Disclaimer: I do not own anything but the storyline.

Author's Note: This was supposed to only be a two part story. But...it expanded and got longer. So here is the next chapter int his story.

I Won't Dance 2

Harry's feet fought to keep up with the song's rhythm as they wove through the dancers. There were other reasons for Harry not wanting to dance tonight, his lack of skill being one.

Harry had tried to rectify it when he was younger by asking Bob for his help. He'd had ulterior motives then as well but it hadn't gone so very well.

-------

A fifteen year old Harry rushed into the Morningway library where most of his daily magic lessons took place. His teacher was leaning over an open book, squinting down at the pages to study some ancient symbol.

Bob did not unbend from the book when Harry came in, merely lifting his eyes to take in the youth as he stopped to catch his breath.

"Is there something I can help you with, Harry?" he asked calmly, raising a questioning eyebrow at the bou -- a boy that already reached the ghost's shoulder and would no doubt surpass his height in a few years time.

Harry nodded vigorously as he tried to gulp down a few much needed breaths. "Ca...can..y..."

Bob let out an exasperated sigh and straightened, though Harry could easily see the amused affection in the ghost's pale eyes.

"Harry. Breathe, then speak. I don't need your uncle asking why my student is unconscious before I know the reason myself," he snarked.

Harry fought a grin at the wizard's words and did as he was told, taking the time to regain normal breathing functions in a nearby chair. Bob came to stand beside Harry, the boy very aware of his presence, then nodded when he was satisfied that Harry would not pass out.

"Now, what was so urgent that you felt the need to run in here like a crazed wind devil?" Bob asked curiously.

Harry felt a warm burn in his cheeks. "Can you teach me to dance?" the teenager mumbled.

Bob blinked in suprise at the youth's request, obviously not expecting that to be the reason for Harry's sprint. "To dance?" he asked, as if to clarify what he'd just been asked.

Harry nodded. "I kind of met this girl named...Anna...and, she kind of asked me to a dance. But I don't know how to dance and I doubt Uncle Justin does...so..."

Bob gave the boy an affectionate grin. Harry was lying but he'd play along for now.

"And you thought I would know how?" He asked.

Harry nodded again with a blush and Bob's smile saddened a little. The ghost's arms folded in front of his chest and his head tilted down so he locked gazes with his student.

"I was schooled in dance when I was your age, Harry. And I did quite a bit before my current state of servitude." Harry winced. " But I'm afraid it would be impossible for me to show you properly."

"Why not?" Harry asked quickly.

"You need an physical teacher for dancing, not an incorporeal ghost."

Harry dropped his eyes to the library floor which was all of a sudden incredibly interesting. "Yes, I do," he grumbled, and Bob just barely made it out.

Harry felt the cold tingle of Bob's hand hovering over his shoulder and looked up at his teacher and friend, who could only give an apologetic smile while trying to hide his own disappointment. Harry didn't stay very long in the room after that.

Bob never asked when Harry didn't go to the dance or later on when a girl named Anna never showed up at Morningway Manor, as if she never existed.

---------

Harry swore as his feet stumbled a bit during a spin, his partner's hand pressing into his lower back to keep them both steady. He looked up but didn't meet the silver eyes as he mumbled an apology. Harry felt his hand squeezed gently, easing the tension in his shoulders.

Harry felt stupid for being caught up in the memory that had surfaced so suddenly. It also stung him with guilt. Bob should of been here tonight; it wouldn't have been too much trouble to bring his skull along. Even if Harry still couldn't dance with his mentor, he knew Bob would of been happy to come.

He stumbled again, getting frustrated now that he was somehow sabotaging the only good part of this night so far. Why did he have to muck it up with something he couldn't change?

Harry was going to apologize and end the dance but it was as if his partner sensed the oncoming escape attempt and pulled Harry flush against his lithe fay form. Harry nearly choked on a gasp as cold silver pressed against his cheek and a warm chest shifted with his.

