A/N: This was written as an entry for a fanfic contest for pharaohsthrone on tumblr. The prompt was either a song, picture, quotation or poem, and I picked Katie Melua's song "When You Taught Me How to Dance" which is also featured in the film Miss Potter. I've included the lines from the song which mostly inspired this fic.
As to why it inspired me, I really can't say. In my puzzleshipping story I wrote Mahaad as a musician (pianist) and I guess it snowballed from there; the thought of him composing a piece for Mana and the both of them dancing to it was really appealing to an apprenticeshipper like myself. And here we are. Hope you enjoy =)
Word count: 3,597
-Cast Your Spell-
Someone must have taught you well
To beguile and to entrance
For that night you cast your spell
And you taught me how to dance
Every step and silent glance
Every move a sweet surprise
It had been building for a long time, slowly, gradually, and yet very present somehow, as if it had always been there, just like him, always the constant factor, and really, she shouldn't have been surprised the day she finally figured it all out.
Or maybe 'acknowledge' was the better word. The day she finally admitted what now seemed inevitable.
Looking back, it seemed logical, natural, that she reach that destination. There was no other option it seemed, and she didn't really want it any other way.
It had always been him and it would always be him. He had been there when she came into the world, and it seemed only fitting that he would be there for the rest of the journey as well. And there was no doubt that he would be.
The only doubts that she had now, was his role in it. She thought she'd been satisfied with what she'd been given, content to simply revel in his presence, but it seemed she was greedy.
She wanted more. A different kind of more.
And that day had marked the turning point.
A week into July, her sixteenth birthday rounding the corner so fast that she could practically hear it, and she and her mother not seeing eye to eye, like always.
"Mana, honestly, no need to be such a drama queen."
She gritted her teeth. "I'm not being a drama queen."
Her mother examined her nails, pushing at already perfectly formed cuticles with a nail file. "I don't know why you're so against the idea. It would be a wonderful way to celebrate your coming of age."
Coming of age. Mana fought the urge to scoff. Honestly, why couldn't she just say "turning sixteen" like everyone else?
"All of your friends and family would be there," her mom continued, taking advantage of Mana's non-reaction. "Don't you want to celebrate your special day with the people you love?"
"Yes, but the people I love don't actually consist of my entire. High school. Class. Ok?" She blew out her cheeks, her eyes bulging.
"Don't do that."
Mana bulged her eyes some more.
"It makes you look even younger than you already do."
Mana stopped bulging her eyes and frowned instead.
"Yes, much more mature," her mother said in a dry tone, slipping the nail file back into her purse. She stood up, slipping the strap over her shoulder. "Could you at least think about it? And I want you to stop your pouting and prepare those vegetables." She gestured at the table, before clicking out of the kitchen in her high heels, Mana following at a disgruntled pace. "Mahaad's coming for dinner and I could use some help."
The annoyance evaporated off her. "Mahaad's coming?" Mahaad was her piano tutor, stand-in older brother and golden idol all rolled into one.
"Yes, he is." Her mother threw a glance over her shoulder as she scuttled around the living room, grabbing last minute things. "And I hope you'll be less prickly to him, young lady."
Mana rolled her eyes. As if Mahaad could ever make her feel prickly.
"We're going to be discussing this further at dinner, so don't think you've escaped-"
"Mooom," Mana began, but stopped when her mom clicked her fingers in her face.
"No! No 'Mooom'ing me. You won't be able to wiggle out of this so easily, believe me." She strode to the front door, pulled it open, and stopped short, because there at the entrance, his hand lifting to the doorbell was –
"Mahaad!" Mana yelled, jumping around her mother and launching herself at her piano tutor.
She felt his chuckle reverberate through his chest, the smell of him flooding her senses as she buried her face into his jacket.
"Oh, honestly, Mana, the way you behave" her mother grumbled, pulling her daughter off Mahaad, "one would think you hadn't seen him in years."
Mana straightened, failing to hide a sheepish grin. No, it hadn't been years, but it had been several weeks and the two might have been the same thing for all she cared.
"Ah, it's all right, Mrs. Nakao, you know I don't mind." Mahaad's smile was easy and warm, his eyes sparkling as he ruffled Mana's hair. "Frankly, I've missed this ball of energy, too."
"Mm, well, you've got the last part right." Mrs. Nakao's words were curt, but her tone was not, a small smile playing across her lips. Mahaad usually had that softening effect on people, a fact Mana had come to realize very early on.
"I hope you manage to get some sense into her while you're here," her mother continued. "I'm just going out for a bit but I'll see you two in half an hour or so all right?"
And with another smile at Mahaad, and an assessing glance at Mana she left, heels clicking sharply against the asphalt.
