One Day at a Time

The Hogwarts Ball

The Hogwarts Spring Solstice Ball was about two weeks later, but even before it happened I knew it would be more enjoyable than the Rowles'. The Hogwarts decorations, for instance, were not expensive-looking antiques that screamed "wealthy pureblood for generations." They were instead garlands of flowers, vines which covered the walls and trees which practically brushed the ceiling. Needless to say, Hogwarts stuck to the "Beginning of Spring" theme much better than the Rowles had, even if it was still relatively brown and grey outdoors.

I found it rather amusing to watch the students come in to the Great Hall the night of the ball, some awed by the decorations, some eyeing their date nervously, others awkwardly gathered around the small circular tables, trying to decide where they should sit. The professors had their own table, thankfully, and I immediately sat to Professor Sprout's left, glad I didn't have to wonder where to sit like the students did. It occurred to me that some of the professors may have brought their spouses with them, so maybe the seating order would be different, but I ignored that. I vaguely wondered if any of the professors were married, before a second thought occurred to me: what if some of the professors brought dates? With a sinking feeling, my mind added: what if Severus brought a date? No, I wouldn't contemplate that possibility. If he was going to bring a date, he should have brought you, my mind thought of its own volition, and I felt myself blush. Thankfully, the heat had faded from my cheeks by the time he sat in the chair to my left. I will not let him realize I'm in love with him, I will not let him realize I'm in love with him, I thought to myself determinedly, and specifically avoided looking at him. I did notice out of the corner of my eye, though, that he was wearing the same dress robes he had at the Rowles' gala. Good to know I'm not the only one with only one set of dress robes, I thought as I turned to Sprout and started a conversation.

Even though the food was better than the Rowles', and the environment infinitely more enjoyable, I still found myself starting to become bored. After all, watching my students trip over their feet or step on their partners toes as they tried to dance could only be amusing for so long. Most of the professors had already left for the dance floor with other professors, and if they returned it was only momentarily. Although I liked dancing, a stubborn corner of my brain kept repeating, Well if I can't dance with Sev, I don't want to dance at all. I thought this while, of course, refusing to so much as glance in his general direction, lest I give some hint away of my thoughts. The Potions Master was the only professor besides me to remain glued to their seat, although I imagined his reasons were very different from mine. Probably something along the lines of considering himself too dignified to dance in front of students.

I was staring into space when I saw a certain bushy-haired sixth year approaching. "Hello, Hermione," I replied to her greeting. "You're welcome to take a seat if you want. I don't think Professor Sprout's going to be back any time." She slumped down in the seat and let out an exasperated sigh. "Where's Harry and Ron?" I asked, curious but at the same time not wanting to pry.

"I don't know," she huffed. "Ron's probably with his date." She seemed to have been saving an extra dose of scorn for the last word. "Boys…"

"Boys or just one boy?" I asked, looking to see how she would react.

An embarrassed look crossed her face, but instead of replying to my question she sighed, "You're so lucky you don't have to deal with this anymore."

I had to keep myself from bursting into laughter, and I chanced a glance at Severus out of the corner of my eye; I couldn't tell if he was listening to our conversation or not. "Well, someday you'll be my age," I told Hermione with a laugh.

"I suppose," she half-smiled.

I saw Dumbledore coming back towards the table from the dance floor, but I didn't pay any attention to it until I realized he was walking towards Hermione, Sev and I.

"Hello," he pleasantly greeted us. "Gravity seems to be particularly heavy in this section of the table, no? I don't think I've seen either of you on the dance floor once," he nodded towards Sev and me with a mischievous smile on his face. "The professors aren't setting a very good example for the students. Shouldn't we all be trying to enjoy ourselves when we can, especially in these dark times?" Sev and I were both cautiously regarding him, wondering where he might be going with this.

"I appreciate your concern, Dumbledore," the Potions Master said coolly. "But I'm perfectly fine right here, thank you."

"Are you really going to let a young lady like Liseli sit the entire night without a single dance?" the Headmaster said, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

I felt just about every ounce of blood in my entire body rush up to my face. "That's really not necessary," I hastily spluttered. "I like sitting. It's great here."

"Ah, but I insist," Dumbledore said merrily. Hermione, sitting to my right, looked as though she was about to explode any second from restraining her laughter.

After what looked like a staring contest between the Potions Master and the Headmaster, the former stiffly stood up. I took that as my cue to also stand up and heard Hermione say with a terribly amused smile on her face, "Have fun…"

I followed him to the corner of the dance floor, and expectantly raised my hands into a generic dance position. He hesitatingly clasped my right hand in his left and, almost as though he was a marionette being commanded what to do, jerkily placed his right hand on my waist, so lightly I could barely feel his fingertips through the fabric of my robes. He haltingly started the steps of the waltz that the music demanded, awkwardly leading me through the three-step square. I had never officially learned how to dance, but Regulus and Persephone had both taught me a bit while I was at Hogwarts. They both came from proper, wealthy pureblooded families and had thus been taught ballroom dancing as a part of being integrated into that upper class culture. Even though I was only adequate at pre-learned dance steps, I knew enough to tell that Sev was a far poorer dancer; he was only able to lead me through simple steps and, even then, he was using the wrong grip. The three-beat waltz slowly died away and a more upbeat song, a sort of swing piece, started echoing throughout the large hall. I expectantly looked at Sev, who had stopped stepping, and after a moment he said with a rather drawn look on his face, "I think I'm done dancing."

