Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Le Danseur	By : Escritora80 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 15205 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction set in the Harry Potter universe – all recognisable characters and settings are the property of J. K. Rowling and her associates. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is made from this work.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
A/N: No matter how hard I try to make this a serious, dramatic story, I feel like it wants to be a comedy. XD So rather than fight it, I've just decided to give in and let the ridiculous moments happen. I've also been tempted to write a Luna-centric fic after starting this story. I love her as a character so much, though I'm taking a lot of liberties with her here. HUGE THANKS to everyone who has read and reviewed this story so far. Health issues kept me from updating for AGES, but I'm finally better and new chapters should be coming more regularly from now on. I'm also contemplating tacking on a glossary at the end of each chapter for the dance terms, so let me know if that's something you think would be helpful/interesting/tolerable.

Chapter Two

"Lucky thirteen," Harry said glumly as he pinned the number into place on the front of his shirt. Hermione and her parents had dropped him off at the north entrance to the Lupin Arts Centre where the dance studios were located and where his audition would take place. The musical auditions were taking place at the opposite end of the enormous building, so he and Hermione wouldn't be able to see each other until after the auditions were over.

Many of the auditioning dancers gathered in the lobby wore black dancewear embroidered with the initials HSMD that classified them as students of the very school Harry wanted so desperately to attend. There were two levels of instruction at Hogwarts: a lower class that started at age 11 that was open to anyone who could pay the fees, and an upper class that started at age 16 that only accepted students by audition. Harry couldn't help but be intimidated by his competitors, many of whom were a year younger than him and had benefited from five years of Hogwarts' schooling.

The Hogwarts students gathered together in little circles, chatting and hugging their hellos, sharing their excitement over an audition that they'd been preparing for since they were eleven. It was easy to tell which dancers weren't Hogwarts-trained: like Harry, they stood alone, backs against the wall, sombre and silent. Only a blonde girl in a rainbow-coloured leotard looked completely comfortable with her surroundings, despite sticking out the most as the sole splash of colour amid a sea of black, white and grey

A trio of dancers near Harry were speculating over the upcoming school year. "I wonder who will be the guest teacher this year. Did they announce it yet?"

"I hope it's not another Weasley. The last one was gorgeous, sure, but all he taught was tap."

"Shhh, Ginny's standing right over there."

"Why isn't she upstairs with the other tappers?"

"She wants ballet, not tap."

"A Weasley who doesn't tap? What next? A Malfoy who break-dances?"

The group giggled at their private joke, and Harry almost stopped eavesdropping until he heard one of the girls whispering a name very familiar to him.

"... the guest teacher is definitely Sirius Black. Pansy heard it from Draco."

"Oooo, I hope it's true!"

"I won't believe it until I see it."

Sirius Black. Harry had read countless articles about the famous choreographer in his magazines. Though a talented dancer, Sirius had chosen a career behind the scenes, choreographing for several prominent ballet companies. Dancers loved to work with him; audiences flocked to see his latest creation. The last article Harry had read on Sirius revealed that he was working with an American ballet company, but that had been a few months ago. The possibility of working with Sirius Black ...

The enormity of what this audition could mean for his future finally hit Harry, knocking the breath right out of him. Fresh air, just need some fresh air, he thought to himself as he walked to the doors and stepped outside. The sky was dark and heavy with clouds, the air thick with the promise of rain. Harry shrugged into his jacket, more out of habit than fear of getting wet, and zipped it up with a nervous jerk of his hand.

What am I doing here? he wondered as he sat on a bench outside the building, hugging his bag against his chest. The old anxieties were hitting him -- how could he possibly compete with the other dancers when most of them had probably been taking regular dance classes since they were old enough to walk? Mrs. Figg had been a superb teacher when it came to the basics of ballet, but Harry wondered if not having a male teacher to guide him would be a strike against him. Was he good enough to work with someone like Sirius Black?

Nature seemed to give him his answer when, after only a soft rumble of thunder as warning, the clouds finally burst open, raindrops falling with a soft patter against Harry's head and shoulders. He dropped his bag to the pavement with a wry laugh and leaned back with eyes closed, letting the cool drops fall on his face, as if the rain could dissolve all those pesky doubts crowding his brain.

