Chapter Text
“This won’t do at all,” McGonagall said.
Harry looked up from his obsessive vigil of staring at Neville’s footwork as the music suddenly cut off. McGonagall had her face buried in her hands. Snape, stood beside her, had a smile as if Christmas had come early. Their peers alternated between barely hidden laughter and sympathetic grimaces.
Harry just wasn’t made to dance. He felt as awkward as Viktor Krum looked on the ground.
As Harry and Neville came to a halt, stepping away from each other, Snape advanced upon them with a deep frown.
“As always, Longbottom is abnormally competent, but Potter remains lamentable,” Snape said, shaking his head. “Perhaps he needs someone more assertive to lead.”
Harry gave Snape a reproachful look as Neville reddened. It was hard to think of anything to say in response as Snape had been the one to demonstrate with McGonagall how to dance the waltz. He’d done it with bored ease to the gathered students.
“Who?” McGonagall asked.
McGonagall had already tried to dance with Harry, but he’d found the idea of dancing with his head of House to be incredibly awkward. It’d been a disaster. All his Housemates were at best average, not necessarily good enough to teach him.
“Mr Zabini,” Snape said. “Salvage this.”
A tall, dark-skinned Slytherin emerged from the crowd of students without a word. His face seemed familiar, but even with the last name he had no clue who they were. Regardless, Harry couldn’t fight the instinctive grimace that crossed his face. It was typical of Snape to try to embarrass him with a member of his House.
“Potter,” Zabini said in a neutral tone.
He had a slight, pleasant accent. Italian?
“Zabini.”
Zabini offered Harry his hand, giving him a surprisingly genial smile as he took it. Harry stepped forward and once more surrendered himself to being led around.
“Closed position,” Snape ordered.
Harry winced a little when Zabini firmly held his back with none of Neville’s shyness. This close, Harry was forced to stare at the Slytherin’s chin, which was a blessing in disguise as he didn’t have to see the surrounding students make a spectacle of them both. The silence bar the sound of their feet moving into place was deafening.
He could only imagine Ron’s reaction.
“Move your feet here,” Zabini whispered to him, nudging his feet in turn with pointed taps of his foot.
Looking at the gap between Zabini’s feet, Harry realised that the only option would be to move forward. He inched a little forward.
“No, not like that. Closer.”
Harry shimmied forward so that they weren’t far from being chest-to-chest.
“Good. Left arm around my neck.”
Neville, as skilled as a dancer he was, had never been comfortable dancing so closely with Harry. They’d simply resorted to a handhold with minimal body contact, so the arm just above his waist had been surprising. It was with more than a little hesitance that Harry placed his hand at Zabini’s collar. The action unwittingly pulled them closer together.
“Now, let’s sort out your grip. Don’t grip me so tightly. Hold me.”
The feel of Zabini’s breath against his cheek as he leaned inwards to whisper made Harry shudder, his stomach roiling in a turbulent fashion. It was so horribly intimate.
“What’s the difference, expert?” Harry spat in a low whisper.
Harry looked up to find Zabini giving him a winning smile, dimples appearing against his cheeks. Harry swallowed a little.
“Well, one you would do to your broomstick or your wand. The other you do to a person." At Harry’s ensuing blush, Zabini gave Harry's arm around his shoulder a pointed look. “Choose wisely as to which is more appropriate.”
Harry immediately relaxed his grip and shook his head at the innuendo. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”
The Slytherin’s lingering smile was answer enough.
“We’re ready,” Zabini called to McGonagall waiting by the gramophone.
The plodding waltz sounded from the gramophone once more.
Zabini took Harry into a half-turn, broadcasting his intent with a subtle press of his hand against Harry’s back before initiating a graceful box step, which Harry mirrored to the best of his ability.
“We alternate on leading and move on the downbeat,” Zabini said in a hurried whisper. “Just box steps.”
Harry looked up owlishly at him before initiating a clumsy box step. With admirable ease, the Slytherin dodged his haphazard feet without a word, masking Harry’s incompetence with a brief separation to turn on his heel before taking Harry’s hand back in his.
“What’s a downbeat?”
“I – I’ll just lead.”
Zabini began to count under his breath, exaggerating his initiation of subsequent steps on one and four. It was as Snape had said, Zabini was far more assertive. He continued to offer advice as they swept across the floor, ever patient of Harry's ungainliness.
“Softly on the heel at the end of each step. You’re dancing, not stomping.”
Harry tried to follow his advice, rising, and falling with the music. It took a few tries, but Zabini eventually gave his hand a slight squeeze.
“That’s good.”
“Was that a demonstration of the gripping and holding thing?” Harry offered under his breath, hiding his smile with an intent gaze at his feet.
Zabini laughed under his breath as they continued to dance.
“You’re not going to let that bad joke go, are you?”
“Never.”
The music continued and Harry, surprisingly enough, found himself starting to enjoy dancing now that he didn’t feel like a complete fool. Taking the initiative, he began to lead some of the turns and steps. Zabini followed without complaint, humming appreciatively under his breath to the music, or squeezing his hand once more when Harry was particularly graceful.
It wasn’t exactly Quidditch, but there was an enjoyment to be found in just following the music and finally executing basic steps correctly.
Eventually, the music died away and they came to a stop at the centre of the classroom.
Zabini gave him an encouraging nod as they separated, though the warm expression on Zabini’s face melted away just as their body contact did.
McGonagall approached them with a thin smile, joining the polite applause from the crowd. Over her shoulder, Harry could see Ron giving him a bewildered look.
“Much better,” McGonagall said once the applause had ended.
“Thanks,” Harry said.
He turned to his partner, the Slytherin standing impassive beside him.
“And to you.”
Zabini acknowledged him with a regal nod of his head.
“Mr Zabini, you will do all in your power to ensure that Mr Potter does not embarrass the school,” McGonagall said to him. "We'll be doing the Viennese Waltz next week. I expect great things."
“Understood, Professor.”
“Twenty-five points to Slytherin for skilful and efficient tutelage,” Snape announced.
It was a testament to how well Zabini had did that McGonagall didn’t even blink. Harry, himself, could hardly argue.
Snape walked up to them, eyes glittering with malice as he looked at Harry. “I’ve prepared a list, Mr Zabini. I expect Potter to at least scrape beyond competent beginner in any dance that may arise during the Yule Ball.”
Harry barely managed to stifle a groan.
“Potter will be a master,” Zabini said.
His dark eyes fell on Harry, giving him an intent nod, which Harry immediately returned.