, money, influence – anything you could want."

Potter's eyes shone with sincerity, and at last, Severus reached out to take his offered hand. Desperation had driven him to this point, and it would take him past it.

"Very well, Mr. Potter. If you would teach me how to dance?"

-----

The music was insipid – the food was atrocious – Severus had expected no better, and yet he was disappointed. Desperation had driven him here, desperation and all of the persuasive arguments and magical power of a determined and obnoxious Potter. Severus smoothed down the front of his new dress robes and stepped further into the shadows.

It was the social event of the year – all of wizarding society's luminaries were there, glowing and chattering and dancing. The Minister, the Wizengamot, Hogwarts' Board of Governors, Aurors in their shining uniforms – everyone was there. Merlin forbid any crisis occurred, with half the wizarding world away from their duties.

Everyone who was anyone in the wizarding world was there, save for the reason that the world still existed – the Savior of them all, as delinquent in his duties as ever. Severus scanned the crowd, but Potter was absent, without a word of explanation or excuse.

Severus stepped back until he hit the wall, leaning against it. He shoved his hands into his pockets, looking down his nose at the vapid dancers who swirled and dipped around the floor. Frantic fools, completely inept and clumsy – Severus went through the ingredients for an anti-epileptic potion, his fingers itching to brew it. He'd do anything to stop the spastic twitching that passed for dancing here.

Like a gaudy butterfly, Ginny Weasley fluttered around the ballroom. Hr jewel-bright skirts shimmered, her laugh rang through the room, her heels clicked on the marble floor, and still she did not dance. She swirled around the perimeter of the room, her head held high – Severus drew back into the shadows as she drew nearer.

She was pretty enough, vivacious, more intelligent than her lack-witted brothers – and yet, for all the reasons that had driven him here, Severus felt no urge to approach her. She moved away without seeing him, and he breathed again, turning to leave.

He bumped into Potter at the foot of the stairs, nearly knocking him over. Perfect in his velvet robes, smiling despite the near mishap – Severus caught his elbow, steadying him.

This was as familiar as their lessons, this casual touch, and yet – without the desperation that Ginny Weasley had inflicted on him, Severus found it entirely different.

Potter's breath smelled like champagne and chocolate, a sweetness overlaying his usual spicy scent. Leaning closer with the pretext of straightening Potter's collar, Severus let his hand linger on the curve of Potter's neck.

"Dance with me," he said.

"You don't want to –"

"Are you afraid to dance? Where is the vaunted Gryffindor courage now?"

Potter yielded to the taunt, grasping Severus's offered hand and marching over to the dance floor with him in tow. Just as the next dance began, they slipped into an empty space on the floor. There was an instant of silence, a moment when the rhythm shifted, Severus's heartbeat throbbing with the sudden awareness of Potter's warmth in his arms.

"You can lead," Potter said. "You still need the practice."

Without a word, Severus began. His feet did not hesitate, did not freeze or betray him. He pulled Potter closer until they were dancing chest to chest, fingers entwined and hearts beating together.

"Ginny will make a good match for you," Potter said.

Severus tightened his grasp on Potter's hand, putting pressure on the small of his back and guiding him across the floor. The music flowed around them, and Ginny Weasley glared at Severus from across the room as he leaned closer to Potter.

"I am not interested in Miss Weasley," he said.

"You aren't?"

"I find that I don't care for redheads."

Potter froze, and Severus felt him trembling. They missed a beat, and Severus rushed them through the next measure to make up for it.

"You ... you don't?"

"No."

Potter looked up at him, and Severus was driven to distraction by the unspoken plea in his eyes. Leaning closer, his movements as slow and careful as the music, he bent down and pressed his lips against Harry's. A heartbeat, a breath, a kiss – in that instant, the music slowed, the dance coming to an end, and Severus held Harry in his arms when he would have pulled away.

"I ... I find that I do care for you," he said into Harry's ear.

Potter leaned up for another kiss, his lips as soft and perfect as they looked. His arms tightening around Severus, he Apparated them from the Gala mid-kiss, and they landed with a crack on Potter's doorstep.

Their lips fit together as they shared a breath, and then Potter, one arm still around Severus's neck, reached behind him to open the door.

"Dance with me?" he asked, and Severus, driven by desire, followed him.