Transition

He laughed gaily, pleased that Nightingale was enjoying herself. Her cheeks were flushed, making her look more radiant. It was nearing the end of the jig, and Harry Potter felt a little disappointed that he had to let her go. Although the girl was clumsy – she stepped on his toes twice – her cheerful nature more than made up for it.

A loud cheer erupted once the music died and the ghostly band bowed gallantly to the audience and dancers.

"I can't believe that I'm enjoying myself so much!" Nightingale exclaimed, a little breathlessly.

"It's because you're in the right crowd, lovely one," Harry said gently as they walked towards Flora, who was chatting with someone dressed up like a knight. "And this Halloween Ball is livelier than the Yule Ball was, three years ago."

"Aha! So you must be one of the fifth years or older!" Flora interjected as soon as she heard it. She pressed a cup of pumpkin juice into his hand and she asked if he wanted one of the spring rolls. He nodded gratefully and took one. "Anyway, me and Sir Knight are going for a waltz," she informed them and giggling, she dragged the armored boy away.

"How on earth are they going to dance?" Nightingale blurted. "What if he falls on top of her?" Her incredulity lessened when they saw that ‘Sir Knight' was dancing quite well in garments supposedly of the weight of a huge chair.

A brownish blur caught Harry's eye; someone dressed as courtier was approaching them. It was a wizard, and he looked nervous. Harry saw him opening his mouth, but then the courtier lost his nerve and backed away.

"Uhm … Nightingale?" The maiden looked up at him inquisitively. "That courtier over there wishes to dance with you, I think."

"It's Neville!" she said. "Why didn't he just ask?" She haphazardly placed her cup in his hand, gathered her skirt and chased after the courtier Neville. That left Harry standing by the drinks counter with the girl's leftovers – feeling very much like an abandoned servant. He chuckled to himself and dropped the unwanted drink into the trash bag not too far away.

Since he was free at the moment, he decided he should seek a dance partner of his own. There were four venues of celebration; the Great Hall, the courtyard, a big unused classroom situated in the Ravenclaw Tower, and the dungeons. He was unsure what the theme of dancing was for the dungeons; he knew that ‘line-dancing' was taking over the courtyard and ‘disco' over at the Ravenclaw Tower. He was not going to the latter; he wasn't too fond of electrical music.

He saw Remus parting with a curious wizard with rather chaotically dyed hair, and quickly walked over to snatch the professor before any of the female students could carry him off.

"May I dance with you, sir?" he asked, carefully saying the words in a deeper voice.

The werewolf chuckled and his golden eyes twinkled merrily. "Starkmind dressed you up, didn't he," he stated. "You look good."

"Are you smelling me, Remus?" Harry sighed in disappointment; he thought he would be able to keep his identity a secret from the bronze-eyed wizard.

"One recognizes one's kind, I suppose," the werewolf replied as they blended into the waltzing crowd. "Aren't you going to ask Ginny and Hermione to dance with you?" the latter asked abruptly.

"Hell no!" Harry snorted. "I'm not willing to take chances with Ron. He's got a temper worthy of his hair if he gets the idea to be jealous!"

"Oh, why don't you ask Ron for a dance then?" Remus suggested mildly.

"Remus." Harry pouted and the werewolf stopped his teasing and concentrated on the music. "Who is that guy?"

"I don't know," Remus answered with a smile. "Why don't you find out?"

"Liar," Harry muttered and the werewolf grinned roguishly.

The emerald-eyed wizard was enjoying the feel of Remus hands on him when the tune suddenly changed from a slow waltz to a fox-trot. "Hey!" Harry protested, when someone who looked like Madam Hooch stole his dance partner. Before he could look rejected, someone took one of his arms and pulled him into the dancing crowd.

It turned out to be the pirate.

"Bloody hell," the pirate muttered under his breath. "Just my luck to get a guy."

"You could have moved into the sidelines and not taken me under your hand," Harry pointed out mildly. Ron cursed again and Harry was glad that his red-haired friend did not recognize his voice.

"It's less troublesome," Ron said after a moment. As the tempo quickened he elaborated, "I don't have to wade through the crowd again to get at the girls." Then they switched partners.