"She doesn't seem too happy with you?" Mahaad questioned, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it up.
"Yeah, well, when is she happy with me?" Mana muttered, trying to smooth out her ruffled hair. "We always seem to fight these days."
"Ah, I'm sure it isn't that bad." His hand reached out again, and Mana ducked.
"Don't, Mahaad! I keep telling you, I don't like it when you ruffle my hair."
Mahaad raised an eyebrow, lips twisting in fake annoyance. "You used to."
"Yeah, well, I also used to run around in nothing but my socks, but I don't do that either, do I?"
The man's eyes glittered with barely suppressed mirth. "Are you sure? From what your mother tells me, I wouldn't be surprised if you'd been streaking all over your neighbourhood."
Mana's jaw dropped, and at the outbreak of deep-throated chuckles from Mahaad, she pulled back a fist and let loose at him.
"Ow!" Mahaad grabbed her wrists, using his long limbs to his advantage and placing a good two feet between them as a barrier. "All right, all right. It was just a joke." He freed one hand to rub at his abdomen. "Ugh, I forgot how strong you are."
Mana tossed her head, and pulled her other fist free. "Well, you can keep that as a reminder."
She made her way back into the kitchen, Mahaad close behind her muttering that he wouldn't be forgetting anytime soon.
Mana ducked her head, hiding a smile behind her hair as she pulled at the bag of vegetables and began sorting them out. Mahaad had very much been the older brother figure, the one she admired and revered, so it was always a small triumph whenever he admitted any type of defeat.
"I know you're smirking behind that hair," Mahaad said, from where he was squatting next to a bag of potatoes, filling a small dish with them.
"Mmhmm," said Mana, because really, there was nothing else to say. He knew her too well. "And how did the all important performance go?" Mahaad was majoring in music, specialising in classical piano, and the past few weeks had consumed him in a tornado of tests, compositions and performances.
"I think it was pretty satisfactory." He stood up and moved towards the sink. "Get my supervisor's comments in a week or so."
Mana snorted. "Satisfactory. Bet you passed with flying colours again." She examined a particularly deformed and stunted carrot. "You know, I think they'll have to include a new category of grades just for you. The category of the Inimitable Mahaad, the Super Special Awesome Pianist."
She peeked over at him to see that his head was bent over the bowl, his long hair covering her view, but just like him she didn't need to see to know that there was a smile hidden behind the hair. That familiar, crooked smile that was half shy, half proud. She felt a wave of affection surge up in her.
"I'm not all that," Mahaad replied, bringing the potatoes over to the table, his face blank once more.
Mana simply raised her eyebrows and moved onto the cherry tomatoes.
Mahaad huffed in laughter and lowered himself onto the chair. "And what about you? How have you been?"
"Good." She kept her voice light and her eyes on the small, red tomatoes.
"And your piano?" His tone still held the gentleness of Mahaad, but some of the strict piano tutor leaked in. She wondered if he even noticed. "Have you been keeping up with your practice?"
"Of course I have!" Her indignation seemed to make him laugh, which only made her want to defend herself. Which was ridiculous, because she had been practicing. She couldn't stop a small scowl from colouring her face. "Why, has mom been complaining about me again?"
Mahaad blinked at her before picking up a cherry tomato and rolling it in his fingers. "I wouldn't say she was complaining, exactly..."
Mana raised an eyebrow. No, he wouldn't. He would be cautious and kind, taking care to spare her feelings.
Mahaad popped the tomato into his mouth and chewed before continuing. "She was just worried about you. Worried that you haven't been yourself lately."
Yup, cautious and kind. That was Mahaad all over. The resentment that she'd felt about her mother's meddling warred with gratitude and affection for her friend.
"Haven't been myself, huh..." she tossed a few tomatoes into a bowl, trying to appear nonchalant. "She hardly knows me."
"Mana..."
"It's true!" She stared at him for a few seconds, and then sighed. "It's true, Mahaad. She may be my mother, and yes, she may want the best for me, but she doesn't really know me. And I know you see that. Don't try to say otherwise."
He didn't. He simply watched.
"And..." Mana deflated, throwing her hands out in almost-defeat. "Now, she's throwing this party for me."
"Gosh, a party," Mahaad murmured, mild sarcasm shading his voice, "how horrible of her."
Mana nailed him with a glare. "It is. A party where she's invited all her colleagues, all my dad's colleagues and!" She paused, the intensity of her glare increasing. "And – my entire class." She could feel her eyes bulging again but she didn't have to care about that with Mahaad. "Not just my homeroom. The entire year."
Mahaad winced.
"I know."
"That's..."