"Are you ill?"

Harry sat back up in surprise, wiping the sleeve of his jacket over his face. He fought the urge to rub the water out of his eyes as he blinked up through blurry contacts at the tall, dark shadow that had just spoken.

"If you're not feeling well, I can help you into the building." The voice addressing him was pleasantly low, a smooth, sultry baritone that sent Harry's pulse inexplicably racing. The man moved closer to Harry and held his umbrella over them both.

Harry squinted up at the face peering down at him, able to focus better now that rain wasn't trickling into his eyes. He could make out a pair of dark, piercing eyes set in the pale, thin face of an older man, sharp, angular features, stringy black hair, a hawkish nose ... in all, a face that seemed deeply familiar to him, though it took him a minute to figure out why ...

The man frowned as Harry stared intently at him without speaking. "If you feel I'm intruding on your privacy, I can leave. I only thought --"

"That's it!" Harry pounded his fist on the bench as the answer popped into his head. The man raised a brow, watching him warily, but Harry was happily taking inventory of all the similarities between the man standing in front of him and the poster of Eileen Prince on the wall of his bedroom.

A male version ... he really exists, he thought, awestruck by what he was seeing.

"That's what? Did I miss part of this conversation?" Even when terse with frustration, the man's voice sent shivers up Harry's spine.

"Sorry, sorry," Harry said, eager to ingratiate himself now that he'd made such a rare discovery. "I'm not ill, and you're not intruding on my privacy."

Hearing such a sensible reply after Harry's previous bouts of silence or shouting appeared to reassure the man that he was, in fact, dealing with a sane person. "Are you waiting for someone?"

Yes, and he looks just like you, was Harry's immediate thought, but he shook his head 'no' instead while proceeding to give his companion a good once-over.

"It's raining," the man said, still holding his umbrella over Harry's head as well as his own. His thin lips tightened into a smirk, the only outward sign he gave that he was aware of Harry looking him up and down.

"Yes." Harry stared at him for several more seconds before the man's meaning struck him and he shot up from his seat on the bench. "Yes, it's raining. Which means I'm getting wet. I just ... I wanted to get some fresh air ... before ... when it wasn't raining." He realised he was moving swiftly into 'babble mode' and cleared his throat. "I should probably go back inside."

"That is the recommended course of action in a rainstorm." The man tilted his head, his mouth relaxing into a softer line -- not quite a smile, but close enough to coax a grin from Harry in return. Though they talked of getting out of the rain, neither of them seemed to be in a hurry to start moving. The man leaned in under the umbrella, murmuring something about raindrops hitting the back of his neck, but at the same time he drew back the hand holding his umbrella, forcing Harry to step closer as well or risk getting wet again. Even to someone as unschooled in seduction as Harry, it gave every indication of being a calculated move to shrink that small gap of space between their bodies.

"My name is Harry," he said, the words gushing out of him in one breathy whoosh, unable to restrain his excitement. He felt like he'd just come out of a long run of chaîné turns without spotting, that dizzy but elated feeling of having spun around and around as fast as he could across the dance floor with nothing to focus on to keep him centred, half a step from falling but too giddy to care. He'd never been good at bottling up his emotions, which was wonderful when he was dancing but disastrous on those occasions when a poker face might have served him better. It just wasn't in his nature to hold himself back.

"Harry," the man repeated in that resonant baritone, and Harry worried that just hearing his name on this man's lips was going to have him blushing bright red. "Pleased to meet you. I'm Severus."

Harry laughed, then quickly converted it into a cough. "Severus? That's a little ..."

"... unusual? So I've been told." All traces of softness vanished from Severus's mouth as his lips twisted into a frown.

"No, it suits you somehow," Harry said, warming up to the name. A common name like Matthew or William just wouldn't fit. "Old family name, I suppose?"

Severus nodded, a tad distant now as he answered, "After my grandfather, on my mother's side." He paused and narrowed his eyes, as if waiting for Harry to ask him something else, but Harry's guileless grin and eager expression must have soothed whatever nerve his question had struck in Severus as he suddenly picked up Harry's bag and nodded towards the building. "Shall we?"

