Hogwarts Ball - Concert and Dancing
Date: Saturday, 03 March, 2001
Time: 7:00pm
Location: Hogwarts
Rating: PG
Characters Involved: Anyone who wishes to attend
( And the band played on… )
Time: 7:00pm
Location: Hogwarts
Rating: PG
Characters Involved: Anyone who wishes to attend
( And the band played on… )
Nursing a flute of champagne, she remained off to the side as she listened to the band play. The Weird Sisters -- even after a number of years, she was still a fan, and she tapped her pointer finger against the flute in time to the music. This song especially she loved. Thankfully she'd been spared having to dance with anyone yet tonight, but it'd been a close call all around, really. She had received a few compliments on her dress though, which had been nice, especially in the wake of Snape's sharp comments.
One might think just by looking at her that she was bored out of her mind, but really, she was enjoying herself. Usually she was a very social person, but that didn't mean she had to be flitting around from place to place in order to get any satisfaction out of the party. And given her current predicament with her shoes, flitting around was completely out of the question anyway.
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He deftly collected her champagne glass and deposited it on the table before holding his hand out to her.
"I have come to collect my dance," he demanded. At least the shoes would make her nearer his height, thereby making it an easier job to keep her on her feet when she stumbled.
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"At this rate it'll be both of my ankles," she said, a hint of darkness in her tone. Squeaking out a slight protest when he took her flute from her, she nevertheless took his hand somewhat reluctantly.
"Don't spin me," she warned, "else I really will break something. I can't spin on flats, let alone heels." Taking a few semi-shaky steps closer to him, she wondered how her fifteen-year-old self would've reacted to the knowledge that over a decade later, she'd be dancing with her Potions Professor while in heels. Probably fall over laughing, she figured, at the absurdity of it all.
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A more apropos statement than he had realised as he led her to the dance floor and then turned to face her. In his hands, indeed! Where the hell was he supposed to put his hands? His expression went from smug to gobsmacked to determinedly resigned in an instant.
With great trepidation he settled his hand at her waist, feeling far more skin than fabric, and began to carefully guide the dance, whilst attempting to maintain a proper amount of distance between them.
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Her smirk turned into a full-on grin when she saw his expression change so rapidly at the prospect of actually having to touch her, god forbid. "There," she said once he'd mustered up the courage to touch her--gasp--bare skin. "That wasn't so difficult, was it? Your hands are a little cold though," she said almost as an afterthought. "Then again, of course, my fault for wearing the dress. And your fault for asking me to dance as well, so I suppose we both share the blame on this one."
Highly amused by the whole ordeal, Tonks did her best to keep in step with him, as she was neither graceful nor an accomplished dancer. Or a dancer at all, really.
"Oops--sorry," she said when she managed to step on his foot, although luckily she noticed before she put too much pressure on it. "I'm not very good at this. Have I mentioned that?"
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Really, Severus knew he wasn't helping anything by being deliberately rude to her - it wasn't as though she'd done anything to him! It wasn't her fault he was pathetically insecure in the relationship which was being conducted on the basis of his rules he had thought he wanted. Nymphadora had been most accommodating to the pack during the ridiculous bi-weekly wand-checks, as well as a helpful companion when he been required to have Auror-escort to search Knockturn Alley when Winifred Wood was missing.
"Here, wait," he said in milder tones. "Draw your balance from me - you will have to be closer, there."
He had once had the honour of dancing with Gregory Goyle's mother. She made Nymphadora appear positively graceful, and he had found the only way to get through the dance with his feet un-crushed (as she was a very large woman) was to dance quite close, in order to enable her to follow the cues and movement of his body rather than just the guidance of his hands.
It was not comfortable - Severus did not like being in normal-dancing distance, in general. Having his partner nearly flush against him was almost misery - but it did make clumsy-dancing a bit less-so. In this case, it also brought Nymphadora's centre of gravity closer to his, making it easier for him to steady her if she truly did fall off those ridiculous shoes.
He had no attention to pay to anyone else, nor even to glance about looking for Remus as he had done occasionally throughout the night thus far. All his attention was required, here, his arm instinctively tightening when he felt a faltering step, maintaining her balance as well as his own.
"Aside from the usual pureblood lot each trying to outdo the other at the donation boxes, have you observed anything suspicious this evening?" he asked, by way of attempting to have some conversation not focused on her dancing ability, or lack thereof.
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Recognising that his tone had grown a little...nicer? No, never--Tonks did as instructed, moving closer to him and drawing her balance from him. Merlin knew she needed as much as she could get. It helped more than she'd thought it would, although she did feel badly, all but leaning on him for support.
"I haven't seen anything particularly interesting," she admitted. "Although a few couples who didn't come into the ball together left the ball together, which was rather amusing to see, especially when their original partners came 'round looking for them. It wasn't exactly a security thread though. Sex-curity, maybe, but unfortunately I wasn't on that shift tonight."
As they made their way around the dance floor, Tonks relaxed, enjoying herself for the first time that evening. "This is loads better," she said in a pleasant sort of tone. "I could almost get used to this--"
And with that, she managed to shift her weight the wrong way and turn her ankle in, not only making her lose her balance, toppling to the floor if Snape didn't catch her, but also rather painful as well. Although nothing that couldn't be fixed in the blink of an eye with a wand.
