Summary: Draco's got a new student at his Dance Academy. Harry is a great dancer but his rebellious attitude is a problem. When Draco's strict methods don't work on the troubled boy, he sets out to teach Harry a lesson. DM/HP. By Diuchi & Little-Hufflepuff.
Live. Love. Dance
-Chapter ONE: The Academy-
Draco sighed for the umpteenth time that evening. His hands rested around his half-full cup of tea. He had drunk so much of it he felt it would start coming out of his pores at any moment. He was in his office, a small, dimly lit room at the back of his Dance Academy. He had just spent the last two hours of his day attempting to get his group of dancers to learn the basic steps of a new contemporary number they would be performing.
His students weren't picking up the dance as quickly as he had hoped they would.
Staring into his cooling cup of tea Draco brushed back his blond hair. At twenty-one he had accomplished many things. Owning his own Dance Academy and directing performances were just two undertakings under his belt. When a soft knock came to his office door the man looked up. The students should have all left by now.
"Come in," he called out, returning his attention back to his beverage. If it hadn't been for the pungent smell of smoke Draco would have continued keeping his head bowed. Curiously he lifted his head. Before him stood a young man, in his adolescent years. His hair was unruly and pitch-black and his large, bright green eyes stared at Draco.
Neither of them spoke for an awkward minute, Draco was too astounded by the boy's shear stubbornness; he was holding a lit cigarette between his fingers. Finally the boy cleared his throat, licking his full lips slowly while he thought over his coming words.
"I was told to come see you," he stated, lifting the cigarette to his lips the boy took a long drag before continuing, "I'm Harry Potter, your friend Blaise said I should come see you." He said, blowing out a cloud of smoke as he did so. Draco pursed his lips.
"Did he now," he commented dryly. Blaise was in charge of finding any new dancers who were talented enough to join Draco's Academy. It wasn't often that a new dancer was found, a strict system was in place to rule out any mediocre students. Was Blaise having him on with such a kid? "Why did he send you?" Draco questioned, his grey eyes following the boy's every move as Harry pulled out a chair from the desk and sat down, slumping in his seat.
Dragging on the cigarette once again Harry grinned a lopsided smile, "he said I was good enough to join your academy. Thinks I've got the talent to keep up with your strict curriculum."
"Where'd you meet him?" asked Draco, scowling openly at the cigarette. Harry paid no mind and bounced his knee up and down.
Flicking ash from the burning cigarette he shrugged, "he came to my school; he was doing a presentation on the positive health effect of dancing for my gym class. It was one of the days I decided to show up," Harry gave Draco a wry smirk, "he saw me dance, got all excited and told me to call him if I wanted to learn more about dancing. I did and the rest is history."
Harry crossed his ankles, stopping his inane leg bouncing. Draco rested his chin in his palm, studying the boy before him closely. Harry's body was slim and small, with lithe muscles. The boy was telling the truth about being a dancer, and Draco had no reason to doubt Blaise had told him to visit. He had known about Blaises' little school trip, the man had been irksomely chipper about it. Harry shifted in his seat.
"So?" he breathed out when Draco just balked at him, "what do I have to do to get in?" he asked. Draco sat up straight and took a deep breath in through his nose. He wasn't certain Harry would be a good addition to his class. He needed more dancers that was for sure. But the boy had broken half of the rules in place just in his first meeting with Draco.
He smoked – which none of Draco's dancers were allowed to do. It only made them breath heavy and become sluggish when dancing.
He was cocky – something that would inevitably cause Draco a hard time. And the other dancers wouldn't take kindly to a new student who was overconfident.
Not sure what to say Draco smoothed his fringe back, "what can you do? Genres of dance that you have trained in?" Harry nibbled his lower lip for a moment, his bright eyes studying the trophy case behind Draco.
"I haven't trained in any genres of dance," Draco frowned and made to speak up, Harry cut him off however, "I am self taught. I can dance contemporary and I can do some B-boy tricks. Any anyway, I thought a Dance Academy was a place where people learnt to dance." Draco had to concede Harry was right in that respect.
"It is. However, I'm not sure you're the type of dancer I'm looking for." Harry flicked his cigarette butt onto Draco's shiny desk top, much to the man vexation. When the kid got to his feet Draco noticed the elegance in his movements. Harry was attractive, in the bad-boy-rule-breaker kind of way.
"Fine, I only decided to come just in case I got something to busy myself with. I get bored easily."
Draco bit the inside of his cheek. "Harry," he called just as the boy had reached the door of his office. Green eyes looked questionably at him. "How old are you?" Draco inquired. Harry gave him a puzzled look before he answered.
