How to Save a Life

As the date of the Halloween dance grew nearer, Harry found himself becoming increasingly agitated. There were two main reasons for his disquiet and he couldn’t see a way out of either situation.

Firstly, and probably most importantly, Harry was painfully aware that he needed to speak to Ginny before the dance. When Harry had told Hermione that he was now going and that he was taking Pansy, she had looked at him thoughtfully for a moment before speaking.

“You need to tell Ginny,” was all she said but it was enough to make Harry’s heart sink. The last thing he wanted was another confrontation with the volatile redhead, and he just knew that’s what would happen. Ginny hadn’t reacted too badly when he had turned down her invitation but Harry was under no illusions that she would be so calm this time.

Harry wasn’t sure what would bother her most. That he was taking another girl, or that he was taking Pansy. Harry rather suspected it would be the latter, especially when he remembered the confrontation he had interrupted on the Hogwarts Express.

Harry had been steadfastly avoiding the redhead ever since.

This kept Harry firmly on his toes as he was also doing his utmost to avoid Pansy and Draco. The Slytherin pair were constantly trying to pin Harry down about the promised dance lessons but the dark haired Gryffindor was having none of it.

Harry thought it was somewhat ironic that the thought of something as innocuous as dancing could wake him up in much the same cold sweat as the thought of facing Voldemort had. He knew he was being irrational but he couldn’t quite escape the humiliating memories of the Yule Ball.

With the first Quidditch match of the season against Slytherin approaching, Harry found practice to be a helpful excuse. Although this did somewhat clash with his aim of avoiding Ginny. The Gryffindor team had never practised so hard and so often. Ron was even heard to wonder if Harry was somehow channelling the spirit of Oliver Wood.

If he wasn’t occupied with Quidditch practice, Harry could usually be found hiding in the library. After a week or so of this tactic, it began to have two distinct advantages, though these were somewhat negated by having a sulky boyfriend.

The first was that his school marks were improving dramatically, and while he never actually knocked Hermione off the top spot, he was certainly up there challenging for it.

The second advantage was that he seemed to finally be getting back on good terms with Hermione. They spent several evenings sharing a table in the library, swapping notes and tips on their respective areas of expertise. And while Harry suspected that things between them would never go back to what they once were, he felt infinitely happier about the state of their friendship.

Hermione seemed, not only to accept his friendship with the Slytherins, but to actually be curious about it. So when they weren’t discussing school work, Harry found himself under intense questioning about Draco, Pansy and Slytherins in general.

He answered the questions for the most part, recognising Hermione’s curiosity for what it was. But after a while it became relentless and Harry refused to share more, advising the girl to find out for herself.

Harry didn’t think for one minute she would act on his offhand suggestion, but then he saw the thoughtful look on her face and wondered if the bookish girl was going to surprise him yet again.

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By the Thursday before Halloween, Harry could feel that time was running out. All through lessons that day, Pansy had been shooting him meaningful glares and dropping the occasional threat of bodily harm into the conversation, should he prove to be uncooperative.

As he left the Great Hall after dinner that night he found the unholy trio of Pansy, Draco, and Blaise waiting for him, with a guilty looking Neville hovering just behind them. Realising there was no escape; Harry held up his hands in capitulation and allowed them to lead him in the direction of the dungeons.

As they entered the Slytherin common room, Harry headed to the chairs by the fire place and flopped into one with a huff. He looked up and glared balefully at the group surrounding him. Draco headed over and perched on the arm of his chair, his fingers casually threading through Harry’s wild locks.

“Come on, Harry,” he coaxed. “It will be relatively painless, I promise.”

“But I don’t want to, Dray.” Harry whined and peeked up at the blonde through thick lashes, a pout on his lips that he knew Draco couldn’t resist. He let his head rest against his boyfriend’s body and sighed deeply.

Feeling his resolve crumble in the face of his adorable boyfriend, who was kittening up to him shamelessly, Draco turned to Pansy.

