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THE VOICE UNDER ALL SILENCES. Chapter 31.

Autumn came and went, leaving behind just memories of warmth. Winter arrived with a harsh, almost savage eagerness that forced them all to spend their time indoors. Severus' routine began to settle into a more sedated rhythm as the school's familiar pattern of heavy workload during the week and Hogsmeade weekends, of Quidditch matches and injured players, of detentions to be assigned and exams to mark, of endless paperwork... began to take over the initial restlessness with which he'd joined the staff and, after a while, it seemed as if he'd never been away from the Head's office. He grew used to the sight of Albus' portrait once again. To his whispered commentaries from the wall behind his chair.

He grew used to treating Minnie not as his natural superior but as his subordinate. A helping hand willing to stand in whenever he felt the need to avoid a particular task. Or a person. Or both...

Eventually the students became used to his presence among them. Professors began to come to him in search of both advice or action regarding one or other trouble, instead of turning to Minerva as if by instinct. With every day that passed his life at Hogwarts became easier to deal with and he felt calmer. Safer. More in control.

Evenings belonged to him and Potter, though. The boy had returned to his job midway through his vacation, alleging boredom. He'd invariably fire-call Severus from his home the moment he finished with dinner and they spent hour upon hour chatting through the flames about how very differently their day had panned out.

Severus had been initially wary of this development. Unused, as he was, to share his thoughts with others. He saw the situation as a very personal intimacy, one that he'd shared with no one else before this man had come into his life and turned it inside out.

He'd been reluctant to indulge the brat in this, but had been ultimately unable to sway him. It sometimes frightened him how easily he'd grown used to Potter's calls. He now waited for them almost anxiously. Found himself smiling, at some point or other during the day, and reminding himself to tell this or that to Harry.

Harry... that was another thing that had happened almost without him noticing it. He couldn't really pinpoint the exact moment when his lips had dared to drop proper formality but the truth is that they had done so. He'd woken up one day with the thought that he shouldn't really call a dear friend of his by the same name he'd once called a bitter enemy and the idea had become reality from there. A name meant only to be used within the privacy of his own mind became a whispered address, voiced aloud by mistake, that had gained him the most brilliant smile he'd ever seen. And so it was that he'd never recanted his right to call the child by his given name and now they were Severus and Harry to each other.

He tried hard not to think about what it was exactly that they were doing, or where it might end up leading them in the end... he hoped, for the sake of them both, that Potter was correct and neither of them suffered too badly. But alone, in the silence of his empty, lovingly restored chambers, he stared straight into the darkness and shivered with unease...

They were growing closer. Too close. He was starting to learn to count on the auror for everything. To assume that Harry would be there, beside him, no matter what his plans were or how little actual warning he gave the boy about them...

The gryffindor seemed to live inside his fireplace these days and he... he could not imagine now spending a single evening without enjoying the comfort of that welcome company. These days he had something that he'd never had before. He had... someone... for the very first time. Someone who was his. Someone genuine. Someone who desired only company and had absolutely no agenda to fulfill by befriending him.

The idea that he was just... a mere breath away from crossing past that unmovable line of formal friendship that he'd drawn in his mind, the mere possibility of acknowledging that they... they now knew and shared so much about each other, with each other, that they couldn't in good conscience be defined simply as friends, kept him awake at night. It worried him. It frightened him. It was circling his thoughts constantly, driving him spare...

It had rattled him enough to refuse coming to this reception as the boy's companion, in what he already suspected had been a totally useless attempt to delay what he now saw as... inevitable. He was trying to resist the boy so hard... he was holding on to a belief that had started to crumble. He was trying to remain the same man he'd always been, yet he was discovering with every passing day that that man was dead and gone. He had no desire for that old and bitter version of himself to return, either. He felt finally free and... cared for. He was being cherished for the very first time in his life and he absolutely adored the feeling. He could not, would not, relinquish it now. He didn't really want to imagine the horror of having to return to any sort of life that was devoid of... Harry.

"Severus?”

He startled upon hearing Minnie's call and looked up from the plate he'd been firmly contemplating for the last half hour or so. She smiled at him with so much understanding that he flushed and then proceeded to look surreptitiously around the packed room, in order to determine just how many people had been witness to his... lapse.

There was an awful sort of silence around him and he swallowed down his anxious agitation as he finally realized that every single eye in the blasted place was fixed firmly on him.

His face flushed even harder and he failed miserably in his half-hearted attempt to look relaxed.