"Eighteen,"
It was the minimum age for dancers to apply to Draco's Academy. Silently struggling with the want to see Harry in action and the desire not to take on anyone that would cause trouble Draco scowled. Harry had a good body, it was strong but delicate. Draco needed a male dancer who was both those things. Deciding to throw all caution to the wind he looked directly at Harry, who still stood by the door.
"I'll give you a trial run," Harry's brows flicked into his hairline, "you can come to the Academy on Monday," today was currently Friday, "and I will give you a list of dances to perform. I will judge you on these and make a decision on whether I will keep you or not. Understood?"
Harry nodded slowly; "sure," he said nonchalantly, Draco looked pointedly at the small cigarette on his desk then back at Harry.
"You want to pick that up?" he said sternly. Harry smirked at him and flashed a grin.
"No, not really." He replied and left the office quickly. Draco sighed and groaned simultaneously and tipped his head back. What had he gotten himself into?
-DMHP-
Harry was sitting on a bench in a park not far from the Dance Academy. He did not feel like going home. He knew what would be waiting for him when he returned. He had spent his time out instead of making the dinner he should have been doing and Vernon would sure as hell not be happy about it. When Blaise had come to his school and told him about the Dance Academy, he knew it would be his only hope for a life away from Privet Drive number four. He leaned back with a sigh and looked at the night sky.
What would he do if Malfoy didn't deem him good enough for his academy?
He did not want to think about that. He would do the dances Malfoy gave him and he would do them brilliantly. Harry got up and stretched. It was probably time to head home and face the wrath of Vernon.
He walked through the park and even though he didn't want to think about Monday's test, he could not help but think of how he was going to pass Malfoy's test. He wouldn't have much time for practice nor would it be an easy task to practice when he didn't know what Malfoy would pick. Harry wrapped his leather jacket better around him letting it shield him from the cold wind, as he stood waiting for the traffic light to change.
When the traffic light changed to green Harry crossed the road. He didn't want to hurry back, but the cold was biting now and he did not fancy getting sick either, so he quickened his pace and tried to burry himself deeper in his jacket.
He went down a crowded street and went between the people trying not to run into any of them. Sometimes his shoulder would hit someone and sometimes the person who had been hit would say something or shout insults at him. Not that he cared. It wasn't his fault that they weren't watching where they were going.
When he arrived at Privet Drive he stopped at the street sign. He found his pack of cigarettes in one of his pockets and lit it. He leaned against the street sign and took a long drag of the cigarette before blowing it out in smoke rings. As soon as he had taken the first drag, he could feel the nicotine calm his nerves. Of course it didn't make anything better, but it helped him feel like he could control his emotions.
He took another long drag before looking around the street. He couldn't stand how perfect it was. The hedges didn't have a branch out of order and the grass was greener than any other street. The houses were white and looked newly painted – which they probably were anyway.
"It may all seem so fucking perfect on the outside, but on the inside it's all fucked up," he said to himself, blowing out smoke with every word he said. He pushed away from the street sign and started walking towards Privet Drive number four.
As he stood in front of the door to number four Privet Drive he took one last drag of his cigarette before throwing it away. He looked at the kitchen window and saw his aunt moving around in the kitchen. He blew out the smoke before opening the door.
He stepped into the house and hung his jacket on the rack on the wall. He didn't know whether he should go up to his room or if he should let Petunia and Vernon know that he was home. Not that they would care. But just as Harry had hung his jacket on the rack he heard a voice thundering through the house.
"Where have you been, boy?" the voice said.
Harry knew that voice well. He had to after eighteen years with it yelling at him. He sighed. What was he going to say to Vernon? Nothing. No matter what he said, it would result in at least a slap across the face. "Nowhere," he murmured when Vernon came out of the living room.
"Nowhere you say? Do not lie to me, boy! You've probably been out seeing that junkie you call a boyfriend," Vernon sneered taking a step towards Harry. His face was getting redder and redder with every step towards Harry. Harry was starting to feel the fear creep into his body. He tried to stay strong every time. He tried not to run, but he couldn't stop the instincts.
Harry could not deny that he was scared of Vernon Dursley.
He took a few steps back until his back hit a wall. He looked to the right and then to the left. If he was quick he could make it up the stairs, but probably not to his room. The door out was out of question. Vernon would get him before he had the door open. What could he do? He could not afford to be injured when he had to practice for Malfoy's test on Monday, but he could not get away either.