“Maybe it’s not really necessary, Pans? He’s not that bad really.”

Harry nuzzled his face into Draco’s torso in an effort to hide the smirk on his face, but it was short lived however, as Pansy stalked towards them.

“Draco Malfoy,” she shrilled. “Don’t you dare! This was your idea for us all to go to this damn dance. People will be staring at us enough as it is, without the added humiliation of having a partner who makes a troll look elegant.”

“Hey,” Harry protested.

Pansy turned to him, eyes flashing dangerously. “You’re doing this, Harry. I’m not Draco and those puppy dog eyes don’t work on me.”

Harry scowled and turned away from her. “I don’t see why I’m the only one who has to do this,” he muttered, looking round the group. “How come no one’s making Neville take stupid lessons too?” Harry shot a glare in the smiling Gryffindor’s direction.

“Sorry, Harry. But I already know how. Gran made me take lessons when I was younger.”

Harry’s scowl deepened and he jerked his head away from Draco’s touch. “Stupid pureblood traditions,” he snapped as Pansy grabbed hold of his hand.

He allowed the girl to pull him from his chair, casting one final pleading look at his boyfriend. Draco shook his head and smiled softly.

“Sorry, Harry. You’re on your own now. I know better than to incur Pansy’s wrath. I’d just go quietly if I was you.”

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Pansy led a mutinous Harry to an old unused classroom in the heart of the dungeons. She pushed him side then followed herself, casting a locking charm behind them.

“Cheer up, Harry. It’s only dancing. It’s not like I’m planning to use you as a ritual sacrifice!”

Harry forced his facial muscles into a tight smile but the wary look never quite left his eyes. Deciding to ignore his reluctance, Pansy crossed the room and then pulled a small device from her bag that had Harry’s eyes wide in surprise – a muggle cd player. Pansy took in the expression on Harry’s face and smirked.

“Just because purebloods don’t like muggles, doesn’t mean I don’t think that they have some useful inventions. I’m not the only one either; you should see Draco’s collection of muggle cd’s.” Pansy grinned to herself before adding reflectively. “One look at that and anyone would know he was gay.”

Harry grinned despite himself and raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Lots of Cher,” Pansy explained. “Don’t tell him I said, though. He gets quite defensive about it.”

She then fished a shiny cd from her robe pocket, slipped it into the player and pressed play. The strains of a lilting waltz filled the room and, in a response that would have put Pavlov’s dog to shame, Harry’s palms instantly became clammy.

Pansy walked towards him, a smirk fixed on her face and Harry resisted the urge to turn and flee.

“Put your right hand on my shoulder and your left one round my waist,” Pansy instructed, without preamble.

Harry’s hand hovered over Pansy’s waist, his fingertips barely brushing against her.

“Just put your arm round my waist, Harry,” she directed impatiently. “I’m not going to jump you, I promise.”

Harry nervously wiped his palm onto his trousers and then gingerly placed it on Pansy waist.

“That’s better. See, I don’t bite. Now just follow my footsteps.”

An instruction that sounded simply enough but proved to be infinitely more difficult.

Half an hour later saw an increasingly frustrated Pansy struggling to maintain her calm as Harry stumbled and faltered his way through a relatively simple waltz.

“You have no sense of rhythm,” she accused. “Just listen to the music, Harry, and follow the beat. It’s really not that hard.”

Harry bit back the retort on the tip of his tongue, gritted his teeth and stared at a point over Pansy’s shoulder, trying his hardest to concentrate. Sensing his acquiescence, Pansy put her hands back in position on Harry’s body. As she began to move again, she found that Harry remained stationary and she almost tripped over her own feet.

“Bloody hell, Harry. What are you...?” She trailed off her as the sound of mocking clapping filled the room. She turned her head and caught sight of what had distracted Harry.

In the doorway, leaning casually against the frame, grinning ear to ear, was Draco.