"I know." She let out another sigh, and dropped into a chair across from Mahaad. "And...I've never fit in at those kinds of parties. With those kinds of people." She blew out a burst of air making her fringe even messier.
Mahaad smiled, holding her gaze. "No, you never have. You've always stood out."
Mana rolled her eyes, despite the bit of happiness spilling through her. "Trust you to turn it into a compliment."
"It's the truth." He wasn't smiling now. "But believe me, one day you will fit in without having to change."
I already have it with you. For some reason, she was too shy to say it, so she smiled it instead, hoping that he would understand how much it meant that he understood her.
Mahaad gave her a small wink and then popped another cherry tomato in his mouth. "But, for now, you might just have to humour your mother."
Mana leaned back in her chair, playing with the threading on her skirt. "Yeah, that seems to be my only option. She's a bulldozer when it comes to things she wants."
"Guess it runs in the family" This also said in a quiet, sarcastic murmur that she just barely caught.
She couldn't help herself. Her foot swung out, making contact with his shin.
He grunted and quickly shifted in his seat. "I really forgot how violent you are."
"Which just means I'll have to keep reminding you some more."
"And for speaking the truth, too." Mahaad's brow furrowed, and as he feigned hurt.
She decided to ignored the act. "She's making me dance as well."
Mahaad lifted a brow in query.
"Yeah, an actual formal dance with my dad. To open the party." Mana groaned, letting her head fall onto the table. "I don't even know how to dance."
"I do."
She sat up and glared at him. "Ok, why don't you open the celebration with my dad, then?"
Mahaa'd lips pursed in annoyance. "I meant, O Shrewd One, that I could teach you."
"I'd rather just skip it, to be honest, O Magnanimous One."
Mahaad's expression was flat.
"That was kind of a mouthful," Mana observed, wrinkling her nose. "Magnanimous. How many syllables is that? Mag-na-ni-"
"Come on." Mahaad stood up.
"Mous. Four." She stood up, too. "Wait, where are you going?" He led her out of the kitchen and back into the hallway.
"I have a surprise for you," Mahaad informed her in conspiratorial tones.
"You do?" She couldn't help the happy lift in her voice.
Mahaad chuckled. "You always had a weak spot for gifts, you know that?" he said, reaching into the pocket of his jacket.
"I can't help it. Gifts are nice. I like gifts."
"Well then, I hope you like this one." He turned around and handed her a CD case.
She grinned before snatching it from him and examining the cover. It was a simple grey background with his formal calligraphy sprawling across the front in dark swirls. "'Waltzing...Mana...'". She looked up to see Mahaad smiling down at her. "You mean, like-"
"Waltzing Matilda, yeah." He shrugged, slipping his hands into his pockets. "It's kinda corny, but –" he shrugged again.
"Mahaad. " Again, she couldn't help smiling. "That is corny."
"Yeah," he wrinkled his nose.
"But... you composed this for me?"
"Of course." He said it so casually, as if it was a natural thing to be writing music for her. Well, he had written music for her before, but that had simply been snippets and slices, never a whole piece. Never a –
"Five minutes? It's a five minute long piece."
Mahaad simply nodded. "So. You want to try it out?"
"Try it out? You mean –"
"Yeah, let's put it on now and I can teach you to dance to it." His eyes twinkled.
A slow smile crept it way across Mana's face as she shook her head. "You're as manipulative as my mother."
Mahaad's mouth dropped open, and he placed his hand on his chest. "I – how could you?"
"I could because it's true." She turned around and made her way to the living room. "You're a lot more subtle than her, but you're not as innocent as you seem."
"You know, that sounds suspiciously like a compliment."
"Mmhmm, take it how you will, O Manipulative One." She slipped the CD into the player, Mahaad's laughter bubbling around her.
And then it wasn't his laughter but his music filling the room. It pushed out all thoughts of meddlesome mothers and troublesome parties, freeing it from the petty restraints of daily life, until she felt as if she was high above, with wings on her shoes and stars at her fingertips.
"Like it?"
She started, turning around to see Mahaad watching her with his quiet, steady gaze. She nodded.
His lips crooked up in a half smile. "No comment?"
"I ... " she nodded. "I like it." She cleared her throat. "I love it. Actually." She attempted a smile.
Mahaad gave a single nod. He lifted his arms in front of him. "Shall we?"
"Oh." She looked at the space in front of him, and then moved slowly into it. "Ok." Bizarrely, her hands seemed to know what to do, one worming its way into his left palm, and the other finding his right shoulder. She stared at his chest and realized that she'd never fully noted just how tall he was. Until now.
Mahaad cleared his throat. "All right, now, don't kick me in the groin but I'm going put my other hand on your waist, ok?"
