Series: Minor Arcana. Sequel to "Declaro" (rating R). You really need to read that first, I think. Find it through the author link.
Rating: This chapter PG-13. Rating will go up later in this chapter.
Pairings: This chapter – elements of SS/DM, HP/DM, SS/HP, RW/HG.
Notes: This is most of what remains of "Persuasion" – there's one more long scene, and I found it hard to draft so I'm not sure how long it will take now. I keep being asked which pairing is the real pairing of this story, so I wanted to say that while individual chapters or parts have emphases, the story is not about only one possible pairing, despite who ends up with whom (and it would wreck the plot to reveal that now). I don't really think it's cheating and I'm sorry that some people find it frustrating or disappointing.
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling.
Archiving: Only where I've agreed.
Feedback/Reviews: Definitely – especially to tell me what works and what doesn't.
Pervinco III (b): Persuasion
The final Wizarding Society class before the Equinox was not taken by Professor Binns, much to the class's delight, but by McGonagall, who was at least alive.
With less than a week till the Equinox, she briskly explained, it was imperative they all understood the forthcoming stage of the Rite. She expected clear and concise notes, indicating full comprehension of the material, by Monday morning. A girl's voice squeaked something about "the party."
McGonagall frowned. "While permission has been given for many of you to attend the Malfoy party, it is only one evening. I also hope I don't have to remind you that you will be representatives of Hogwarts all the time." There was a muffled collection of groans.
For once people pretended to take notes although, honestly, they all knew the Handbook by now. If a supplicant had not been formally rejected by sunset on the Equinox then they could not be excluded until the Winter Solstice. They were also entitled to send gifts and request a meeting. Someone dropped something at the back of the class.
"You may set limits on this," McGonagall began again, "through your representatives. Harry I don't seem to have names for you yet, I need them tonight. Your representatives may also act as chaperones and witnesses, and may offer advice, but they cannot make decisions on your behalf. All Rite spells involving your consent must be performed by you." Next to Harry, Neville audibly groaned. "You may consult me about the correct forms at any time."
The Professor suddenly seemed a little embarrassed. "The Gifts stage is supposed to be one of the most enjoyable. A supplicant may," she took a breath, "attempt to be convincing," she fussed a little with her papers, "but it is also their chance to ascertain what you want to be offered."
Lavender Brown squealed joyfully and McGonagall scolded her with evident satisfaction for the remaining minutes of the lesson.
* * *
When Hermione slipped off with Padma to see the witches' dressing room, which she couldn't believe was actually lined in mother of pearl, Harry stayed near the window. The room was crowded with people he didn't know and, outside of Hogwarts, Harry had spent very little time amongst large numbers of people.
Looking along the wall he saw Millicent Bulstrode – or, as he liked to think of her, evil-in-waiting – speaking to someone concealed by the drapes. She looked interested, pleased, or some unusually satisfied expression for Millicent. At that moment Pansy Parkinson came up behind her with an ingratiating smile and a smooth sweep of her blue robe. Millicent didn't look all that pleased to see her and, as Pansy evidently began to compare their apparently identical robes, Lucius Malfoy moved out from the wall and across the room. Harry watched him go.
"You don't look like you're enjoying yourself Mr Potter."
"Professor Snape. Hello." Harry tried to find Draco's father in the crowd again.
"Your social skills are quite appalling, Potter."
"Oh," he was tempted to say Snape could hardly criticise anyone for rudeness, but then Snape was only rude to students, and people he disliked, or people who disliked him, and whenever he could – "You can hardly criticise anyone for rudeness." He didn't see Snape's response as he watched Malfoy's silver head move through the crowd, but he jumped at a touch on his shoulder that turned him to look out across the torch-lit lawns down to the canal.
"Mr Potter," Snape said gesturing out at the dark gardens as if showing him something, "you don't stare viciously at a host in this company, and never when the host is Lucius Malfoy."
"I'm being watched," Harry whispered, watching their separate vague shadows in the glass. "At least once it was Millicent, who Malfoy was just talking to. Other times, too, maybe. And I'm sure Draco can't be trusted. I. . . I shouldn't have come."
Snape pointed down to a lit series of ponds stretching off to the right, and Harry's eyes followed the direction of his hand turning his ear towards Snape, who said softly, but still from a respectable distance, "Don't show them how you feel. And you should have told me."
He stepped away and cordially greeted a woman Harry didn't know. Feeling unanchored, Harry looked around. He saw Narcissa Malfoy lift her head to meet her husband's gaze. Lucius nodded and a bell-like voice rang out to mark the arrival of the aperitif and the opening of the ballroom.