Vernon was now so close that Harry could feel his breath on his face. He closed his eyes tightly, when he felt Vernon's hands on his throat. "I won't have a freaky faggot in this house," he hissed while his hands tightened around Harry's throat. Harry was hoping someone would burst through the door and save him, but as any other time Harry was left for himself.
"You'll stop your freaky ways and do your chores!" Vernon yelled. The hands were so tight around Harry's throat that he thought Vernon might choke him. He had trouble breathing and he could see black spots. If Vernon didn't stop soon Harry probably wouldn't breath anymore.
"Vernon!" yelled a feminine voice. Vernon glared at Harry but let go of him and went into the living room again. Harry slid down the wall while gasping for air.
After sitting on the floor for a while Harry could finally breathe normally. He stood up on wobbly legs. Even though he could now breathe his body had not overcome the lack of oxygen. He held out his arm and supported his weight on the wall while walking up to his room.
-DMHP-
When he had finally managed to crawl up the stairs and had entered his room he went to his mirror. He could already see bruises on his throat and he knew he would have to cover them up in some way when he went to school. If he was lucky they would be gone in time for his dance test. If not he would have to make sure they were thoroughly covered.
Harry lay down on his bed and stared at the ceiling. He thought about what had happened today. This guy, Blaise, had come to his school to talk about the positive health effect of dancing. He had seen Harry dance, and had told him that he should try out for this Dance Academy his friend had. Harry didn't really know if he wanted to but after thinking about it all day he had decided to try. He needed a way out of this hell hole and the worst thing that could happen was that he didn't make it. What he hadn't expected though was Blaise's friend. He'd expected an older man, but had found a man who couldn't possibly be older than twenty-one. The man had been a gorgeous blond Adonis. Harry had never seen a man like Malfoy! But he knew he wouldn't have a chance. First of all he was a boy, and Harry didn't even know if Malfoy was gay. Second of all Harry had a boyfriend! A boyfriend who would be mad and leave – again – if he knew Harry thought of his teacher as 'hot'.
Harry's thoughts drifted to his boyfriend, Victor. Vernon and Petunia hated the fact that he was dating another guy. They were afraid that he would infect their little Duddy-kins, but this only made him want to see Victor even more. Victor was a quite handsome boy. He was tall and thin but still muscular. He had dark brown hair and eyes that were so dark they almost seemed black. The only "ugly" thing about him was his hawk like nose. Harry wasn't sure if he was in love with Victor. He'd never been in love before, but he knew he was attracted to the man. Victor was older than Harry by four years and was of course more experienced than him.
Harry was ripped from his thoughts when he heard someone coming up the stairs. He sat up and looked at his door. It could be Vernon who wanted to make up for his interrupted murder attempt. He kept looking at the door, but the footsteps kept going further down the hall. He let out a breath he didn't realise he had been holding. He lay down again and it was not long after that sleep overtook him.
When he woke up it was to the sound of someone banging on the door to his room. He sat up and adjusted his glasses, which he had forgotten to take off before falling asleep.
"Get up, boy! My Duddy-kins wants his breakfast," said the person banging on the door. Harry sighed. Aunt Petunia always woke him up this way. He sometimes wondered what Vernon and Petunia did before he was old enough to do everything for them.
He got up and went down to the kitchen. He started to make bacon and eggs with toast for his aunt, uncle and cousin. If he was lucky he would get some of the leftovers if not then he would just have to wait. He just hoped Vernon was in a better mood today so he could avoid getting beaten today. He was so lost in thought that he really didn't see that he was burning the bacon. When he realised what was happening it was all too late and he soon found out that Vernon really wasn't in a good mood today either.
"What are you doing, boy? Burning our food on purpose?" he yelled at Harry.
Harry sighed and turned around. "No, uncle," he murmured and gazed at the floor. He jumped when he felt Vernon grip him by the shoulders. He shoved him into the counter and glared at him.
"Stupid boy! You can't do anything right, can you? I'll teach you to never burn our food again!" he yelled and the dragged Harry away from the kitchen. He dragged him out into the entry and up the stairs and into Harry's room. He closed the door and backed Harry into the door. Harry was trembling and had his eyes closed. He was afraid of what his uncle would do to him. His body was tense even though he tried to relax. He screamed when the first blow hit him in the stomach, and then the next and the next. He clutched his stomach and curled up in a ball on the floor. He could not see it but he could feel Vernon's glare. Harry knew Vernon wouldn't stop anytime soon he would be lucky if he stopped before he passed out.
But Harry wasn't lucky. Vernon kept punching and kicking him until he passed out. And it wouldn't surprise Harry if he had continued after that too, but the only thing he was sure of was the pain before it all turned black.