Mephisto Waltz

"No, absolutely, positively, no. Non, nein, nyet, nee. How many times must I tell you?"

Harry frowned. "You're being unreasonable. It's such a small thing."

"It's an entire event I've neither the desire nor inclination to attend. Last time I looked, your feet weren't just painted on. So use them and hie yourself there on your own!"

"It's Christmas. And there'll be couples there." Harry's face fell. "I don't want to go without you."

Severus placed both palms on the table and leant forward. "It's a simple choice, then: go and dance to your heart's content without me, or stay home with me—there'll be no dancing, but other entertainment can be arranged." He raised a seductive eyebrow, then managed to wiggle it.

Harry couldn't help but laugh. "How do you do that?" he murmured.

"Long hours in front of a mirror. Now, is this settled?" He stood and swept up his cloak to head for the door.

Under his breath, Harry sighed, "For now." He frowned again. "What the bloody hell language is nee?"

oooOOOooo

"You did what?" Severus asked, a bit of the old menace in his voice.

"It was the last day to send it in…so I said two would be attending," Harry replied calmly.

Severus took a deep breath, then placated Harry by smiling, until Harry saw which smile it was… It was the one where he was usually fucked, and not in the usual way. "Then I assume you've found some poor sod who's willing to go with you, because it certainly won't be me."

Harry didn't answer, his back to Severus at their wardrobe. He pulled out their not often worn sets of dress robes, then headed for the bathroom.

"Put mine back," Severus called after him. "Freshening them won't make a bit of difference to me, as I'm not going!"

"We'll see about that," Harry answered him in that sing-song falsetto that annoyed Severus to no end.

oooOOOooo

Severus chewed his toast thoughtfully as he studied that morning's Prophet, then turned a page, timing his glance over the top of it so he wasn't noticed. He reached out without looking away from page three's account of Luleigh Litlaff's unfortunate encounter with a Siren, snagged another slice of toast and crammed it halfway into his mouth.

Licking his fingers as he shoved the last of it in, he abruptly laid the paper in his lap and skewered Harry with a murderous look. "What is it?" he asked in irritation.

Harry looked innocent as a lamb, but Severus knew better. Even so, Harry managed to pull off a slightly wounded tone as he replied, "What is what?"

"Spit it out, whatever it is you have to say."

"I've not said a word—"

"Aha! That's how I know you dying to say it." He knit his eyebrows into one, continuous black furrow. "Every morning, I read while you jabber away non-stop. I've learnt to ignore it and tune you out." He leant forward in his chair as he narrowed his eyes even more. "Your silence is so deafening I can't concentrate, so just say what it is so I can read in peace!"

Using a finger to make a circular motion at the side of his head, Harry replied, "You're seriously mental."

Severus crossed his arms and waited, still staring, his lips a thin line.

Harry sighed. "It's not like you actually have to know how to dance. That's it, isn't it?"

Letting his head fall back dramatically, Severus stared at the ceiling for a moment, then looked up. "We're back to this again? I told you no."

"Because I can't really dance either. We'd be a matched set."

Severus relaxed his shoulders and picked up his tea. "Isn't that the point of a Ball? To dance? Otherwise, stay home. Unless you enjoy making a spectacle of yourself. In which case, I'll save myself the aggravation and just read it here." He tapped the Prophet in his lap.

Harry was smiling slightly. "You don't fool me. You don't like to do anything you can't do perfectly, and that includes dancing. Egotist."

"No," Severus replied patiently, almost pedantically. "I don't like making a spectacle of myself. And anyone dancing with you would certainly end up as one." He set his cup down. "Are we done now?"'

Harry shrugged. "I suppose so." He waited until Severus had gone back to his paper, then muttered, "'Til next time."

oooOOOooo

It was the Saturday of the Ball, and Severus looked up to catch Harry making those…doe eyes. He'd expected it and had his strategy planned. "All right, I'll go," he said tersely.