A sound halfway between a snort and a chuckle burst from her lips.
"You laugh, but you're not the one who's had to suffer physical attacks all day," he grumbled.
"Oh, please, it was hardly 'all day'. Don't be such a drama king."
Mahaad shook his head. "There's no winning with you, is there?"
"Not really." She felt strange in his arms. And yet, at ease, too, she realized. Strangely at ease. Had Mahaad always had this special quality?
Mahaad's lips twitched. "All right. Now, pay attention. First I'm going to bring my left leg forward. And you move back with your right." He kept his movements slow enough and she found that she could copy his steps without faltering.
"Good. Now I'm going to move my right one forward and to the side. And you mirror me."
"You know, if I were to actually mirror you, I'd end up crashing into you."
"Well, I am indeed grateful that you are endowed with such perceptive abilities so as to understand my true meaning." His tone was dry.
She smiled sweetly up at him. "I know, isn't it great?" Her heartbeat, she noticed, was becoming slightly erratic.
"It's wonderful," Mahaad replied, still with the dry tone. "And now – no, the other way."
"Sorry. I thought – ow!"
"Sorry!"
"That hurts."
"I'm sorry. You were going the wrong way."
She glared at him, because she knew he was right. But there was no point in telling him that. He clearly knew it. She switched her glare to his chest.
"That's it? No cutting remark?" Mahaad teased.
She lifted a brow at him, still remaining silent.
"I was expecting you to bite my head off."
"Well, you can count your blessings. It's safe for now."
Another chuckle from Mahaad, and she felt an injection of giddiness in her veins. Were the two connected, she wondered? It had never happened before. Not like this. She had always found happiness in his presence, but not like this, not this fizzing, anticipatory, on-the-edge-of-a-precipice feeling that left her both excited and nervous.
She revelled in the warmth of his hand clasping her own, the solidity of his shoulder steadying her. She could hear the quiet in, out of his breathing, feel it tickling her fringe. The sound of it calmed her, its repetitiveness soothing .
They fell into a rhythm, her feet moving with his, gliding after him. She could see them in her mind, her bare toes chasing his sock-covered ones, her feet flitting after his, like birds that wanted a kiss but always just short of making contact . She let him guide her, his hand on her back, large and warm, dependable, yet thrilling, every movement so familiar that it could have been a memory, and yet as new as the sweetest of surprises.
She felt in limbo, not quite sure of where she was. This was Mahaad, she knew, but not the Mahaad as she had known him. This one was more ... different, more dangerous somehow. He wielded a power over her that the old one hadn't. Or maybe she was only just realizing it. Maybe he'd cast a spell earlier, and she hadn't been able to see it, see the truth, realize the wonder that had been at her doorstep.
Or maybe this was the spell. This moment when everything was somehow frozen and moving, with her old world meeting the new one, battling it, losing and drowning. It would not be the same anymore. Mahaad would not be the same anymore, and, even more frightening, she would not be the same anymore.
There was a shift, a pause, a blink, and she knew that he had stopped. And that she'd stopped with him. She inhaled. She felt as if she'd climbed the tallest tower, exhausted and elated. Her hands shook. She blew out a slow breath, pulled her hands away and stepped back. The spell did not break.
"Mana." Mahaad's voice was muted, and yet so close.
She blinked again, and he swam into vision. He did not look different, his clothes were the same, his hair hung exactly as it always had in its annoyingly neat lines. But he was not the same Mahaad.
She tried to break the spell. She exhaled loudly again, took another step, tried to grin at him the way she always had done, easily and happily. But it didn't feel so easy this time.
"That was ... thanks for the lesson. I don't think I'll forget... " her voice grew small, "any time soon."
Mahaad nodded, his earlier gravity vanishing to make way for his usual gentle smile. "Would you do me the honour of dancing with me on your birthday?" He watched her with his quiet eyes.
She wanted to say no. She didn't know how she would be able to handle it, go through the same intense experience and still convince a roomful of people that there was nothing wrong with her. But Mahaad was standing in front of her, smiling at her, a question in his warm eyes and she found she couldn't deny him anything.
So she nodded, smiling. "Of course." Her voice was hoarse. "I would love to." The spell still hadn't broken.
Mahaad grinned, and then at the sound of the car rolling up the drive, said "That's probably your mother. I'll get the door."
She nodded again, staring uselessly at his retreating back. She heard the doorbell ring, heard the door being opened, heard her mother's and Mahaad's voices, the sounds of the vehicles outside spilling into the house, the sound of the world turning as it always had.
That was when she realized that the spell would never break. And the truth of it was frighteningly exhilarating.
Thanks for reading. Reviews are loved!