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“I don’t know how to dance.”
Harry always had an attention-catching arrival. The way he entered Snape’s office without knocking and the fact he slammed doors with unnecessary fierceness only teenagers could attain, told Severus who his uninvited guest would be before Harry presented himself.
He didn’t bother to lift his eyes from the second-year Ravenclaw’s essays and continued to correct them as if no unpredictable boy resembling a tornado stormed into his chambers.
“And how does this concerns me?” Severus replied evenly, a bored tone glazing his voice.
“Teach me.”
It wasn’t a request, hardly a plea… it was a demand with a hint of desperation which Harry tried to mask as confidence.
“Have I wanted to be entertained by humourless jokes, I would’ve chatted with professor Flitwick this morning. If there’s nothing else you wish to convey, off you go,” Severus tried to dismiss the boy in front of him, but Harry just rolled his eyes and stubbornly sat down.
“I’m serious. You’re my last resort. Help me,” Harry fidgeted, his suppressed nervousness showing on the surface. “Please,” he enunciated.
Severus finally looked up, feeling an incoming headache form around his temples.
“I should not have been on your list of potential dance teachers at all. Go to your Head of the House, I’m sure she’ll be more than eager to engage in these activities,” he stated tiredly.
“No, thank you. I’ve already had the pleasure to experience dance lessons with McGonagall, as the whole Gryffindor fourth-year did. I’ll rather make a fool of myself in front of everyone than live through it again,” Harry shuddered upon remembering the events from a few days ago.
“I’m glad we reached a conclusion then. Now, I’m quite busy,” Severus considered the conversation over. Harry did not.
“You said I could rely on you if I ever needed,” he whipped out his triumph card, hoping it would work. By the unimpressed expression that settled on Snape’s face, Harry could tell he failed to persuade him.
“Yes, shall you face mortal peril, harm or danger, immediately seek me out. However, do enlighten me, to which of these categories does “I need a dance teacher” fall?” Severus argued, wondering how did he always manage to attract the biggest troublemakers. Harry being a part of the tournament was bad enough and kept him up at night since the Goblet spat out his name, Severus didn’t need awkward moments of dance practice to add salt to the wound.
Snape didn’t dance. He was taught by his mother when he was young so he was familiar with the activity, but nevertheless, he did not dance. Not even for the Boy Who Lived or, as was known, the Boy-Who-Became-His-Responsibility-Three-Years-Ago.
“Harm,” Harry replied immediately, “It’s going to bring me and the whole school harm if I don’t know how to dance – they’re going to make fun of me again. The ridicule over me being a champion finally died down a bit, I don’t want to restart it by standing on the dance floor like a frozen statue during the opening dance,” the pity card was a low blow but Harry was running out of options. He schooled his features into the most hopeless expression he could muster and then continued. “The least you can do is teach me three basic dance moves.”
“Three basic dance moves,” Severus repeated with distaste. Harry nodded frantically.
“It’s clear you have no understanding of dancing whatsoever, given there aren’t any three basic dance moves I could teach you. The Yule Ball is hardly a muggle affair,” Severus decided to lecture the boy as it was better than to mindlessly argue with him.
“Well, I wouldn’t know that, would I? I grew up surrounded by muggle affairs, remember? I’m freaking out as it is without you reminding me how big of a deal that stupid ball is,” Harry was starting to be annoyed. Snape really was his last acceptable resort, but the man was stubborn and unaccommodating as always. It wasn’t like Harry wanted to do this. It was the image of pure mortification that struck him every time he thought of the dance that brought him to the dungeons in the first place.
“Language,” Severus warned him out of habit, but his voice took on a gentler tone. Harry rolled his eyes in response.
“Dancing is similar to potions. You don’t have three basic ingredients which you can take and brew a variety of potions with. You need to know the whole recipe and have all the necessary tools before you can even start…” Severus went on a lengthy explanation and Harry barely listened.