* * *
The music was subtly pitched, not really for dancing. Cho Chang and Justin Finch-Fletchley were making a fair attempt at a waltz in one corner with the Staines' and Renquists; but people's eyes were on Draco turning Eustacia Parkinson through the room. Clusters of people happily parted to let them by. Eustacia tipped her head back laughing, and ran her hand up the plane of Draco's back. Severus Snape watched Harry Potter watch them.
"Severus, can you believe Draco said not one of his peers would know how to dance a Minuet?" Narcissa turned towards him, her semi-train folding around her feet as if it was a thing that required no practice. "We so loved those old dances when I was a girl. Just another element of wizarding culture sadly lost."
"I believe, Narcissa, that the Minuet was a Muggle dance. Late eighteenth-century, I think, probably French by the name, or English during a very Francophile period."
"You're so amusing, Severus, I'm sure that's not right. The Minuet is very graceful and orderly. I have seen Muggles dancing you know." Severus didn't contradict her. "What are you teaching at that school anyway?"
"Magic, Narcissa, as we always have – and could you not play the vapid social butterfly with me, it's always been irritating, although I'm sure you're in need of the practice."
"Severus I have missed you, you're never out any more."
"I find the company disappointing."
"And you're always so rude. Here comes Lucius to tease you about the boy, I'm sure. Do excuse me while I terrify some of my son's suitors." They parted with a smile; Snape even bowed to her and she laughed appreciatively. One of the Hogwarts boys made a choking noise nearby.
"I think you're going to fatally shock your students if you don't stop acting like you ever had social skills, Severus."
"Lucius," Snape said without turning. Slightly at one angle, aided by the long mirrors, they watched Harry watch Draco dance and laugh when his friends clearly teased him for staring.
"Is he quite as innocent as he looks, do you think? Even after all these years of playing with the dark. Or is he the great wizard of his generation as Dumbledore thinks? You never say much about Potter, Severus." A waiter passed and both men took a glass. "Except when required."
"Is this an appropriate conversation for your son's party, Lucius?"
"Perhaps not. But you are competing with my son for Potter's hand."
"Don't be ridiculous."
"How is that progressing, by the way?" They watched Harry blush when Hermione startled him out of staring at Draco again. "Then again, it's not really much of a competition, is it?"
"I'd be surprised to find you believe a boy's beauty is the only thing that might be desirable to someone with Harry Potter's experiences."
"To inexperienced 16 year old Potter it's clearly almost mesmerising."
"I wonder what your purpose is in this."
"At that age, can you still remember Severus, every new experience is so intense, so likely to change you." Lucius moved closer. "Do you think he's kissed the boy yet? Do you think. . ."
"Are things so dull in the world of wizarding conspiracy, Lucius?" Across the room Narcissa coughed quietly in a muted jangle of bracelets, but they both noticed. Lucius smiled as he walked off toward his wife's subtle hail.
* * *
Harry was seated next to Hermione at supper, which was a relief. She joked with Dean across the table about which fork to use, and which glass for water, and when they got it wrong they teased one another happily despite the disapproval of other guests. Harry probably didn't care which fork he should use either, but he didn't feel like eating. He caught Draco's eye once across the table and the something with salmon in it suddenly didn't seem so delicious.
Severus watched the boys at different ends of the table try to unobtrusively watch one another. Draco was, of course, far better at it than Potter, but Harry clearly wasn't entirely intractable. He flicked green eyes towards Draco's end of the table one more time, but it wasn't blatantly obvious, and the candlelight reflecting off his glasses made it even less easy to see. He could ask what had happened with Draco and the boy would probably tell him, but he had a strange feeling that, unless it was necessary, he didn't really want to know.
Harry didn't feel like food, but he tried the wines – first the lemony white one, then the deep ruby red one. He heard Draco laugh, and the girl next to him laughed too. Hermione squeezed his leg under the table – she knew he and Draco had argued, or something, but hadn't pushed him to explain. She had enough problems with Ron, who'd refused to come tonight and rarely spoke to Harry now. In fact, he rarely spoke to Hermione most of the time, although he clearly still considered them a couple. Harry knew it was probably entirely his fault. He tried the goldeny sort of wine, which was sweet and thicker. He liked it.
Harry dimly heard Lucius Malfoy begin a speech about the Equinox, and whispered the phrase "our lives are ordered by the stars" a few times to himself until Hermione hushed him.
* * *
People had begun to leave in small groups. Heading out with Seamus and Dean, Harry didn't really want to go. They might have insisted if he hadn't run into Oliver Wood and Marcus Flint. They accosted a waiter, got him another drink, and promised the boys to see him through the floo within the hour.
