Chapter 49 - Dancing
Severus stepped into the Room of Requirement and nodded in satisfaction at the environment provided. The room was a close replica of the sword studio he had been trained in - an open space with padded mats on the floor. One wall was lined with floor-to-ceiling mirrors, and the long tables against the far wall were laden down with every type of sword imaginable. There would be plenty of weapons for Harry to choose from.
Severus strode purposefully across the room and stripped off his outer robe and tunic until he was wearing only a pair of well-fitted black trousers and his white linen undershirt. A wave of his wand warmed the air of the room and staved off the winter chill that clung to the old stones of the castle.
His offer to Harry had been impulsive and probably ill conceived, but he couldn't bring himself to regret it. Try as he might he could not shake off the lust that had gripped him, could not tame the desire to touch Harry. Since he refused to give in to the lust, he was left with only two socially acceptable means to ease the desire to touch - dancing or swordplay. Somehow he did not think the boy would be keen on dancing lessons.
He had trained with a variety of sword masters over the years - some of whom he'd liked, some he'd hated. It was his hope that he could make this a pleasurable experience for Harry, forge some common bond that they could share between them. Merlin knew he had no such hope with potions; Harry merely tolerated that subject. But perhaps this - something physical that would appeal to a Gryffindor - would do the trick, and make him think more fondly on Severus. He knew the boy needed some distraction; his constant worry for the wolf and the mutt, as well as the machinations of the Ministry, would drive him mad in time. Severus knew from experience that sword training could often given a person a sense of control over an otherwise chaotic life.
The door opened and Harry hurried in, somewhat out of breath as if he'd run there. He'd gone up to the Gryffindor common room after they'd spoken to work on his homework. Severus watched as the boy took in his surroundings, his green eyes lighting up as he spied the swords on the table. He couldn't help but admire the flush that stained Harry's features.
"Remove your robes," Severus told him, catching his attention.
Startled, the boy stared at him for a moment, bewildered by the order. And then his gaze swept over Severus' body and he noticed the manner in which he was dressed. Grinning in understanding, he began stripping off his outer robes. Unlike Severus he wore a green Muggle t-shirt underneath his heavy winter robes, but the form-fitting black trousers were ones that Severus had purchased for him. Something stirred inside Severus at the sight - it pleased him to see Harry dressed in clothing he had bought.
"Now you must pick a sword," he urged, motioning to the table. He stood back as the boy approached the blades, curious to see which one he would select.
He stopped first as the enormous, two-handed Scottish Claymores. With a cheeky grin, he hefted one off the table, glancing mischievously over at Severus. The blade was over six feet long, taller than the boy himself and far too heavy for him. He staggered under the weight. Alrik could wield such a thing, but not Harry.
"Predictable," Severus smirked at the boy. "One might think you were compensating for some inadequacy."
Far from being insulted, the boy seemed to know he was teasing, for he laughed and set the blade aside, moving on to the others. He lifted them all one by one, admiring each - from the Roman Gladius and Spatha favored by many of the younger men in the Winter Lands, to the larger curved Scimitar and Khopesh. There were several different types of fencing foils and he gave each of them a swing through the air several times before setting each aside with a puzzled frown on his face.
He seemed drawn to the Japanese Katana and he admired it for a long time, holding the hilt and drawing the blade slowly from the wooden sheath before turning it carefully in his hands. It was one of Severus' favorite weapons, though the smaller Wakizashi would be a better match for Harry. But eventually Harry set it aside as well and turned finally to the English Longswords.
The boy tried out each of them, his eyes lighting up in delight, and Severus couldn't help but wonder if he had chosen the blade because it was the one he had seen his godfather using. The proper Longsword that Sirius had used was ill suited to Harry, too large for his small frame. Severus was pleased when the boy finally set aside the larger blades and chose instead a smaller version of the Longsword that had been favored by the Templars. He held it in his hands for a long time, just staring at it, before finally turning toward Severus. "This one," he said with confidence.
Severus nodded. "Why that one?" He wanted to make certain that the boy understood the choice.
"It feels familiar," he said simply. "I trust it."
Severus nodded in understanding. "It's modeled after Gryffindor's blade. You killed a basilisk with it. It makes sense you would trust it. Why did you set aside the foils?" Truthfully, Harry's build was more suited to fencing.
"I didn't like the weight of them," he shrugged.
Severus smiled faintly - it was a Gryffindor trait to want something more substantial in his hands. Still, his final choice was a good one.
"The blade you have chosen is a good one, but it is wise to learn more than one style or you'll become slow to adapt to changing situations. We'll start you with your Longsword and the Wakizashi," he motioned to the smaller Japanese blade. "The two swords use very different styles of fighting, and both will be well suited to you."