Harry nearly blew his disguise right then because Ron's new dancing partner was none other than the diminutive Professor Flitwick. Harry got his Astronomy teacher, who seemed rather delighted to be dancing with a ‘Veela'. Harry lost track of the people he danced with, but did remember that he danced with Goyle.

The music reverted to the slow, romantic waltz, and Harry found himself in the capable hands of the strange wizard. He met the eyes that belonged to the latter for just a second before demurely looking down. He was beginning to feel queasy and wondered if he could manufacture an illness to get away from the wizard, before the stranger recognized him.

I'm going to drag Remus away and make him perform a tap-dance, he swore silently in the depths of his mind. No – maybe a pole-dance. The soothing warmth of the wizard's hands as well as the man's solid and comforting presence quelled his sense of panic. The stranger projected an aura of power and was graceful in his moves, smooth and liquid-like. Harry suddenly realized that he was dancing with the most-hated professor of the school, and the contradiction was too great for the comforts of the emerald-eyed teenager.

"Why are you so tense?" his partner inquired softly.

Harry started briefly and his reflex was to look up at the man. How can I not be? It was a mistake – he couldn't tear his gaze away from the obsidian-colored eyes. The grip on his waist tightened – Snape had recognized him.

He wondered if the wizard was going to push him away, or should he take the chance and bolt? Snape's fingers tightened even more, dashing Harry's hopes to escape. His own movements felt jerky and the Gryffindor attempted to relax, but had to work through his nervousness. When the Potions Master felt the slight decrease of rigidity from him, the professor relented by taking a bit of the pressure off Harry's waist and fingers.

"Potter," Snape murmured in acknowledgment. "You need not fear my sharp, mobile tongue tonight," the wizard told him in a quiet voice.

Harry let out a nervous chuckle. "Why? Are you in a good mood?"

"I am not complaining." Snape smiled.

"Even if you did lose to Draco Malfoy?" Harry ventured mildly.

"Even if I did lose to the devilish brat," Snape agreed. "But," the wizard's voice took a more malicious tone, "I am, far more impressive, tonight."

Harry turned cold when Snape moved closer to him and now he got the chance to feel the warmth coming from every other part of the wizard. Snape seemed oblivious to Harry's newfound edginess.

"Tell me why you think you're far more impressive. I haven't met Draco this evening, even in disguise," Harry said softly.

"Have you been to the dungeons … Mister Bluestone?" Snape asked and Harry looked up at him, wondering why the dungeons were relevant to what he had asked.

"No," he answered.

"Scared, Potter?" Snape imitated the silver-haired Draco.

"You wish, Elegant One," Harry snorted. "I take it that no one except Remus knows who you are?"

"Yes." Then, "The werewolf knows?" Harry could almost feel the scowl coming from the man.

"Remus has a keen sense of smell," he reminded the Potions Master. His dancing partner nodded grudgingly and concluded their dance with a grandiose bow. The Gryffindor returned it but added a kiss to Snape's hand. Black eyes looked questioningly at him. "Just keeping true to the male Veela custom," he explained.

Harry looked around; it appeared the ghostly band was taking a rest, so there would be no dances in the meantime. He was wondering if he should seek out Nightingale and get her to dance with him again when Snape voiced out a request.

"Are you capable of more fancy footwork?" the Potions Master asked. Harry gave him a sidelong glance and it prompted Snape to elaborate. "Do you know how to tango?"

"Tango?" Harry repeated, somewhat incredulously. He can tango? Snape's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Yes. Yes, I know how."

"Good," Snape purred. They exited the Great Hall for the small staircase leading to the dungeons. If the older wizard knew that Harry felt slightly uncomfortable at being in the Slytherins' territory, he didn't show it. Harry knew the dungeons quite well, and he was certain he could get back to the ground level if things turned out nasty for him.

Several couples had already taken the floor, and Snape motioned Harry to stay close to the walls and observe. Harry did and saw that most females in the large grey room were staring at him. One tried to approach him but Snape casually drew him closer and positioned him so that he was resting on the Potions Master's chest. The Gryffindor was not sure what to think about the wizard's possessiveness, but his position was oddly comfortable.

He looked around and saw that there was another entrance to this room. The dungeons are a maze. I wonder if they are all connected, Harry mused. "What's in that room? It's all aglow."