The doe eyes got impossibly more deer-like. "Go? To the Ball with me?" Harry asked, stunned.

"Of course with you. Whom else did you think?"

"No, no, I meant to the Ball!" He was out of his chair and around the table before Severus could add his caveat. He was sat upon, crushed by a pair of arms, and slobbered over in Harry's usual way of displaying unbridled enthusiasm.

"However, I'll require some compensation for my sacrifice," Severus told him as he pulled away from the man in his lap.

Harry's face shone. "Anything." Then his eyes became instantly wary.

Ah, he's learning. How unfortunate.

"What sort of compensation?" he asked, his arms dangling over Severus' shoulders.

"That will not be revealed until afterward. I'll collect when we return from the Ball."

"Mmmm., sounds intriguing. Something kinky?" Harry asked breathily. "I can do kinky."

"No further fishing for clues," Severus tried to say sternly, but was undermined by the squirming arse in his lap. "And there'll be no parading me about at the Ball. I'll sit in a corner and mope, and give you the last dance."

Harry opened his mouth, as if to protest, then abruptly closed it.

"Deal?" Severus asked.

Just before he kissed him, Harry murmured happily, "Deal."

oooOOOooo

Severus watched as Harry danced to his heart's content; he had no lack of partners, even though Severus noted with satisfaction that he was a mediocre dancer.

As for himself, he kept to the dark-curtained alcoves that lined the dance room, venturing out into the crowd only to keep his glass full, scowling as he waited, and never once was asked to dance, thank god.

Harry sat out a few of the dances to sit by his side and watch with him. As the evening grew older, Harry nudged Severus with an elbow.

"So, remember you promised. Last dance is coming up soon."

"I remember. In fact, I asked the conductor to play a special waltz for us."

"Really?" Harry asked, eyes shining. "What?"

"You'll see," Severus replied noncommittally.

"So," Harry murmured, leaning closer. "Are you going to tell me what this compensation you want is?"

Severus turned slightly and slid his arm along the back of Harry's chair. "Are you certain you want to know?"

Harry smiled coquettishly. "How bad could it be, if it's something sexy?"

Smiling in reply, Severus reached into the breast pocket of his robes and withdrew a green, glittering phial, his signature label affixed to the front of it, then held it out to Harry. "First, I'll be swallowing this."

Frowning, Harry took it and held it close to his face to read the label. Severus watched for realization to dawn, and didn't have to wait long. Harry's eyes grew wide, as he thrust the phial back into Severus' hand.

"That's not what I think it is, is it?" he asked, alarmed. "The one that makes you hard…."

"For the entire night? Yes, this is it," Severus said smugly as he pocketed it.

Harry was gulping like a fish out of water. He shook his head, then muttered, "I take it back. You don't have to dance with me."

Severus reached over to thumb Harry's bottom lip. "Oh no you don't. I held up my end of the bargain. I've sat here and watched you dance; I've arranged a special waltz for us to enjoy. Reneging is out of the question."

His eyes almost desperate, Harry pleaded, "But…but that potion is…" He stopped and sighed, resigned. "Last time, my arse was so sore I had to eat standing up. And I walked funny for days. You don't ever have any trouble getting it up several times a night," he grumbled. "Why do you even need it?"

Catching his eyes and holding them, Severus said in a low voice, "Because I like watching you walk funny for days, and knowing exactly why."

"I should've known it'd be something like this," Harry said miserably.

Severus patted his hand. "Yes, you should've. You didn't, however, and it's none of my concern that the trade-off is slightly weighted in my favor." He stood as the orchestra conductor announced the final dance. Holding one hand out to Harry, he pulled a long, thin, black silk scarf from his pocket.

Harry was still sulking as Severus led him onto the dance floor. "What's that?" he asked, nodding at the scarf.

They were standing face-to-face as Severus snapped his wrist to unfurl the scarf, then wrapped it around both their waists and tied it in a loopy bow at the small of Harry's back. "A wizarding tradition. It will signal to other dancers that cutting in is not welcome."