"Oh, you don't have to -- " Harry protested the abduction of his bag, but Severus was already walking towards the school, leaving Harry to play catch-up through the rain. He noticed that his new acquaintance walked with a slight limp, favouring his right leg.

"Are you a member of the dance corps here?" Severus asked as they walked. "I don't recall seeing you in any of the recent productions, so you must be quite new. Weren't all rehearsals cancelled so they could hold Hogwarts auditions?"

Harry ducked his head to hide his smile. Severus thought he was a dancer for the Centre? Bet he thinks I'm older than seventeen, too, he thought. Well, why correct him? Who would it hurt?

"I thought there might be an empty room open for practice," he said, cheeks burning, his lie written all over his face, but Severus wasn't looking at him.

"We're taking over all the classrooms on the first two floors, but there might be an open room in the basement."

Harry felt the first stirring of dread in his stomach. "We?"

"Hogwarts School of Music and Dance. I'm Head of Boys in the Ballet department."

Of course he is. With my rotten luck, who else would he be? Harry's mind raced as he nervously toyed with the zipper on his jacket. He was only seconds away from being caught in a lie by the one person he needed to impress. Should he come clean right away?

Severus turned around when he realized Harry was lagging behind. He seemed to mistake the apprehension on Harry's face for something else, a smirk on his lips. "These auditions will take up most of my day, but I'll be remaining in the city for a week or so. Perhaps we could see more of each other?"

For one brief moment, Harry seriously contemplated skipping the audition just so he could accept Severus's invitation, but then he thought of all the hard work he'd put in to get to this point, of Mrs. Figg's faith in him and all her sacrifices, and of his parents, and what they might think of him giving up on Hogwarts for what would probably end up being a short fling. A hot, passionate fling with the man of his dreams ... No! Resist temptation, Harry scolded himself.

"Severus, I ..."

"No need to be shy," Severus murmured, tipping Harry's chin upward, glancing down at Harry's mouth. then back up at his eyes. "Tell me your last name so I know who to ask for when I'm through here."

"Potter," Harry answered obediently. "My last name is Potter."

Severus snatched his hand back from Harry's chin as if he'd been burned. "Harry ... Potter?"

Harry couldn't comprehend that look of horrified surprise on Severus's face, nor could he understand why Severus was suddenly scrutinizing every feature of his face, a reversal of earlier when Harry had studied Severus to compare him to Eileen. Severus's dark eyes narrowed in recognition as he glared into Harry's green ones.

"Damn it, it's true," he heard Severus mutter.

"I didn't realize you were ... so I didn't exactly tell the truth when I ... and then you said we could ..." Words tumbled out of Harry's mouth in a jumble without making much sense, so he unzipped his jacket so Severus could see the number pinned on his chest. "I swear, I didn't know that you were from Hogwarts, and I really wanted to see you again so I ..."

Severus shoved Harry's bag into his arms, then he pointed at the door. "Just get inside. The audition is about to start."

Harry hesitated, but the cold, angry stare Severus directed his way lit a fire under his feet and he hurried inside the building. Most of the dancers had already gone inside the large classroom being used for the audition, so he shed his jacket, changed his shoes, and slipped into the classroom to mingle with the other Hogwarts hopefuls, desperate to put the entire shameful episode behind him. A tall, blond man stood near the front of the room, eyeing the room with what appeared to be icy disdain, though his gaze would soften whenever it fell on one of the more attractive female dancers.

Severus entered the room a few minutes later, closing the door behind him. The blond man raised a single elegant brow as Severus crossed the room towards him.

"Severus? Why are you here? I thought Aurora was coming today."

"Longbottom dropped his tuba on her foot after the orchestra's summer concert. I warned Dumbledore that it was foolish to give that boy any instrument heavier than a triangle, but his hearing is as selective as it's always been."

"Well, so much for female representation among the staff." The blond man clapped his hands to restore order to the room, then introduced himself to the dancers.

