"Miss O'Neill, if you step on my foot one more time…"
You could not imagine a more agonizing situation. Your only saving grace was that all the other Slytherin's were occupied with stumbling over their own practice partners feet. But at least they were all dancing with their fellow students. You on the other hand… there hadn't been another student left for you to practice with after they had all paired up. And that put you with… with the instructor and… oh god.
"Sorry, Professor," you whimpered, unable to even meet Snape's eye and you jumped back, away from his toes. Your fingers were trembling against his shoulder, but his own hands held firm, one modestly resting on your waist, the other gripping your unsteady hand. You were sure your face was red, and you really hoped he was chalking up your apparent clumsiness to nerves, and not because… w-well he was just so close and so… tall and broad and…
"I expect for Slytherin to uphold their values of elegance and tradition at the Yule Ball, Miss O'Neill," Snape explained resolutely. "So you will either get it together, or you won't be going at all." Using the hand still fastened you waist, he pulled you closer and positioned you into the proper poise. You simply allowed him to make adjustments to your posture, still staring down at his feet. You felt his sigh against the top of your head, and he released your hand only for a moment in order to grab your chin, turning your face up to meet his own.
"We'll take it slow, Miss O'Neill," he explained quietly, and it took some serious willpower to keep your entire body from shuddering at his proximity. Making sure you gaze remained on him, he slotted his hand back into yours, quirking a brow and the corner of his lip before instructing, "Now, follow my lead."