"The sword you used was a Longsword, wasn't it?" Harry asked.
Severus raised one eyebrow, pleased that the boy had noticed the blade he had carried. "It's custom made of Wizarding steel," he explained. "If you become adapt at this art you will likely have one of your own made as well."
He motioned Harry to follow him out on the padded mat in the center of the room. "First thing is the Tectum spell," he informed the boy as he drew his wand. He pointed it at the blade the boy held and spoke the incantation slowly so that Harry could learn it. A bright light covered the blade briefly before vanishing. "You'll practice it later - but you are never to work without the spell until I give you leave to do so, understand?"
Harry nodded and carefully tested the edge, noticing immediately the effect of the spell - though sharp no amount of pressure against the blade would cut his skin.
"A Muggle would never learn with a live blade," Severus informed him. "A Wizard uses a spell to protect him. Without it, I can guarantee you'll cut yourself. Now, give the blade a good swing, get the feel of it."
He stood back and watched in amusement as Harry swung the sword back and forth enthusiastically. He allowed him to continue for a few moments before informing him of the most obvious but vital correction. "With your left hand, Harry," he smirked. "You're a Wizard not a Muggle. Your wand is your best weapon. It stays in your dominant hand; the sword goes in the other."
Harry blushed in embarrassment and switched hands quickly. He swung the sword far more awkwardly this time. "That feels strange," he confessed.
"It will for a long while," Severus told him. "Eventually you'll learn to use either hand with both sword and wand, but we'll start like proper Wizards." He motioned the boy to face the mirrors and then moved up behind him. "Now let's begin with some simple exercises."
The boy stiffened when he touched him, watching nervously in the mirror as Severus placed his right hand on Harry's hip and slid his left hand down his arm to cover Harry's hand around the sword hilt. The boy had been touched so rarely in his life that even this was an intimacy he did not know how to deal with. "Relax, Harry," Severus said quietly. "I'm going to show you how to move."
He proceeded then to show the boy how to hold the blade, what grip to use, how to stand, where to hold his weight. Standing behind him with his arms around him, he showed him how to swing the blade. The slightest pressure against his hip shifted his weight, and when his legs did not move instantly into the proper placement he nudged them with his own legs using pressure against his knee or his shin to move him.
He ran his hands over the boy's shoulders to force the tension from his body, slid a palm down his spine to adjust his posture, held his hips to turn him as he swung the blade. A nudge from his foot, or a gentle hand pressing along his inner thigh changed his stance and adjusted his balance.
It was a dance all its own, a tactile learning experience that the boy accepted without question. The awkward tension in his body faded quickly as he became accustomed to his touch under the guise of this lesson. He accepted the invasion of his personal space without protest, allowing Severus to position and move him about the room in the slow dance of blade. And while the boy was not a natural swordsman, he had a quiet grace to him exemplified by his flying skills that lent itself well to the exercise. He took to it with an enthusiastic delight that made his eyes glow. Far from avoiding the touch and the attention, after the initial shock of it, Harry drank it in.
Severus could feel the heat rising from Harry's body. The scent of sweat and the smooth glide of Harry's muscles beneath his hands were intoxicating. As Harry gave himself over to the movement, accepting the quiet rhythm of the dance, Severus could feel the steady thrum of magic burning in the boy's body, soothing the gnawing hunger inside of him. It did nothing to sate his desire for sex, but it did ease the need for touch, for intimacy that he had not realized he possessed. It forged a connection between the two of them that Severus grasped gleefully. His godfather should have been the one teaching him this, but he was not here. This pleasure was left to Severus, and he would not surrender it for anything in the world.
Even when he stepped away from the boy and allowed him to move through the dance alone, he could still feel that thrum of magic burning through him, filling the room, his own magic responding on an elemental level. He wondered if Harry was even aware of the power he exuded, or understood on any level why people were so drawn to him. Seeing him like this, his eyes shining with pleasure as he took joy in something simple yet beautiful, Severus suspected he'd forgotten the rest of the world even existed.
"Good, Harry," he praised when the boy successfully executed a graceful turn and a slash with his blade. He stepped up behind the boy, sliding his arms around his body once more, one hand on his hip, the other on his sword hand as he took command of his body. "Now the other direction," he said softly into the boy's ear. "Move with me and learn the feel of it."
Harry shivered in his arms but gave himself over completely to his control. Severus all but purred in pleasure - dancing had never been so sweet.
Severus rose early the following morning as had become his habit. He wanted to make certain that Harry had the room to himself when he dressed in the morning. The last thing he wanted to do was make the boy feel nervous or awkward in his home - something he'd been very careful about since the first night they were married.
