I am going to apologize now, because the chapters might begin to shorten a little as I've only got about three weeks left before I go off the board for about a year. So, I want to get my stories done before then so I don't leave you all hanging. I obviously don't have much time left. Just be expecting one chapter after another in quick succession and possibly shorter than normal, but I'll try my best to keep them at normal length.

Chapter 29: Preparations for a Dance

Madame McCall smiled apologetically at Stiles, Allison and Kira as the Houses shuffled into the large ballroom, squeezing into the bleachers the others teachers had set up around the room. "Good morning, everyone! I am Melissa McCall, the Head of Hufflepuff and the head nurse, for those of you who didn't know. During the Triwizard Tournament, it is customary for the House Head to teach all of you left-footed boys and girls how to waltz for the Yule Ball. This year, it will be Professor Morrell and myself aided by Professor Martin because the other teachers, specifically our male counterparts, were too chicken to help." Her voice was jovial, her smile wide.

Laughter filled the room, and she noticed that even Stiles and his friends cracked small grins. They had been morose and withdrawn the past couple days since Danny's death. She was worried for them, but if they could smile, there was a possibility they were better than she thought.

Smiling, Melissa rubbed her hands together. "Let's get things started then with a demonstration done by Professor Martin and myself. Professor Morrell, if you would." She clasped hands with Natalie Martin, rolling her eyes with the other woman as whoops rose around the room.

"We'll work them to the bone for that," Natalie said quietly as they began to move.

"They'll have to be able to get through half of the song without a mistake before they can go to lunch," Melissa suggested.

"Perfect."

Scott watched his mom, his mouth hanging open. "Dude, I didn't even know my mom could dance," he said incredulously, looking to Stiles, "When did that happen?"

Stiles shrugged. "Maybe when she was here. I really have no idea, dude. Now, what would be really surprising is if my dad could dance, but he's back in Beacon Hills until the next Task, so we'll never find out." His head jerked up as the door swung open. He shot to his feet, his mouth hanging open. "Dad? What are you doing here? You're not supposed to be here for another two weeks!"

"Speak of the Devil," Lydia murmured to Cora.

The Sheriff rolled his eyes as he closed the door gently behind him. "I was invited back, Stiles, oh ungrateful son of mine. I'm going to be here until after the next Task."

Melissa and Natalie slowed to a stop, breaking apart to watch the commotion. A smile that Melissa had unsuccessfully repressed spread across her face. She crossed her arms, shoving her hands into her armpits as if trying to keep herself still.

"But why?" Stiles shouted, stepping between people on the bleachers to get to the floor. He hit the ground running, throwing himself into his dad's arms. "It's still good to see you though."

"Oh, that's nice. Now I feel loved," the Sheriff laughed, hugging his son to him tightly. He frowned when he felt Stiles shudder under his arms. Lowering his voice, he asked, "Are you alright, son? Did something happen? You know you can talk to me about anything."

Stiles nodded into his father's chest, shutting his eyes tightly against the tears that welled in them. He pulled away after another moment, forcing a grin onto his face. "We're learning how to waltz right now." The smile on his face turned wicked and he swung around. Sheriff Stilinski felt his stomach drop out from under him. "Mama McCall, do you want to do a demonstration with my dad? I think it would be very educational."

A blush, pink and flaming, spread across Melissa's cheeks even as she smirked. Sheriff Stilinski devolved into a spluttering mess. "No, uh, no. I'm not good at dancing at all. That would be a terrible idea," he stuttered, clearing his throat as laughter filled the room. He glowered at Stiles even as Melissa stepped forward.

"That's fine. We're teaching everyone how to dance. Everyone should know as least how to waltz," she said, raising a challenging eyebrow at him.

Sighing, the Sheriff took her hands, letting himself be dragged towards the middle of the room. Wolf whistles sounded from Stiles' pack, and laughter spilled from the bleachers again.

"Okay, let's begin." The music started, and Melissa took the lead.

…..

Stiles laughed delightedly as Derek stepped on his toes. Derek grimaced, muttering a quiet, "Sorry," before glancing down at their feet and stepping on his toes again. He groaned in aggravation.

"It's alright," Stiles laughed, bumping their foreheads together, "You're clumsiness just makes you that much cuter."

"But I don't want to be cute," Derek grumbled, stumbling into Stiles as he tripped over his own feet, "I don't understand! My mother tried to teach me how to waltz, and then Laura, and you at one point in our Third Year, and I still can't get it. Not that Laura and Mom were great at waltzing themselves."

Stiles grinned. "That just means you have two left feet instead of one. I still love you though."

Derek sighed. "I should just give up the ghost. You should dance with Lydia or Allison for the opening dance of the Yule Ball." They turned their eyes to where Lydia was steadfastly guiding Cora through the steps, her lip twitching every time Cora stepped on her toes. Scott and Allison glided passed, Allison guiding them effortlessly and Scott simply trying to keep up. "Definitely one of them. Malia can't dance to save her life." Across the room, she snarled as Melissa stopped her and Liam to correct them.

"It must be a Hale thing," Stiles suggested, glancing around at the rest of the pack, "Most of the rest seem to be doing pretty well."

"Dance with any one of the others at the Ball, I won't be mad."

"But I want to dance with you."

Derek shook his head. "I'm going to make you look terrible."

Stiles shrugged. "Doesn't matter to me. It's just going to be pack for the first few minutes until the others start to join us."

Derek frowned, following Scott and Isaac across the dance floor. Allison had traded Scott for Kira, and Scott laughed uproariously as Isaac flushed deeply, his ears turning red. "Just think about it. I want you to have fun."