From across the table Luc was frowning at him, beautiful features arranged into the impenetrable mask he always wore whenever he felt the need to project a truly impressive facade of polished neutrality. Next to him Draco's blond eyebrows were shooting upwards pointedly. His godson's beautiful eyes were darting towards the left discreetly, indicating the High Table where Rodolphus Curlieu, the pompously insipid Minister of Magic had been seated throughout this whole insupportable ordeal. The bloody man had apparently decided to come to a stand while everybody else was engaged with the daunting task of consuming the elaborate concoction that had been served for desert and was turned, champagne flute in hand, towards Severus' own table.

His eyes narrowed on the smiling face of the suave politician as a wave of sudden understanding finally hit him and he jerked his head towards the man in a minute and very sharp formal acknowledgement.

The whole room seemed to sigh with barely contained relief and every single person present rose to their feet and burst into frenzied applause. He was so shocked by this unexpected development that it took him a second or two before his befuddled brain urged him to come to his feet too. He'd just pushed his heavy chair backwards with the intention of rising, like everybody else, when he felt Minnie's touch settling carefully on his shoulder. A mere blink later she'd bent down to whisper in his ear:

"Don't, Severus!. I know you were lost in your own thoughts during the minister's speech. How could you sit there and completely miss the whole of your own homage, I'll never understand... But this is for you, too. You stay right where you are and smile. Let the rest of us honor you in this very small way."

After that whispered instruction she rejoined the masses in the thunderous delivery of one of the most appallingly long sessions of applause that he'd ever been forced to endure. The longer it lasted, the more uncomfortable that he became, and he was reasonably certain that his face must have acquired both: the rigidity of a wax statue and the color of a half cooked lobster, as he sat in his chair, like a stupid but well dressed lump, and smiled weakly for what felt like an absolute eternity. He was beyond mortified. He was utterly flustered by the unwelcome attention that was centered solely on his person. He'd have given quite a lot to be able to disappear in a puff of smoke from the ceremony, leaving all these people behind to... torment... somebody else.

At long last the ovation died down and he was relieved to see some of the attendees return to their seats. Minnie lowered herself back on to her chair and turned around slightly to stare straight at him with an unholy light in her lovely brown eyes.

"The last time I saw you squirm this much, you've just won the International Golden Cauldron Award for the development of the Delayed-Action Numbing Solution."

He shuddered at the memory and she laughed. Mirth spilling from her lips, her eyes, her whole demeanor, as the rest of their companions also returned to their table and tuned in to the conversation without a shred of shame.

"I remember that. He came home swearing to abandon his potions research projects unless he was assured by the Potioneers Guild that he wouldn't be required to appear in person to another award ceremony..." Luc's recollection sparked a lively discussion on the topic of his apparently incomprehensible refusal to acknowledge every single accolade that he'd been granted in his professional field since that first time.

Pomona and Fillius joined in with their own set of stories and then Poppy had the gall of describing for her very amused audience how he'd faked being ill with Wallancing Fever, in order to avoid having to attend his own inclusion into the Extraordinary Brewer's Wall of Fame.

"I can't believe you didn't bother going to that one, Godfather. You are the only person on that wall who got his name on it while they were still alive. Never mind the fact that you managed to get there at twenty five... Honors like that don't come every day to the rest of us, mere mortals. I can't get my head around your dislike for this kind of occasions. It's just dinner and a few speeches...

You've no idea of how strangely people look at me, whenever I point out that it was you who trained me. It's like admitting to have seen Merlin himself. Everybody knows your name, but no one has actually seen you... At least not in the international circles."

He was certain that his face was ruby-red. His skin was burning with the awareness that his friends and colleagues had decided to poke fun at his small... idiosyncrasy... and he couldn't help but resenting their good humor.

"Potion brewing is not about prizes, or accolades, or any other kind of similar nonsense, Draco. I have no interest whatsoever in being hounded by brainless idiots in some ridiculously overpriced venue that has no actual brewing facilities. I can spend that very time sconced in my lab doing actual work, you see?. I'm happy enough to leave the trappings of fame to the likes of Gilderoy Lockhart.

As long as I have the respect of my colleagues and the time to... tinker... with my brews, I'll contribute to the development of our field but I refuse to be... paraded... through one insufferable conference after another, no matter what Greysone Rogers has to say about it..."

Draco's gray eyes narrowed then and a sigh escaped his lips as the rest of their companion's titters settled.