"For the unfortunate few among you who are unaware of who I am, my name is Lucius Malfoy, formerly an étoile of the Paris Opera Ballet and a proud alumnus of the very school you are auditioning to attend. You will find that some of your teachers require a certain amount of formality and decorum in the classroom," he looked meaningfully at Severus, "but please, call me Lucius," he said with a flash of white teeth. Harry could practically hear the hearts of the female dancers melting under such a heavy dose of charisma -- and even Harry suffered a twinge or two of attraction to the sophisticated ballet master, though nothing compared to what he'd felt while talking to Severus.

"I am the one who holds your fate in my hands. As Artistic Director of Dance at Hogwarts, I have the final say on whether any student is accepted or not. My standards are high, as we only take the best to be students of the upper class. Even students who were enrolled in the lower class for the full five years must audition, so we don't play favourites..," a cough from Snape interrupted him, and Lucius inclined his head with a sly smile to clarify, "... well, not often."

"My colleague here, Severus Snape, will be conducting your warm-ups and centre work, and he will also be on the panel of judges that will aid me in my decision on who to accept. Our other judge is ... detained ... but I expect him to join us shortly. He will teach you a brief solo routine that you will perform for us as your audition piece. Any questions? No? Good. They're all yours, Severus."

Harry took his place at the barre as they went through warm-ups, relieved to find that he could manage his pliés and relevés despite the chaos of his thoughts. Every exercise came to him automatically, and the familiar moves calmed him, reminding him of why he was there in the first place. He couldn't tell how he stood against the other dancers yet, not on barre exercises alone, but he was pleased to notice that his grands battements, where the dancer throws one leg as high as possible into the air, were much better than those of the dancers around him. Flexibility had always been one of his strengths.

After barre work came centre work. Snape took them through every possible step that might come up in their solo routine, from pirouettes to grand jetés, which were Harry's favourite, though to be fair he loved any ballet step that involved jumping. The sensation of being airborne, even for a second, had always held a special thrill for Harry. His turns were tight and fast, but twice he stumbled out of his pirouettes because he put too much power into them and overstepped his balance. He glanced over at Severus the second time he flubbed the turn and saw that he was watching Harry intently, a disapproving scowl on his lips. After that, Harry looked only at the mirror, determined to concentrate on his dancing and not on the way Severus's jet-black eyes could turn his legs to jelly.

He let out a sigh of relief when they were given a short break. The third teacher had yet to arrive, so Lucius instructed them to get something to drink and take it easy for a few minutes, since the hardest part of the day would be learning and performing the solo routine. Harry got a drink of water from the water fountain outside of the classroom, then went back inside to stretch some more, not wanting to lose focus and let his mind drift to topics that were strictly taboo now, such as the dance-toned physique of his would-be teacher. Lucius and Severus were wandering around the room conversing fluently in French, the words flying by too fast for Harry to even guess at what they were saying.

"They're talking about you."

Harry looked over his shoulder to see the blonde girl in the rainbow-coloured leotard, a blissful, Zen-like expression in her big grey eyes.

"Pardon?"

"Snape and Lucius, the teachers. They're talking about you. Do you want to know what they're saying?"

Harry thought about just turning around and ignoring her, but he really wanted to know what Severus -- no, Snape; it would have to be Snape from now on -- might be saying about him. He nodded, then went back to his relevés, pushing up onto the balls of his feet in demi pointe, stretching his muscles in anticipation of the solo routine they would be learning. He felt the girl move up closer behind him, then she cleared her throat softly before launching into a lively translation, complete with dramatic, if not entirely accurate, voices for each man.

"His strength and speed are amazing," she whispered in a low, honey-sweet imitation of Lucius's voice, oddly choosing to give his English a French accent even though they'd both heard him speaking unaccented English at the start of the audition. "Those jumps! Those turns!"

Harry's spirits were raised only long enough for the girl to switch to Severus's voice, a deep, grumbly growl with enough venom behind it to poison all the praise Lucius had given Harry.

"He fell out of two of those turns. Speed is nothing without control. He lacks discipline."

Harry's confidence sank along with his heels as he lowered out of another relevé, but then his interpreter took advantage of a moment of silence between the two teachers to interject in her own voice, "That's what he says, but he can't keep his eyes off of you when you're dancing. He doesn't even seem interested in any of the other dancers."

