Chapter 7 Waltz and Walls

Tristan entered the dining area at half-past six, rubbing his eyes.

"Good morning," a deep baritone greeted him. The young lord's eyes shot up.

"Severus? What are you doing up so early?"

The Potions Master took a sip of the tea that was served on the table before answering.

"Seeing that my incessant questioning yesterday had caused a delay in our schedule, I was hoping to make up for it." He eyed the young lord's attire of a plain white round-necked shirt and a pair of emerald green silk pajamas that rode low on his hips and made his eyes look even more green than blue. "Are we having lessons on bedroom etiquette today?"

Tristan slumped down in his seat, apparently still too sleepy to catch the Potions Master's innuendo/ He grabbed his own cup of tea and drank it black. A few sips later…

"WHAT?" Tristan spat out about half of the tea he had in his mouth. He glanced at his outfit then at Severus. The older wizard smiled.

"Isn't your reaction a bit delayed?"

Tristan blushed.

"I was asleep. And not everyone dresses as impeccably as you do in the morning." He took another sip of tea. "And why must you dress in black all the time? I swear I had some colored robes sent in for you."

"Black is a practical color if you must know,"

"For potions probably, but as a noble lord, you need to wear other colors. Would wearing red hurt much?"

Severus gave him a glare enough to pry the skin off of his body. Tristan sighed.

"Fine. No red then. But I need you to change into those green dress robes I got for you."

"What on earth would you need me to be in dress robes for?" Severus asked.

"Why, your next lesson of course!"

The Potions Master looked skeptical.

"Lessons? Pray tell, what lesson would require such an uncomfortable apparel,"

Tristan smirked, his blue-green eyes shining."

"Dancing, of course."

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"No, no –you have to add an extra spring to your last step, Severus! Look here, step-close-step. Step-close –step –"

"I still fail to see the point in bouncing. Face it, I was born with two left feet." The Potions Master sighed. He had been watching and copying Tristan's moves alongside the man for about a couple of hours now. "I look like a marionette when I attempt to dance."

"Nonsense," Tristan admonished him. "You're doing well for a beginner. And if you look like a marionette –Gareth tells me I looked like a wooden toy soldier when I first attempted to dance –"

"Like the nutcracker, perchance?" Severus asked.

"Yep."

The older wizard burst out laughing.

"How fitting."

Tristan blushed and smiled demurely.

"It is good to see you laugh. You should do so more often. It suits you."

It was Severus' moment to turn red.

"Very well –I still do not see the point in learning how to waltz." Tristan gave him an 'are-you-kidding-me?' look.

"Every wizarding lord has to know how to dance. And not just dance, but lead one. ON the day of your lordship, you are expected to open a ball with a traditional waltz –"

"You mean I have to dance?"

"Yes."

"In front of people?"

"Yes,"

"That is utterly absurd. I bet you did not have to do that."

Tristan sighed.

"Well, my existence was not exactly public knowledge, so no. Look, it's tradition. Now you can be difficult and prolong your agony or –" Tristan looked pensive for a while. "Perhaps, if I lead you, you will get a better grasp of it."

"Lead?" Severus asked curiously. Tristan nodded.

"When I was learning how to waltz, Gareth would provide me with shadow dummies since I was too tall to partner him. But we're about the same height –I can lead you."

"How exactly do we go about it then?"

Tristan smiled at him.

"Face me."

Severus sighed before taking a step closer towards his tutor. Their eyes were almost leveled, he found out, but he still seem to top the young lord by about a good 4 inches.

"Now rest your left hand lightly on my shoulder."

Severus found himself following the commands of Tristan's soft voice.

"Good. Now technically, the man leads. However in our case, we defer to having the more experienced partner leading the dance."

"Experienced?" Severus raised an eyebrow. Tristan's blush deepened.

"Konwledgeable –in dancing,"

"Ah, I see," Severus breathed. "By all means, lead the way then, Lord Peverell,"

Tristan breathed what appeared to be a sigh of relief.

"Right," The young lord then proceeded to grab the Potions Master's right hand. Severus smirked.

"You're shaking, Lord Peverell. Are you sure you are quite up to this?"

"No, I'm not –shaking, that is," Tristan insisted. He then placed his remaining hand around Severus' waist.

"Be gentle with me, Tristan," Severus muttered quietly, his voice smooth and low –almost like a purr. "I'm rather ticklish,"

Tristan's eyes widened. Severus laughed softly upon seeing this.

"That –was a joke, my lord. I would much rather prefer a firm hand –"

"What?" Tristan blurted out, evidently uncomfortable.

"On my waist, Lord Peverell –your hand on my waist. Circe, if you must touch my body, do it properly. I am not piece of fine bone china."

"Oh –of course," Tristan recovered himself with a sigh. "Well, let us begin."