“Professor,” he decided to interrupt Snape, hoping it conveyed his helplessness. Harry wasn’t a five-year-old, he knew what a dance was for goodness’ sake.
“…you cannot mix certain ingredients the same way you cannot use certain dance moves in a sequence, the result would be massively disastrous. For example, the dragon’s blood and spotted lizard’s tights…”
“Severus,” Harry tried again. Why wasn’t the man this descriptive during their real potions classes was a secret Harry haven’t had the chance to uncover yet.
“Of course, there are cases when dragon’s blood and the spotted lizard’s tights can be brewed together, but you need a catalyst of some sort to make the blood react before the tights are added…”
Harry wanted to scream.
“Dad!” he finally raised his voice, frustration bubbling in his chest. “If you don’t want to teach me that much, it’s fine. You don’t need to start a whole lesson about lizards to convey the message.” He pouted, feeling sullen. Maybe he could ditch the whole Yule Ball by faking sickness.
Severus didn’t fail to notice Harry’s flushing cheeks. It wasn’t long since he started calling Snape that title so it surprised Severus to silence. The inevitable couldn’t be delayed any longer.
A heavy sigh echoed into the silence, Severus massaging the bridge of his nose.
“Very well,” he said reluctantly, getting to his feet. “I’ll show you the basics but whether your thick brain decides to absorb anything or not is entirely up to you,” Severus fell back into his lecturing habits.
An impossibly wide grin appeared on Harry’s face as he jumped to his feet, nodding feverishly.
“Yes, thank you!” he almost hugged Severus then and there but thought better of it. The man looked sour even without forced physical contact, which he occasionally tolerated only for Harry’s sake.
“Come here,” Severus instructed the cheerful boy. Waving his wand lazily, the furniture inside his office all piled to one side, creating enough space for movement.
Then, he stepped closer towards Harry, lightly placing his palm on his waist while determinedly ignoring the awkwardness of it all.
“Wait, I thought you’ll be the girl,” slipped out of Harry’s mouth when he realized he was not in a position for a lead. Severus gifted him the most scowling look before he forcibly placed Harry’s hand on his shoulder.
“I’ve been a man for thirty-four years of my life and I don’t plan on changing it now, thank you,” Snape hissed, but with no malice, “as for being a lead dancer, I have to show you the moves before you can recreate them, don’t I? Stop with the dramatics before I change my mind and let’s get this over with.”
Harry bit his tongue, forcing himself to focus.
Suddenly, he was very aware of the physical closeness of his parental figure and guardian, but also the fact that it wasn’t uncomfortable. Awkward? Yes. But that was because Severus was rigid and his tight expression had a tale to tell. But he was doing it for Harry, and Harry couldn’t be more grateful. A warm feeling spread through his chest and a never-ceasing smile decorated the boy’s face once more.
They were slowly moving in silence, Severus leading Harry forward and backwards with his usual grace. The shuffling of their clothes and shoes thumping on the stone floor was the only sound echoing inside the dark room.
“Do you intend to buy me new footwear? You’ve stepped on mine four times in the last two minutes, are you doing this on purpose?” Severus suddenly spoke, mocking Harry impatiently. The boy wasn’t paying attention at all.
“Well, maybe if we had some music to dance to I’d hear the rhythm. I mean, the silence does have its charm but-” Harry was cut off when a classical piece started playing in the air. Snape sneered.
“Should I transfigurate your clothes into a dress as well? Will it make you feel more in character and finally focus?”
Harry had to crush his tongue between his teeth to stop himself from talking back to the man. Gosh, Severus was his guardian but it didn’t make him any less insufferable. Harry learnt it was just the man’s defence mechanism for pushing away people who got a tad too close. It stopped working on the boy long ago.
With music playing in the background, Harry got the hang of dancing much more quicker. Severus instructed him here and there, pointing on the correct footing or straightening Harry’s back when his shoulders slumped forward too much.