Snape cradled him and Harry played along by resting one of his hands on the Potions Master's. "Some of my students got the idea of producing candles. They have a wide variety. You have to pay for them, of course." If the wizard sounded proud, Harry didn't blame him. He gathered that the candles were going to be used as a sign of respect to the dead or something of the sort.

"You can buy one and go down to the lake. Or you can place them by the window of your dormitory," Snape continued amiably. "Come; let's dance."

For the first few steps, Harry told himself to that he was not dancing with Professor Snape. After a while, the music absorbed him and he poured himself into it, to the dance and his partner. His senses sharpened and he saw the look of glee in Snape's eyes as Harry was twirled around.

He could see only Snape, and marveled at the man's skills as a dancer that left him breathless. He was shaking slightly as the music faded and Snape bent over him. Then the Potions Master kissed him before allowing Harry to get back on his feet. There was a round of applause as he stood, looking at Snape's masked face and feeling very dazzled.

"Thank you, Bluestone," Snape whispered, with another soft brush of his lips on Harry's own. Then he left, making Harry even more bewildered.

Stiffly, he moved into a discrete corner and attempted to shake off the peculiar feelings that the Potions Master had given him. Finally, when he managed to get his tremors under control, he decided to venture to the room where students were selling candles. Gazes of many followed him as he crossed the threshold, and he tried as hard as he could to ignore the prickles on his neck and the small of his back.

There were rows and rows of candles on display; some were the normal white candles that could be found in grocery stores, some were scented and colored, and some were carved beautifully. He was drawn to a translucent cerulean candle that smelled of orange when he felt a light touch on his elbow. He swiveled around to find an amused-looking wizard in blue-grey robes staring at him.

"You dance remarkably well," the wizard told him. Light gold hair fell over the wizard's mask and he casually tucked it behind his ear. "I wanted to ask the person dancing with you, but he was gone before I could cross over to the dance floor. Will you dance with me?"

Harry examined the wizard closely and smiled. No wonder Snape thinks he is impressive. Draco isn't too noticeable in the crowd. I wonder if he has danced with anyone at all. He nodded, and both of them went back to the main room to wait.

"What are you?" Draco asked, his grey eyes exuding curiosity.

He doesn't know? Harry felt amazed. And there were rumors that he has a bit of the Veela blood in him! "I'm a male Veela, I think," he answered slowly.

"Oh? I didn't know you were creative enough to dress up like one," the blonde-haired Slytherin remarked, glancing at him slyly.

This is so unfair. How can he identify me? "And I didn't expect you to be so self-effacing tonight," Harry bantered. "Do you want to take the lead, or shall I?"

"You want to lead me?" Draco eyed him gravely. "Well, why not. Shall we?"

Harry couldn't help himself; he grinned widely and saw the silver-eyed Slytherin roll his eyes sarcastically. I think I'm going to enjoy this…. He was not wrong. Draco was cooperative, although it looked a little weird that the shorter of the two was leading the dance.

"Who is dancing with Draco?" Harry heard someone ask, but he didn't hear the response, so overtaken by the shock he felt at the contact and the fact that his tutor had released his dominant control over to him.

Heat spread throughout his body; his toes and fingers tingled peculiarly. He watched Draco through half-lidded eyes, feeling the fair wizard's heartbeat and the way his partner's mouth was slightly opened. A distant part of him saw and felt everything clearly; the way Draco held him, the movements of their feet, the slight brush of Draco's robes on his legs. Harry thought it was perfect.

Silver eyes were wide with fiery passion as Draco lost himself in the music and Harry couldn't help but feel pleased at seeing the other wizard enjoying the freedom that all of them had thought was impossible. When the music came to a stop, Harry followed his instincts and desires and kissed the wizard, as Snape had done to him earlier.

"How many other wicked talents do you still have, Draco Malfoy?" Harry asked without mockery.

"Plenty, Veela," the Slytherin answered, panting slightly. That was odd – Draco seemed to have trouble focusing at him.

"Are you all right?" Harry inquired, pulling Draco closer to the wall. The Slytherin leaned on the cold, grey wall gratefully.

"Yes … I'm fine." Draco gulped and straightened. He blinked several times and turned a penetrating gaze on Harry.

The raven-haired Gryffindor found it difficult to breathe for a moment. Something's changed, he said to himself slowly. He forced himself to look into the pair of steely-silver eyes. If the eyes of a man could be the windows to their soul….