"Aw, come on, one more song," I teasingly pleaded, forgetting for a moment my resolution to show no signs that I liked him.

After a hint of an annoyed sigh, he coolly replied, "You'll have to find another partner. I'm afraid I never learned the steps to this sort of dance."

A slight smile broke across my face, and I felt a rush of affection for him. Judging from what he had said at the Rowle's ball, combined with what he had just said, it was clear that he, like me, had not grown up as a member of a proper, wealthy pureblood family. "And here I thought you were a pureblood," I teased, almost giggling at the idea that blood could be defined by culture alone; I was sure that he, like me, would appreciate the ridiculousness of such a statement, even more so because I was sure we had both been unfairly judged with such assumptions before and it would be a similarity that we could bond over. My well intentioned sentence horribly backfired, though, for as soon as the last word had left my mouth, a distinctly hurt look appeared on his face. I had never seen him wearing such an expression before, and the fact that I was the cause of it made it feel as though I had been run through by a dagger. "Wait—I didn't mean it like that," I immediately blurt out, desperately thinking how to remedy the hole I seemed to have dug myself into. "I just mean—no, I'm like that, too. I mean, my family wasn't the proper, wealthy sort of pureblood family. I didn't mean it as an insult," I practically pleaded, too embarrassed to look him fully in the eyes. "I meant it as 'Look we're both purebloods, but neither of us are the proper sort of purebloods. But that doesn't matter, because the ancient, wealthy pureblood families who look down on us for that are being ridiculous.' Ha…ha…" I feebly laughed, hopefully scouring his now-masked facial expression for any signs that he was no longer angered or hurt by my idiotic, poorly thought out comment.

The mask moved for a second. "I'm not a—" he started, before abruptly cutting himself off as a large Slytherin seventh year accidentally bumped against us.

"Not what?" I breathlessly asked, almost afraid of what he might reply with.

A moment of hesitation, a resigned sigh, and then— "Not offended. I'm not offended."

I was too relieved to contemplate whether that was what he had originally been planning to say. "Tell you what, how about I teach you some of the basic swing steps?" I suggested with a weak smile. Sev blinked at me with a rather disinterested, almost uncomprehending facial expression, before I grabbed his hands. "Come on, it'll be fun."

"You're going to be the lead?" he doubtfully raised a single eyebrow as he glanced at how I was holding his hands; my hands were in the position characteristic of the lead's.

"How else am I supposed to teach you the steps? Do you have a problem with a woman being lead?" I playfully smirked, while carefully watching his reaction.

"I suppose not," he slowly drawled.

"Excellent," I gave him a genuine smile, before attempting to start the dance and instead stepping on his foot. "You know, when I push on your hands that's your cue to take a step back, not stand there like a rock," I pointedly told him, repressing an amused grin.

"Really? I thought perhaps your method of teaching was to step on my foot each time it was supposed to move," he sarcastically articulated.

"Tsk, tsk, what sort of professor would I be if I taught my students through punishment alone? Oh wait, it'd be like your potions class," I teased.

The corners of his mouth turned up almost proudly for a flash of a second before he replied, "While normally I'd argue that punishments are the most effective method of instructing students, tonight I think I'll take the stance that results with my feet receiving as few bruises as possible."

I let out a ringing laugh and started gently steering him towards the proper dance steps. "Yes, well, I imagine that teaching dance moves is rather different from instructing a potions class. From what I've gathered, you're a rather more successful teacher than Slughorn was."

"Slughorn never distributed any helpful criticism to the students," the current Potions Master dryly stated. "It was impossible to learn in that class, even ignoring his blatant favoritism for certain students."

"Speaking of criticism, stop taking such large steps; the steps in swing are smaller than those in the waltz," I distractedly threw out before returning from my tangent, "But, yes, I know what you mean about Slughorn. I remember the Slug Club meetings well."

"You almost phrase it as though you were a member of the Slug Club," he disinterestedly responded while glancing at his feet, as though unsure if they were still attached to the ends of his legs.

I shook my head. "I wasn't in the Slug Club. Regulus and Deneb were, but not me." With that, the conversation seemed to have reached a dead end, and I turned my attention back to the location of my feet. We were still stepping to the swing beat of the music, but the steps were slowly becoming less awkward and more fluid, as we continued practicing them.

When the ball finally finished, I walked back to my quarters, the blaring of the swing band still in my ears, the pulse of the music still in my blood, and the ghost of Severus's hands still against mine. Tomorrow would be another day, but tonight seemed to be infinite.

…

A/N: A very big thank you to angelofire, Mark Darcy, tibys, PollyWantCookie, Leslie and argyle owl for reviewing! Thanks for waiting so patiently for the update, and the next chapter should be a bit longer than this one.

To Leslie: Using Evan Rosier's name was supposed to be a clue of sorts; I was trying to show that the woman was inventing the compliments for what she had heard about Liseli's teaching.