"He's absolutely peeved at you, Godfather. I'm certain that he'll strangle you in your sleep one of these days unless you answer at least one of his letters. He's written to both, father and me, begging us to convince you to reconsider your stance on those mentorship applications. I'll bet my next year's salary that he's contacted Minerva, too. Hasn't he?"

A terrifyingly gryffindorish smirk blossomed across Minnie's lips.

"He did try. You know how persistent he can be... It's not as if I could ignore the head of the British Mastery Guild of Potioneers and Alchemists, at least not when he sends official requests to be acknowledged as a secondary provider for the very mentorship requests that you were not even aware Hogwarts was receiving on your behalf, Severus. I even tried my best to convince the applicants to send their requests to him. It's not my fault that they don't want to study under any other British master, for Merlin's sake!..."

"The man is an absolute menace. He tried to barge his way into your room while you were still in your coma. He started to shake you, screaming at you to stop faking and accept some of your responsibilities for the good of the Guild!. I had to get Harry to throw him out on his ear..." Poppy commented indignantly from the other end of the table.

"You've got to agree that having Severus accept a few selected applicants would be good not only for Hogwarts, but also for the whole national potions community.

I can certainly see the man's point, even if I disagree with the tactics he's been employing to achieve his goals" Luc butted in with a serious tone of voice that reminded them all of the fact that Rogers had actually brought his complains directly to the school's board of governors, in the hope of having them force Severus to at least pick an apprentice.

"I'm surprised he hasn't shown up yet, Godfather. With you refusing to see him to discuss the matter, I'd have thought that your Order of Merlin ceremony would be his best bet to force you into a confrontation. It's not as if it hasn't been widely publicized that the minister has finally managed to make you agree to put in an appearance..."

"Blackmailed me to show my face, more like, Draco. He got Edwardson on my case, for Salazar's sake!. One doesn't get to disagree with Max's directives about what is expected from the school's Headmaster... That's just calling for more trouble than the alternative is worth."

For a second they all looked at each other with strangely calculating expressions.

"So... you'll take on the mentorships if Rogers convinces Max to include your continuing role in a docent position, at least when it comes to the potions field, as a requirement of the job?"

He frowned at the question. Troubled dark eyes settled on the disconcertingly dazzling shape of the Order Of Merlin's, First class, that hung from a Slytherin-green ribbon over his narrow chest. He'd been

forced into attending the ministry's award ceremony in spite of his own very vocal refusal to do so. The Head of the school's governors insistence had been crucial in getting him here. He'd never had attended this stupid ball of his own free will. But he'd never before imagined that a man like Max Edwardson would actually listen to Rogers' ridiculous demands. Albus hadn't taught a single class since the moment he became headmaster and the same could be said for every single witch or wizard that had preceded him.

"What are the chances of the board deciding to get involved, Luc?. I thought the matter would be brushed under the carpet, if not outright ignored, as soon as the board met. The Mentorship applications are directed to me as a potioneer. They have nothing whatsoever to do with the school itself"

Minnie's hand on his sleeve brought his attention back to her. Deep brown eyes studied his pale face seriously as she pointed out the obvious:

"Some of those applicants are offering a veritable king's ransom in donations to the Hogwarts funds. Then there are the charges that could be applied for food and board. For providing them with ingredients and reading material. We are talking thousands of galleons per applicant, Severus..."

He felt cold down to his toes at the very idea. He was absolutely convinced that he couldn't teach another to the same standard that he'd taught Draco... He'd had complete control over his godson's studies in the field from the very beginning. He hadn't had to compete with other teachers styles or views of what was important enough to be taught and what didn't even deserve to be mentioned in passing... He'd had a blank canvas to mold into what he considered to be the very best potions brewer that he could possibly produce. He'd never have that same advantage with another pupil. Never have the same kind of undisputed trust. The same kind of rapport...

Just as he was about to open his mouth and demand a clear answer from Luc the music started. A quartet had appeared on the podium and was now busily engaged in performing a very sedated Waltz that brought half of his companions to their feet.

"Will you care for a dance, Severus?" Minnie prompted him eagerly and his eyes widened in such a comical rendition of pure panic that she patted him maternally on the shoulder and chuckled under her breath.

"Don't look at me so worriedly, my friend. I'm sure Fillius will take me out for a spin, if you'd rather sit than twirl me around the ballroom. But I do hope to see you out there, for a change. Albus used to say that you moved like a man who knew how to dance..."