Harry rose up in relevé again. Was Snape paying so much attention to Harry because of his dancing? Or was he just keeping an eye on him after Harry's awkward lie?

"Oh, wait, they're talking again." The girl laughed softly at something Lucius said, then translated, "Who better to discipline him than you, Severus? Or are you afraid you'll like it too much?" She chuckled, switching back to her normal voice. "See? Ooo, he must fancy you, then. Can't say I blame him. You've got the cutest arse ..."

Harry's hands flew to his backside as he whipped around to glare at the girl. The last thing he wanted was some strange girl, no matter how helpfully well-versed in French, ogling him from behind.

"No need to panic," she said, gesturing for him to turn back around as they were starting to draw attention from the rest of the room, including Snape and Lucius. She waited until he'd gone back to stretching before adding, "I can tell my arse wouldn't do a thing for you, so I won't be tempting you with it any time soon."

Harry grinned and shook his head. This girl was something else, alright. Bilingual and intuitive ... and with a hint of crazy, but he could overlook that. He waited a few minutes before whispering over his shoulder, "Is that it? Have they stopped talking about me?"

"Oh! I completely forgot." A short pause ensued, during which Harry could hear only a few snatches of rapid French from the two teachers. "Hmm, something about you dancing like ... like a lyrical lily? No, that can't be right ... lilies aren't lyrical at all. They're rather stationary, in fact ... unless you count tiger lilies, which I never do, of course."

"Of course," Harry muttered with a roll of his eyes. Hearing the word 'lily' immediately brought thoughts of his mother to mind, but why would Lucius be talking to Snape about his mother? He recalled the recognition in Snape's dark eyes when he'd stared into Harry's green ones, and the way he'd flinched when he heard Harry's last name. Could there really be a connection there?

Another pause before his companion continued, "I didn't quite catch that last part ... accident? Something about an accident. Master Snape doesn't want to talk about it, apparently. Ah well, now they've moved on to that red-headed girl ... they don't like her turn-out at all ... terrible! Terrible!" she mimicked in Lucius's husky accent, and Harry dropped out of relevé, his heels hitting the floor with a thump, his head bowed against his chest as he fought back the laugh bubbling up in his throat.

"Is there something wrong, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked him coldly from across the room.

"No, sir," Harry answered in a voice choked with laughter. He waited until those piercing eyes were no longer boring holes into his skull before turning to face the girl. "My name's Harry, by the way."

"Really? You look more like a Geoffrey to me," the girl said in a perfectly serious voice, but she smiled gently when giving him her own name, "I'm Luna. Luna Lovegood."

Their conversation was cut short when a tall, thin man, dark-haired and good-looking, strode into the room as if he owned it, shaking his wet umbrella at Snape as he passed him. "Sorry I'm late, boys. Ran into Minerva out in the hallway and she wanted to hear all about my exploits in America. I had a hard time convincing her to let me go."

"I highly doubt it," Snape said, brushing at the raindrops on his sleeve with disdain "I think it's far more likely that you cornered her and forced her to listen to you brag on and on about yourself, Black."

"Save the bickering for later," Lucius scolded them, then he clapped his hands and beckoned all the dancers into the centre of the room. "Everyone, I'd like you to meet Sirius Black, our guest teacher at Hogwarts this year. He has worked with several foreign dance companies, and even did some choreography for the famous Cirque du Soleil. He will be teaching contemporary ballet as well as modern dance during his time at Hogwarts, and today he will be choreographing the solo routine for your audition. Please give him your full attention."

Harry perked up. So the whispered rumours were true. Sirius Black himself was going to be teaching at Hogwarts. The added incentive of being taught by one of his idols cemented Harry's determination to ace his audition. He would never forgive himself if he let this opportunity slip by without a fight.

"I'll try not to make it too difficult for you," Sirius was saying as he rolled his shoulders, limbering up as he threaded his way through the dancers to the front of the room. When he walked by Luna, he seemed to recognise her, barking out a laugh and swinging her up in his arms for a bear hug. "Well, if it isn't my favourite contortionist!"

"I'm a ballerina," Luna corrected him with a serene smile, dangling in his embrace like a child's doll being cuddled by her owner. "Mum was the contortionist."