“Ignore him,” Pansy instructed as she turned back to Harry. The dark haired boy felt a hot flush creep up his neck and suffuse his face with colour. He shot an embarrassed look at the blonde and quickly stepped away from Pansy.

“I thought you locked that door,” he muttered darkly.

“I did,” Pansy retorted, sending a particularly vicious glare in her friend’s direction.

Unfazed by his welcome, or lack thereof, Draco merely grinned at the pair and spoke in his lazy drawl.

“Please, Pansy, a child could get through your wards without even trying. Call yourself a Slytherin. Remind me to teach you some actually effective ones at some stage.”

“How long have you been watching?” Pansy asked, suspiciously.

“Long enough to know that you need my help,” Draco smirked.

“Well, if you’re staying...” Harry made a noise of protest here that Pansy chose to ignore. “Then make yourself useful.” Pansy paused here and thought for a moment, before adding, “And keep your mouth shut.

Pansy finished up with a look that spoke volumes about the consequences if he didn’t. She then turned to Harry, “You need all the help you can get, now stop moaning.”

Harry nervously placed his hands on Pansy again, keenly aware of the grey eyes that were watching him intently. Draco pushed himself off from the wall and walked casually over to where they stood. He walked around them, casting a critical eye over their bodies.

“You’re posture is all wrong, Harry.” He placed his hand in the small of Harry’s back, “Stand up straight and place your hands here, like this.”

Still not satisfied with Harry’s positioning, Draco stood behind his boyfriend, his chest pressed flush to Harry’s back, his arms parallel to the Gryffindor’s.

“Draco,” Harry gulped nervously. “What are you doing?”

“I’m just going to guide you through the steps, Harry. Just relax.”

With a flick of her wand, Pansy started the music again. Draco led Harry, and by default, Pansy around the dance floor. The feel of his boyfriend’s body in such close proximity severely affected Harry’s ability to concentrate on his dance steps and it wasn’t many minutes before Pansy was shrieking in pain and hopping on one foot.

“Owww! Merlin, Harry. Watch what you’re doing, you almost broke my foot that time.”

Sorry, Pansy,” Harry offered sheepishly to the wincing girl in his arms. He craned his neck round to look at Draco.

“It’s hard to concentrate with you pressed up against me like that. It’s very distracting.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Harry,” Draco sniffed. “I’m just trying to guide you.”

“Yes, well be that as it may, if you don’t stop it soon, Pansy here will be going to the dance on crutches.”

Before the blond could argue further, Pansy decided to intervene. “Draco, go and sit down. You hovering around like that is just making us both nervous.”

Draco scowled at his friend, but reluctantly peeled his body away from his boyfriend. Harry immediately felt the loss of Draco’s body heat but despite that he found he was much more able to focus on the task at hand.
By 10 o’clock that evening, a very flustered Harry Potter had finally managed to grasp the basic concept of the waltz well enough to satisfy his two Slytherin tutors.

Draco leant against the wall and watched critically as Harry guided Pansy through the dying steps of the dance. Harry finally came to a stop and turned to look at his boyfriend hopefully.

“You’ll do I suppose,” he admitted, grudgingly. Draco then turned to face Pansy who was now flush with exertion. “I think we’ve done as much as we can, Pansy. He might just not show you up!”

Draco then turned his attention to his now offended boyfriend and ignored the look of outrage on his face. “How you can be so graceful in the air and yet such a klutz on the ground, I’ll never know.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Harry muttered as he gathered up his belongings. “Besides,” he said over his shoulder as he made for the door. “It’s not like I’m going to be dancing that much anyway.”

There was an outraged splutter from Pansy’s direction and Draco reached out to ruffle Harry’s hair affectionately.

“It’s a good job you’re gay, Harry, because you’re totally clueless when it comes to women.”

Harry could only breathe a sigh of relief that the ordeal was finally over. Who knew that dancing was so traumatic? Now if only he could find the courage to talk to Ginny...

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