Severitus Oneshots

Unusual Lesson

Summary: Harry has a problem and turns to his trusted guardian to help him. Severus is hardly thrilled.
(Snape teaches Harry how to dance. Sort of. Set before the Yule Ball in the Goblet of Fire. ) 

Quote: " Then, he stepped closer towards Harry, lightly placing his palm on his waist while determinedly ignoring the awkwardness of it all.  "

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"I don't know how to dance."

Harry always had an attention-catching arrival. The way he entered Snape's office without knocking and the fact he slammed doors with unnecessary fierceness only teenagers could attain, told Severus who his uninvited guest would be before Harry presented himself.

He didn't bother to lift his eyes from the second-year Ravenclaw's essays and continued to correct them as if no unpredictable boy resembling a tornado stormed into his chambers.

"And how does this concerns me?" Severus replied evenly, a bored tone glazing his voice.

"Teach me."

It wasn't a request, hardly a plea... it was a demand with a hint of desperation which Harry tried to mask as confidence. 

"Have I wanted to be entertained by humourless jokes, I would've chatted with professor Flitwick this morning. If there's nothing else you wish to convey, off you go," Severus tried to dismiss the boy in front of him, but Harry just rolled his eyes and stubbornly sat down.

"I'm serious. You're my last resort. Help me," Harry fidgeted, his suppressed nervousness showing on the surface. "Please," he enunciated.

Severus finally looked up, feeling an incoming headache form around his temples.

"I should not have been on your list of potential dance teachers at all. Go to your Head of the House, I'm sure she'll be more than eager to engage in these activities," he stated tiredly. 

"No, thank you. I've already had the pleasure to experience dance lessons with McGonagall, as the whole Gryffindor fourth-year did. I'll rather make a fool of myself in front of everyone than live through it again," Harry shuddered upon remembering the events from a few days ago.

"I'm glad we reached a conclusion then. Now, I'm quite busy," Severus considered the conversation over. Harry did not.

"You said I could rely on you if I ever needed," he whipped out his triumph card, hoping it would work. By the unimpressed expression that settled on Snape's face, Harry could tell he failed to persuade him.

"Yes, shall you face mortal peril, harm or danger, immediately seek me out. However, do enlighten me, to which of these categories does "I need a dance teacher" fall?" Severus argued, wondering how did he always manage to attract the biggest troublemakers. Harry being a part of the tournament was bad enough and kept him up at night since the Goblet spat out his name, Severus didn't need awkward moments of dance practice to add salt to the wound.

Snape didn't dance. He was taught by his mother when he was young so he was familiar with the activity, but nevertheless, he did not dance. Not even for the Boy Who Lived or, as was known, the Boy-Who-Became-His-Responsibility-Three-Years-Ago. 

"Harm," Harry replied immediately, "It's going to bring me and the whole school harm if I don't know how to dance – they're going to make fun of me again. The ridicule over me being a champion finally died down a bit, I don't want to restart it by standing on the dance floor like a frozen statue during the opening dance," the pity card was a low blow but Harry was running out of options. He schooled his features into the most hopeless expression he could muster and then continued. "The least you can do is teach me three basic dance moves."