"There's no shame in being a woman of many talents, Luna." Sirius winked at her as he set her back on her feet.

He happened to glance over her shoulder at Harry, and the smile vanished from his face. That same haunted expression that Snape had worn upon hearing Harry's last name was now plastered across Sirius's face. Harry swallowed and took a step back. What was so terrible about him that it evoked such a strong response in people he didn't even know?

"We don't have all day, Black," Snape snapped from his seat at the back of the room.

Sirius shook himself and moved to the front of the room, all business as he addressed the dancers. "This will be a simple routine, nothing fancy. I'll go through it nice and slow the first time, then we'll speed it up and try it with the music."

Harry pushed his confusion aside and concentrated on Sirius's movements. He'd always had a knack for picking up steps as soon as he'd seen them; memorizing this routine would be a snap for him. The only part he'd have to worry about was the series of pirouettes at the end -- after falling out of those two turns earlier, he had to be careful not to mess up again.

After they practised the routine a few times with the music, all the dancers were sent back out into the hallway where they would wait for their number to be called. Harry only had twelve dancers between him and the most important audition of his life. The wait was torture.

He turned to an unruffled Luna as she calmly stretched her arms over her head. He was curious to know how she and the guest teacher had grown to be so chummy. "How do you know Sirius Black?"

"My family is full of acrobats and contortionists and even a few trapeze artists. I suppose you could call it our 'family business.' We were always on the move, travelling from one show to another, one country to the next. I first met Sirius when my mum and I were performing with Cirque du Soleil, and he became like an uncle to me. He even encouraged me to go to Hogwarts since he knew I wanted to be a dancer, but then Mum died and Dad was a wreck, so I decided to wait until I was old enough to audition for the upper class." She leaned in, lowering her voice to a whisper. "He's a horrible flirt and you look like his type, so watch yourself around him. He's always been the squishiest sort of teddy bear to me, but with your big green eyes and tight little arse, he's sure to be more like a dog in heat around you."

Harry smiled weakly. Luna had a sweet, innocent beauty to her, rendering her almost childlike at times, but then she went and talked about Harry's arse, which apparently was both cute and tight, and turned his impression of her on its head. He had the distinct feeling that of the two of them, Luna was the more experienced, worldly one. Why else would she get all motherly on him and warn him about Sirius?

"Do you think they'll make us wear those matching black leotards?" she asked, gesturing at the close-knit group of Hogwarts students standing a few feet away. "I'd feel just like a little black rain-cloud in one of those. Do you have any idea what that would do to my aura?"

Harry confessed that he had no clue what affect, if any, monochrome dancewear would have on Luna's aura.

"I suppose if my knickers were colourful, it would balance it all out ... but who likes to wear knickers underneath their tights and leotard? It's so constricting ..."

Harry couldn't come up with a single name from the pro-knickers crowd, too busy biting back his laughter.

"This must be what they call 'sacrificing for your art,'" she said wistfully. She indulged in a few seconds of knickers-induced sorrow before pulling Harry down with her to sit on the floor, patting his knee as she happily instructed him, "Now, tell me all about your life and don't skimp on the sexy bits."

"If sexy is what you're after, you're asking the wrong guy," Harry warned her, but then he launched into a watered-down version of his life with the Dursleys, his friendship with Hermione and their vow to get into Hogwarts, his tutelage under Mrs. Figg, and all the things he loved about dancing. Luna responded with a few stories of her own, describing all the countries she'd visited and the thrill of performing for audiences all over the world.

"It sounds amazing," Harry said, resting his head back against the wall with a sigh.

"There's nothing like it," Luna agreed.

"Number 13!"

Harry shot to his feet. It was his turn already? Talking to Luna had distracted him so well that he hadn't even noticed the other twelve dancers shuffle in and out of the classroom. Luna reached up and squeezed his hand.

"Don't worry, you'll be brilliant," she told him with a knowing smile.

Harry grinned. Like her smile, Luna's unshakeable confidence was contagious. He took a deep breath, then walked into the classroom, determined to prove that he deserved to attend the school he'd been dreaming about since he was six years old.
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Le Danseur