The hand still on his lower back caught Harry's attention when he felt the long fingers tap against his jacket. He shuddered when the fay exhaled into his hair and a breathy, barely-there voice whispered. "1...2...3. 1...2...3," in time with the tapping of fingers on his spine.

Harry closed his eyes, letting the rhythm being drummed into his body take over and finally place him in time with his partner. Letting himself be led by a stranger and a memory.

The winter courtiers smoothly left the dance floor one by one. Gentlemen twirled their partners off to the sidelines where they could watch the two with steely bright eyes, ladies peering hungrily over silk and feather fans. Harry was completely oblivious to the fact that he was on display and his partner kept up the whispered guidance so he wouldn't notice, then calmly steered the wizard away from the amused smirks of immortality's children.

Harry didn't realize that they'd left the dance floor until a light breeze trailed across the back of his neck like a soft caress, making him shiver. The voice that whispered in his ear did nothing to stop the little spasms.

"Congratulations, Dresden. You just finished your first dance."

Harry's eyes snapped open in time to see his dance partner turn his back and walk over to the railing surrounding the balcony where their dance had ended.

The balcony was white marble and large enough to house the entire Winter Court and the Chicago precinct. It overlooked the villa's expansive hedge gardens and natural forest line that kept the entire place shrouded from curious eyes. Moonlight lit the greenery and whitewashed the balcony so that it glowed. But Harry only gave the grounds the barest of glances before they were trained on an indigo-sheathed back. The silver eyed fay had taken a little of the warmth with him, leaving Harry feeling chilled in the winter moonlight.

Harry watched transfixed as the fay slowly began to shed layers, something holding his gaze on the creature like a trance. And maybe he was caught, maybe he'd been enchanted without realizing it, mastered by a whisper that he had never heard outside of his rarely pleasant dreams.

Harry swallowed as the barely audible rustle of cloth followed the motion of gloves being peeled away. They were laid carefully on the railing by long, pale fingers that Harry followed with his eyes. Those same fingers disappeared to the fay's front as the tailcoat slid off narrow shoulders and down a shirt covered back that narrowed downward to finish the figure in a trim waist. Once the coat was off, this article was also folded and laid over the gloves.

But the pale fingers stopped on the coats lapels and reverently traced the looping silver lines that marked the dark silk. Harry followed the captivating movements until some part of his mind woke up. Those lines weren't just for decoration; they were symbols, ones created to bind by spelling the captive's name in a long dead language.

Harry couldn't stop the confused noise that escaped him, and the pale fingers stopped their silent path along the silver embroidery. Harry stared at the fay's, no, the man's back, not able to stare any longer at that horrendous mask. The man sighed and the familiar dramatic sag of his shoulders made it very clear that the masquerade was over.

The slink of metal against flesh made Harry's heart stop for a moment as the mask was lifted away. Hrothbert of Bainbridge turned to smile at him, mask cradled under his arm. His eyes, no longer under their silver glamour, were revealed as sea glass green.

"Hello, Harry," he whispered, as if anything louder would break something precious.

It broke Harry's control and he surged forward, his mouth descending on Bob's. After his resistance being broken down over the process of one dance there was little control left.

There was a crash as Bob dropped the mask to grab hold of Harry in turn, hands fisting in the younger wizards hair, roughly pushing off the jester's mask. Harry had him backed up against the railing, bending back the necromancer's lithe form a little with his weight. Neither complained.

Rational questions tumbled around in Harry's head. How? Why? But they all took a back seat to the feel of Bob's mouth as it opened, teased, nipped and finally invaded Harry's with a quick tongue intent on tasting and owning the younger. Harry's hands roamed everywhere, trying to find every detail of Bob's upper anatomy in the span of a few minutes.

Needing air, Harry broke the kiss and wrapped his arms around Bob's waist. He pulled their bodies together as close as possible, knowing from dancing with the man that their bodies fit well. Bob hesitated a moment before wrapping his arms around Harry's shoulders.

They stayed that way for a while, content with the simple contact. Then Harry found his voice.

" How?"

To be continued...