With a click of the young lord's heels, music began to pipe in. And this time, to Severus' amusement, it was indeed the famed waltz from the ballet The Nutcracker. He turned his attention to Tristan. The young Lord was moving across the makeshift ballroom gracefully. He was a fine dancer, but as a lead –the young still had a long way to go. Severus sighed to himself and decided a different approach. He all of a sudden grabbed the hand that was on his waist and placed it firmly on his shoulder. Tristan froze in the middle of his steps and looked at Severus imploringly. The older wizard merely smirked as he replaced his hand around Tristan's waist and began to steer.

Severus Snape was far from being a novice dancer, Tristan thought after their roles were reversed as they glided across the dance floor fluidly. The man's hand on his waist was gentle but firm, and his steps were a little less graceful, but determined. Tristan found himself melting into the Potions Master's ministrations and right then and there he decided that Severus was a better and much more suitable lead than he. They finished the waltz in that position, the blue-green eyes never leaving the obsidian ones until the final bars of the melody echoed from across the room. However when it finally did, the spell broke and Tristan pulled away from the older wizard's grasp, his eyes suddenly ablaze.

"You lied to me, You said you did not know how to dance!"

The Potions Master glared at the young lord.

"I resent that, I never claimed such a thing. I merely implied that I was not good at it, hence, the term having 'two left feet'."

"But –but you can lead!"

"Yes I can." Severus folded his arms across his chest. "One does not need to be an excellent dancer to be able to dominate, Lord Peverell. I merely sensed your reluctance to do so and decided to take the lead. Experience does not always prevail. Sometimes persistence triumphs over knowledge."

Tristan looked like he was about to say something but, changed his mind. He glanced at the clock before shifting his eyes back to Severus.

"Then forgive my earlier pronouncement of calling you pretentious, Lord Prince. That was very improper of me." The young man then sighed. "If I'm not mistaken, lunch will be served soon. Excuse me,"

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Severus did not see Tristan during lunch –he sort of already expected that. He knew that he might have offended the young lord's sensibilities by usurping his dominance. He was almost prepared to launch into his prepared speech of apology –but when the clock struck three and his tutor was still nowhere to be found, he began to fidget. He decided to call for the house elf.

"Dinky?"

"Yes Master Severus?"

"Have you seen Tristan?"

"He left sir, right before lunch, sir,"

"Left?" Severus blurted out. "Did he say where he was going or when he will be back?"

The house elf shook her head slowly.

"I see, thank you Dinky." Severus dismissed the elf. Okay, so he would not be seeing Tristan anytime soon. The Potions Master sighed. He just hoped that his young tutor was okay and that when he got back, he would talk to Severus and sort things out.

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September 20, 1810

Another day at the Wizengamot. Every day I find it harder and harder to justify my decision to take up the mantle of the Lordship. Anastasia would be better suited for this –if only she kept her surname when she married Siegfried.

Still, I find myself looking forward to waking up every day now more than ever –just so I could go to the Ministry, go about my day as usual, and finally come home.

Home.

Where Euphrates awaits.

I know, it is a lot of wishful thinking on my part that he should wait for me, but in a manner, he actually is. It has only been two days since he had been conscious –three weeks in my care, but those fleeting moments we share, conversing on the most mundane of topics, only add to the feeling of fond familiarity I have for him.

I wish for the nights to never end, now that I have someone to share them with…

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Severus closed the journal and laid it on his bedside table. After Tristan disappeared without notice, he had taken the journal from its resting nook in the library and smuggled it inside his room. He had been reading the diary for hours now. If he had any walls of doubt as to what Nile Peverell was feeling for his ancestor the last time he had read his diary entry of two days ago, September 20, 1810's page knocked those down for him.

Nile Peverell had fallen for Euphrates Prince. Hard.

Severus wished that he had an idea of how Nile looked like; from his entries, Euphrates looked quite like Severus himself. Did Nile look anything like Tristan? If he did, then Euphrates Prince would not have a hard time falling for the High Lord in return. Euphrates Prince had been a Potions Apprentice to his father, at the time Nile met him and had become a full-pledged Master in the year that followed. It seemed that the Princes were destined to be Potions Masters.

In the immediate entries that followed, it was clear as to how smitten Nile had been of Severus' ancestor. The Potions Master frowned. If Nile Peverell was anything like Tristan and if Euphrates Prince was Severus' doppelganger, would it really be possible for Tristan to 'care' about Severus in that way? Severus wished that he knew how Euphrates felt about the High Lord back then –maybe it could give him a hint on how to go about with his dealings with Tristan. Homosexuality was not uncommon back in the 1800's, but there was still that connotation then of it being taboo –unlike now when it was frowned upon less. Did Euphrates Prince keep a similar journal? Severus did not know if his ancestor was one to write down his thoughts and feelings but…

Severus stood up from his bed. It was worth a try. The Potions Master headed for the living areas where the ledgers from yesterday were still lying about. He scanned the tabs dating back to the 1800's until his obsidian eyes found what he was looking for. If Euphrates did indeed keep a journal, it might be listed somewhere:

Euphrates Tiberius Prince

1789-1840

(Chief of Wizengamot)

1820-1840