He drank his morning cup of coffee as he went through some last minute essays he needed to grade, but his mind was distracted and he found it hard to focus. The sword lesson yesterday had gone well - Harry had thanked him for it afterward, such genuine pleasure in his face that Severus had wondered at the cause. He remembered the evening that Harry had reluctantly thanked him for the clothing he had bought, and he seemed grateful enough for the small additions he'd made to his quarters to suit Harry. But the sword lessons had been something different - something Harry had embraced eagerly and thanked him without reservation. Once again Severus was left with the thought that some dark episode in the boy's childhood was responsible for this, and he wished he knew what it was. He'd obviously done something right, and he wanted to know what it was so that he could repeat it. Often.
When Harry finally emerged from the bedroom to gather up his books so that he could head down to the Great Hall for breakfast, Severus noticed the cheerful gleam in his eyes. "You're in a good mood this morning," he remarked, wondering if Harry would tell him what was on his mind. It was nice to see the boy happy after so much craziness. He knew Harry was still worried about both Black and Lupin, but the resolution to the Malfoy marriage had eased much of that tension.
"I won't be in the papers today," Harry said simply, as if that explained everything about his mood.
Severus frowned. He knew that Harry did not like all the publicity he garnered - how he had ever imagined that he did, he did not know; he'd been blind. But he could not understand why Harry would think this now. "You won't?"
Harry shook his head. "Draco will be," he explained. "Because of his engagement to Charlie. That's got to be good for several days worth of gossip. And the Malfoys love being in the papers."
"I suppose," Severus agreed, though he doubted very much that this marriage was something Lucius would want publicized widely. Harry might think that a marriage to a Weasley was a great thing, but Lucius would never see the Weasleys as anything more than commoners who were beneath him.
And then Harry grinned at him, his green eyes practically glowing. "I thought about what I'm going to do to pay you back," he announced.
Pay him back? Severus stared at him in confusion. What on earth was this all about? "Pay me back for what?" he demanded. This had better not be about the clothing again.
"For the sword lessons," Harry explained. "And for the potion you're making for Remus. You do all these things for me and I never do anything for you."
Severus felt a wave of heat rising in him at Harry's words - equal parts pleasure at the obvious gratitude, and a great deal of embarrassed guilt. How to tell the boy that nothing in the world would stop him from making that potion - something only Salazar Slytherin had ever done. Or how to tell him that he was certain that he had gotten far more out of the sword lessons than Harry had. Even now the memory of feeling that firm young body against his own was enough to arouse him. That Harry was clueless about his motivation just made him feel guiltier. After only one lesson he had become addicted to the contact - so much so that he'd made arrangements with Harry to meet three days a week to continue. On the afternoons Harry did not have Quidditch practice, he would meet Severus in the Room of Requirement for sword lessons.
"Harry, you don't need to pay me back," Severus informed him. "We've been over this before."
"I know," Harry assured him. "But I still want to do something. So I'm going to translate the rest of Slytherin's books for you."
Severus blinked in shock, not certain he'd heard correctly. He offered the boy sword lessons - in a poorly veiled attempt to get his hands on his body - and in payment Harry offers him first access to the most priceless books in the world. Gryffindors were clueless. Utterly clueless. They should all be required by law to marry Slytherins - because without someone with some sense of self-preservation to look after them they'd never survive alone in the world. "Harry," Severus began, not knowing how to respond - obviously he wasn't about to turn down such an offer. But still. . . he didn't want Harry thinking he was obligated.
But Harry just smiled and waved to him. "See you at breakfast!" he called as he headed out the door.
"Definitely need that instruction manual," he muttered to himself.
He finished up his last minute grading and then headed down to the Great Hall himself. He nodded politely to Albus and the other teachers as he took his seat at the head table, and then swept his gaze down the long length of Slytherin table. His snakes seemed well behaved this morning - Draco was once again the center of attention and seemed to have suffered no fall in standing from his interaction with Charlie Weasley. Indeed he was still proudly displaying the Dragon gold around his neck - and while it was quite obvious that a large portion of the students were bewildered by this, many looked more envious than anything else. Trust a Malfoy to turn something like this around to his advantage.
He caught more than one exchange of glances between Draco and Charlie, who was seated next to Hagrid at the head table. Charlie still looked quite smug, and Draco. . . Severus just sighed. The blond boy simply looked smitten. Who would have ever guessed that such a spoiled brat would be capable of falling in love? But he did not doubt that it was so. He couldn't help but wonder if Draco had snuck out see Charlie again last night. A wave of envy washed through him and his gaze move swiftly toward Harry. Was it so wrong, he asked himself, to want the boy? But he looked so young - they all did. Hell, it wasn't so long ago that Charlie had been one of his students, little more than a boy himself. Boys, all of them, and some days he felt so old.