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Combative reflexes and the fact he was prepared for such a possibility enabled him to both prevent her from falling on her arse, and from taking him with her, though it did require all but crushing her against his chest to hold her upright.
"Damnation," he cursed softly, dropping the hand held in his so as to free his other hand to place it, too, on her waist in an effort to right her. "Can you stand? Another move like that, and I will insist you stand on my toes and not move at all, as I once saw Draco do with Narcissa when he was very small."
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Wincing slightly, she stepped gingerly on her ankle, relieved when it didn't feel sprained, just a little twisted. She could handle that without a problem. "Yeah, I can stand," she said. "You're quite good at catching me," she added, refraining from making a wand-in-the-pocket joke just to embarrass him. Maybe later though.
"Thanks," she said, carefully starting to move again. "And I'm beginning to think the standing on your feet idea might have some merit to it. I could always take off my heels, too," she offered somewhat enthusiastically. "I'd shrink about half a foot, but I wouldn't trip nearly as much."
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Why she ever wore the ridiculous things in the first place was an utter mystery, but then he had never understood the so-called 'sex appeal' of stiletto heels.
Perhaps that ought to have been his first clue that his preferences weren't quite 'straight'.
Once equilibrium was restored, he attempted to resume the dance - though he took smaller steps and worried less about keeping up with the tempo of the music, and more about keeping Nymphadora Tonks from crippling them both.
"Are you still seeing Mr Charlie Weasley?" he asked, making another brave jab at conversation - which might also reassure himself as to her intentions regarding Remus. It was the last apparent romantic inclination he had known her to have.
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Now that they were moving a bit slower, she found it easier to keep up, and was less frantic with her movements. She was nowhere near being graceful, but she moved a little less like an elephant now
"Charlie?" she said, a little surprised. "Not really. Well, sort of. Nothing serious at all for the moment, else I'd have dragged him along to this thing. And you?" she said, looking up at him for a moment. "Are you seeing anyone?"
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"My social life has been more active since the war than before," he said evasively, after a long and thoughtful pause. Much as he longed to gloat to her over his relationship with Remus, he was still uncertain. They had not explicitly agreed to be 'exclusive' with one another, and he still felt on shaky-ground where Nymphadora was concerned. He would leave it to Remus to tell, or not to tell, in his own time.
"My job keeps me quite busy, of course - and the potions for Remus and the others," he added, unable to avoid staking some sort of claim.
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She glanced down at her feet to make sure she wasn't about to step on him again. "It's kind of you to make the potion for them," she said. "Very kind. You're a good man, Severus Snape," she said, this time with a slight smirk, figuring he wouldn't get the Muggle reference.
"Speaking of Remus," she added, "we're getting together for dinner a few days from now. Promises to be interesting, all things considered." Her expression fell into one of distant consideration as she thought about how she was going to react to him. Three years wasn't something one could just ignore easily, but they'd agreed to be friends, and indeed still were. It was awkward, not having the right to lean over the table and kiss him anymore whenever she wanted to, or sneaking her bare foot up the leg of his trouser just to make him a little flustered. "It's odd," she added. "Seeing someone you were with for so long under a platonic setting. Very odd. I'm a little nervous about it, actually."
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It was his turn to almost mis-step at her next revelation, however, and only years of concealing any emotion from the Dark Lord prevented him from betraying his total astonishment.
Still, he had never been dancing with the Dark Lord when the megalomaniac was trying to catch him off guard. If he had been, Voldemort might have caught subtle cues impossible to see from a distance. The instant, increased rigidity of his spine and tension in his muscles and slight tick of the muscle in his jaw, for example.
"You are dining with Remus?" he asked, almost masochistically needing to hear her say it again.
Something strange was occurring to his vision, as though the room had suddenly gotten much smaller, pressing in on him, giving everything an odd, distorted quality. He was actually experiencing a heavy, aching sensation right in the middle of his chest. His gut clenched, and it had become difficult to draw breath properly.
"I'm sure you have nothing to be nervous about," he said icily, suddenly more than eager for the song, and this dance, to be over.
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She noticed him tense--anyone who didn't would've been a complete fool. While she was foolish on occasion, she was anything but a fool. "Yes," she said slowly, attempting to figure out where the root of his apparent disdain for the matter came from. Was she missing something? With an attempt to make the conversation a little less...difficult, she smiled up at him and joked, "One dance doesn't mean we're married, you know. I am allowed to go to dinner with other people." Not that their dinner was anything even resembling a date, but she had no idea how sensitive Severus was to the idea of Remus dining with anyone who wasn't him.
She shrugged. "I'm sure I've got nothing to be nervous about either. But I'm sure you know how it is when you see someone you were once extremely close with, especially when it's the first time in ages. We were together for three years," she pointed out. "I'll survive though, I'm sure. Now really--back onto the topic of this mysterious friend of yours. Do tell."
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He would not humiliate himself by claiming a relationship which he was now no longer confident even existed!
"I couldn't care less with whom you dine," he said disdainfully. "My personal affairs, on the other hand, are just that. Personal. I do not choose to wear my heart on my sleeve."
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