He was so flustered by that totally unexpected remark about him knowing how to dance that he couldn't bring himself to look at her. His dark head turned around, searching for the charms professor, and a sigh of sheer gratefulness left his lips when he saw that the man had already risen and was in the process of offering his small hand to Minerva. They both left soon afterwards, laughing quietly at him for his reticence, but he didn't begrudge them their amusement. He knew that he was notorious for his rigid reluctance to... engage... in most acts of frivolity. Albus had constantly berated him for it and so had most of his colleagues over the years. This was nothing truly new, it was just strange to have this kind of scene taking place somewhere other than Hogwarts.

With a rueful shake of his head he forced his fingers to reach for the slender cup of apple juice that he'd been sipping from all evening and decided to wait here for the rest of his party to return so that they all could go back to the school together. His eyes roamed over the room and his brow furrowed as he spied a truly worrying amount of people heading towards his now empty table. He'd barely had time enough to prepare himself for the coming ordeal when the first eager... fan... descended upon him with all the passionate eagerness of the most fervent of hunters, catching sight of a prized wild beast.

Three agonizingly long hours later Severus knew that he was hiding, but he couldn't curve his instinctive need to shy away from the horrifyingly embarrassing ordeal of having to walk around the ministry ballroom, cheerfully accepting all manner of truly over-the-top shows of appreciation for his apparently unparalleled contributions to British Wizarding Society.

His Order of Merlin Ceremony had attracted an absolutely astonishing number of well wishers. Everyone who was anyone in the Wizarding World seemed to have descended on to the crowded room in order to honor him tonight. He was not really enjoying the disturbing... eagerness... of the various politicians and other social climbers. Wasn't enjoying the intensely discomfiting scrutiny of the likes of Rita Skeeter or Julianne Ryosling, both of them well-known sharks, who dedicated their lives to... rip... people apart with the destructive tip of their venomous quills.

There was a veritable sense of jubilant welcome in the way most people treated him and he couldn't get over the idea that he could be quite this well regarded outside of Hogwarts.

Finally, utterly desperate to avoid further discomfort, he'd abandoned his own table with the excuse of having to make use of the facilities and ended up literally cowering behind the biggest potted plant that he could find. He knew that it was a shameful act of utterly spineless cowardice on his part, but... By Merlin!... He'd had enough of this nonsense already.

His dark eyes roamed over the brightly lit ballroom with the kind of longing that only those who have spent an entire lifetime being a wallflower can possibly understand. The music was lovely. So lovely...

There was laughter out there and... joy. There was twirling and beauty. There was dancing...

He'd never, ever, been invited to dance by anyone who hadn't offered him the chance out of pity. Or friendship. Or both...

"So this is where you've been hiding all along. I'll have you know that I've been searching for you, like a bloody idiot, for well over an hour, Severus!"

He'd been so concentrated in his own self-pitying thoughts that he hadn't realized that he'd been spotted. His brow furrowed in the most displeased scowl that he could produce and he turned around to address his unwelcome companion. Every single thought froze in his mind the moment his gaze settled on Harry. His eyes widened and his lips parted in astonished surprise. He could not ever recall having seen the boy looking quite this... elegant.

"Potter... You... you look... incredible. How on Earth did you manage to tame that horrible mop of hair?" He gasped aloud, in utter shock, and a smile that was as mischievous as it was pleased curved his friend's lips.

"Insulting my poor hair is really bad form, Severus. I was born with it, you know?. It's kind of... a natural reflexion of my own rebellious nature, I think."

He just gaped at the auror in absolute befuddlement. He could not actually reconcile this... absolutely perfectly turned-out gentleman with the messy and careless creature that he'd grown to associate the boy with.

"I didn't mean to insult you, Harry. It's just that... I hardly recognize you under all of that... polish"

Laughter curved those lips upwards and he finally saw a glimpse of the man he'd grown accustomed to seeing in the gentleman beside him.

"I'm afraid that this is only for tonight, Severus. Tomorrow I'll be back to my usual disastrous self."

For some reason he disliked that particular comment with a passion that surprised him.

"There's nothing wrong with your usual self!" He snapped sharply and then blushed a bright crimson color when he found himself on the receiving end of a genuinely surprised look.

"Are you alright, Severus?. You seem to be... awfully unsettled. Is all of this attention getting to you already?. It's only been a few hours since you arrived, you know?. There's no way that I can get you out of here this early on..."