On the very edge of the drawing room, they watched senior political figures in the wizarding world attempting to be polite to one another. Marcus and Oliver knew many of them – Oliver gossiped and Marcus derided; Harry listened and laughed.
Oliver dug him in the ribs when Snape came in. "Look Harry."
"So you're a Snape fan, too?"
"Well. . ."
"He really is something else," Marcus continued, and they watched him cross the room, exchanging occasional words with other guests, to lean on a chair beside Narcissa Malfoy. "Powerful, sophisticated, dark and elegant…" he broke off with a laugh which Harry realised was directed at him. "And here I thought you'd been drooling over our boy Draco all night."
"Marcus," Oliver said kindly, "we can understand that."
"Oh certainly." Marcus put an arm round Harry and whispered, "pale, fine and smooth all over. What did you say he tasted like, Oliver – wasn't it lemon and honey?" Oliver was clearly embarrassed and annoyed, but Marcus was enjoying himself. "And yet here you are, lusting after the utterly unattainable Severus Snape."
"I don't know about unattainable," Harry said, knowing he probably shouldn't, but at least it stopped Marcus. "He is my supplicant."
"You're kidding," Oliver said, "you actually bagged Snape?"
"On the last day of declarations. I thought you knew."
"Potter," Marcus said in a low shocked tone. "I'm truly impressed. What's he like?"
"I'm sorry?"
"I always wondered, really wondered, lights out wondered, you know what I mean."
It occurred to Harry what Marcus meant, what they thought he meant. He would correct it of course but, just for a minute, they were so impressed, it was. . .
"Does Draco know?" Marcus asked with a sharp laugh, "He's been in love with him for years, not that he'd ever admit it."
Suddenly almost afraid Harry said in a rush "Look, you can't. . ."
"Of course," Oliver said reassuringly, a hand on his lover's robe. "Marcus, it's Professor Snape."
"Surely the Rite would overrule all the teacher-student stuff?"
Harry had no idea, except that this conversation was definitely out of his control. He was probably drunk; he felt dizzy.
Suddenly Snape was there, a hand under his elbow. "What was all that about?"
"Ah," he tried to see where the other men had gone; "they misunderstood." Snape helped him to the wall. Some distance away he saw Marcus talking to Lucius, and felt nauseous.
Snape moved between him and the rest of the room. "Is it Flint?"
"They," he began sickly, "they sort of think we're lovers."
Snape laughed, not long but loud, and everyone turned to look. Smiling broadly as the murmur of amazement arose he said in a low voice, "I think it's time for us to leave."
.
Farewelling guests near a huge but tastefully understated hearth serving as the floo for guests, Draco gave them a curious look as they moved up the line of people thanking he and his mother for their hospitality.
"Thanks for inviting me," Harry said, somewhat nervously.
Draco smiled his careful public smile and said "Thank you for coming." Taking Harry's hand, as he had everyone else's, and leaning a little closer, he added more quietly, "and for the gift." Harry hesitantly said he was welcome. "That's good to know," Draco replied, and added in a quick whisper "About the other day, I'm sorry."
Harry knew he was feeling rather confused, but surely they were holding up the line of guests and this must be massively indiscreet, something Malfoy dreaded, but Narcissa had excitedly engaged Snape in a rather loud conversation. "I want to apologise properly," Draco added, and Harry took a step back in shock at the explicit implication in Draco's eyes and soft curving hand.
"Can we leave now, Mr Potter," Snape intervened. "I am more than tired of waiting to escort you back, and Draco has other guests."
With some relief Harry let go of Draco's hand, which Snape took up firmly.
"Draco, good night. It was a fascinating party." Harry could have sworn Draco blushed, a little; he certainly dropped his eyes. When he lifted them to Snape's again, Harry wished he hadn't been watching. Whatever that look meant it was intense and raw.
Without hesitation the Professor produced a box from his robe. "I neglected to leave your birthday gift with the others. I should give it to you now." Harry saw Draco's mother stiffen, and run her eyes around the room, as if looking for someone.
"It's a family piece," Snape continued, "but I've no use for it, and I thought you might."
Draco murmured his thanks and opened the box even as Narcissa took his elbow, jewellery subtly jangling, and gently reminded him that other guests were waiting.
"Of course, Narcissa, I'm sorry for holding you up," the Professor said. "The ring, Draco, will always take you home, wherever you are."
"Severus," Narcissa said in a lightly pitched voice, and Harry watched her graceful readjustment of the space so that she, Snape and Draco were facing one another without obviously excluding everyone else, "That's a very generous gift. It was your mother's wasn't it?"
Harry felt a sick stab of jealousy and loss, saw the silver of a ring with a blue stone in Draco's hand, and felt the world spin away.