The first chords of the waltz were struck. Severus took Harry's hands and placed one on his shoulder and the other at his waist. When the opening refrain finished, he pulled Harry almost roughly to him and muttered, "Try to keep up and let me lead."

They almost pirouetted as they began, twirling in circles as Severus swung them out into the crowd. His feet were sure, his direction purposeful as he swept them along from one corner of the floor to the other, skillfully controlling Harry with his hands.

"This is the Mephisto Waltz, one of a series of four by Liszt."

Harry's mouth had dropped opened, his feet easily following Severus as he led. "You fraud! You can dance!" he almost sputtered as they whirled and twirled in ever-dizzying arcs.

"Of course I can dance. Whatever made you think I couldn't?"

"But…but you said...." Harry gasped as Severus spun him faster.

"I said I'd only ever been to one dance—I never said I couldn't dance."

Harry had to work to keep his breath even. "But…where did you learn?"

"Binns taught me," he said conversationally.

"Binns? How could Binns teach you?"

"I was drunk, he was in an empty classroom, and we spent several pleasant hours with Minerva's gramophone." He felt Harry laugh against him.

A murmuring had gone up in the crowd, and Severus could see over Harry's shoulder that the other dancers had stopped and moved to the edges of the floor to watch them. Severus was encouraged by this maneuver to take possession of the entire space, lengthening his steps, increasing the distance they traveled in three-quarter time. He pulled away enough to see the expression of awe on Harry's face, then cinched them close again,

"Relax," he breathed into the hair by Harry's ear. He felt him respond, then added, "The Mephisto Waltz. Based on the tale of Mephistopheles and Faust. Do you know it?" he asked, smoothly changing their direction as they turned in ever-tightening circles.

"Sounds vaguely familiar," Harry answered, only after Severus squeezed his hand.

Severus pulled back so that they were now in a more classic waltz stance, mostly because he wanted to see Harry's face. "Mephistopheles was the devil, and Faust made an agreement with him, in return for something he wanted very much."

Harry bit his lip, admirably seeming to have picked up Severus' rhythm well enough that he was no longer stepping on his toes. "What did he want?"

Smiling, Severus said, "It varies, depending on the version you read. But it's where the phrase originated: selling your soul to the devil." He watched Harry's eyes widen. "Mephistopheles is usually portrayed as a tall, dark man who wears only black. And poor Faust, he decides in the end that he doesn't want to pay up, once he realizes he's made a rather sorry deal."

Smiling at him crookedly, Harry said breathlessly, "You don't have to spell it out for me, you know. I get it, and you're enjoying this far too much."

"Why Mister Potter, are you feeling Faustian, then? Sold your soul to the devil, have you?"

"You forked-tongued little Slytherin," Harry murmured, his admiration apparent.

"Thank you," Severus said with satisfaction, as he slowed them in time with the music that was drawing to an end, "I'll accept that as the compliment I know you intended."

As the last vibratos of the violins wavered, the two of them spun in a lazy circle, then finally stopped. Severus deftly reached around and undid the bow at Harry's back, then with a flourish, he held both ends and drew it up to rest against Harry's neck. Rolling the excess with his wrists, Severus finished by pulling Harry toward him, then kissed him soundly, with a sensuousness that drew a spatter of spontaneous applause from the onlookers.

When he let the scarf drop at last, they didn't immediately pull away. Their lips were still close together, when Severus had to smile at what Harry had to say. "God, I'm so glad you didn't make a spectacle of us."

They collected their cloaks and were just outside the doors, when Severus stopped Harry with a hand. Holding his eyes, he pulled the green phial from his pocket and made a grand production of drinking it down, then licking his lips.

Pulling Harry close, he murmured, "Ready to make a night of it, Mr. Faust?"

"Ready as I'll ever be, you devil."

FIN