Harry's callused palm settled on his arm and he gritted his teeth fiercely in an effort not to snap at the boy further. He was extremely uncomfortable with the touch. With the certainty that the child was attempting to... comfort him, in the very same way he liked to do while they were both together in his office. Severus was not accustomed to acknowledge his own emotions in so open a way and what was perfectly fine for him to accept, in the privacy of their meetings together, wasn't quite so welcome while they were both stuck in such a public venue.

"Severus? Is there something wrong?" Obviously concerned fingers tugged on his sleeve, looping gently around his wrist, and his eyes lowered to stare at those digits. He was fighting a losing battle with himself. Fully aware that he'd promised the child that he'd try to meet him half way when they met here tonight, but finding himself absolutely unable to do so.

"I... I do not want... I'm having trouble with you touching me in public, Harry..." He finally forced those words out, through gritted teeth, and could have banged his head against the wall when a veritable storm of sheer hurt painted shadows on the brightness of his friend's emerald eyes.

"Why? I touch you like this all the time"

His chest seized with unbearable hurt when the child released him as if he'd been burned. There was something very much like abject disappointment crashing against the tightly controlled walls of his hard-earned self-control. He liked the neat and logical constrains of his own formally rigid behavior.

He felt safe within the distance he liked to keep between himself and all others, it helped him feel in control... Now, though, seeing how his stubborn insistence in adhering to his own general rules of public behavior had just harmed the gryffindor so deeply, a truly choking knot seized his drying throat and he wondered, with a flash of vexed self-awareness, what exactly it was that he wanted from the man in front of him.

He'd never bothered to hide his affection towards Draco. Although he was never particularly attentive to Luc, Cissy or even Minnie... They were all people who knew his limitations. Who had accepted long ago the fact that there was a side of him that they would only ever see in private...

Harry wasn't quite like any of them. He wasn't made for living in any sort of duality. He was straightforward and open in everything he did. He was a book that held no secrets... Severus understood that he needed to make up his mind about where on Earth it was that they were heading and how far was he willing to open up, in order to keep the boy... content.

Did he want Potter to withdraw or to persevere?. Was his own insistent protesting against the possibility of finally recognizing that he could very well see himself growing even closer to the boy his true opinion on the matter or was that just mere... uncertainty... speaking?. Did he really believe that he could learn to love Harry someday with the same sort of devotion that the boy showered him with?... And even if he did, did he actually have the courage to recognize such a thing out loud, to try and seize it?.

Did he genuinely want Harry to forget him altogether or was he actually selfish enough to desire being the sole focus of the gryffindor's affections, without the added pressure of having to offer... anything... in return?. All these questions fleeted through his mind as he stood there, gazing straight into those darkened green eyes that held more hurt and confusion than he could possibly bear to have caused this young man.

"I don't know why you put up me, Harry" He finally whispered in dismayed self-deprecation, and felt himself almost jump with terrified trepidation when the boy smiled at him with so much sweetness that it was impossible to mistake the devoted affection in those eyes for anything other than... plain and simple love.

"You are too hard on yourself, Severus. It's okay for you to be... whatever it is that you are being at the moment. I should have known that my touchy-feely approach to friendship would make you uncomfortable in public. I actually knew that. It's just... hard for me to remember that you are not like Ron and Hermione. You are much more restrained than anyone I've ever been friends with before, that's why we are both sort of... stumbling... a bit.

We are making progress, though, even if you are far too mad with yourself right now to realize it. I'm so proud of the fact that you came out and told me what was wrong, without me having to drag it out of you with thumbscrews, that I feel as if I could break into song right now..."

"Please, don't!" Horrified black eyes clashed against amused green and his breath caught in his chest when Harry laughed.

"You are so easy to rile up... I love to see you getting all flustered with the horror of imagining that I'll shame you. As if I could. As if I would...

You need to relax and forget about all others for a while, Severus. No matter how embarrassing you think it'll be, the truth is that even if I were to sing at the top of my voice right now everyone would have forgotten that I ever did it by tomorrow.

You can't push yourself inside a box just to keep everyone else happy, that'll only lead you to despair. Self-consciousness can be more of a hindrance than an asset in some ways. And I think that you have so much of it that you are becoming trapped by it's chains..."

Long black hair swung forwards to obscure his pale profile when he turned his face away from that disturbingly intent gaze. He'd told the child many times how uncomfortable he felt with this kind of conversations, but Harry tended to ignore him when it suited him. Or when he felt there was something that needed to be said, despite Severus' own reluctance to even hear it.