“You’ll lift your partner up in the air and spin a little after this move,” Severus announced and then (to Harry’s absolute bemusement) proceeded to demonstrate it with the boy.
Harry vaguely realized his feet weren’t touching the ground, and that he’d never seen Snape from this particular angle before he was back on the ground, blinking confusedly.
“I hope you memorized it because I’ll never be repeating it again,” Severus stated nonchalantly, leaving no room for argument. Harry wouldn’t have argued anyway, he was positive he never wanted to experience that again.
Finally, they switched roles and Harry was in the lead, clumsily navigating them around the room. He knew he wasn’t doing a good job and that his bottom body had a life of its own, hardly being coordinated with the rest, but Snape didn’t berate him.
Severus taught him with unexpected patience and Harry tried his best in return.
He did receive a dangerous look from his guardian when he asked whether he should use a featherweight charm on Severus to do the lift-and-spin move or would the man simply jump to do the job – but apart from that, their dance lesson progressed smoothly.
Thirty minutes and some panting later, Harry started to feel hopeful. Maybe he wouldn’t make a complete fool of himself.
“I think that will suffice,” Severus concluded once they decided to take a break and extinguish their thirst.
“Really? Don’t we need to go one more time, just to be sure?” Harry asked anxiously.
“Should I repeat that dance sequence one more time, Filch will find me sleepdancing in the corridors,” Severus retorted.
“So you think it’ll be alright?”
Harry needed the assurance more than he realized. He needed Severus to tell him he would do well.
“You’ll blend in the crowd,” Snape waved his hands dismissively.
“In a good way, right? Not in a “you’re a terrible dancer but the crowd will swallow you and nobody will notice” way?” Harry pressed. It was stupid, he knew, but he desired his guardian’s acknowledgement and validation. He was about to go on his rambling rampage when Snape stopped him.
“Harry, you’ll do fine.”
Just the sound of his name coming out of Snape’s mouth made Harry calm down. He spoke it so gently, with a hint of open affection he rarely displayed. Severus’ expression softened and he nodded slightly, encouraging Harry further.
Another smile broke out on Harry’s face.
“By the way, who’re you coming with? I’m going with Parvati,” Harry decided to change the subject. Severus’ eyes widened slightly in response before he narrowed them again, searching Harry intently.
“Where did you get the impression I’m going to be a part of this masquerade?” He asked sternly just to see Harry’s expression dim down.
“I don’t… isn’t there a mandatory attendance for teachers?” he retreated in surprise. Severus wasn’t coming? Harry’s stomach clenched.
“I’d like to see the person who would try to persuade me to attend the ball,” Snape stated simply. He had no intention of going to the event and Harry would not change his mind.
“Well, I thought…” you’d come to watch me, the boy didn’t dare to speak the second part of the sentence.
Nevertheless, Severus understood.
“You should go, I’m sure Ms Granger with Mr Weasley are aware of your absence by now. Don’t miss dinner.” He dismissed Harry for good, unable to look at his saddened self any longer. Something in Snape’s chest ached dully and he couldn’t cease the pain.
Harry nodded numbly. He should have expected it, it was already a big accomplishment Severus taught him the dance, and yet... the disappointment wasn’t any less bitter.
“Thank you for your time today, I really appreciate it,” he muttered quietly before leaving.
***
Severus told himself it wasn’t worth it when he strode down the hallway. The boy’s dancing was decent at best, and given Ms Patil was a good dancer herself, the pair was saved from any senastional fiasco. Harry didn’t make a fool of himself despite his worries.
Yes, Severus told himself it wasn’t worth it, and yet seeing Harry’s bewildered expression once the boy spotted him among the crowd made it memorable. That, or the crushing hug Harry bestowed him after the dance was over.
Barely noticable smile brushed Severus’ lips once he reached his chambers. He supposed the Yule Ball had its charm.