"Something wrong, my boy?" Albus asked, interrupting his thoughts.
Severus glanced at the headmaster, frowning at the question. "I'm hardly a boy, Albus," he said irritably, finding it odd that his words reflected Severus' thoughts so closely.
Albus laughed at that, his eyes twinkling brightly. "Oh, I don't know about that, Severus," he replied. "To me you are all terribly young. It's just a matter of perspective."
Severus sighed and swept his gaze over the student population once more. The Hufflepuff girls seemed to be afflicted with some strange eye disorder, he noticed, which caused them to blink and giggle incessantly. He wondered why there were so many of them looking at him - they'd been behaving oddly for several days now. It was growing rather irritating, especially since he'd noticed a handful of Ravenclaws and Gryffindors suffering from similar aliments.
The flutter of wings caught his attention and the morning mail arrived in a flurry of owls. Severus' own owl, Paracelcus, dropped his morning paper onto the table in front of him before flying off. Unfolding the Daily Prophet Severus stared down at the picture of his bond mate on the front page. Harry, dressed in the armor of the Winter Lands, was shown once again confronting Cornelius Fudge. Once again the papers were rife with speculation about the state of the Wizarding World and Harry Potter's place in society.
Severus glanced up at Harry. The boy had his arms folded on the table, his head down, face hidden from view. An open paper lay on the table beside him. Ron and Hermione were both talking to him, patting him on the back in comfort - but Harry looked liked the picture of despair. Severus couldn't help the faint smile that touched his lips - the boy should have known better.
A quick glance through the paper showed that Draco and Charlie had indeed made the news, though not the front page. Surprisingly there was no mention at all of the Dragon gold. No doubt Lucius had something to do with that; his money had bought more than one editor at the Daily Prophet. Rather there was a brief interview with both Lucius and Narcissa about their son's engagement to a Weasley. While Lucius sounded impersonal and circumspect in the interview, Narcissa had gushed about how the love affair between Draco and Charlie was like Romeo and Juliet. While the Dragon gold was not mentioned, Narcissa did hint that Draco had gone behind their backs to make this engagement - but that his mother was so overcome with the sheer romanticism of the gesture that his parents had agreed to let it stand. As Severus knew that Narcissa did not have a sentimental or romantic bone in her body, he knew that the Malfoys had spun the story to the best of their ability to minimize any social fallout. Everyone liked a love story after all.
A quick glance at Charlie showed only amusement. The Dragon tamer obviously knew what he'd gotten himself into when he'd chosen a Slytherin. His respect for the Weasley family rose considerably.
Finishing his breakfast, Severus headed down to his office to prepare for his first class. But as he approached the door he noticed a thin, odd-looking man wearing a Ministry badge and carrying a number of very large scrolls. Severus scowled at him, hoping to scare him off before he disrupted his day.
"Excuse me," the man exclaimed. "Are you Severus Snape?"
"Yes," Severus growled. "What do you want?"
"My name is Hickory McFarlen," the man replied. "I'm from the Department of Very Important Persons. I need to speak to you about all your gifts."
The Department of Very Important Persons - Severus had never heard of such a thing. He frowned in irritation. "Gifts?" he demanded.
"Yes, sir," the man nodded quickly, his head bobbing oddly as he spoke. "Headmaster Dumbledore rerouted all your wedding gifts to my office. I've been responsible for going through all of them. I was nearly done, and was going to give you a full accounting." He held up the scrolls he was carrying. "But there was a sudden influx of new gifts - Coronation gifts for your bond-mate, you see."
"Coronation gifts!" Severus exclaimed in disgust. "He's not being formally crowned!" There were days he despaired at the average intelligence of the population of the Wizarding World.
"No, of course not, sir," the little man hurried to agree. "But you see sir, there's a lot of people sending gifts anyway - and a lot of requests coming in that I don't know what to do with."
"What kind of requests?" Severus asked warily.
"Immigration requests," the man explained with a smile. "Seems the Winter Lands have suddenly become a very popular location. I really need to sit down and talk with you about all this."
Part of the task Severus had taken on when he'd married Harry had been to keep this sort of madness out of the boy's life as much as possible to give him a chance to finish his schooling in peace. That unfortunately meant he was left to deal with the insanity.
"Oh, Merlin," Severus sighed under his breath. "Next time Albus asks for a favor, I'm running away from home."