His dark eyes surveyed the joyous crowd that filled the brightly lit room once again. The same kind of longing that he'd always struggled hard to ignore came back to haunt him and he allowed Harry's strangely appropriate words to touch the deep wounds inside of him that wanted to force him into self-protective denial.

This was his party, thrown in his honor by the ministry itself, and he was hiding behind a potted plant while all his friends danced the night away... It had always been like this for him. Always!.

No matter what the occasion for frivolous celebration was, he'd invariably become a lonely wall-flower while everyone around him joked and twirled under the enchanted lights in time with the gentle music.

There had never been someone willing to take him out onto the floor and he'd never felt comfortable enough to allow one of his well-meaning friends to engage him in a dance being offered out of pity... That's why he'd never bothered to accept Minnie's or even Cissy's attempts to draw him out. He had wanted his first time out there to be all about... romance. He had wanted it to be about... magic and affection. He had wanted to dance while his heart pounded with hope and there was no fear of trickery filling his distrustful mind with dark suspicions...

Suddenly he felt chocked with the need to be out there: feeling, for one second, the easy joy of finding himself held in another's embrace... Daring to sway gently around the ballroom while the chords of the violins cast a spell upon his senses... He had always liked the beauty of classical music. He'd used to dance with an invisible, imaginary partner, many years ago. Back when he'd been still a gangly, shy student whom nobody ever invited to the Yule Ball. The boy whose invitation was always rejected in favor of another's. The snake no one had wanted...

"Severus? Are you all right?"

Harry's concerned voice brought him out of his own maudlin thoughts and he blinked hastily. He was dismayed by the discovery that his eyes were burning with the effort of containing a distressed flow of enraged, self-pitying tears.

A gasp broke across his lips as his companion's fingers curled again around his bony wrist, in an effort to force him to turn his head around once more and confront the worry that he knew must be clearly imprinted on the auror's green gaze.

He resisted the boy's effort with a shamed, reluctant obstinacy that gained him not the respite he was aiming for, but a more determined insistence from the stubborn gryffindor.

"Severus, look at me. Please!, just tell me... What's the matter?"

His dark eyes swept the room once again. A last look towards all those things that he finally understood he'd always desired but had never had the courage to reach out for.

A strange feeling of crazy recklessness shot through him when he caught sight of his godchild, swaying carelessly in the arms of Longbottom, and he truly felt annoyed with himself. There was Draco, dancing the night away with a boy he'd openly despised during most of his childhood. It didn't seem to matter to anyone that they'd been enemies at one point. Or that it had been Draco's crazy aunt the one who'd crucioed Longbottom's parents into cursed catatonia. No one seemed to care about such things anymore. No one was even looking at them in any way...

They were simply... laughing. Dancing. They looked enraptured. Trapped inside a world of their own making that one else seemed inclined to destroy.

Why was it that he, himself, lacked the kind of courage that his beloved godson showed so easily?.

Harry's hand rose to rub across his left arm in a gentle, soothing contact and he shivered from head to toe, unable to decide if the touch simply scared him, or unnerved him, or comforted him...

"Severus?"

His heart lodged in his throat when he finally turned around to stare straight into the boy's eyes with a kind of utterly terrified trepidation. He was crazy. He knew that he was crazy... He was going to open his big mouth and say something truly stupid that would end up with him being left alone to nurse the worst kind of humiliation that he'd been forced to endure since he was sixteen, but he couldn't seem to find the arguments necessary to convince his ridiculous mind to remain silent.

"I... I want to dance, Harry."

The words left his trembling lips and the whole world seemed to have come to a sudden and complete stop all around him. Everything stilled in that one instant as his lungs froze with stress and his blood pounded furiously within his overwhelmed veins. He knew that he was pale. He felt cold. He was trembling...

This was, without a doubt, one of the hardest moment's of his life.

The auror blinked at him for a painfully long second. Beautiful emerald eyes looked confused before they lit up with unmistakable joy. A smile broke across those golden features as the gryffindor lurched towards him with his very next breath.

"You want to dance?" The sentence had a breathless, intent quality to it. It sounded dazed, amazed, joyous. Almost as choked and terrified as Severus' own request had been and he couldn't, in all honestly, tell which one of them was more relieved by the other's reaction when those calloused fingers closed around his own potion-tainted ones and the boy simply said:

"If you want to dance we'll dance, Severus."

TBC...

Ch30

Ch32