Rolling his eyes, Stiles asked disparagingly, "And you don't think I'll have fun if I'm dancing with your two left feet? What logic is this? Who is filling your head with this filth, my wonderful sourwolf? If I didn't have fun with you in nearly everything we do, I wouldn't still be with you, just saying. I can't be with someone who doesn't make me laugh and smile and all that sugary bullshit. So, no, I'm not going to think about it. I'm going to dance with you for the opening dance at the Yule Ball, for the entire Yule Ball actually, and that is the last I'm going to say on it."

"But-"

"Not 'buts'," Stiles cut him off sharply, glaring at him, "At least not in public. My father is here. Be appropriate. We'll have plenty of time to be inappropriate in front of my father at Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners and such when we're married."

"We're getting married?" Derek asked mildly, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth.

Stiles raised an eyebrow at him. "Well, I sure fucking hope so after everything I've put up being with you. This whole mated thing would be kind of difficult to work around if we were with other people anyway. Kind of hard to explain why you can't leave your ex because of this metaphysical bond thing that you have if they're not in the pack."

Derek's returned Stiles' raised brow. "They wouldn't be in the pack?"

Stiles pursed his lips, glancing towards the ceiling. "Probably not. I wouldn't want to have to deal with the drama if things had to be broken off, you get me? It's kind of like how they say don't date people you work with."

Shrugging, Derek said, "I guess so. I've just never really dated before."

"Right, because all of your romantic interactions with women have ended badly."

"Very."

Puffing out his chest, Stiles said grandly, "That's why you need a man in your life!"

Pressing a kiss to Stiles' temple, just out of sight of Sheriff Stilinski, Derek replied, "I'm glad I already have a great one."

…..

Stiles whined wordlessly as he fell back against Lydia's headboard, pouting and picking at the dirt beneath his fingernails. "I don't know why I have to be the one to help you pick out your dress for the Yule Ball when it's still two weeks away."

"Because you're my best friend, and Isaac is probably off giving head to Scott or Allison or both. Otherwise, I'd go to him. He has some good taste, but those scarves are horrendous most days," Lydia replied curtly, standing straight from her trunk and throwing three more dresses on top of the pile that was already a good foot and a half high.

"Oh thanks, I feel so loved and wanted." He sighed, turning his eyes up to her. "If you don't even want me here for fashion advice, I don't know why I'm here at all. It would have been so much easier to bring one of the girls in here instead of me. We wouldn't have to cast this charm every fucking thirty minutes."

"First off, I may enjoy Kira and Allison immensely, but I do not entirely trust them just yet. Two, I didn't bring you here for fashion advice. You have a terrible sense of fashion, especially for a gay man."

"That is a stereotype, and I resent it."

Rolling her eyes, she continued, "Three, as I said, best friend. I would do anything for you, no matter how annoying it would be."

Stiles raised an eyebrow. "Anything? Even planning the perfect proposal?"

Lydia stopped, snapping straight. She narrowed her eyes at him, lowering the dress in her hands. "Are you going to propose to someone? Derek, I assume."

"You assume correctly and eventually, yeah. Not right now though. We've got too much shit going on with the Triwizard Tournament and Peter and fucking Kate. What's the hurt in planning early, though? It has to be good and it has to be loud and everyone has to know that he is going to finally be mine."

"He is yours," Lydia pointed out, holding up the dress in her hands for inspection, "and everyone is perfectly aware. That guy is so head over heels for you, it actually makes me sick sometimes, like today during our dancing lesson. You two are almost as sickening as that love triangle thing developing between Scott, Isaac, and Allison."

Stiles hummed. "You noticed that too?"

"Oh, please, they are so obvious it physically hurts me."

"You should probably have Mama McCall look at that. That can't be healthy."

"Shut up," Lydia snapped without malice, holding up a floor length, midnight blue dress studded to make it look like the night sky, and a shimmery, gossamer, pale purple number, "Now, which one do you prefer?"

Frowning, Stiles looked between both dresses. "If I had to choose between just these two, the blue one for sure, but maybe something red would be better."

…..

Stiles and Sheriff Stilinski walked along the path leading to Laura's burnt out, abandoned cabin, staring out over the grounds. Mist had rolled in off of the lake, blanketing the grounds thickly enough that they had to watch carefully as they padded through the garden Larua had kept in memory of Rubious Hagrid. Her plants, fruits and vegetables and things Stiles didn't even have a name for, were wilting, their leaves turning brown and crisp around the edges.

Finally, Stiles spoke, "You weren't actually invited here to dance around with us, were you." It wasn't a question. He was positive in the truth of his statement. What he wasn't positive in was the reason he had to be saying it.

"No, no I wasn't."

"Does it have something to do with..." He trailed off. The wound was too fresh, still bleeding and full of puss. Just thinking Danny's name peeled at the slowly scabbing over wound.

The Sheriff nodded, sighing. "I'm sorry about Danny, Stiles. I know he meant a lot to you and your friends. With any luck, I'll be able to help catch the person who has been doing this."

"That would be... amazing. I want to watch the man who killed Danny hang for this."

"Stiles," Sheriff Stilinski reprimanded, "Violence isn't always the answer. It doesn't always solve our problems."

Stiles glowered at the grass, kicking at a charred piece of broken wood. "It apparently was for that guy."

The Sheriff sighed. "Stiles, this guy, whatever he's doing, he's dangerous. I want you to stay out of this one. Promise me that you'll let myself and the other teachers handle this, this time."

Stiles shook his head. "I can't promise that. I'm sorry."

Sighing, the Sheriff wrapped his arm around Stiles' shoulder, dragging him into his side as they continued walking.